CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

"What?" She was breathless.

"The muggle folklore of Merlin preceded the life of Merlin." Lex repeated with wide, excited eyes. Crystalline blue and searching. "And Morgan le Fay, too! She existed in the 10th century when her muggle lore began back in the 5th!"

Hermione's eyes glazed over as she processed the information. Her fingers gripped her desk for strength. "I.. How come I've never heard about this?!"

Bronahe shrugged, looking pleased with how riled up the shorter witch had become. "I'm sure for a combination of reasons. Some don't believe the muggle lore is true. Others say it's propaganda from blood purists to paint Merlin as a Wizard to be suspicious of. Most intellects brush all of this type of speculation off as 'conspiracy theories' and never dare investigate." They ticked off the ways, taking large, thoughtful heaves from their pipe. Red swirled and parted before Hermione's deathly still face. "I believe that this is the real reason as to why Merlin wanted to ban Olde Magik. He knew something about that no one else did- and now, we never will."

She swallowed drily. I wish I still had something to drink.. Wait a minute. Raising a hand to her front, a new paper cup spawned in her grip and a quiet gurgle of water sounded as it filled. Lex nearly choked on their next intake and coughed out an impressed sound. "Wandless and non-verbal? How long have you been out of school, again?"

They continued to clear their throat as Hermione chugged back the liquid. She wiped the clinging moisture away with the back of her hand reflexively. "About four years now." She felt their eyes on her, but she ignored them, used to those kinds of looks by now.

"Hehmm." Lex leaned back and stroked the sides of their jaw. "Perhaps we really should meet after hours one day. So I can pick your brain."

Hermione snapped her fingers, still not looking their way. "Speaking of office hours," She spun sharply to Lex making them jump slightly. "I need everything you have on Merlin, Morgan le Fay, and the Original Twenty Eight."

Her firm tone effectively displaced Master Unspeakable Bronahe. Purple eyebrows shot to their hairline and they nodded once and sputtered, "R-right away!" Marching quickly back to the office door, they halted and withered. "Well, actually.. that's going to take a bit of time. That's a lot of information to collect and there are other members of the Department who need records from the Archives wh-"

"Yes, yes," Hermione interrupted distantly, clearing the blackboard in a swoop of her hand. She instantly transferred the writing onto a sheet of paper that she then snatched out of the air. She flung the paper at the wall behind her where it slapped the wall and stuck crookedly to the smooth plane. With her teeth, she ripped the cap off her white marker and started on her initial notes. She paused briefly between words then glanced to the door to see the poor vampire still standing there watching her disorientedly. "Yes?"

They opened their mouth to respond then snapped it shut on the pipe. With a twitchy of jaunt, they made their leave. Hermione filled her lung heavily to collect herself. Setting her features in determination, she twisted back to the board to continue her work.

Both Thursday and Friday nights were spent in her office until 10 at night. When she'd got home, her mind was fried and sluggish from chasing leads all day. Her feet would shuffle across her weathered floorboards as she went through her nightly motions. Her stockings would sometimes catch on stray splitters in the wood, but she didn't care. It was easy enough to fix them anyways.

Crookshanks berated her loudly at her return while she mindlessly fed the noisy boy and subsequently herself. She had initially set up a system to automatically feed her now happily munching cat, but she dismantled it after her recent visit with Minerva and Snape. Minerva was rightfully worried about her eating habits and Severus suggested that she should personally feed the Kneazle during mornings and nights to remind herself to eat as well.

Friday's dinner was leftover Chinese Take Away from the night before. At least magic is better at reheating food than a microwave. She ignored the small table at the window to eat dinner on her squishy armchair in the small clearing of her living area. The 70s orange material was old and scratchy but she loved the chair. New stuff didn't feel as nice as promised after the year on the run. Plus, the ugly thing just brought her much needed comfort.

Thoughts jangled around her head as the too salty meal filled her stomach. Crooks yapped again and she was brought back to reality to see him jumping out of the open window. She smiled weakly at the parted red curtains rustled in the midnight breeze. Clever boy, no point in muggle locks with this one. He, too, was changed by her year in hiding with the boys. Such a long time apart made him act even more aloof to her attention than before. Dissolving that relationship stung, but his presence still helped to mitigate a lot of post War trauma. Let him have his adventures, she thought turning back to her wall, nothing left for him to explore here.

Saturday came and she flooed directly to the Headmistress' Office in the late morning. Severus was there, uncharacteristically napping in his chair when she arrived. He was settled quite comfortable in the area around the hearth, snuggled away beneath a few blankets. The soundtrack of his snores bumped and gurgled as his head drooped over one shoulder. She giggled at the adorable sight.

"Looks like both my children aren't getting enough sleep these days." Minerva commented. She was sorting through some paperwork at her desk, her glasses perched expertly on the tip of her nose. Leaning over the sleeping ex professor to place a gentle kiss on his head, Hermione looked over to her. "I thought I was your child bride?"

Minerva's eyes snapped up warningly and Severus snorted in the back of his nose. His eyes remained shut. "Nice to see you again, Sev. Something keeping you up at night, ay?"

Severus grumbled low in his throat, a craggily baritone sound distorted by the scarring. "Aside from the memories of my War Crimes and the years I mercilessly traumatized children? No."

Hermione giggled again and plopped down into the seat next to him. Minerva's tongue clicks could be heard across the room. "I bet that whatever it is was also the reason why he skipped last weekend's visit."

"No, I just don't like you two." Hermione laughed louder this time and Severus opened his eyes to give her a wink.

"I do suspect that Minerva is right, though." She teased. "So.. what's her name?"

He closed his eyes and feinted sleep again. The red and green tartan throw that wrapped over his front rippled thickly with his grand breaths. Hermione thought he would ignore her. "Who says it's a 'her'?"

Her jaw dropped.

At her silence, Severus opened one eye. "Relax, you prude. You're becoming more like Minerva everyday." He closed his tired eyes again and Minerva shouted, "I resent that!"

"I was referring to your gullibility not homophobia." He called back and Hermione sputtered.

"Jesus Christ, I'm not- is everyone in the Magical Community actually gay and I'm just finding out about it now?!" She panicked. From his angle, Severus glanced over to Minerva as if to say you want to handle this one or should I? He smirked at whatever reaction she communicated back to him. Out of the corner of his mouth, he reasoned, "Don't be absurd. They're mostly bisexual."

"Enough, Severus, have some pity. You're a halfblood, you should know better." Hermione reeled despite the casual conversation around her. "But Minnie, she makes it too easy."

Hermione shook her head and stared blankly at the rug between her boots and the fireplace. "Jesus.. I can't tell if you guys are joking or not."

"Us? Never." Severus shook with mirth when she shot him with a deranged look. "That's it, I'm taking a walk. Need to process this." Her replies were clipped in tight confusion. This is way too weird.

Chuckles and calls of apology followed her down the winding staircase when they were abruptly replaced by sudden silence from the large stone Griffin. "Ms. Granger." It rumbled in greeting. Fleetingly, she returned a muted reply and before striding down the hall.

This is surreal. Gravelly, gritty scents floated around her in the large arching hallways she navigated blindly through. Maybe it was just the older, more traditional purebloods that held these beliefs? Her head hurt with the implications. Perhaps muggles really were the backward thinkers that purists always jested of.

The thought struck and confused her. Her time in Hogwarts never reflected these progressive beliefs, so perhaps politics in the Wizarding world ran deeper than what her childhood had implied.

By the time she got to the seventh floor, she realized where her feet subconsciously took her. That realization wasn't as unpleasant as the previous ones, strangely. She only hesitated for a fraction of a second before entering. Things really didn't end well last visit ..

"Oh, goodie. You're back~!" Hermione smiled at the floor nervously when Bellatrix's voice rang out happily. The room was draped in thick shadows that the low firelight couldn't reach. The ghost hovered before the mantle, quizzical prodding at her sparring dummy.

Hermione cleared her throat a bit and mumbled. "Well, yeah.." Switching gears back to researcher mode was gummed up by the revelations in the Head Mistresses quarters. Logs crackled warmly and the hot air gripped at her collar. She felt eyes on her from across the room. "Um, I'll just.." Without meeting her eyes or finishing her sentence, she took quick, clunky steps to the bookcase for another tome.

Plopping on the mattress, Hermione all but shoved her face into it's pages. But the weight of the ghost's stare remained, direct firelight refracting out of her mystic form. A handful of minutes passed this way and Hermione was determined not to break the off-kiltered atmosphere. But like a break of rain, Bellatrix moaned out a dramatic sigh. "What's up, Mud pup ?"

Hermione grimaced. "Could you not call me that?"

"Okay." She shrugged, "What else rhythms with 'Mud pup' then?"

"What?"

Basking in the attention, she swung like a dancer with her dummy partner. Hermione watched indignantly, at first, but then curiously. The flourish of the dress' sway was mesmerizing. "It's a cute little saying, I think. Cute and rhymey. ' What's up, Mud pup? '" She repeated in a sing-songy voice. "Has a ring to it, don't you agree"

She grit down. "Why, I suppose you're right, if you can get over the purist slur-"

"Yes, yes." She rolled her wrist in a 'get on with it' motion then gave a small pout with big ole' puppy dog eyes. "I'm twying to find a suitable weplacement."

Hermione turned away and leaned back into her book. She heard Bellatrix huff and grumble in annoyance. "What's up.. Tea cup? No.. What's up, muddybutt? No, no, that doesn't even rhyme.." Bellatrix followed this train of thought out loud for far too many minutes than Hermione thought reasonable. "Pup, cup, yup, sup.. Lup?" A storm brewed on Hermione's face. Jesus Christ, when did she get so talkative? Her body jumped when Bellatrix gave a sharp, self deprecating laugh. "Ha! Lup isn't even a word.."

"For the love of God!" She almost tore the book in half with the angry magic spiking off of her. "What's gotten into you?"

Bellatrix had her arms wrapped over the dummies shoulders, swinging it in time with her rhymes. Her head tucked childishly into the crook of its neck at the shout. "Could ask the same of you."

Magic traveled along the curls of her dark springs of hair until it radiated into the beginnings of a 'fro. She stared down Bellatrix as if to dare her to say something more. In turn, Bellatrix all but simpered behind the dummy, now silent. God, she's like a little, bratty gir- Hermione hesitated. Her shoulders tensed before drooping and she softened her gaze.

She sighed. "Buttercup."

"What?"

"Buttercup." Hermione repeated, the wrinkled at her forehead smoothed out. "' What's up, Buttercup ?' It's a common Muggle saying."

"Buttercup.. As in the flower?" She nodded and the corner of Bellatix's mouth pulled upward. "Yes.. Buttercup . I like it."

"Well, good." The words struggled out as Hermione watched the ghost drifted off to a bookcase, humming and smiling like a cat. She plunged her gaze back into the book. "Now, if that's all…"

"Mhm. Whatever you say, Buttercup."

The cringe dumped over her body like a pail of cold water. "Please don't call me that." Her insides went topsy turvy and her cheeks were set aflame. A dark chuckle cascaded down from above and she knew she had to get her reactions under control to avoid the scrutiny of LeStrange's ever present gaze.

"How many of those do you have left, Buttercup ?"

Hermione sighed. "Well three the first day, one that night, five the next. Two and getting through this one now.. It's just the legal one's on the International Statute of Secrecy and the Black book on the Spirit Division of The Department of the Regulation of Magical creatures- and that last one is seriously outdated."

A whoosh indicated movement from above. "Outdated, yes, but invaluable still. Texts back then were much more to the point.. Everything is so censored now and the people - sensitive."

Monotonously Hermione countered. "It's about using the language that the communities that you talk about prefer."

She snorted. "Sounds like a bunch of whiny bullocks to me."

"What is it with old, blood elitists about the joys of the past?"

"Are you implying that I am old?" Hermione smiled into her book as she continued to absorb the sentences there. A growl sounded. "Watch it, Buttercup."

"Ahuh, who's the sensitive one now?"

"Cheeky wench, aren't you?" She was glad the tone was both haughty and toothless. "Not sensitive, but correct . Fortyseven is hardly old in the Magical Community."

For once in her life, she was very distracting from reading and Hermione didn't mind. She laughed. "Oh, yes. The tender, young age of your late Forties . Maybe I should be calling you the 'puppy'?"

There was a pause. "You wouldn't dare."

"You're right." Hermione lay back on the mattress and hung the book in the air. "You're more of a 'Kitten', anyway."

"Mudpup."

"Kitten."

It was quiet after that. Hermione soaked in her smugness. A small part of her thought of her father, back before.. Her smirk wavered. It's better than being called Buttercup again.

Eventually, the ghost spread over the other section of the bed. Peaking over, Hermione saw her reading the thickest book left, the Statute of Secrecy, and writing notes.