Disclaimer: The characters of the Harry Potter Universe are the property of J.K. Rowling. All canon characters, plots, and situations are not owned by me and I make no profit from this story.

Beta Love: Fluffpanda

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, and the occasional graphic sexual scene.

A/N: As promised . . .

Presque Toujours Pur

Almost Always Pure

Chapter Thirty-Five

Beatus

March 1999

Regulus was brought to the Hospital Wing where Poppy and Severus took turns slipping potions down his throat before more broth and a bit of cooked food was brought in for him to eat. Regulus struggled not to devour it like a man starved. It had just been too long since he'd tasted real food that wasn't raw meat, stale rock cakes that Hagrid would slip him from time to time, or pumpkins from the patch that he would break into when bored.

The Calming Draught kicked in sometime before sunset. Both Minerva and Severus left to attend dinner in the Great Hall while Sirius watched over him as he drifted off to sleep. The potion didn't last very long and somewhere shortly after midnight he supposed, Regulus woke to find a large black dog sleeping at the foot of his bed. Slowly, he crawled out of the large cot and stood to stretch his limbs, eager to feel his human form again.

The sound of snoring pulled his attention and he stepped around the curtains drawn around his bed to see a slumber party in the beds next to him. Few faces felt vaguely familiar. A redheaded boy who slept next to a blond girl that Regulus remembered used to sneak into the Forbidden Forest near the hippogriff paddock, where she'd feed them whatever she'd snuck away from the kitchens before offering apologies that she couldn't stay longer, as the thestrals were expecting her. In a large chair rested a redheaded girl, her legs draped over the body of a tall, lanky boy who was holding her hand, even as they slept. On the floor in front of them was a boy Regulus knew at once: Harry Potter.

The only occupants in an actual bed were Hermione, his daughter, who was curled up into a ball, her fists clenching the robes against the chest of the blond boy she was breathing against. Regulus fought the urge to growl, knowing that he had no right, and instead moved to her side, pulling a chair forward and sitting down in it.

He stared at her for a good long while. Admiring the colour of her curls and the way that they stuck out in certain directions as though they had a mind of their own . . . so much like her mother. He frowned as the moonlight came in through the window, lingering over her skin and reflecting off of the soft, silvery scar tissue. Small marks on her arms and legs, some small ones he actually remembered from when she was so very, very small and would trip and skin her knees. Those he could live with. But there were others; reminders of war. There was a deep and dark scar against her neck, and another, hidden beneath the boy's hand, lingering on her forearm.

Curious, Regulus attempted to lift it away so he could get a better look, but at one touch, Draco stiffened. Silver eyes stared up at Regulus, wide and panicked, bordering somewhere between fear and defiance, and his grip on Hermione tightened as he pulled her closer to his chest, looking like he was readying himself for Regulus to tear her away.

"Don't wake her," Regulus whispered.

Draco reached for his wand and flicked it out toward the other sleeping students, casting what Regulus remembered to be a Muffliato, one of Severus's creations. "Madam Pomfrey gave her Dreamless Sleep," he said. "She won't wake until morning."

Regulus nodded. "Not a regular Sleeping Potion?"

Draco shook his head. "She has nightmares sometimes."

Regulus frowned. "War?"

Draco nodded.

They stared at one another for a long moment of silence before Regulus turned and looked at the sleeping teenagers. "Do they not have rooms of their own?"

"Hermione didn't want to . . . she wanted to check on you and Madam Pomfrey didn't want to send her away. She wasn't . . . they came to support Hermione," Draco replied, rolling his eyes. "Bloody Gryffindors can't exist without living in one another's personal lives. They worry about her."

"I'm glad she has them."

Draco scowled. "She has me. I can take care of her now," he nearly hissed.

Regulus raised an amused brow. "How does she feel about that?"

"She'd hex me if she was awake," Draco admitted. "Doesn't change anything. She's mine."

He was tempted to tell the boy that the witch had been his first, but he was strangely entertained at the way the boy was possessive over his daughter. Holding her tightly like he was . . . like he'd die without her. Regulus rubbed at the wedding band on his finger and then merely muttered. "We'll see," before leaning back in the chair, never breaking eye contact with the boy.

Twenty minutes of silence and Regulus's eyes fell on the faded Dark Mark on Draco's forearm and he sighed. "I was seventeen," he admitted.

Draco's eyes flickered to the faded Dark Mark on Regulus's forearm. "Seventeen," he echoed with a deep frown.

Regulus nodded. "I thought I could protect my brother."

Draco swallowed. "My . . . my m-mother," he said and the two shared a moment of silent understanding where Regulus looked at the boy and saw it. Saw the guilt and regret and things that no boy his age should have to live with. He saw the blood, stained on his skin and his soul, slowly being cleaned away by the remorse there in his gaze.

It was a familiar gaze. He'd seen it in his own reflection.

"I'm glad she has you," Regulus whispered before standing up and making his way back to his own bed.

oOoOoOo

After that first night, Hermione avoided him for four whole days; her father, Regulus Black.

When her friends started questioning her about it, she started sleeping in the Slytherin common room. She reasoned that she and Regulus were perfect strangers and people who actually knew him and loved him had more reason to be in the room with him than her. Sirius had a full two decades worth of reconciliation to be had with his little brother, and Severus deserved time with his best friend. Plus Madam Pomfrey needed to make sure he was in good health and Hermione would very likely just get in the mediwitch's way and . . . and . . .

But she occasionally kept nearby. And she asked Winston to check in on him. And she eavesdropped when Winston checked in on him.

"You're my . . . your Hermione's elf?" Regulus asked Winston as she popped into the infirmary, Hermione listening just outside the door beneath Harry's Invisibility Cloak, too nervous to step inside the room even if she couldn't be seen.

Winston arrived with Regulus's breakfast on the fourth day, a plate of bacon, tomatoes, and beans — but not eggs, because Hermione remembered something that Kreacher had told her once — and a bowl of porridge with blueberries and a glass of pumpkin juice. "Yes, Master Regulus," Winston said with a chipper tone. "Mistress says to give Master Regulus all his favourites to eat."

"How does she know my favourites?" he questioned.

Winston paused. "She says Master's elf, Kreacher, told her."

"Kreacher's still alive? Wow . . . that's . . . that's great. Thank you . . . umm . . ."

"Winston," the elf said happily.

Regulus chuckled. "Winston. Thank you. You're a good little elf."

Hermione scrunched her face up tight, trying to stop herself from crying over the fact that he was treating her elf so sweetly. She could have assumed, of course, that he would, given Kreacher's unblinking loyalty to the man. But Sirius had issues with the decrepit old house-elf, and Lucius Malfoy had been so very terrible to Dobby which made her think that some wizards would treat some elves kindly while others poorly until someone insisted otherwise. She shook her head, ridding herself of any escaped tears and wrapped the Invisibility Cloak around her like it was a security blanket.

oOoOoOo

Up in Gryffindor Tower, where she'd locked herself away after the week's classes ended, Hermione was found sitting in the center of Harry's bed, waiting for her friends to return from Quidditch practice. When Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean all stepped through the door, laughing over some joke that Seamus had just said, they all stopped at the sight of the witch.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, frowning. "You all right?"

She just silently shook her head no.

"Can we get a minute, guys?" he asked the others.

Dean, Seamus, and Neville all nodded, the latter smiling at the witch and offering a quiet, "Feel better, Hermione," before shutting the door.

Ron walked over and draped an arm around Hermione who looked close to breaking. "Is this a dad thing?" he quietly asked and frowned when she just started crying, nodding her head as she buried it in her arms, pulling her knees to her chest, letting her body tip against him as he held her. He looked up at Harry, shocked and not entirely knowing what to do, and stroked her hair until she calmed down.

"Right," Ron said. "I'll leave you two for a bit then. I need a shower and don't want to sweat and stink all over you, 'Mione." He chuckled. "Ferret might not be too pleased with you smelling like a Weasley," he said with a smirk and Hermione actually let out a soft laugh, thanking him silently.

When the door shut, leaving her alone with Harry, he sat down on his bed in front of her and sighed. "What's going on, Hermione?"

She sniffed. "When . . . when I was ten, about a month before I got my Hogwarts letter, I got sick. Nothing very serious, but enough where I was pretty much bed-ridden for a few days and fairly miserable," she said. "My parents had a vacation planned. There was a conference they were going to for work, and it was being held near a nice vacation spot so they thought they'd extend their trip by a few days and visit some old friends from University that were going to be in the area. But . . . but they cancelled their trip because I got sick. I was supposed to stay with my grandmother, my mum's mum, and she could have taken very good care of me. But they cancelled their trip and my mum make me chicken soup and my dad sat on the sofa with me and we watched cartoons together."

Harry furrowed his brows. "Why does that make you sad, Hermione?"

She looked up, eyes still wet and red. "Because they told me that even though they hadn't had a chance to be alone together in years, and even though they hadn't seen their friends since they left school, they would rather be with me than anyone else in the world," she said, hiccoughing, doing her best not to break into a fresh new set of sobs. "I've . . . I've not gone to see . . . to see him . . . haven't said a word to him," she said, choking a bit on her words. "And what if . . . what if Regulus feels the same way and I've just been too afraid to . . ."

Harry pulled her into his arms and hugged her as tight as he could without knocking the breath from her lungs, letting her cry against his chest. "Do you think that you'd be disrespecting your parents if you went to see him?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Can I . . . Hermione, when I faced Voldemort and . . . I saw my parents," he confessed. "I had the Stone and I used it to see them. They were standing right there in front of me and I knew what was coming. I knew what I needed to do," he said, stroking her hair until she pulled back from him to look in his eyes as he spoke. "I remember thinking, well at least if I die, I'll be with my parents," he said with a frown. "And then I thought of you and Ron and the other Weasleys and Remus and . . . and Sirius," he said, trying to clear his throat. "And it was absurd really, but I remember thinking that I felt selfish knowing that I was a bit happy at the idea that if I died, I could be with my parents, knowing what it would do to everyone left behind."

Tiny, quiet sobs shook her body as she listened to her best friend.

"I think . . . at least I would like to think," he said with a heavy sigh, "that if my parents were . . . if they came back to me, I think I could love everyone. I would want to be with them and still . . . you know . . . think of Sirius as a parent too," he admitted. "I don't think they'd mind. I think they'd understand. It was their plan, right? They did make him my godfather."

She nodded in understanding.

"Regulus and Snape planned for this. I mean, I doubt he thought that he'd be stuck as a hippogriff for seventeen years but . . . they knew what might happen. That he might not make it and they planned for you to go and live with Muggles. He knew what he was doing," he told her. "I don't think he expects you to suddenly revert to the little girl he knew all those years ago. You can . . . Hermione, it's okay for you to want to have a father. I met your parents before. They were good people. They'd want you to be happy."

oOoOoOo

After a final dose of Calming Draught to help him sleep through the uncomfortable side effects of the Strengthening Draughts Madam Pomfrey and Severus insisted on, and Regulus opened his eyes to look around the infirmary, realising that once again he'd slept the day away. He sighed but then couldn't help but look for the silver lining, in that he was in a bed and not a paddock or pumpkin patch, sleeping on clean sheets instead of cold ground or itchy bales of hay.

He sat up in the bed and stretched his arms above him while yawning, bringing his hands down to run fingers through his now short, black hair, happy to feel the weight of it gone. Sirius had teased and said it made Regulus look like the older brother, and Regulus wasn't unkind enough to note aloud that Azkaban had aged Sirius in ways that being stuck as a hippogriff for over a decade could never have done to him. Instead, he told his older brother that his long hair made him look like a girl and the two had shared a grin.

Eager to get up and walk around a bit, Regulus swung his legs over the side of the bed and moved to stand but stopped when he caught sight of the witch sitting against the wall across from his bed, her legs folded beneath her. She was staring at him, wide grey eyes that mirrored his own, twisting a long black lock of hair between her fingers nervously.

"Hi," she said softly.

"Hi," Regulus replied, swallowed hard at the first sight of his daughter since he'd watched her sleeping in the arms of the Malfoy boy.

"I umm . . ." she mumbled, standing up and smoothing down her pleated grey skirt as she hesitantly approached him, wiping her palms on her red and gold jumper before extending a hand to him, posture straight and stiff. "I'm Hermione Gra — umm . . . Bla . . . I'm Hermione."

Regulus smiled softly and took her small hand within both of his, holding it gently instead of shaking it in introduction. "I know," he whispered. "I named you."

She nodded, not moving to withdraw her hand from him. "I . . . I always thought I'd been named after a character in Shakespeare," she confessed. "A Winter's Tale."

Regulus nodded. "I know of it," he admitted. "I suppose you know the truth though."

She gave him a small smile. "Daughter of Helen of Troy," she said. "Her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world."

"She really was," he gently insisted.

She laughed nervously, using her free hand to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "I'm afraid I don't live up to the standard set by mythology," she said.

"I disagree."

She stared at him for a long moment, and Regulus saw light reflecting off of moisture in her eyes. He said nothing, allowing her to take the conversation where she needed to.

"Still," she said, finally pulling away from him so that she could use both of her hands to nervously fidget, worrying the hem of her jumper in her fingers. "It's a bit appropriate I suppose. In my childhood I had no mother, my father was ever in the wars —"

"Though the two were not dead . . . not both at least," he said with a regretful sigh. "You were reft of both." He frowned up at her. "I should say, however, that we were there . . . at least for a time, in your early years receiving the caressing prattle from the tripping tongue of you, our little girl. There was, in fact, a time when you clasped about my neck with little arms that would not reach, and did sit, a burden sweet, upon my lap."

Hermine smiled, not sure why she was surprised that he could quote Ovid so easily. "Did you know the daughter of Helen, the original Hermione was betrothed to a cousin?" she asked him. "Orestes. But he died of a snakebite."

"Died of a snakebite, or was a snake himself?" Regulus questioned, with a smirk.

Hermione awkwardly laughed. "Depends on which Hermione, I suppose. I happen to prefer the snake to the bite."

"As long as he's tamed, I suppose," Regulus said.

She smirked. "As well as you, I imagine."

"That doesn't say much for him, I'm afraid."

She frowned. "I think it quite says a lot about him. I . . . I brought some of your things," she said, turning around and moving back to her chair where she withdrew a stand of bound leather books from her bag, returning to him, holding out the diaries. "I . . . I hope you don't mind that I read them. I . . . it was all I had and I didn't know how else to —"

"It's fine," he admitted. "I . . . I meant for them to be read, one day, at least," he said, staring at the books and taking them from her tender grip, trying to recall what horrors and sins he had admitted in ink that his daughter had seen. "You . . . you read them all?"

Hermione nodded. "Every word. Some pages had feathers as bookmarks and I'm not sure if they were supposed to be there for someone to specifically come across anything important, or just perhaps accidentally left behind, pressed between pages. For a while I thought Leo, my owl, was molting . . . he has black and grey feathers you see, and Draco and Harry both figured out that you were an Animagus and they thought my owl was you because I guess it made sense at the time because of the colouring, and I've named him Leo which is the constellation where Regulus resides and Leo doesn't much like Draco, always biting and such . . . and well, he bit Luna just the other morning and Daphne that same afternoon so we think that perhaps he just has a dislike for blondes and —" she stopped talking mid-sentence when she noticed he'd started to chuckle. "Sorry . . . I . . . what was it you said? I prattle?"

He nodded and smiled. "Your mother, my Marley . . . she did the same."

Hermione smiled brightly at that. "Was I always —"

"So talkative?" he asked and then smiled, nodding. "Since you first learned your lips could form words."

Her smile increased and then, as silence once again took hold, she cleared her throat and walked back to her bag, pulling it and the chair closer to his bed. "I umm . . . was wondering if you could help me with something. I've taken on a project for my N.E.W.T.s, trying to solve a theory that covers both Advanced Transfiguration and Advanced Charms. My hypothesis is that a Patronus can change not only due to emotional upheaval of sorts, but also if and when a person goes through the process of becoming an Animagus. For instance, my Patronus is an otter, but I've done the meditations and my Animagus form would be a kneazle. I've asked Sirius and he says that since he became an Animagus at such a young age, well before he could cast a Patronus, he couldn't know . . . and Professor McGonagall agrees and I wanted to ask more in-depth questions, but you can hardly form any decent theory on a subject group of only two. However, as they're the only Animagi that I know . . ." she paused and pursed her lips, "well, that's not entirely true, I do know a beetle Animagus but I'd rather not ever speak to her and I doubt she'd be willing to part with her secrets considering I'm still technically blackmailing her over the one that I'm aware of and she's still likely very cross that I kept her in a jar for a few weeks and —"

Regulus stared at her in awe. "You . . . you want me to help you with your homework?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip. "If . . . if it's not too much trouble. It's just . . . Sirius and Professor McGonagall are staff members and it feels a bit like cheating since they both teach Transfiguration. I thought about speaking to Severus, but frankly I wasn't in the mood for him lecturing me about silly wand waving . . . nevermind that a wand is completely unnecessary when undergoing Animagi training and he's not even an Animagus himself. Still . . . he is proficient with a Patronus, but so is Professor Lupin and . . . and I'm prattling again, aren't I?"

Regulus smiled and nodded. "Please, never stop," he said.

Hermione grinned and immediately pulled out a long roll of parchment and no less than three books covering both subjects, laying them out across his bed, all opened to specific sections, each marked by a black and grey feather.

oOoOoOo

"I'm happy for you," Draco said, kissing the side of her head as she told everyone the following morning about how brilliant Regulus was and that he'd helped her with her essay by offering insights from the perspective of someone who'd become an Animagus and struggled with the Patronus Charm. Then he'd watched for over twenty minutes as she'd showed him her otter over and over again, smiling with rapt attention as the spectral creature swam midair around the infirmary, pausing once to allow Hermione to send a message to Winston, requesting tea and biscuits.

"She still going on about her father?" Blaise asked as he sat down across from the pair. "Not that I mind. We're all thrilled for you, Hermione. There are, however, other things going on you know. For instance, I'm dating twins," he said and winked across the hall at Padma and Parvati Patil who giggled as they made their way to the Ravenclaw table.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You remind me of my uncle sometimes."

Blaise shrugged. "What's that? A man irresistible to women and men alike?"

She nodded. "Something like that. I like to think of it more as a man who overcompensates with his sex life because he's a bit emotionally stunted. Take a page from Sirius's book, Blaise. Confront your fears. Embrace the idea of a loving committed relationship."

"And what? Shack up with a werewolf?"

"If that's your pleasure," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

Blaise scoffed. "I am not overcompensating for anything, sweetheart. I am moving on. No more chasing after Chasers," he said, casting a glance in Ginny's direction, purposely ignoring her as she laughed into Neville's shoulder. "I'm happy as I am, thank you. Plus . . . twins!" he said and waggled his eyebrows.

"Good on you, mate," Ron said to Blaise as he sat down beside Hermione, Luna hanging onto his arm with a sweet smile as they joined the Slytherin table.

"I think it's lovely that Padma and Parvati are so good at sharing," Luna said serenely and Draco nearly choked on his pumpkin juice.

"Nice catch last game, by the way," Blaise told Ron. "I mean, it was Hufflepuff but still."

Ron nodded. "They've gotten better over the years. Still, doesn't surprise me that we came out ahead."

"Better hope that you got far enough ahead," Draco smirked. "Hufflepuff Seeker is rubbish and when we play them in a month, I'm going to sit back on my broom and stare at the clouds for three or four hours, letting the points rack up, before I steal the Snitch right out from under his nose. That Cup is mine this year."

Ron snorted. "You wish, Malfoy."

Hermione sighed. "Sports and girls. I'm so glad that we've accomplished inter-House unity so that we could all participate in and enjoy these intellectually stimulating moments," she said sarcastically and then yelped when Draco pinched her side.

"Hermione," Daphne said as she sat down across from her friend, Theo at her side. "That bird of yours is a menace. I was just in the owlery trying to send a letter to my sister, and that bloody owl of yours attacked my head."

Hermione chuckled. "Sorry, Daph. I'm trying to break him of his hatred for blondes, I swear it."

"Ahem."

The table turned to see Harry standing there, holding onto Pansy Parkinson's hand. Everyone stared in silence for a good thirty seconds, watching as Harry began to sweat, before turning their attention back to their breakfast and speculation on how Gryffindor could get ahead in their next match against Ravenclaw.

"Our Beaters have opposing auras," Luna suggested. "You could use that against them. I know it would give an unfair advantage, but I have warned them repeatedly to start bathing in vinegar and they haven't taken my advice."

"No one's going to say anything?" Harry asked.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I told you this was ridiculous, but you needed to go and make a big scene about it."

Ron turned and cleared his throat, throwing his best friend a bone. "Oi!" he yelled, gesturing wildly to Harry and Pansy's clasped hands. "What's this then?!"

Immediately everyone broke out into laughter.