Chapter Seven

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"Sh…" Hermione soothed the squabbling baby as she gently bounced him in her arms. She hummed a lullaby for her son and slowly danced around the room. The morning light streamed through the castle's windows. Spring had come as it always did with a magical ritual on Imbolc. This year's festivities had been quite the celebration with the birth of the fief's heir.

Heavy footsteps sounded down the hall and Hermione smiled. She turned as her husband entered the room covered in dirt and mud from his travels. He froze at the threshold. His blue eyes widened at the sight of the small bundle wrapped in white cloth that was snuggled into his wife's embrace.

"You had him."

Hermione's eyes teared at his reverent tone. "Would you like to meet your son, my lord?"

Thorfinn immediately moved into the room. He stopped just short of touching either of them, his dirt-covered hands hung in the air. "I'm filthy."

"You're always covered in dirt from your travels."

Thorfinn quirked a grin at that. It was certainly true. "Aye, but if I get this dirt on the quilt your mother made for the baby, she'll cut my head off herself."

Hermione smiled widely. "Why husband, are you scared of my mother?"

He raised his eyebrows. "About as scared of her as I am a hungry dragon." Hermione laughed and the baby cooed in response to his mother's delight. Thorfinn looked down at the baby that had his father's big blue eyes. He looked pained as if it was taking everything in him not to reach out and touch the babe. "I'll call for a house-elf to prepare you a bath," his wife said.

Thorfinn smiled gratefully. "How are you? Was it difficult?"

"It happened during the ritual. All the wives were in a tizzy about such good fortune. The entire fief is whispering about how strong of a wizard he'll likely be."

He chuckled. "If only they knew. Will we name him Merlin?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "You know how I feel about that." He nodded. Her eyes watered as she looked down at the innocent face of her son. "He was already born with a great burden on his shoulders. Calling him Merlin will only add to that. Our world is already drowning in turmoil. The fay have terrified the muggles into reinstating the witch burnings and our people are slowly being picked off one by one." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, "I can feel our world dying."

Thorfinn grasped her shoulders. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Things will change. Our world has a much greater chance now that our son has been born."

She looked up at him with furrowed brows. "Nothing's changed. He's a baby. He isn't a weapon."

"I know, my love. But he is the one who can stop the fay. Maybe not now, but one day. Now that he is born, you are less vulnerable. We can begin this new chapter in our lives and soon we will work together to stop the fay."

"And the burnings," Hermione added. "Innocents are dying. Muggles, witches, and wizards alike. We're all suffering from this rampant fear." She cuddled her baby closer as if the warmth of her embrace alone could protect him from the flames of the pyre. "He won't be raised as a weapon, but he will be raised to help make a difference."

Thorfinn raised a hand to cup her face. His thumb stroked the apple of her cheek as he smiled fondly. "You wish to name him for your father, don't you?"

Hermione's eyes teared. "He died protecting those children and they burned him for it. Our world is filled with hate and anger. He wanted to teach them to know better and our son…" She looked deep into her husband's eyes. "He will be so powerful. He can make the difference my father couldn't. Not with a sword and fury, but with courage and words."

Thorfinn nodded. "Of course he will, my love. He is, after all, your son." He stepped around her so he could peer over her shoulder at their son. "Godric Gryffindor, the world will know your name, my son."

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Merlin's Temple had an entire chamber of rooms for them. Hermione spent most of her time in the massive, luxurious bed as she read through the collection of books. As much as she wanted to dive into the more interesting texts on magical teleportation and advanced ritual practices, she knew she needed to be smart. The only way they were going to leave that cave was if she knew how to cover their tracks and keep them hidden.

Thorfinn had found the training room and had immediately picked up an axe and sword. She watched him spar against the dummies when she needed a break from research. It was startling just how simple he made the muggle style of combat look. It came naturally to him. She knew he'd received no training previously. He just knew how to move with a sword. Hermione doubted it would really benefit them unless they found Excalibur, but it kept Thorfinn busy, which was more important.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and stretched out like a cat after a long nap. She needed to move around. She'd been in bed for far too long.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and hissed as her bare feet touched the cool marble floor. Her hand touched her slowly protruding belly as she gained her balance. They'd been hiding in the Temple for two months. Her belly had popped two weeks prior and she'd gone from looking like she was gaining weight to being pregnant.

It still gave each of them pause when they saw her belly. Hermione tried not to think about it. She reasoned it would all feel a million times less terrifying when she knew how to protect her baby. That was her hope, at least.

Hermione grabbed the quilt off the end of the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders as she made her way out of the bedroom. She immediately caught a whiff of something cooking and headed in the direction of the kitchen. The kitchen was nothing more than a cauldron over a fire pit, surrounded by lots of counter space and a massive dining table. They spelled all their dishes clean and the food was from a magical storeroom that kept everything inside fresh for as long as needed. Hermione didn't really like to think about just how old the food was that they were eating.

"Babe?"

Thorfinn turned at the sound of her address. He stood by the cauldron in the middle of the kitchen. A stew cooked over a low fire. "Hey, angel. Taking a break?"

She nodded and rubbed her eyes. "I fell asleep for a bit."

"Any dreams?" Now that they had confirmation that she was really dreaming about their past lives, it'd become a constant topic of conversation.

Hermione headed across the kitchen and wrapped her arms around his middle. Thorfinn held her tightly. "Godric Gryffindor," she mumbled into his jumper.

"Excuse me?"

"He was one of Merlin's past lives. So… our son."

Thorfinn slowly shook his head. "How on earth did I end up in Slytherin if my son was Godric bloody Gryffindor?"

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure he will have a few choice words about that."

Thorfinn grinned. He stepped back and gestured to the cauldron. "Are you up for food? It's almost ready." Her stomach had finally settled last week. Her morning sickness had tempered and she'd finally been able to keep down her meals. Instead of sickness, she was now suffering from cravings.

"I want a cheeseburger."

Thorfinn narrowed his eyes. "I can't make muggle food."

She pouted. "When we get out of here, I'm taking you for a burger. For the best burger in the world. It's going to blow your mind."

He smiled and nodded his head. "Sure, sweetheart. Pull up a chair, I'll grab you a bowl to eat." Hermione grabbed a chair in the middle of the long table, more than large enough for twenty people. "How goes the studying?" He asked as he dished up two bowls of stew.

Hermione hummed and shrugged. "Well enough. I think I'm nearly there," she revealed tentatively. "I just hate how it's all defensive. There's nothing in the texts about actively fighting faeries."

"My sword will do that."

"Excalibur is lost," she pointed out rudely.

Thorfinn raised an eyebrow at her tone. "The weapons here are for the knights. They aren't as effective as Excalibur, but they are laced with iron."

"Which is lethal to faeries," Hermione said with a nod. She shot him an apologetic look. "I hate being cooped up here. I miss the sun." She wrapped her arms around her protruding belly.

"Me too," he agreed, even though he knew she was taking it far worse than she was. Hermione was not handling being cooped up well at all. Thorfinn was fairly certain it had more to do with her distance from the natural world than anything else. While the magic of the temple was exhilarating at first and she had found it fascinating - that enjoyment had quickly waned.

"We should start thinking about where we're going to go when we leave."

Thorfinn raised his eyebrows in undisguised shock. "Really?" Hermione had been extremely reticent about bringing up the topic of them leaving the cave. She hadn't wanted to get his hopes up that it would come sooner rather than later.

Hermione was attempting to self teach herself an entirely new form of magic - or rather an ancient form of magic. She had no teachers, no fellow students, and no one to tell her she was doing it right. Her anxiety that this was life and death was enough to make her read her texts multiple times over before she deemed herself ready to attempt anything.

Thorfinn, bless him, had been extremely patient. He understood just how important this was and with every passing week as he watched Hermione's middle expand, it only grew more and more important in his mind. As he swung his swords and threw his axe, he thought of his child growing inside Hermione. He wanted them to be safe. He needed them to be safe.

"We have dozens of properties across Europe, but I think we should stay in Ireland," he told her, having thought about it constantly over the last two months. He set a bowl of food in front of her and took the seat to her right.

Hermione lifted her wooden spoon and stirred the stew Thorfinn had made. "Ireland? Really?"

"Well, it's close enough to England that it won't be a bother to find the knights."

"You think they'll be in England?" she questioned. Whereas Hermione had been learning ancient magic, Thorfinn had been reading some of the scrolls on the Knights of the Round Table.

Thorfinn sighed as he stared at his food. "I think… I think it makes sense that any remaining knights will have ended up in pure-blood families, and all the British ones that remain are situated in England."

Hermione's brows drew together. "Isn't that a bit of a leap in logic?"

He raised an eyebrow, not unaware of the major leaps she'd made to get them to the Temple of Merlin. "Merlin said that the knights are born into it. There're scrolls that explain the ritual to bind a wizard to the cause. They do it at birth. It's a type of practice that would continue through a long history in a family."

"Like pure-bloods," Hermione finished.

"Exactly."

"But most of the pure-bloods that I know of are purists. Would they really follow a leader born from a muggle-born? What am I talking about?" She shook her head. "They're currently following a half-snake man that's the prodigy of a squib and a muggle, of course they would."

Thorfinn laughed despite himself. "Will our son be leading them?"

Hermione's brows drew together as she thought about it. "He'll have magic beyond reason. It makes sense that at some point he'll, at the very least, make momentous changes in the Wizarding World. He certainly has done in the past." That statement left a heavy weight in the room. "And you're King Arthur, so reason dictates that you'll also lead."

Thorfinn made a sound of distress at that. "Oh, hell bloody no. I'm not a king. You said it yourself, I wasn't actually a king in the past."

"No… from what I can understand of my dreams, you were a Viking leader that settled in Ireland. You were a chief though. You were a leader of a magical and muggle community that probably grew quite large. It must have even spanned countries for the stories to be so prevalent in England." Thorfinn ran a hand through his loose blonde locks, obviously upset at Hermione's ruminations. "I'm not saying you need to lead Magical Britain. But it's a very real possibility that your knights might expect it of you."

He made a face. "Can I just… live out my life making love to my wife and having a Quidditch team full of beautiful babies?"

Hermione smiled. "I love that idea."

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Plan B?"

She laughed. "Sure." Hermione ate another spoonful of her stew. She hummed contently. "Do you have any ideas on how we'll identify your knights?"

Thorfinn frowned and nodded. "Just one. There's this mark…" Thorfinn stood and left the kitchen. When he returned, he was holding a scroll. "It's a rune of some kind. I can't figure it out." He handed her the paper. "I've seen it before and it's on a lot of the scrolls about the knights."

Hermione unfurled the parchment and scanned the aged calligraphy. At the bottom of the page was a symbol that had been sealed into the paper with wax. She nodded as she pointed to it. "It's not a rune. It's the symbol of the Knights Templar."

Thorfinn looked shocked at her immediate identification. He scolded himself, of course his intelligent wife knew what it was. "Who are they?"

"A secret order of knights that fought in the Holy Wars during the middle ages. They're said to have connections to secret societies throughout history. They've disappeared, but many muggle conspiracy theorists claim their order is still alive and well."

He frowned at the symbol pressed into the wax. It looked rather like a cross, with the lines larges at the end. It was inked in blood red. It made sense, he supposed, since he was fairly certain there was a muggle religion that used the cross as its symbol. "They're muggles?"

Hermione shrugged. "They're known in the muggle world, yes. But so is King Arthur. You certainly aren't a muggle."

He nodded once, conceding the fact. "So, a portion of them were muggles and remained so after the fall of Camelot. Camelot… which was supposed to be a perfect fusion of muggle and magic," he reasoned slowly. He glanced at her to make sure he was remembering this correctly and she nodded. "Do you think that the Knights Templar might be the muggle continuation of the Knights of the Round Table?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Have you ever heard of the Holy Grail?"

Thorfinn's head shot up, his eyebrows raised. "It was a quest," he immediately explained. "King Arthur travelled into Avalon to acquire the cup and save his people who were dying from an illness. I read about it in one of the scrolls."

Hermione wasn't surprised by the story. She handed back the scroll. "The Knights Templar are most famous for their association with having discovered the Holy Grail. Apparently, it made them rich. They all disappeared and treasure hunters have been after their spoils for centuries now."

"They're my knights," he stated with bold assurance.

"I'd be very surprised if they weren't." She narrowed her eyes on him. "You said you'd seen the symbol before. Where?"

"On the shoulder of a friend of mine. It looked like it'd been branded into his skin."

Hermione studied him for a long moment. "A pure-blood." It wasn't a guess.

He nodded. "There are a few Death Eaters who never took the mark. It wasn't broadcasted, but it was something I noticed. And now…" He gestured with the scroll in his hand. "I've studied these. I know everything that entails getting this mark on your body and the consequences. If you're inducted into this order, you can't join any other. You can't be branded with the Dark Mark or any other sort of muggle or magical branding belonging to a different group."

"How many are there?"

He shrugged and shook his head. "People don't get the mark on them for a number of reasons. You've got to earn it. Either that or it's forced on you as a punishment - like Draco Malfoy. I only know of one wizard who doesn't have the mark and also bears this insignia."

"And that's all we need. He'll know the others, won't he?"

Thorfinn scratched his beard while he thought about it. "Merlin certainly thought so."

When he didn't say anything else, Hermione asked, "Who is it?"

He made a face. "Flint."

"Marcus Flint?" Thorfinn shrugged and Hermione rolled her eyes as she groaned. "Babe, Marcus Flint cannot be a Knight of the Round Table. He's as dumb as a box of rocks."

Thorfinn chuckled but didn't argue. He'd been on the same Quidditch team as Marcus for years. They'd joined the Ballycastle Bats together. "Yeah, he's not the brightest wand in the shop, but he's big and he's strong. He's got a mean duellers hand and he also happens to be a decent friend of mine." She huffed at him. "I trust him and I know he's got this insignia on him. He's the one we should contact first."

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Fine. Flint, it is. Ugh." She ate her food dispassionately and Thorfinn chuckled again. She pouted as she stirred her stew. "There isn't going to be a single Gryffindor among them, is there?"

Thorfinn's chuckles grew to laughter.

Hermione's sigh was world-weary.

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Exiting the cave was the most terrifying thing that either of them had ever done. Neither said anything, but both were expecting an army waiting for them on the other side. Either the Order, the Death Eaters, or the fay. Someone had to be waiting for them.

But when they exited their little safe haven, the cave was blessedly empty. Hermione glanced at the engravings on the walls as they exited. The woman made of stars was her, she now knew. It was still startling to her, even two months later.

Armed with a sword in his hand and a battle axe strapped to his back, Hermione followed Thorfinn past the secret door and onto the wet ledge by the waterfall. It was pouring outside and both of them were immediately drenched.

Hermione clutched her purse filled with priceless books and artifacts from the Temple, worried about damaging them even though she knew they were spelled by Merlin to remain unharmed. "Can you apparate in this?" she loudly asked over the noise of both the rain and waterfall.

Thorfinn looked around, his jaw tense. He nodded once. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her in tight. Hermione's fingers curled into his wet shirt. Their baby was pressed protectively between them. Thorfinn turned on the spot.

Hermione buried her face in Thorfinn's chest and groaned as they reappeared. Apparition while pregnant was horrible. The rain was still coming down on them, but was so light it was nearly a mist. This was a completely different rain from the storm they'd just left behind.

Hermione pulled back and looked around. They were in the middle of a property enclosed by high white walls and overflowing with plants on every side. Behind them was a wrought iron gate. Along the pebbled path was a two-story white house with a dark roof that matched the black panelling around the square windows. Big red flowers curled up the white surface, climbing like ivy along the outer walls at the front door. Branching off of the right of the building was a domed glass room that looked like a magical conservatory. Many magical households had them for growing magical plants throughout the year.

"We need to set the wards."

Hermione nodded. She crouched down and pressed her hand flat against the wet grass. Her eyes fluttered shut as the earth's magic rose up to greet her in a loving embrace. Hermione breathed deeply.

"The magic here is powerful," she told him and Thorfinn's shoulders sagged in relief. Hermione whispered a long, intricate spell in a language that her husband couldn't follow. He felt the wave of magic that thrummed out across the earth. His eyes widened as he watched Hermione work.

He helped her to stand when she tried to get back up. Hermione turned to the gate that served as the only entrance onto the property. A muggle street lay just beyond. Hermione's hands grasped the iron bars and she whispered more spells under her breath. No one would be able to enter their land without permission. Anyone who tried would be compelled to leave. No one would find it suspicious, but would instead think that they're giving the occupants of the house the privacy they are naturally due.

She moved onto the white walls that surrounded their property. No one would be able to penetrate the walls. The earth's magic fueled the power of the wards so that the fay wouldn't be able to wriggle through it. The wards would counter any wizarding spells and enchantments. This land would be unplottable and completely protected.

Hermione stepped back. She pressed a hand to her belly and turned back to her husband, backdropped by the beautiful view of their new home: Roselands House. She smiled warmly. "We're safe."

"Thank the gods," he murmured and Hermione laughed. Both had stopped using Merlin's name as an epitaph when they'd learned about their relation to him. It was disturbing to use the name they'd once given their son as a form of expletive - especially during sex.

Thorfinn held out his hand. "Come on, witch. Let's get you dry and fill you with a nice cuppa, yeah?"

Hermione hummed appreciatively. "Yes, please."

The house Thorfinn had chosen was in the eastern part of Ireland. It was a rather old area with cobblestone paths and friendly muggles. His family had stopped using it decades back when the muggles had begun to take over the area.

Thorfinn ducked under the wooden awning and opened the door for Hermione to enter first. He set his sword against the wall beside the door as he shut it after them. Hermione waved her wand and cast drying spells over both of them before they ruined the dusty wood floors.

There was an L shaped stairwell that led up to the second floor right in front of them. It took up the main entrance hall which only held archways and doorways into other rooms. Hermione explored through the archway to the left where she found a rather dated-looking parlour room.

The double door archway directly to the right of the front door had a dining room with medieval-looking point-backed dining chairs. Through a single archway beside that one was the kitchen which connected back into the dining room. The kitchen had an old, gas-powered stove and an icebox rather than a refrigerator. From the kitchen alone, Hermione could tell that it was a magical household.

Beside the L-shaped counters, there was a set of double French doors in a matching colour to the black window panelling around the house. Through the doors was the glass conservatory that looked completely overrun with magical plants.

Light filtered in through the glass windows and Hermione smiled as she soaked up even the tiniest bit of sun through the cloudy sky. "Oh, I forgot what the real world felt like."

Thorfinn wrapped an arm around her body and placed his hand across her belly. He kissed the top of her head. "I like this place. It feels wholesome."

Hermione shivered in her husband's hold. The baby's magic swelled in time with hers at the contact of Thorfinn's hand on her stomach. She loved it when he did that. Hermione leaned back into his embrace. A moment of peace swept over both of them.

Being outside of the cave was freeing. Not only did it mean they were no longer caged, but it meant they were powerful enough to protect themselves. Together, they had the power to protect their baby. The anxiety of the past three months fell away. Everything was coming together.

Hermione turned and wrapped her arms around Thorfinn's neck. She pressed a kiss to his chin, the only part of his face she could reach. "Make love to me."

Thorfinn smiled charmingly and softly kissed her mouth. "I think we ought to clean the bed of doxies first."

She rolled her eyes. "Who needs a bed?" She pointed her wand at the tiled floor and spelled it clean. Thorfinn laughed, shocked and not at all upset. She pressed close to him, pushing her bump and her far more ample breasts into him. "You're not the only one who can be impressive in the kitchen."

"Oh, angel, I don't know about that." His hands reached down to palm her arse and his teeth nipped at her jaw. "I think you'd better prove me wrong."

Hermione moaned. She turned her head and caught his lips in a searing kiss. Her fingers dove into his hair and curled amongst the thick blond locks. His mouth opened and he let himself get swept up in her passionate embrace.

Thorfinn's fingers tugged at her robes and pulled the wizarding fabric from her shoulders. The loose fitted clothes were the only things that fit her after her jeans stopped buttoning. That also meant her knickers had stopped fitting and Thorfinn enjoyed taking advantage of the fact that his witch was always bare to him.

The wizarding robes fell to the floor, leaving Hermione naked save for her socks and runners. Not one to be outdone, Hermione immediately began pulling at Thorfinn's flannel shirt.

Thorfinn's hands cupped her bare breasts. His fingers pinched her nipples and she gasped. "Fuck, Thor." She'd been especially sensitive since she'd gotten pregnant and he thrilled in the slow torture of playing with her breasts.

He dropped to his knees before she could get his shirt off and sucked one of her nipples into his mouth. Hermione let out a cry. Her fingers curled into the fabric at his back and pulled frantically. He let go of her only long enough to let her pull his shirt over his head. His arms came around her hips and he lifted her up as he stood back up.

Hermione gasped and groaned as she wrapped her arms around his head. "No…" she moaned. "I wanted to suck you off."

Thorfinn groaned at the thought. "Later, angel." He placed her on the edge of the countertop and snogged her hotly. As he distracted her with his tongue, he undid his muggle jeans and shucked them down his muscular thighs. Her on the countertop had her at the perfect height and he pulled her closer to the edge before he slid inside of her.

Hermione involuntarily threw her head back and it slammed against the cupboard. "Fuck!"

Thorfinn cupped the back of her head with his hand as he thrust into her again. "You good, baby?"

Hermione moaned and hooked her legs around his hips. "Faster," she demanded breathlessly. Her runners bit into his arse cheek as he found a rhythm. He thrust into her at a fast, unrelenting pace - exactly how he knew his witch liked it.

Hermione's nails bit into the skin at his shoulders. She threw her head back again as she cried out. Thorfinn's hand saved her from a concussion. Her thighs tightened around him and her eyes squeezed shut. She came with a scream that had him howling and quickly following her.

The silence of the house was deafening in the aftermath of their coupling. Only their heavy breathing could be heard in the stillness of their new home.

"Well, that's one way to use a kitchen," Thorfinn quipped, still out of breath.

"Told you I was impressive."

Thorfinn's laughter echoed through their home.

Happy Holidays!

Thanks for reading xx