A/N: Love to reviewers and Countess Black

There's semi-graphic talk of sexual activity, but I think it's consistent with the age of the characters. And some archaic beliefs about the same-no advocacy, and so forth.

We've skipped about two months. As before, most of what we skipped is the day to day grind-unless it isn't. :)

Christmas Eve:

Alise rolled on her side when she heard Hermione groan. She sat up and leant over to shake her friend, who mumbled something in English and cringed into the bed.

'Hermione, wake up!'

'Alise? Wh' happened?'

'Nightmare. What did you see?'

Hermione sat up and rubbed her eyes. 'Bad things. What time is it?'

Alise lit her wand and looked at the clock on the opposite side of the wall. 'Five forty five AM. We have another two hours to sleep.' It had become a tradition of sorts for them to spend the night before holidays in Hermione's room, enjoying being pampered and entertained by Rinky, who was only too pleased to oblige with both.

Hermione shook her head no and wriggled so she wouldn't jar Yseult. It was too late; her blonde friend also sat up and put an arm round her. 'Bad dreams?'

'It wasn't too bad.'

'Liar. You were shaking and talking.' Alise gave her a stern look and Hermione, wisely, changed the subject.

'What did I say?'

Alise understood exactly enough to have repeated it, but also understood Hermione probably didn't really want to know. She shook her head and spelled the candles up.

'Don't know. What did you dream?' She wasn't going to let it go, even if Hermione got grumpy with her. She never did, which in some ways was much more disturbing. It wasn't natural.

'Werewolves.' She said it with a flat finality that was a sort of code that meant it wasn't a good subject. Both girls nodded and Rinky, who'd been under strict orders not to wake the others if Miss should have a bad dream, appeared with cold water.

They drank silently, and then Yseult laid back and closed her eyes, spelling the lights back down. 'Even if you aren't going to sleep, you need to rest a little, both of you.' They obeyed and then, as Yseult's breathing slowed and deepened, started to talk.

'What did you really dream?'

Hermione cast a quick privacy spell. 'Hogwarts. I could hear them eating people.'

Alise nodded and squeezed her friend's hand. 'And then?'

'I'm worried. It seems like something bad happens every time Viktor and I get together.'

'Odds are against it, Hermione.'

'I know. And Mother and Father are fighting them. That's the worst of all.'

Alise was torn between sympathy for her friend's love for her parents and the sure and certain knowledge of who and what her friend's parents were. She hated werewolves, certainly, but in this case, the enemy of her enemy was just something else to worry about.

'It's almost Christmas.'

'I know. A year ago, I was so excited to go home and meet Viktor, remember?'

'I do. And I barely spoke French.'

'And now you're fluent.'

'And you still want to see Viktor.'

Hermione nodded. 'More than almost anything. He writes me, but it's not the same.'

'Maybe you'll let him have tongue this time when you kiss?'

Hermione shook her head. 'No, I don't think we're at tongue.'

'Mmm hmm.'

'What? We aren't.'

'All right.'

Hermione made a face. 'You just don't want to be the only one, is all.'

'It's a life experience.'

'It's nasty.'

'That, too.' Alise thought about Bruno, who was very nice but tried to touch her sometimes. She wasn't ready for that, and had told him as much quite loudly and clearly.

'Alise are you ever...I mean, does it ever make you nervous, thinking about it?'

'Tongue?'

'No, it.'

'Oh. Sometimes. It hurts, my cousin says.'

'My Mum said that, too. I don't think Viktor would ever hurt me, but it...you bleed. That sounds...'

Alise nodded. 'Not like in the movies?'

'No. But he'll be a virgin too, I think, so it shouldn't be too bad.'

Alise giggled in the darkness. 'Mine won't, I hope. It would be terrible, both trying to figure it out in the dark.'

'What's to figure out? He just...you know.'

'More to it than that, my cousin says. She says sometimes they want you to do things to them first.'

'Viktor's not the type.' Hermione hoped, anyway, because she'd heard jokes and things, and it all sounded wretched.

'All men are the type. Or don't wizards do that?'

'I don't know. I can't exactly ask my aunt.' She giggled at the very thought of how flustered Aunt Narcissa would be to know she knew about those things, and then considered something else.

'Do you think it hurts when they lay on you?'

'Didn't ask. Maybe if they're much heavier.'

'He is. And what if it's too big?'

'We have time to grow.'

'I know, but I mean...it just seems like it wouldn't work, is all.'

'It must. We're both here.'

Hermione rolled over and faced her friend. 'When you get married, I'm reminding you about this.'

Alise sobered a bit. 'That'll be a year before you.'

'I know.' Had she said the wrong thing? She and Alise had avoided the issue thus far, but they had to talk about it someday. Was this that time?

'My grandmother's making my things. Not the dress, because I'm not done growing, but the headdress and all.'

'Is she upset? About the whole thing?'

Alise shook her head. 'She remembers the war. It's better to live and fight another day.'

Hermione felt a sudden, terrible guilt. Alise was her friend-couldn't she find something better for her than being a servant? Except that no, she couldn't. She realised it like a lightning bolt. She was lucky she could do even this much, and it was only because both Snape and Viktor were so good to her.

'And it's a good place, Alise. A safe place.'

No place was safe, but neither of them said it aloud. Each let the other think they believed it because it was too painful to face how powerless they really were.

Narcissa came for Hermione at nine o'clock. Dressed in her uniform, she was waiting with her trunk and her elf and the snoring cat tucked under an arm, shedding gingery fur on everything in sight.

'Goodness, Hermione, who is this?'

'Crookshanks. Isn't he gorgeous?' The cat deigned to open one bright yellow eye and give Narcissa a stately once over before he pressed his head into his Girl's neck and resumed his rest.

'He's very handsome, certainly. Are you ready to go?' Hermione let Rinky hand her up and grinned as the carriage took off, toward Bulgaria. She set the cat down on the seat and went to sit next to her aunt.

'It's been forever. How are you?'

'Well, darling. I miss you all very much.' Narcissa had been going insane, to tell the truth. She couldn't leave the house except under armed guard, and most of her friends had long since fled to less hostile climes.

Hermione looked a little tired. She nodded and snuggled against her aunt. 'Mother and Father? And Uncle?'

'Hopefully they'll be home in time supper tonight.' Narcissa half wanted to lie and tell the girl that they'd definitely be there, because the truth was that it wasn't looking good.

'Oh. Are the boys at the castle already?'

'They are. Hermione, darling, you're quite a young lady these days. So you understand that sometimes you might have some...well, some new feelings.'

'New feelings?'

'Yes. Sort of... special feelings. Especially if Viktor should want to spend time with you alone. It's important that you not, sweetheart, because those feelings can be very powerful.'

'You mean feelings like' Hermione cast about for the words Mother had used so long before 'the bee and the flower?'

'Yes, precisely. You said your muggle foster mother taught you about that. Are you very sure? Perhaps you've confused it with something else?'

'I don't think so, Aunt Narcissa. Why do wizards call it the bee and the flower?'

Narcissa took the girl's hand. 'Because men are like bees. They're busy, and they work very hard. Ladies are like flowers. They're beautiful and delicate, and they stay in one place.'

'Bees take care of flowers. They visit them, and buzz for them, and give them lots of attention. In return, sometimes the bee wants some pollen to make sure the hive survives. And so the flower gives the bee it's pollen, even though it might not be the flower's favourite thing-because it likes to make the bee happy, and because the bee wouldn't do such a thing if it weren't necessary. Do you see?'

Hermione nodded slowly. 'That's not how muggles think of it.'

'No?'

The girl shook her head. 'No. My Mum-muggle mother-was a dentist. A kind of medi-witch, and we talked about it in those terms.'

'What did she say, sweetheart?'

'Are you going to be upset with me?' Or upset, full stop. Narcissa shook her head and gave her niece a peck on the cheek. 'No, love. Privacy, remember?'

Hermione nodded. 'Well, Mum said...' She gave Narcissa basically the same talk she had the boys, and she reacted the same way. Eyebrows at her hairline, she was literally speechless for close to five minutes, swallowing hard.

'Are you angry?'

'No, not at you.'

Hermione was looking at her hands, biting her lip like she did whenever she was distressed. Narcissa forced herself to store her shock and horror and attend her niece. 'Darling, that's not...incorrect, in the basics. But we...there's more to it than that.'

'Like what?'

Narcissa smiled as gently as she could. 'When you love someone, precious, you want to make them happy, is that right?' Hermione nodded instantly, and Narcissa mentally castigated herself. The poor child was confused and afraid, and she needed to remember that her niece had a very real fear of being abandoned that needed to be indulged a bit.

'Gentlemen want sons to carry on the name. And so they ask that activity of their wives in order to make sure they have them. Because sons care for their mothers and fathers in their old age, and keep the family name. It makes them very happy.'

'But doesn't it feel good?'

'Sometimes. But at first, it's usually a little-well, unpleasant. And most gentlemen wouldn't want...well, they expect their wives to behave with restraint in all things.'

'They don't want us to like it?'

'They want us to know they love us very much, and that it would be unbearable for them if they thought we would ever do that with some other man, and so it's better to be discreet about how much one enjoys it.'

'Why do they get to enjoy it?'

'Because they work very hard, and do so much for us.'

'Is that why some men have bad women?'

'Where did you hear that?'

'Uncle Allard Wilkes got a disease from a bad woman called Eugenia Mink. Father says I'm not to ask Aunt Cunegarde about it.'

'He's quite right, it would break her heart.'

'Aunt Cunegarde loved Allard very much.' Hermione sounded sad, and Narcissa stroked her cheek lightly, wondering if she ought to have let Bellatrix do this. Except that she wanted to make absolutely sure that Hermione knew what could happen when her humours rose, and why she must not give in.

'Yes, she did. Your great aunt was devastated when she found out.'

Hermione nodded. 'Was Eugenia Mink a bad woman because she liked doing that?'

'Not precisely, darling. She was bad because she charged men money for it.'

'And she made him very sick, and the children as well.'

'Allard and Aethelfred. Ermentrude didn't die of the disease.'

'Why not?'

'Women don't get it, sweetheart. We're only carriers for it.'

'What happened to her?'

'Ermentrude married very poorly. A bad man named Worthington McNair.'

'Like Mr. McNair?'

'His great uncle. He was a rake-like Stefan. He married her for her money, because she had quite a lot of it, and she needed a husband with an old name. They conceived-made a baby-but it was born diseased. He publicly accused Ermentrude of adultery -doing that with another man, because he didn't have it.'

'And then she died?'

Narcissa shook her head. 'No. She ran away to France. She had no money, because Worthington had spent it all, so she...well, she did some bad things. She ended up catching Hierophant's chorea from someone and it killed her.'

Hermione took all this in. Was it a warning? Did her aunt just think her old enough to know now? 'Do you suppose she's grumpy all the time because she's afraid we'll leave her?'

'Yes. I think that's why.' Narcissa wondered if she'd scared the child, but Hermione merely looked thoughtful.

'It's a shame she didn't have anyone to help her feel better.'

'It is, isn't it?' And they spoke of small things until the carriage touched down on Bulgarian soil some hours later.

Viktor had waited to go into the courtyard as long as he could. His relatives couldn't actually tease the lord, but they could tease their nephew, and they would, if they saw him skulking about hours before the carriage was due.

And the priest, too, would have something to say. He'd already cornered Viktor twice and hinted he should command Hermione to convert. Viktor had managed to put the old man off, but he wasn't confident he could do it a third time without some sort of distraction.

Draco was smiling, cheerful, excited. He was longing to see Mother, and Hermione, who, he sometimes thought, was more a sister than a cousin. He was terribly excited by the gifts he had for them, too. Father's gift for the ladies had been their Portkeys, but Draco had secretly saved his pocket money and got them something really nice. Viktor too, which he was pleased and proud of. It was a good moment to be Draco.

He cocked his head and grinned at Viktor. 'My cousin'll be here any minute.'

'Mmm hmm.'

'I suppose the two of you will want to go and take a walk?'

'Yes.'

Draco wiggled his eyebrows archly. 'In the moon viewing room, I don't doubt, with the stars glittering above you and the new fallen snow.'

'Sound good, yes.'

'What a shame I've chosen tonight to take up epic poetry. I shall have to recite it for both of you, quite loudly.' Draco was absolutely deadpan, and Viktor stared at him for thirty seconds without motion before he gave up the ghost and started to laugh.

'You better not!'

'Why, Viktor, here I am, just trying to make things enjoyable for you both, and this is the thanks I get?'

'No. Thanks is I roll you in snow and put dogs on you.' Viktor knew Draco didn't like most dogs, but had observed that he seemed comfortable with the Karakachans, and so would see the threat as a verbal poke in the ribs and not as something hostile or scary.

'And a guest, yet!' Draco did, and looked mock offended, grinning. Viktor gave him an encouraging smile. 'No, Drago, not guest, family. Like brother to me.' And, because of that, he felt pretty good about giving him a playful cuff to the back of the head.

'Oi!'

'Something about epic poems, I think?'

Draco nodded slowly. 'Touché.' He might have said more, but the carriage came into view and instead he waved, and smiled, and felt deeply, fully happy to have the people he loved-nearly all of them, except Father, and he'd come soon-in the same place again.

In Sofia, the Lestranges were getting ready to get in their own carriage for the trip. Cunegarde, well rugged in a heavy cloak and matching hood to contain her giant wig, was waiting with Barty.

'Do you need your muff, Madam Lestrange?'

'Thank you, Barty, I don't. Is your wife nearly ready, Rabastan?'

'Eugenia is coming directly, Aunt. She just wanted to make sure the elves are squared away.'

'If she'd let me run the house, as is proper, she'd be expecting already. The baby can't take root in her womb because she's always bustling about.' Had Cunegarde had her way, Eugenia would have been propped on a divan, layered with furs and eiderdowns to keep her body temperature high until she fell pregnant in self-defence.

Rabastan rolled his eyes but tried to do discreetly. 'Aunt, when the ancestors are ready, they'll send a baby for us.'

'I'm merely saying that this behaviour hardly indicates to them that she's ready for a baby. A Pureblood infant wouldn't take root in a womb that's situated in a body more suited to a mudblood's routine, now would it?'

'Surely not. Barty, have you got the things?'

'I do, Rab.' He held up his valise, where he'd carefully packed the gifts for everyone, which had been his job. He felt very proud of the things he'd helped Rabastan choose for everyone, and he thought everyone would like their gifts.

Eugenia came down, well got up in dark brown travelling robes and a matching hat. Gemmy was carrying her valise and she smiled dutifully at Rabastan as the men rose.

'I apologise, gentlemen, Aunt Cunegarde. I'm ready if you are.'

'We are! Will you come and see the puppies with me, Eugenia? They're so big now!' Eugenia tried to suppress the flash of pity, laced with sadness, she felt whenever she interacted with Barty. He was a vicious bastard, but it was easy to forget that whilst dealing with the bubbly mental child he was now. So much intelligence, and ability, thrown away, and for what?

He bounded forward and gave her a hug. 'It's all right, Gennie, we'll have a good time. And Desmond's to come, isn't he?' He'd nicknamed her the day they met, and she hugged him back, reminding herself that he was, for all intents and purposes, a child, and it would be inexcusable to mistreat a child in her care, whatever the adult version had done.

'He is. And Draco and Hermione will be there.'

'And the Lestranges, and Lucius, and Snape, and the Krums. And Salazar!' Barty was delighted that his favourite people would all be there, and he could spend time with them.

'That's right, Barty. Would you help Aunt into the carriage for me?' Rabastan saved his wife from his friend's sincere, taxing attentions, and in five minutes all of them were flying toward Varna, and then to Castle Krum.

In Britain, Snape was also preparing to travel. To avoid awkwardness, he'd had Scabior recalled to Britain during the time that Hetty would be there with Moody-Feathering.

He was leaving the Dark Lord in the care of Gibbon and his false Mulciber. False Mulciber had his instructions, and Snape thought the man inside, Shacklebolt, would do very well.

In some ways, Shacklebolt's job was the easiest and hardest of all of Snape's people. He lived as Mulciber, a quiet widower's life, but he had to do it perfectly. He had to reminiscence exactly the correct way about Mulciber's long dead wife and nearly as long dead nephew, who'd been a schoolmate of Snape's, and see the man's ugly daughter and uglier grandchildren frequently.

Aside from the occasional radio address, Mulciber was a boon companion of the Dark Lord's, and he was often Summoned to keep him company, which was a field filled with pits of stakes and bear traps. And so far, he'd been splendid.

Snape whistled and the dog appeared in human form. He silently changed and allowed himself to be collared and leashed, and then carefully ascended the stairs, settling on the seat across from Snape.

Snape sat down as well. The dog claimed the floor made him bilious, and he'd decided he'd rather not clean dog sick, even magically, and so he said nothing when the dog settled on the seat, closed his eyes and put his head on his paws.

The ride was a long one, and Snape, planning as he always did, stretched out on the seat, having had the elf pack a pillow and blanket, and was asleep in five minutes.

When he arrived, the courtyard was a jumble of people, dogs, and a large gingery cat who brooded over all like some sort of pint sized idol, squashy face looking cool and disdainful.

The children first, of course. Miss Lestrange had donned Bulgarian dress, and looked taller, he thought, as he bowed and made the usual courtesies to the lord and lady. Then he greeted the others, suffered the various hugs and questions, and then settled back to study the players in this chapter of the drama.

Viktor said something to an elf and it started to herd the various dogs into the kennelyard, including Salazar. The two small children calmed a little, and, to Snape's amusement, circled Draco, clamouring for his attention. He bent to pick up the little girl, and, clearly resigned, came to speak to his godfather.

'*Hello, Godfather.*'

'*Draco, Miss Krum, young Mister Krum*.' The children looked shyly at him, and Yana finally held out her arms so she could study him up close. If he was Draco's godfather, he had to be all right.

Snape, looking like he'd just swallowed a hinkypunk, bent to take her from Draco. The little girl looked at him, a miniature Lyudmilla, and said solemnly '*You're Draco's godfather, like Uncle Boris is mine?*'

'*Yes'* said Snape, who would not have known Boris from Mordred. The girl nodded thoughtfully and rested her head against his shoulder. '*Draco and I are going to get married, like Viktor and Hermione. Isn't that nice?*'

Snape forced himself not to laugh, but seeing the boy's face made that difficult. '*Oh?*'

'*Yes. We're going to get married and live here. You can come and stay whenever you like, all right? If Hermione says, I mean. She's chatelaine.*'

'*I will certainly speak to her about it.*' Snape gave his eyebrows a sardonic quirk and Draco, who was scarlet already, actually managed to gain a shade. Snape set the little girl down and she happily went to talk to Narcissa, whose face implied she was getting the same invitation. Finally Elisaveta came and saved her, taking the little girl to help her supervise the setting of the table.

'Godfather! Don't encourage this!'

'Why not? It is ever so much fun.' Snape grinned malevolently, and Draco huffed pointedly and pretended not to see. Snape loved Draco dearly, so he couldn't resist the urge to toy with him a bit'.

'And you know, I remember someone else I used to carry about exactly like that.'

'Don't know who you mean.'

'Little blond boy, liked to be told stories about things. Wanted to be a potions master just like me when he was old enough.'

'I do like potions.'

'You used to want to help me. Broke a whole beaker of Dreamless Sleep that time.'

'I was five!'

'So is Yana.'

'I wasn't telling everyone we were getting married!'

'We've all got our crosses to bear, Draco. And at least you know she likes you for you.'

Draco huffed and said nothing else for a moment. 'Any news of home, Godfather?'

'Your father sends his affection and bides you help Viktor.'

'Of course. How are Greg and Vince?'

'Fine. Do you like Durmstrang?'

Draco looked pensive. 'It's a hard place, Godfather. But I'm learning, and so is everyone else.'

'And Viktor?'

'He's good to me. Like a brother.' Draco looked to where the lord and lady, arm in arm, were chatting with Barty and Cunegarde. He suddenly realised how old they looked.

Had he and Hermione really once sat in her bedroom and played games until time to go to sleep? It didn't seem like it. Life had always been about fighting and eating bad food and sleeping when there was time.

As though feeling his eyes, they turned, and Viktor bent and said something to Hermione that made her laugh. She looked like her mother, and it sort of hurt his heart, to see how she'd changed. And him? Was he the same? He reached up to scratch his nose and felt his fingers swipe his cheek. They rasped. He was starting to grow a beard.

Snape was thinking the same thing. 'Draco?'

'Godfather?' His godson's voice had dropped, and when he turned, he reminded Snape so strongly of Lucius for a second that he almost couldn't talk. But then he realised it was Draco, who'd liked stories and once broken a phial of Dreamless Sleep.

'Do you remember what I told you last summer?'

'About what?'

'Your cousin and her fiancée. Now you may watch them.'

Draco turned his eyes back. Hermione was looking up at Viktor, eyes bright, and Viktor looked relaxed. More than relaxed; Draco hadn't seem him smile this much in months.

'They won't, Godfather.'

'Not maliciously. But these things are hard to control in the moment, Draco.'

Draco allowed as he knew nothing of those matters, and nodded. He couldn't exactly tell Snape that he'd accidentally left them alone in the past, and nothing had happened. He understood, better than anyone besides the other two, what their lives were like, and how rare happiness and pleasure were now, and would probably be forever.

In the course of his watching and musing, Snape didn't miss the look that passed between Penko and Rabastan, and realised he'd failed to account for the possibility that Rabastan might have someone all on his own.

He remembered a muggle song he recalled from his youth, and a small, bitter smile creased his face. 'Dust in the wind.'

Draco raised an eyebrow. 'Godfather?'

'Nothing, Draco. Go and rescue Penko from Barty, won't you?'

Draco nodded and went to obey. After he'd disentangled the two, Viktor caught his arm in passing. 'Ve go and valk now, Drago. You come?'

He nodded. A few discreet words were passed to various people and the three children set out in silence, all of them lost in their own thoughts.