Narcissa Malfoy smiled as she poured out the tea. The green glazed cups were a lovely addition to her collection and she paused for a moment to admire the cracking in the glaze and the way gold had been used to repair one of the cups.
"It's always a delight to see you," Eustacia Parkinson said as she added milk to her tea, "but, forgive me, I'm wondering what you want?"
"Is it not possible I simply wanted the pleasure of your company?" Narcissa asked. "One lump or two?"
"Two please," Eustacia said. "And unlikely."
Narcissa smiled as she took a delicate sip. Trust Eustacia to have no patience for games. "I am looking for someone to assist me with a fairly sensitive project."
Eustacia raised a manicured eyebrow.
"How do you feel about adoption?" Narcissa asked.
Eustacia allowed a beat to pass before she returned the smile. "I thought that orphanage had been almost completely dismantled and that Arthur Weasley was overseeing its closing. Rather nice choice, that, I thought."
"Yes," Narcissa acknowledged. "And it's going quite well. Did you know George Weasley is taking in several children?"
"A bachelor?" Eustacia allowed a hint of surprise to creep into her tone.
"Not, I think, for long," Narcissa said and, at Eustacia's quietly curious expression, she added, "A Hufflepuff, quite a bit younger than he is. Astoria Greengrass - excuse me, Goyle - found her, slipped her into the man's life as a housekeeper of all things."
"One of ours?" Eustacia asked.
"Related to the Bullstrodes," Narcissa acknowledged, "though descent has been primarily through matrilineal lines."
"Well, that's a loose end tied up," Eustacia said.
"The orphanage has been a, well, let us call it a finite problem," Narcissa said. "Disgraceful, certainly, but one that ends. I have a somewhat more long term issue for you to consider."
"One involving adoption?" Eustacia asked.
Narcissa nodded. "It requires discretion, a commitment to traditional values combined with a, shall I say, flexible attitude towards blood purity."
"And morals?"
"Flexibility there as well would be optimal," Narcissa said.
"You've successfully caught my interest," Eustacia said, leaning back in her seat and sipping from her teacup. "What are you planning?"
"Has it ever struck you as unfortunate that some magical children are born to non-magical parents?" Narcissa asked.
"Indeed," Eustacia said. "A mystery, I admit. Squib grandparents? Spontaneous appearance of magic?"
"However it happens, they're raised in ignorance of their abilities, forced to integrate into our world right at the cusp of puberty..."
"It's a recipe for disaster." Eustacia admitted. " I'm surprised the level of prejudice is as low as it is, really."
"All magical children are precious," Narcissa said. "All of them should be raised by magical parents who can guide them through early bouts of accidental magic, help them learn to navigate our admittedly somewhat insular culture."
"I assume their natural parents would remain unaware - "
"Of everything. They'll mourn changelings."
"Crib death is tragic," Eustacia said, "but it happens."
"You understand the need for absolute discretion and loyalty?" Narcissa nearly purred.
"This will, indeed, be an ongoing issue." Eustacia frowned. "I think having a handful of families selected that take these children in every generation would be best. Keep the information close."
Narcissa smiled. "Do you have any suggestions?"
She did and the women spent the rest of the afternoon outlining the ways the Project Changeling children would be placed.
. . . . . . . . . .
Hermione swallowed the draught and made a face. "This is vile," she said. "Are you sure you aren't trying to kill me?"
Draco took the glass out of her hand and set it on their kitchen counter. "Don't even joke," he said. "It's supposed to help you feel better. I hate how this pregnancy is so hard on you."
She sighed and slipped into his arms and he stood there, embracing her, and let himself feel both the way she'd become more fragile and the way her abdomen pressed out, curving into him with the slow growth of their child. "I'll keep you safe this time," he promised, tightening his grip.
"We have to do the public event today," Hermione said, her voice muffled against his chest. "You know we do."
"I know," he said. "And you'll have so many wards around you, you might actually sparkle. On top of that, Marcus has the crowd seeded with our own people and they've all got orders to curse first and ask questions later. It's as safe as Blaise, Theo and I can make it and I'm still going to be scared as hell until I have you safely back within these walls."
Hermione shivered as he held onto her. "I love you," she said at last. "I hold on to that some times, when it seems like I've lost everything else."
"I love you, too," he whispered. "I don't want anything but you."
They stood there, together, until Theo let himself into their flat and, spotting them, sighed.
"Honestly," he said, "You aren't even dressed yet. Hermione, go put on one of your dark witch costumes, including the power heels, and get ready to open the damn public Quidditch tournament. We're supposed to be there in 30 minutes and you're still in Draco's old t-shirt."
Draco let the witch go and, giving him an achingly sad look, she headed back to their room to turn herself into the powerful and feared Minister of Magic.
Theo looked at Draco. "You're both just done, aren't you?" he asked. Draco sighed and leaned back against the counter.
"I suppose," he said. "Certainly until after the baby is born and we're not so damn afraid all the time." He glanced over at the clock on the wall. "Duty calls, though, and I drugged her up to get her through this. Let's go give the masses their damn bread."
"It will be fine," Theo said. "And circuses."
"Mustn't forget that," Draco agreed. "Fucking morons, all of them. They don't deserve a moment of her time."
"Agreed," Theo said, "but you two built this. It's your kingdom."
"Queendom," Draco said.
Theo shrugged. "It is what it is. And we've got people ready to demand she accept that crown and queenship once these public relations money dumps are all in motion, so let's get her to the pitch at Hogwarts to announce the start of the summer charity match. The sooner we get this done, the sooner she's queen and the sooner you two can announce the impending birth of the little prince and her decision to go into seclusion."
Draco pushed himself forward and said, "Then let's do it. She won't stop until she feels like she can hand the whole thing over to Æthel in a neat package."
Theo grasped his long-time friend's hand. "You know the moment she wanted it again, we'd give it back, right?"
"I know," Draco said.
. . . . . . . . . .
McGonagall looked at the pile of resumes in front of her and sighed. The candidates were, to a man, incompetent, unrealistic, or loathsome. Some of them were all of the above. She threw another dart at the photo of Percy Weasely she'd attached to a board on her wall. The man dodged out of the way of the missile and glared at her.
"Dark Arts," she hissed as she sorted through the pile looking, again, for someone she could tolerate. "At Hogwarts. Dumbledore must be turning over in his grave."
. . . . . . . . .
Æthel shuffled her feet as she looked at her Aunt 'Mione; the woman was sitting at her kitchen table with papers spread out before her, a long since cooled put of tea shoved out of reach. She smiled at the waiting child, eyes softening a little from their usual coldness. "Can I help you, sweetie?" she asked, half her attention still on her plans.
"I want to swear fealty," Æthel said. She got the words out in a rush, not trusting her aunt, beloved as she may be, to not cut her off.
Hermione put down her quill and turned all the way toward her niece. She regarded the girl with a measuring look for a bit and finally said, "May I ask why?"
Æthel crossed the sunny kitchen and lay her hands on her aunt's belly; the swelling was becoming more obvious, though clever wardrobe choices, some concealment charms, and careful placement behind half walls when she addressed the public had kept the pregnancy mostly a secret. "You're leaving," the girl said, looking not at her aunt's face but at her own hands.
"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked.
Æthel shrugged. "I listen," she said.
Hermione nodded at that. "And why does that make you think it's a good idea to swear fealty?"
"Because people will think I'm stealing your crown," Æthel said and Hermione controlled the way her breath nearly caught in her throat. So perceptive, this child was.
"I don't have a crown," Hermione said, quietly sidestepping the observation.
"You will," Æthel insisted, "and then you'll give it to me."
"When you're older, yes," Hermione said.
"Because Nimue anoints," Æthel said.
"You do listen." Hermione sighed and leaned back in the kitchen chair. "People may say you've stolen the crown, it's true. They'll want my child to inherit; your father had wanted me to have a baby just to make a tot to catch the public's eye. With you we've decided to play it a bit differently. You're still an aristocrat, can't hide that, not with Theo as your father."
"And Daphne," Æthel said.
"Yes," Hermione agreed. "And Daphne. Sacred Twenty-Eight, both of them. Purebloods among purebloods. But you're more than the storybook princess, you're the orphan, raised in penury. It's romantic. Quaint. Magical, even."
"I have to swear," Æthel insisted. "If I'm your vassal it will – "
"Make you beholden to me," Hermione cut the girl off. "Magically bound. Blaise, Draco, your father – that bond isn't a trivial thing. It isn't something to do on a whim."
"And it will be better than adoption," the girl said, a stubborn thrust to her jaw. "And I know what the vow does."
"So I understand," Hermione said, "But you know it from the other end, as the queen, not as the servant. Bind yourself to me and all your own vassals become mine as well."
Æthel just regarded her aunt with unblinking eyes until Hermione laughed. "Ask your father," she finally said. "And if you can talk your way around him we'll do the bonding on your birthday."
Æthel gently wrapped her arms around her aunt who pulled her in for a tight hug. "I'm not going to break," Hermione said. "I'm tired, certainly, but the baby is pretty well cushioned in there."
"My cousin," Æthel said, patting Hermione's belly. "I'll teach her to fly and to –"
"Oh, Merlin," Hermione said with a groan. "Not that. I've seen you fly. You're a menace."
"I'm trying out for Seeker next year," Æthel said with a grin.
"Of course you are," Hermione said. "Go find your uncle Draco and see if he can give you some pointers. Just… don't let me see. That much anxiety can't possibly be healthy."
Æthel kissed Hermione on the cheek and skipped off, smugly confident in her ability to talk her way round her father. After all, she was right. This would eliminate so many accusations that she was stealing her aunt's crown.
. . . . . . . . . .
Neville tromped his way through the grasses, three small boys following him, as he made his way towards George's cottage. "George," he called out, wanting to alert the man he was coming. "You home?"
George stuck his head out the window of the cottage and asked, "Kids with you?"
"Ayup," Neville said.
"I'll get the biscuits down then," the man said and, at that, the boys trailing in Neville's wake shot out ahead of him, pushed their way through the gate into the small but manicured garden, and then into the cottage. Neville could hear squealing laughter as George insisted he had no biscuits at all, what were they talking about. The man's newest trick was Muggle sleight of hand and he'd become adept at pulling treats out of ears and such.
Neville leaned against the doorframe and watched George play with the boys. Sarah, the housekeeper Astoria had dumped on George, was sitting at the table shelling peas as the two children they'd taken in themselves joined with Neville's three to run around and around her and the table as if they were a tornado. She just smiled at them.
"Doesn't that make you crazy?" Neville asked her.
She laughed. "They're boys. They don't stop moving until they fall into bed and then they're up with the light and ready to do it again. It's good there's so many of them. Keeps them out of my hair."
Neville looked at George and George sighed. "Not totally a social visit, I take it?" he asked.
"How do you feel about more neighbors?" Neville asked.
"Who?" Sarah's voice was as calm as the rest of her as she separated pea after pea from their shells and put the peas into one bowl and the shells in another. She stopped one of the boys on his circle around the table and said, "Can you take the this out to the compost pile for me?"
He grabbed the bowl and the whole passel of boys followed him out into the yard.
"If you're lucky about half of that may actually make its way to the compost pile," George said. "I'd lay odds the rest of it will get dumped on someone's head."
Sarah shrugged, still unruffled. "We're raising boys," she said. "Some head dumping is inevitable."
"Malfoy was up here inquiring about cottages," Neville said, his voice neutral. "That means he and Hermione are thinking of moving up. I didn't want to steer them in this direction until I talked to you about it."
"Because he killed my brother?" George asked, humor leaving his face.
Neville sighed and rubbed between his eyes. "I'm not sure what all they've done, to be honest. I suspect killing Ron is just the beginning. But you've already got Greg up here all the time with that hellion toddler of theirs. I'm not sure how many more members of Hermione's little inner circle you can bear and you've borne enough."
"I like Alicia," Sarah said. "She's not afraid of anything."
"She's not afraid of putting everything in her mouth, she's not afraid of yanking on the ears of strange dogs, she's not afraid of wild animals. You're quite right that she's not afraid of anything. It's what makes her so bloody exhausting to be around," George said.
"She has very pretty eyes," Sarah said, getting up and putting the peas into a pot. "Are you and the boys staying for dinner, Neville?"
George and Neville looked at one another. "Yes," Neville said very quietly. "I suppose she does have pretty eyes." He shook his head as though to clear a thought out of it. "And I can't stay. Hannah's trying some new recipe and I've been informed if I'm not there on time she'll be quite put out with me."
"Why is she coming here," George asked. "Why now?"
"To heal, I suppose," Neville said. "To hide."
"She's the queen of the goddamned world," George said, "or near enough as makes no difference. What does she need to bloody well hide from."
"Probably the world," Neville said. "If you don't want them near you I'll tell Malfoy I don't think there's anything suitable around."
George sighed and sank down into the chair Sarah had vacated. "No. If they need… maybe that damn weird tree ring will help her too." Sarah moved back towards the table to clean up the rest of her shelling mess and dropped a kiss on George's temple. He took her hand and Neville watched them.
"We can keep the boys for a bit," George said. "I can walk them home for dinner. They're all having so much fun out there."
"Sounds good," Neville said.
. . . . . . . . . . .
Blaise looked at Hermione. She was tired, her skin managed to look both grey and oily at the same time. And she was swollen.
"When are you due," he asked quietly and she reached for her wand.
"You don't need to do that," Blaise said. "You know I'm not going to curse my pregnant queen. If you want to kill me, my life is yours. If you want to hurt me, I'll kneel at your feet and make it easy for you. But you don't look good. You look tired and worn out and I'm worried." He pulled out a package. "I also have something for you."
She took it from him. "What is it?"
"Potter's invisibility cloak," Blaise said, "We got it from Weasley and I used it to handle some of Project Changling." "He didn't know, you know," Blaise added as she weighed the package in her hands. "Potter. Weasley stole the cloak. Shacklebolt helped him. But Potter wasn't guilty of anything more than being a lousy friend and a cheating husband."
She nodded and sat down. "I'm so tired, Blaise," she said.
He did kneel down at her feet then. "We've got this, you know. Theo and Daphne and me and Luna. We have this. You can let it go."
"I made the world," she said.
"Changed it," Blaise agreed. "Gave us all safety and power and pulled the Muggle-borns into the fold."
She smiled a little wanly. "We haven't quite done the last bit yet."
"We will," Blaise said. "We've got the scroll copied, the spell work all tested. Narcissa will get the adoption system in place." He brushed some of her hair out of her face. "Let us take care of you for a little while."
Hermione sighed. "Got you your money back too," she said.
Blaise laughed. "That you did."
"Blaise," Hermione said, "why does it feel like I gained the world and lost my soul?"
. . . . . . . . . .
A/N - Thank you, all, for continuing to read this. It is, I know, rather long. I've been a bit lax about responding to reviews but I am trying to get back on track. I do VERY much appreciate all your thoughts and feedback.
I'm going to take a moment to shamelessly self-promote some of the eight (yes, eight, I have issues) other fics I'm writing concurrently with this one:
* 'The Muddy Princess' is a bit of pureblood!Hermione fluff.
* 'The Ones Who Ran' is a Voldemort won AU marriage law fic with Ginny/Blaise, Luna/Theo, and Hermione/Draco.
* 'A Nose that Can See' is a Veela!Tomione. (Yes, you read that right.)
