Chapter 36
"Headmaster?" Hermione asked, popping her head into the office. Dumbeldore was at his desk, dressed in a happy turquoise number. "You wanted to see me before I go?"
"Yes, come in." She closed the door and sat in the padded chair in front of his desk. "I actually have a request for you. For some time, we've been guarding the Department of Mysteries during the nighttime, when the Ministry is empty. We need to protect the prophecy from Tom. Too much information, and he could see what is needed to win his end."
"And you'd like me to take a shift?" Hermione offered happily. "Since I'm there anyways?"
"Yes, precisely," Dumbledore smiled. "We always have two, and tonight Arthur would have been alone in his patrol. It would bring me immense relief to have you there with him."
"Of course, sir," she accepted. "Anything else?"
He grinned. "Just enjoy the bureaucracy, Miss Granger. It is a singular experience."
"Thank you for the rush order, Madame Malkins," Hermione said gratefully as she deposited the package of plum robes into her satchel. "And for promising to keep it a secret until tomorrow. I had no idea these were so important."
"It's alright, dear," the woman grinned conspiratorially and leaned forward. "I don't often get a chance to make Wizengamot robes nowadays, you know – it's all rich families putting in orders to foreign seamstresses with fancy fabrics. I'm just glad to be asked."
She was just the first of her morning pickups. Hermione looked at her list and took to a fancy office supply store called Scribbulus. The girls had strongly suggested getting a proper quill to use in the meetings and a set of memo paper that she could use to pass notes during the meeting. She settled on a clear self-inking glass dip pen with five inkbottles to the set. Hogwarts mandated quills, so she did the little rebellion she could and went for a non-feathered alternative. Once again, to show her unwillingness to conform. She payed for the pen and a small stack of pink memo paper before going on to her next venture.
It took time she didn't have to collect everything she needed, from a set of law books from Flourish and Blotts to a dagger that she had stored in her goblin-apartment. According to Draco an Pansy, each family needed a specific dagger that was only for making family alliances, contracts, blood feuds, or such. Luckily daggers had been one of her first exercises with the forge, and so she still had her favourite tucked away in her goblin house that she could use. It even had her forging signature, which magically meant it was stronger in her hands anyways.
When she finished collecting the dagger, she chose to change into her dress there at Gringotts instead of inside the Ministry. She really was short on time.
First her formal dress for underneath the plum robes. Fortunately, they weren't required to wear dress-robes underneath like the men, as women, but they still needed to dress formally and have sleeves to their wrists and a skirt to the ankles. To counter it, Daphne had given her one of her white dresses. Pansy was closer to her size, so she wondered why Daphne gave her a dress, but she understood when she wore it. It was tight. The white dress was supposed to be all innocence and modesty, but it clung tightly and her cleavage didn't truly fit in it, so it popped out the top more than necessary.
Pansy and Daphne had been thrilled, telling her that, since women weren't allowed to put on the official robes until she claimed her seat, she would go in there dressed looking like hell and give some of those horny, old purebloods a hear-attack. The only changes they made to the dress was to lengthen the sleeves and skirt to make sure she wasn't ejected, and then to add a thigh-high slit, something the men hadn't remembered to forbid. It was a subtle bit of rebellion against their dress code, but one that she couldn't be ejected for.
She strapped on her heels and silver topaz and mystic quartz goblin jewellery, took a final moment to be astounded that there were such extreme requirements for claiming Wizengamot seats, and tucked her wand into the holster on her inner thigh, the only place she could. She felt part annoyed at the traditions, and part like an assassin ready to take them all out.
Finally dressed and done up for her grand entrance, she made her way to the Ministry.
Apparently, Wizengamot members, once they claimed their seats, were able to hook their homes up to the Ministry floo so they needn't go through the toilets like the 'menial' workers. Unfortunately, or deliberately, the Ministry claimed that other people needed to use the visitor's entrance in London. Yet another barrier to people collecting their seats – they had to formally announce themselves to a secretary and have restrictions put on their wands.
Still, undeterred, Hermione went on. Her dress and appearance, mixed with her leather satchel being strung across her in the most inelegant way, drew looks from the Minsitry workers as she was at the desk, allowing her wand to be charmed.
"And why are you here today, Apprentice Granger?" The girl asked, writing in her book.
She leaned closer and whispered, not wanting others to hear. "I'm hear to claim a seat in the Wizengamot, for today's session."
The young witch gaped up at her, suddenly taking in her dress and appearance. The girl smiled beatifically, suddenly having the best day on the job ever. She hopped up and down in her seat, as she recorded her reason for visiting and then bounced more as she smiled up at her. "That's so great! Can I see your wand?"
"I need to keep it," Hermione reminded the girl as she relinquished her wand to the girl.
"Absolutely," the girl said with a grin, placing a charm on the wand. "Alright, so the alarms won't activate while you're on this floor and Level 2, wear you'll find the session starts. If the Wizengamot needs to make an urgent move to the courtrooms on level ten, please bring it back to us and we'll remove the charm, okay?"
"Thank you," Hermione said, placing the wand back in her thigh strap.
The girl extended her hand and she clasped it for a shake. "I hope they don't find any reason to deny you your seat, Apprentice. It'd be good to have a muggleborn in there for the first time."
Hermione marched determinedly to the lifts, ignoring the balking and staring that some of the Ministry employees were doing. She didn't have time to defend her choice in clothing to them, or address how rude it was of them to stare; Wizengamot was supposed to convene in ten minutes, and those who were there to claim their seats needed to be standing in the center before the beginning of the session to declare their intent.
Hermione shared the lift with a couple of aurors, one who tried to hit on her and was determinedly brushed off, before she got of on Level Two. There were a few plum-covered people waiting by the elevator, and it didn't take her intellect to see that they were waiting for the first glimpse of whoever was claiming the new seat.
"Good morning."
Hermione dipped into the polite curtsy Daphne had drilled into her before resuming her march. There were gasps and wide eyes as she passed them to go straight to the Wizengamot council room, her back straight and her focus on remembering the wordage Draco had taught her. She paused right before the doors, took a deep breath, and pushed in.
The room was opulent, too much for Hermione's tastes. Comfy chairs placed on exceptionally high platforms to lord over those on the main level, heavy, dark woods and sconces all over. The gold embellishments, dark wood, and plum-robes gave an air of regality that it did not deserve. She felt like she was protesting in her black dress.
Chin held high as the Wizengamot stared, she moved the satchel to her hand instead of the undignified way it rested across her body, and walked to the Wizengamot seal in the center of the room.
She stood on the seal and stared, challengingly, at the members around her. It was hard not to fidget under the unerring gaze of all the older members in the room. Those who had waited in the hallway now entered and took their seats and joined in the staring, like she was a part of some oddball show. Whispers and murmurs abounded, and eyes shifted between her and the seat of the far right, nearly at the end and right next to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Abbott's seat.
Fudge, sat high in his chair next to the Chief Warlock's seat (it had been vacant in Dumbledore's absence and they hadn't yet filled it) gave her a putrid look.
"Apprentice Granger, are you lost?" Fudge, asked, effectively silencing the congregation. "Perhaps, looking for someone?"
She smiled at the Minister. "Not at all, Minister. I'm simply waiting for the session to start so I can claim the seat for my House."
"And which house is that?" Fudge said with a stern eye. "You are a muggleborn! You can't possibly claim a House seat."
"Of course I can, Minister," Hermione answered elegantly. "Especially as the Founder of a House that has been recognized by the Ministry. But I'm sure this will all come up once the session begins, so there's no reason to fret."
When he started to whisper furiously to Percy, his secretary, Hermione looked at the assembly. Many unhappy faces were looking back at her, but she saw the genuinely gleeful ones too. Augusta Longbottom, whom she'd only seen through the stern renderings of Neville's photos, was looking like the cat who got the canary. Amelia Bones looked exceptionally proud to be there, like she was watching history. There were a few others she couldn't name, mostly women, who shot her smiles.
"Very well, then, shall we begin?" Fudge called. When no one protested, he hit his gavel. "The Twelfth Meeting of Wizengamot, Year 1995, is now in session. Is there any who wish to resign or claim their seat?"
Hermione spoke, trying to portray clear confidence. "I, Hermione Jean Granger, am here to claim the seat for House Aethon as the Lady and Founder of said House. Do any contest my claim?"
Silence. Only someone of her blood could contest her for her seat, and there were none. Normally only the Noble and Most Ancient House's matriarchs were called ladies, but since she was the first in her House's line she would always in history be known as Lady Aethon, where all her line would simply be Miss or Mister.
When the allotted ten seconds of painstaking silence had passed, Hermione continued.
"Then let the magic of my House recognize me."
She walked up the steps to the far right side of the Wizengamot, to the seat they'd all been looking at and walked past Lady Abbott. Lord Avery looked livid at having her seated next to him, but held his tongue. Without ceremony or a baited breath, she sat down in the chair for House Aethon.
A breath of pause, a waiting to see if she would be sent across the room by the magic of her House, and then …. pandemonium. Death Eaters she knew and racists she didn't stood up to protest, to move to remove her, or to find some fault with her that could ban her. Surprisingly, she saw Malfoy sit stoically and silently. He did nothing. He did not rise to defend her and did not raise his voice to have to removed. He sat there, his eyes fixed on her as if she didn't make any sense. For once, they seemed to agree.
"Order! Order!" The Minister cried, pounding his gavel. Then once more, and again when they wouldn't stop shouting.
"Is it always this loud?" Hermione asked Lady Abbott.
The woman gave her a smile. "You hold the firsts for many things, Apprentice Granger. This, however, is not one of them."
They shared her smile then turned all attention back to the settling Wizengamot.
"Order!" Fudge shouted a final time, getting the assembly to finally lower their voices. "Now, Hermione Granger has been accepted by the magic of the newly formed House Aethon, and will be allowed to don the official Wizengamot robes. Miss Granger, do you have your robes? You will be dismissed from the meeting until the next session if not."
Giving the conceited purebloods a bit of a show, she rose and bend over her satchel to extricate the headdress and robes from her bag. She donned the robes first before placing the headdress on top of her crown of compressed and plaited curls. The room both glared and grinned at her as she took her seat once again.
"Erm, well," Fudge stammered, clearly having hoped she'd forgotten something, "Miss Granger, do you even have a House Crest or House Jewels?"
"I founded my House, Minister," Hermione reminded him firmly. "What you see on my person are my House's Crest and Jewels. And I'll remind you, Minister, that it is proper to address me as Apprentice Granger or Lady Aethon."
The assembly was quiet. The Minister turned to Percy, consulting quietly, before popping his head up. "Umm, yes, Apprentice Granger, all seems to be in order. We just have to check to make sure your family crest and motto are unique to the others on record."
Hermione took the paper that Draco had used to draw the final version of her crest upon and passed it forward, sending it up to the Minister. "You'll find that the Crest is unique, and that no other House, whether new or Ancient and Noble, has my motto, Minister."
"Ah, yes, well, my Latin's a tad rusty," the Minister stammered apologetically. "What does your motto mean?"
"Causarum justia et misericordia," Hermione recited, her latin flawlessly presented to the Wizengamot. "'For the cause of justice and mercy'. I'm sure you'll agree it is dissimilar to any motto currently used by the members of Wizengamot."
"Very good, and yes, a very original crest as well," the Minister agreed reluctantly, passing the paper back through the crowd. He conferred with Percy once more, trying to find any way to remove her from the meeting.
"Does her Master know where she is?" A dark voice came from the middle of the room. She saw the plaque on the wood in front, a read NOTT. "Is it even safe to have an Apprentice here when her Master could order her votes for her?"
"There is no law to say an Apprentice cannot claim a seat, Lord Nott," Lady Longbottom interjected before Hermione could. "Imagine the discord that would have brought back in the day. Why, my parents generation all used to apprentice in something or other."
Hermione nodded. "Thank you, Lady Longbottom. And Lord Nott, I assure you my Master is well aware of my comings and goings. He is the one teaching my Potions classes today so I could attend."
"Aha!" The Minister exclaimed, hoisting up a book to his platform. "Apprentice Granger, can you present your House Elf to the Wizengamot to prove your affiliation?"
"Which one?" She asked nonchalantly. "My House currently has four elves attending it."
"Erm, any of them," Fudge stammered, looking more and more defeated.
She stood. "Helgy!" The elf popped into existence, having already been left with the other elves at the beginning of the day for just such an occurrence.
"Yes, Mistress?" Helgy asked happily.
"Tell Minister Fudge which house you serve," Hermione ordered gently.
Helgy looked at the Minister. "I is serving House Aethon."
"Tell the Minister who founded the House," Hermione ordered further.
"Mistress Hermione dids!" Helgy said with a wiggle of her finger. "She is accepting Helgy as elf and is offering her magics to Helgy and friends. Mistress Hermione is friend of elf-kin!"
Hermione shushed the elf as its words grew less provoked. "Enough Helgy. You can head back to the other waiting elf-kin."
"Yes, Mistress Hermione," Helgy said with an ear flap before popping out of existence.
Hermione looked up to Fudge, who was even more fervently flipping through the pages. "Minister, I trust you have all the sufficient evidence you need? There are no other claimants to this seat, as I am the only one with magic in my family, and I have provided everything a House needs to be inspected by you, form my Crest to my elf. May we proceed with the session?"
"Ah, there is one more clause," Percy interjected, showing the passage to the Minister. Fudge read the passage with glee.
"'All claimants must be of age'," Fudge read to the room, eyes now swiveling to her. "Miss Granger, you were born only sixteen years ago, and the current Ministry has elected that 'of age' means seventeen. You are not of age to claim your House's seat."
"The Department of Mysteries, the Trace office, or even a mediwitch, can resolve that issue for you Minister," Hermione said kindly, her face smiling but her gut tense. She definitely did not want a mediwitch revealing her age to the room. "During my third year, I was given unrestricted access to a time-turner to facilitate my taking extra classes. My physical age is above seventeen, as evidenced by the fact that I have not had the Trace on me for quite some time."
The room floundered, and someone was sent to retrieve someone from both Departments. Fudge called for a brief recess.
She was already tense from the exchange, so she jumped a little when a hand was lain on her arm. Mrs. Abbott gave her a sweet and comforting smile. "You are doing well."
"I knew they'd try to stop me," Hermione offered in explanation. "I had to be prepared to fight for this."
"Which you did. Although, for a moment you really had us all with the House-Elf clause," Lady Abbott said with a grin. "Most of us had heard stories of your renegade elven freedom campaign."
She groaned. "Does everyone know about that?"
"It was used as an example of why muggleborns are detrimental for society," the Lady confided, "and of why there should be a Magical Society Studies class at Hogwarts, from each respective side."
"Great," Hermione lamented. "Even before I arrived, I caused ripples."
While the room was discussing and waiting for the messengers to return, some members shuffled up to Hermione to make their introductions. Some were kind, and some …
"Lord Nott," Hermione curtsied deftly. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Your son is quite an intelligent boy."
"And he has presented himself to you, I take it?" the elder Nott said, taking her extended hand and lavishing a long, but barely present kiss on the back.
Hermione dropped her hand and adopted a fake smile. "Yes, I was quite honoured by his attention."
"As you should be," the elder Nott said firmly, his eyes tense for a moment before returning to utterly fake congeniality. "However, if you'd be open to discussing the matter of your betrothal, I have a much more pleasant option for a Lady such as yourself."
"Oh?" Hermione intoned, barely keeping her Occlumency stable. "And what's that?"
"Someone of experience," he said, a leer now etched on his face. "A girl like you needs a firm hand, and someone whose lineage will not suffer with the connection to your House. As such … Apprentice Granger, Lady of House Aethon, I present myself, Thurston Nott, to you as current Head of my House, the Ancient and Most Noble House of Nott."
The area around her silenced, and the Elder Nott gave her a terrifying smile. She had just been, er, presented to by a Death Eater. The phraseology sounded dirty.
Although it wasn't a proposal, it was the first step to a betrothal contract. Malfoy had told her that a reply with her own introduction was an acknowledgment of the presentation. She didn't want to accept, acknowledge, or even consider this terrifying man for anything besides the end of her wand. But … she couldn't offend a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, not when the smallest error could eject her from the meetings.
Forcing a smile on her face, Hermione stepped closer. "Lord Nott," she murmured, her voice dangerous and low, "I acknowledge your presentation, and introduce myself in turn as is customary. However, know that if you are looking at me like a helpless little mudblood to show off to your Lord, you have another thing coming."
She must have been a titch too loud, because the closest seats seemed to be gaping at her. Either because she'd called herself such an offensive slur, or because of the obvious mention of Voldemort, she wasn't sure.
Thurston Nott tensed under the public scrutiny and gave her a reproachful glare. "You must be either ignorant or mad to say such a thing to me, girlie."
The tension raised significantly, their gazes leveled at each other in hateful glares. Ending the glaring contest, the elder Nott bowed and extended his hand. Hermione returned the gesture, letting him kiss her hand once more before he strode back to his seat in a tense march. Lady Abbott touched her arm to regain her attention.
"That was dangerous, Apprentice Granger," the Lady said softly. "Thurston is from a Noble and Most Ancient House, and he is not known to take insults lightly."
"I know it probably wasn't the safest response," Hermione said with a frown. "But what else was I supposed to do? Openly acknowledge his presentation when I can only consider hexing the man?"
"It was brilliant, girl," Augusta Longbottom said, hobbling forward. "Nott will think twice about approaching you in public, and that is a happy outcome in any scenario."
"Unless he goes after her in private," Lady Abbott interjected, sending Lady Longbottom a tired look that said I really can't change your mind, but I wish I could. "Apprentice, you really should hold your tongue. It wasn't a matter of marrying him, rather of politely accepting his presentation and refusing any future betrothal jewellery."
Hermione tried to look serious and chastised, but a smile escaped and she had to cover her mouth to hide the evidence. Lady Longbottom looked delightedly at her.
"Now, don't be afraid of her, little lioness," Augusta said with a teasing poke of her cane. "Little Dayna is simply repressed."
Lady Abbott sighed and took her seat again, clearly intent on letting Hermione handle the crotchety Longbottom matriarch on her own. Seeing this, Hermione defaulted to what Malfoy had taught her.
"Oh, erm, pleasure to meet you, Lady Longbottom," Hermione curtsied again only to be met with a cane to the shin. "Oww! What was that for?"
"You were groveling," Lady Longbottom huffed. "And no 'Lady Longbottom' between us, girl. Call me Augusta."
"Alright, Augusta," she repeated. "I'm Hermione Granger."
"We all know your name, girl," Augusta remanded. "Moreso now that you've had a Head of a House present himself to you. I wonder how many others will do the same."
"Hopefully, none," Hermione chimed in with a grimace. "I know they're kind of ordered to get close to me, but still … I knew I should have worn a less clingy dress."
That comment prompted a diabolical chuckle from Lady Longbottom. "Heavens, no. Hermione, these men haven't had such a pretty lady in front of them in decades. If your hair was down, you would have killed at least three of these old codgers."
"And have been promptly shown from the room," she countered, smiling at the witticism of the Lady. "How on earth do you manage to follow all the horrible rules for this place?"
"Ah, most of us were taught from birth to follow these rules whenever we go out in public," Augusta admitted. "Always have your crest on you, always have a house-elf with you, never wear your hair down, etc. This whole place is centered around traditions that purebloods have grown up with."
"There are half-bloods in the assembly though," Hermione noted.
The old lady nodded tightly. "And they have to learn, or they can't sit in. Honestly, the amount of half-bloods in here is next to nothing since any pureblood relative of the line can take their seat, no matter the lineage."
"That's barbaric!" Hermione exclaimed, earning looks from the surrounding members. She flushed, and repeated the sentiment at a lower volume. "How on earth has that law not been repealed?"
"Because its purebloods who vote on a repeal," Augusta said sagely. "And blood purists who sit all over."
"Wow," Hermione looked around at all the people she'd need to go through. "There's a lot of changes to make, huh?"
The old matriarch chuckled. "You're a good one, girl. Don't let the naysayers in this place drown that spirit of yours."
Augusta went back to her seat, and it seemed as if her presence had been the only thing protecting her from the Death Eaters of the Wizengamot. The Heads of each House whose sons had presented to her yesterday were all coming up to greet her, threaten her, or subtly discourage her. A few, like Nott, presented themselves to her as well, usually to keep her from their sons so they could have a chance at a continued pure legacy.
She had already angered one Death Eater with her sharp tongue, and although Augusta seemed happy that she had, Hermione refrained from mentioning Voldemort again and returned most of the presentations with polite disinterest. She still rejected the Avery outright when he'd belittled her parents, but the more temperate and overtly polite single Death Eaters – like Selwyn, Rowle, and Carrow– she couldn't reject without seeming a cad. Amycus Carrow seemed to act kindly just so he could see her distasteful expression as she acknowledged him. The act had brought a sick glee to his face. Was the whole thing just a game among the Death Eaters?
Lord Duncan Greengrass was the most disturbing, although not because he was vulgar or crass with her. He was Sacred Twenty-Eight, and he acted like it. No, it was strange because of how Daphne had helped her the previous night. To have her friend's father hit on her was kind of disturbing, especially when she was in that daughter's dress and he didn't even notice.
Before the day Hermione had no idea that Lord Greengrass was a widower, but it seemed fairly common among the purebloods after the previous war. Even Augusta Longbottom ad Dayna Abbott were widows who never remarried. It was as if all the purebloods who already had children would never consider remarrying.
Still, Lord Greengrass came up to her when she had a moment alone, all fineries and short-ish sandy hair. She had become good at rebutting prospective presenters, but was caught off-guard by the sheer height and power of this man and how he towered over her. Hermione wasn't small since her change, but Lord Greengrass was easily six-foot. She wouldn't have been tongue-tied by that, if he hadn't been using his height advantage to look down her dress. The dress that his own daughter, Daphne, had loaned her. It felt … various levels of wrong.
"Never thought I would be ordered to present myself to such a gorgeous little lady," he said, his eyes travelling up and down her body. "I would have done it without the order."
Hermione held herself straighter and composed herself. "I almost think you mean that as a compliment, where I only hear an insult."
"My humble apologies, my Lady. I only meant to tell you how beautiful you look."
She kept her face blank. "Thank you."
"Allow me to present myself to you, Lady Aethon," he performed a deep bow. "Duncan Greengrass, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass, and undeniably at your beck and call."
His tone made her cheeks turn red, both from rage and embarrassment. She was sure what he'd like her to call him for, but she had no reason to refuse to acknowledge him. "A pleasure, Lord Greengrass. I'm Hermione Granger, Lady of House Aethon."
At her acknowledgement, he took her hand and lavished his unwanted attention all over the back of her hand in a way that made her stomach turn.
"You know, Lady Aethon," he drawled, "you look beautiful in your House Jewels. It's a pity your hand is so bare."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh?" It came out as more of a squeak, making her flush. "I mean, really, Lord Greengrass?"
His eyes lighted. "Of course, my Lady. As such a Head of House of marrying age, you should already have a husband to put a ring on your finger and an heir in your womb."
Her stomach plummeted, but she kept her tone light. "I'm afraid my, er, heir will need to wait some time, my Lord, if I don't want pregnancy to conflict with my Apprenticeship. Potions is a demanding and dangerous field."
And I'm already committed to Severus, she added mentally. Paws off.
"Even so," the Death Eater grinned down at her. "The Greengrass jewels would go well with your own; an emerald would be beautiful on your dainty little ring finger. Look for my owl."
She pulled her hand from his grip and made to refuse, but he shushed her while pointing to the front of the room, where Fudge had re-entered. "That's our cue."
He strode off to his own seat then with a wink, leaving her flustered and fuming. She didn't even realize her hands were clenched into balls until Lady Abbott leaned over the seat of her own chair to engage her.
"Are you alright, Apprentice Granger?" she whispered.
"I'm fine," she insisted, clenching and unclenching her fists. "Just … trying not to think about it too much."
Lady Abbott patted her hand comfortingly. "Do you know why they're all presenting themselves to you?"
"Yes," Hermione clenched her fist again. "I'm just ignoring it, though. If I refuse all these creeps, nothing will happen."
"True, true," Lady Abbott said with a kind smile. "Be warned, however, that many of the men here do not do well with rejection. You must be careful, at least until you have a suitor to fall back on."
Hermione's response died in her throat as the gavel was struck and the session brought back from its recess. Fudge appeared angry, but presented the official from the Trace office and an Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries to the room.
"I can confirm that the Department of Mysteries lent a time-turner to the student Hermione Granger during the 1993-1994 school year," The Unspeakable said to the assembly.
The Trace office official came forward with a paper. "And I have the generated office memo showing the Trace on Hermione Jean Granger deactivating on the eleventh of May this year due to age restrictions being met, confirming her age as above the legal requirement, and recognized as such by the Ministry."
The page was taken by Fudge and scanned furiously, but still given to Percy without another word.
"You're dismissed," Fudge sent the men on their way with a scowl. "It seems Apprentice Granger has fulfilled all requirements to take her seat. Does anyone have any reason not to move on with the session?"
There were no protests, and Fudge smacked his gavel. "We recognize the Lady Aethon as claimant of her House's seat, and welcome her to the Wizengamot. Apprentice Granger, you will henceforth receive additional summons to court proceedings where the full Wizengamot is required and emergency sessions. You have the right not to appear to any session.
"Moving on to the assigned topics for today's sitting: proposed changes in legislation and the new debt ceiling for the Ministry."
The legislative changes were mostly useless. There was discrimination on every level, but the changes never addressed them and instead focused on tightening Ministry control. She voted against every single change, sometimes even shifting the balance of votes and denying the move.
She did vote favourably once, when the man who sat at the MacDougal seat proposed the clear and well-thought out plan to put together a muggle-friendly branch of the Ministry where they could use electricity, computers, and other forms of muggle technology without magic ruining them. As tomorrow they were voting on debt increase for the Ministry, unfortunately, his proposal was ill-timed and met with accusations of wastefulness. His proposal was not passed.
By the end of the first day of the session, Hermione was mentally exhausted. She was looking forward to her nightly walk and desperate to restore herself. With a few hours left until the guards left the Ministry and she'd be on duty for the Order, she decided to slip away to Grimmauld Place where she was certain Sirius wouldn't mind lending her his private garden to recharge and her summer bedroom to change out of Daphne's skin-tight dress.
Spending time with Sirius was fun. He kept her company while she sat in the garden and recharged, and told her about the developments between Remus and Tonks. Apparently Remus had tried to take her on a date and had being so nervous he could hardly speak. Tonks, however, had ended that nervousness by tripping all over herself and launching all the food he made on the both of them. Hermione giggled at her visualization, and Sirius assured her she wasn't far off.
She did, however, ask about Severus.
"I never asked this before," she started about an hour in, "but why do you and Severus hate each other?"
Sirius sneered, but checked himself at her disapproving expression. "Claws in, kitten, I know you're protective over the bat. Claws in, woman! Nothing really happened. I mean, when we were in school it was kind of like it is now; Slytherins and Gryffindors at each others throat. I'm pretty sure we might have started it, or at least come in a few years after. Most of the Slytherins were becoming Death Eaters, and with all the deaths and stuff the other houses avoided them, and we Gryffindors tried to teach them they couldn't get away with anything because of their daddies.
"Sni-Severus," he corrected at her glare, "always had to make things worse. Getting us with his potions, sneering at all of us … we probably took the war out on him one too many times, but it wasn't as if we knew he was going to turn spy. All his little pals are still Death Eaters, and I regret not getting in more shots before the signed on."
"So you justify being massive bullies and horrible kids because you think you were right about all of the kids you bullied?" Hermione reprimanded him, her glare fixed on her face. "Did it ever occur to you that people tend to be what people think they are? Everyone assumed they'd be Death Eaters and treated them that way; of course they were going to do it! It wouldn't have been a change for them! They might have even been treated better! That is a piss-poor excuse and you know it, Sirius Black!"
Sirius became more hunched over. "Sorry, kitten. It's just … they're Death Eaters, right? Why should I feel sorry for them?"
"By feeling sorry that they have to follow a tyrannical, nose-less leader?" Hermione joked, trying to bring Sirius back out of his melancholy. She earned a snort. "They're people too, Sirius. They're not pure evil, probably. They might be in it for their families, or because they really believe that pureblood bigotry. I doubt they're doing this because they want everyone running from them in terror. Although, Bellatrix might."
"I loved my father. I was brave enough to ask the hat for Gryffindor, but not brave enough to stay in the house where my best friend died, not even to make sure Harry was okay," Sirius' voice broke. "That's why I don't understand; a coward and a loving Death Eater son, and I still left. If I could do it, leave, they have no excuse."
When the time came, she hugged Sirius goodbye with a promise to visit and returned to the Ministry. Because no one was allowed in the Ministry overnight, they hid in Arthur's office until the time came to patrol.
"I'll take the main floor," Arthur told her. "Why don't you patrol the hallways around the Department? Can you send a patronus message?"
Hermione blushed at remembering how that ended. "Yes, sir."
"Arthur," he insisted kindly. "Good. If anything happens, or if there's anything suspicious, I want you to send for my straight away, alright? Can you cast a corporeal?"
She knew why he was asking. "It's a winged horse, if I need to send it to you. But I can deal with anything they send at me."
"Don't try to handle things on your own if you can help it, Hermione. You're like a daughter to me. I wouldn't want you hurt."
"I'll be fine, Arthur," she reassured him. "I doubt they'd try anything in the Ministry."
"They probably wouldn't personally," he admitted, "but you remember the news about Broderick Bode?"
Hermione grimaced. A Ministry employee made mad by a curse in the Department of Mysteries, although no one knew why he was there in the first place. Severus had told her he'd been imperiosed.
"I'll be careful," Hermioone replied. "Now go."
It was quiet in an unnerving way around the Department of Mysteries. She kept her wand lit and her steps light, regardless of the silencing rune on her boots. This place was creepy in the dark of the deserted Ministry.
After a few hours, she checked in with Arthur and started to get less anxious and careful. Once 1 AM hit, she was certain there wouldn't be a fight tonight. Then, with a start, her magic started to crawl through her body in warning.
She moved quickly, patrolling along the hallways with renewed vigour. The feeling grew stronger, and a pain started to grow in her mind and magic similar to when she'd found the diadem. Her hands began to shake from pain. With a determined focus, she sent her patronus to Arthur and looked for the cause of her pain.
It grew as she approached the Ministry stairs, to the point where she was gasping for breaths like they would help her contain the ever-growing pain. The stairs appeared empty, and she leaned over the bannister to look up and down to try and spot whoever was coming.
"Hermione!" Her wand was pointed at the doorway in an instant, her magic on edge. She lowered it slightly when he appeared. He wasn't the source of the pain. "What did you find?"
"Something's coming," Hermione hissed, her voice low. "I don't know what it is, but it's dark and its moving towards me."
Arthur didn't question how she knew, just raised his own lit wand to the stairs.
"Up or down?" Arthur asked, his voice a whisper but grave.
She focused, trying to find the source of her pain.
"Up," she finally determined.
They moved together up the stairs, on a hunt now. She was sure Mr. Weasley thought it was some beast, a basilisk or a dementor sent by Voldemort. Hermione thought it must be a person. The signature felt similar to Harry, the darkness mixed with something more. Who else had Voldemort possessed?
They never saw her coming.
One moment Hermione was focused on the pain, trying to figure out where it was as they became close to the target. The next, Arthur Weasley was on the ground with a huge, huge snake attached to his neck. She sent of stunners, immobilizers, a very precise cutting hex, but the snake merely reared back and bit Arthur again. It was ignoring her, and going straight for the kill.
"Run!" Arthur roared. The snake went in to attack again, and a well-timed protego from her rebuffed the snake's head. "Go!"
"I'm not leaving you!" Hermione yelled, moving between Arthur's mauled form and the snake. She raised her wand to defend herself from the next attack, not even sure she'd be quick enough to stop it.
Her magic had a solution. It moved to defend her from the dark serpent, raising firm golden shield just in time to throw the snake back and away from Hermione and the injured Arthur. It seemed human-like as it stared at the shield that bounced it away, then at her. As if realizing how fruitless fighting her would be, the snake popped out of existence.
She felt her curiousity at the snake grow, but her focus was on the grunt of pain from the Weasley patriarch at her feet. She dropped to her knees and took in the gushing blood coming from his neck. She tried to heal him, like she had Remus at the last full moon. She should have been able to, or at least able to feel where to darkness started and ended, but she couldn't. She couldn't even sense what was wrong to fix it. Hopelessness started to set in; her powers were useless to heal him.
"Hold on, hold on," she murmured, more to herself than Arthur. She tergeoed Arthur's blood into a vial, hoping some small portion of venom was in there so she could identify it. She accioed her dittany from her satchel and started dropping the healing potion on the neckbite. It sizzled, half closed the wound, and then reopened. She was amazed, but focused on finding some solution. A blood replenisher was put to Arthur's lips so she could be sure he wouldn't bleed out too quickly.
She tried dittany one more time, on both bites, and then moved on. She wrapped bandaged around his neck and arm, trying to stop the bleeding and then stuffed the vials in her bag.
"We have to get you to the hospital," Hermione told him urgently. He was fully awake, but she knew he couldn't walk as quickly as she could run, and a mobilicorpus would keep him with her as she hurried.
She ran past the Ministry portraits, earning questions about the body she had in tow. As she reached the floos, Kingsley appeared in one of the fireplace.
"What-?"
"He needs a mediwitch!" Hermione called. "I can't stop the bleeding!"
Kingsley immediately came to her side and hauled Arthur to the floo with his more obvious strength. They flooed quickly, both worried by the seeping red coming through the white bandages.
"We need help!" Hermione called the moment they were in the lobby. The nurses behind the desk looked up and stared at Arthur for a moment, making Hermione angry. "Get this man a doctor, and a potion Master! He's been bitten!"
The nurses sprung into action. Waiting patients were told to wait, and a pair of healers ran out of whatever room they were in to take Arthur. Hermione followed, ignoring the protests from one of the nurses.
"I was there for the attack," Hermione said cuttingly. "I can save you a lot of trouble finding out what happened. Are you going to fight me while he's DYING?!"
They let her follow, more intent on getting Mr. Weasley into a room. While one doctor tried to work on Mr. Weasley and stop the bloodflow, the other interrogated her on what happened, hoping to get information that would help treat him. She gave them the vial she'd collected, described the snake, and hoped.
When she'd seen that no treatment was working, she couldn't bear it. Making her apologies to the unconscious Arthur, she left his room in tears for the pseudo-father. Any hope of nobody seeing her breakdown flew out the window as she ran right into the waiting room, where the Weasleys had all congregated.
Molly looked so teary that Hermione felt her own tears stop and a choking take over her throat. This man was his wife. Hermione had called him to face the unknown dark magic, she'd been the reason the snake had been anywhere near the kindly man. The guilt that she hadn't known she carried in her heart threatened to tear her apart.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed hoarsely. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley."
"How is Arthur?" Molly warbled, her voice distorted through her tears.
Hermione felt the tears come again. "They can't identify the venom; it's destroying his blood cells and the wound isn't closing. They're feeding him blood-replenisher every hour to counteract it, but the potions . . . they won't work forever."
The heartbreak on everyone's faces was enough. Ron looked like he was going to be sick, Charlie had gotten up and punched a wall, which Bill took gently and fixed with a morose smile, Ginny started crying with her mother, and Fred and George looked more serious than she'd ever seen them. There was no Percy.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said again, her heart breaking at the pseudo-mother's tears. "I should have been the one bit. I should never have called Arthur to help me. I should have been able to heal him! I don't know why I couldn't! I'm so sorry."
She should have been bitten. Anything but this crushing guilt. Her failure to perform his healing was wracking through her like a destructive wave of self-doubt, anxiety, and shame.
Ron came and wrapped her up in his arms, and she returned the hug desperately. They all sat together in the waiting room, alternatively crying and mourning and pacing. Twice, Bill took it on himself to make a food run and force (literally, at times) the group to eat.
Hermione knew what he was doing, even if he didn't; he was preparing to take care of his family if their father didn't make it. He was preparing mentally as the oldest to take care of the family. He was starting to resign himself to his father's death. When Hermione realized this, she cried anew.
Most of the Order came to sit with Weasley family as well, each offering comfort and meaningless reassurance that was received with tears and gratitude from the Weasley matriarch. Dumbledore stopped in briefly, to appraise himself of the situation. As he was about to leave, Hermione took him to the side.
"Sir, that snake-"
He raised his hand to stop her, his face grave. "I know, Miss Granger. I do not yet know how we are going to kill it, but I do know what it is."
Hermione nodded, then looked towards the room mournfully.
"Are you going to get Harry? He'd want to be here."
Dumbledore sighed, and looked to her with a resigned look in his face. "He cannot be a part of this. Officially, it is because young Harry's not a member of the Weasley family and Umbridge would contest the decision to let him leave the school for a 'family emergency' that is not directly his."
Hermione jaw tensed, just thinking about how Harry would have felt at that. "The unofficial reason?"
"Your friend had a dream of Mister Weasley's attack, and had to be told of your … condition," Dumbledore said in a low voice. Hermione gaped. "Exactly. His possession is more prominent when angered, as you know, Miss Granger, and right now he is angered at many things: his vision and connection to Tom, his exclusion from the Order, and your perceived betrayal of trust. I thought it best he have some time to process his emotions before I allowed him near Weasleys during this vulnerable time."
She slumped. "How am I going to explain this to him?"
It was further heartache on a hell of a night, her sadness growing with the news of Harry's anger. Dumbledore and Snape had both drilled into just how necessary it was to keep her abilities secret, especially from Harry, but it had weighed on her. She hoped he understood.
"I believe, if you explain truthfully, and perhaps give him some time, all will be well," he gave her a kindly smile, but it immediately dropped and revealed its faked assurance. "There is another issue this raises; I must ask you to always have an escort when you leave the castle."
"Wha-?" she blinked, then moaned in despair. "I knew there was something wrong with that snake!"
"She is linked to Tom," Dumbledore told her sadly. "Much like Harry. And if Harry saw your display of magic in the Ministry …"
"Then Voldemort probably saw too," Hermione finished in a whisper. She looked at Dumbledore frantically. "What if he figures it out? He'll know what I am? What will happen if he gets me?"
Dumbledore's eyes grew dark. "Our friend was … compelled to follow his orders through the use of her bondmate. After a time, she started to refuse, they killed him and attempted to do so to her. You must never tell anyone of your bonding with Severus."
When he left, there was nothing to distract her from her fear. Not until the early hours of the morning, when the tethers and magic she'd bound to Severus started screaming in alarm and warning.
There was nothing she could do, and it made the whole ordeal so much worse. Severus had been summoned, probably to answer for why Voldemort was only now hearing about her gifts. He was being tortured, she knew, and she could do nothing.
Her body thrummed sensitively as her bonds screamed, and any amount of touch only served to aggravate her. No hugs from Ron, no comforting pats from other Order members … Remus, with his pack bond, knew something was wrong with her and tried to help. She ended up fed chocolate and underneath Remus' jacket, just waiting for his torture to end. For the impulse to apparate right to him to die down.
It finally stopped as morning started to break, and she sagged against her friend and former Professor from the exertion. With the knowing look of pack, he took her into his arms and held her as she started to cry for worry over Severus, and Tonks lovingly patted Hermione's back to show she was okay with the pack-mates proximity.
Hermione just wanted her Severus.
Then, like a miracle, she felt Severus in the hospital. He didn't come to the Weasleys, but instead headed straight to Arthur's room. Her magic followed him, and she let herself be taken by the comfort of his presence.
Not a thirty minutes later, a mediwizard entered the waiting room. Those napping woke up immediately, and those awake were silent in their wait, eager for any news of their father and husband.
The man looked relieved, and everyone held their breath. "We managed to get enough venom out of his system to have an antidote made. His wounds were able to be stitched together and have started to scab, and the dark magic is clearing from his system. He'll need to stay here for a few days so we can ensure he's properly healing, and he'll have a couple of nasty scars, but he's stable and the worst seems to be over."
Molly cried tears of relief with Ginny, and the room seemed to take a huge breath of relief.
"Can we see him?" Charlie asked.
The mediwizard nodded, his face kind. "He's in a healing sleep right now, but you're free to come make sure he's alright."
Hermione let everyone else in the family go in, while she went to hunt the dark wizard. He was leaving the hospital, but she wasn't going to let him go without giving him her thanks. Nobody else would know he'd helped Arthur, but she did. When he visited Arthur's room, for him to heal just minutes after, Hermione knew it was him.
She caught him as he walked towards the exit and promptly grabbed him and dragged him back.
"Apprentice," Snape snarled, "unhand me."
"Not today, not ever," Hermione replied, pulling him into the nearest closet. "You're mine, you brilliant, wonderful man."
When the doors clicked shut, she kissed him as fiercely as she could, showing him every ounce of awe and gratitude she felt for him. He was stiff and didn't respond at first, but he soon melted into her embrace and returned her fervour, stoking her with little licks of his tongue and hands traveling up into her shirt. The darkness and self-pity seemed to melt against this man, this wonderfully selfless man who loved her.
When they broke away, Hermione embraced him in a tight hug. "Thank you, so much. I'm know you found the antidote. Thank you."
She pulled back and looked at his tired eyes, her heart trembling. "I could feel it. He tortured you because of me, didn't he?"
"No," he grumbled, looking away.
Liar, Hermione thought. Regardless, she laid her palms over his chest and poured through her love and magic, throwing away the dark traces of the Cruciatus and stilling his shaking arms and violently seizing nerves. It felt better just knowing there was something she could do.
He took her in his arms, slumping slightly in relief and letting his occluding expression give way to his heart. "Thank you."
"I love you," she murmured.
"Far less than I love you, I'm sure." He captured her lips in a kiss. "You are too good for me, little witch."
She pushed against him and glared. "Severus, you just went through torture for me! Why on earth would you think anyone is too good for you?"
When he opened his mouth to refute her, she silenced him with her mouth. They kissed in earnest, no longer hindered by hurting bonds or violent tremors, just enjoying the feeling of their lover being alive and safe.
Severus pulled away first, pushing his forehead against hers in an unforced kind of genuine intimacy. His eyes were pained. "I must go. After this confirmation of Potter's connection with the Dark Lord, Albus has tasked me with teaching your friend Occlumency."
"You need rest," Hermione frowned. "Can't it wait?"
He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You gave me your energy, witch. I will be fine."
"Will Harry?" she asked, almost instantly regretting the question. "I'm sorry."
"It was a valid concern," he said stiffly. "You know that, so long as he is connected to the Dark Lord, I cannot reveal my true colours to the boy?"
"I know," she whispered sadly.
Severus nodded sternly. "I am, then, not the best teacher for the boy. He will not be able to clear his mind without the unbiased self-reflection that only true vulnerability can bring. He will not take to his lessons."
That was Severus. No ifs about it, he knew without a doubt that Harry would never be vulnerable in his presence and was even less likely to open up on his own time. Hermione appreciated his bluntness, but her concern for Harry grew.
"Then, I should-" Hermione stopped. Harry hated her too at the moment. "Or Professor Dumbledore could-"
"Albus fears the part of the boy connected with the Dark Lord will present itself in the face of his greatest enemy," Severus told her. "While this could make him teaching the boy Occlumency a difficulty, there is also every chance that the Dark Lord would attempt to seize further control of Potter if regularly in Albus' presence. What better way to kill an enemy that to have his golden boy murder him? It would be too tempting for the Dark Lord to resist."
He drew her close and pressed a kiss into her temple. "You cannot either. While Albus informed the boy of your magical status, there is no reason for him to know your proficiency with Occlumency. That could only endanger me, and you by extension. I will try to help the boy, but I will not be kind."
Hermione nodded into his frock coat, her eyes starting to tear.
"And you," Severus announced, "must return to the legislative session."
"What? Why? I can't leave the Weasleys," Hermione protested.
"Arthur is in recovery now," he reassured her, "and you cannot do anything more for them. The best thing you can do is go to the session and present yourself as an infallible woman who will not be stopped."
Then, he hesitated. "Also, Umbridge was informed your absence was entirely based on the Wizengamot session. If you were to not appear, she would assume you had lied to me and promptly try to convince me to end your contract."
That horrible witch. Every day, Umbridge did something to prove that she was the worst sort of person imaginable – one with no morals, no scruples, and an ignorance that could only be from a stubborn determination not to understand or learn.
"Will you be alright with her?" Hermione asked, worriedly. "She's doing even more assessments lately."
"I'm fine, little witch," Severus said, exasperated. "Now let go of my person so I can return to my delightful task of entering a possessed, hormonal teenager's miserable mind."
She leaned up and kissed underneath his jaw. "Be as sensitive as you can, please. He's my friend."
He gave an irritable growl, but nodded his compliance. That earned him another kiss on the cheek and an sassily innocent grin that he answered with a roll of his eyes. She really loved this man.
"Oh! Don't forget to feed Wes and Crooks for me!"
Hello! Two updates within a week, aren't you feeling loved? Love me back with reviews! I want to know how you felt about this chapter.
Question: should Targnak show up in the Wizengamot, or should the Minister approach him at Gringotts? I have written the scene for both scenarios and simply can't decide.
P.S. Thank you to the commenters who pointed out that BILL is the oldest, not Charlie. I don't know how that slipped my mind ( I probably just liked the thought that Charlie, our resident rebel, would become responsible in this scenario), but I fixed it and now we're all good!