Wacken
Author's Note: Just a silly little one-shot … My husband was testing the waters for a birthday present for a round birthday of mine. He may have an idea for touring some nice gardens. I would like that but there's secret wish I haven't ever shared with him …
I bent the weather, the actual day of the various bands' shows, release dates of albums and the playlists to fit my story, apologies to anyone who was actually there!
August 1996
Mr Granger had a dirty secret. One that he hid from his Shakespeare-crazy, opera-loving wife but shared with his young daughter. Robert Granger was a metalhead.
As a young man he had seen all the great bands – Iron Maiden, Whitesnake, you name it.
As an adult, very much in love with Helena Parkinson, he dutifully accompagnied his fiancée to Shakespeare in the Park and the Proms and even enjoyed himself.
But in 1996, when Helena planned to spend a week at Glyndebourne, he proposed a father-daughter-cycling holiday in the North of Germany. As Hermione professed a wish for cycling rather than listening to concerts and attending matinées Mrs Granger readily agreed, the girl spent too much time indoors with her books anyway.
Hermione's father had to come clear to his daughter, having already ordered two festival passes for the Wacken Open Air. Mind you, he was responsible about it. He talked to the girl about the dangers and downsides of some of the bands, about questionable or downright sexist lyrics, about some musicians' less than satisfactorily demarcation towards the far right. And he did not ask his daughter to keep their detour – for they were going to cycle, just not the whole week – a secret from her mother. Robert Granger reckoned that Helena would not leave him after 25 years of marriage over this.
Knowing a thing or two about secrets Hermione kept her father's anyway. They were starting in Hamburg and cycled for two days before bypassing Itzehoe and booking into a small B&B near the festival ground. Mr Granger was over fifty at that time, therefore he had no problem returning to their rooms shortly after midnight, restricting himself to two beers, well, three the evening Motörhead played. But he had a wonderful time and Hermione had, too. She headbanged and jumped, got herself some t-shirts that would send Molly Weasley (and Albus Dumbledore) running and on one memorable occasion was floating on her back, being passed alopng over the heads of the crowd before being deposited safely back at her father's side again. While long hair, tattoos, spikes and studs abounded around her everyone was friendly and respectful. What would forever stay in Hermione's memory was how much fun her middle-aged, staid father had.
After the last day, having exchanged phone numbers with some fans from near their home father and daughter retrieved their bikes and went on with their holiday.
August 1997
Hermione hesitated only a moment before shrinking her Wacken-tees and putting them in her bag after modifying her parents' memories and sending them to safety.
August 2008
Kingsley Shacklebolt had forced Hermione Granger, Assistant Head to the Ministry's Arithmancy department, to take her accumulated holidays. The young woman was wont to bury herself in work as everyone around her was busy with raising their families. Hermione's relationship with Ronald Weasley had run its course after a few months, he was now happily married to Lavender Brown, a fourth child on the way.
During the first week of July the young woman had made her annual trip to Perth for a check-up at the Wilkins' dental practise. Not knowing that they were talking to their daughter the Wilkinses had mentioned tentative plans for retirement and a possible move back to England. Back home Hermione cleaned her flat and after that made an attempt to go back to work early. Kingsley had put his foot down and refused the request, there were still 32 days off standing.
Rattling around in her London flat with nothing to do, during a heatwave of all things, Hermione remembered her cycling holiday, the last one with her father. On a whim she tried for a ticket for the Wacken Open Air. Half wary of her impulsive decision she got one and dug out her old Wacken-t-shirts and packed her bag. Having sworn never to go camping again after what would have been her seventh year at Hogwarts she booked a room in Hamburg, planning to Apparate to and fro the festival site.
Despite her misgivings Hermione enjoyed herself. No one knew her, no one judged her. She let the music wash over her, danced and jumped without holding back. On the first day she got some compliments on her vintage-tees, had some hilarious conversations and drank too much beer before Apparating back to her hotel. The morning was spent in the Deichtorhallen but by noon she was back at Wacken, planning to find a good spot for Powerwolf's show.
Browsing the merchandise stalls she noticed a man. Older than her, lean and tall, with dark curly hair, clad in old but fitting black jeans. Hair not as long as some of the men here but reaching the collar of his black t-shirt. When the man turned around Hermione noticed him wearing the same 1996 shirt as her. The stranger smiled and pointed at her, "Funny we didn't meet then. You can't have been more than twelve anyway in 1996."
"I was seventeen actually, but I was here with my father anyway. He would have minded me talking to you, I guess." With that she pointed at his heavily tattooed arms. The man followed her gaze and looked a tad self conscious.
"Most of them are younger."
They stood across each other akwardly. Something about the man made her wish for him not to vanish in the crowds. He cleared his throat.
"D'you want to get a beer or something? I planned to see Powerwolf next."
"Me too. Beer would be fine."
They went to a stall selling drinks and then made their way towards the stage. When the throng of spectators grew thicker the stranger reached for Hermione's hand after asking her permission. They found a spot near the front slightly to the right side. The man looked up at the sky where clouds were gathering.
"I hope the weather holds. The mud here has ruined a few pairs of favourite sneakers already."
Hermione pocketed her sunglasses, no longer needing them. It was getting louder but she meant to hear a sharply indrawn breath from her new acquaintance. She turned to face him. He was looking awfully tense right now.
"Ms Granger, please –" Damn! He knew her! Something was niggling at the back of her mind and she reached for his left forearm. An icon of St. Xenia of St. Petersburg, but underneath shadows of an all too familiar brand was visible. Dropping her beer, which drew some shouts from the people around her, she reached for his other arm, too, so he could not draw a wand easily. Looking him square in the face she queried, "Do you want to harm me?"
"Gods, no!"
"Then I guess what happens at Wacken stays at Wacken."
The man was marginally less tense now but shook his head.
"It's not as easy as that. Do you truly not recognise me?"
"I'm sorry, but no. Did we meet at Hogwarts?"
"No, I was three years gone, I think, when you were a firstie. But we met at wandpoint."
"You're a fugitive then?"
"Not exactly, no."
Just then the opening chords sounded and the masses around them moved. The unknown wizard put his arms around Hermione, mindful of not crowding her in but keeping her safe from the moving bodies surrounding her. Hermione decided to take a leap of faith, turned around and relaxed her stance, letting the back of her head rest against his sternum. When she was singing along the lyrics of "Demon's are a girl's best friend" she felt his laughter, and later, close to the end of Powerwolf's show, she was quite sure that some tears trickled down her neck from her protector, during "Nightside of Siberia". She put her hands on his forearms and made soothing circles against his skin. A push from a concert goer behind them lead to the man's finger rest above the tail end of her scar from the ministry. Her magic fairly sung and everything fell into place.
She, Hermione Granger, was standing at W.O.A. in the arms of Antonin Dolohov, Death Eater presumed dead, who seemed as affected as she by this chance meeting and who cried at a metal festival because of the lyrics. Hermione turned around and tightened her arms around Dolohov. He was still visibly upset by the song. She pushed herself up on her toes and brought her mouth closer to his ear, "Shall I bring us somewhere more quiet?"
At his nod she cast a wandless Notice-me-not-charm around them and Apparated to a remote spot near St. Peter - Ording on the North Sea coast near the Elbe estuary. In Wacken it had not been as appararent as here, close to the sea, but the weather coming in from the west was changing dramatically. Dark grey clouds over the churning sea were visible when Hermione led Dolohov up on the little dune behind which they had Apparated. He had no eyes for his surroundings but dropped to his knees immediately, reaching for her hands.
"Ms Granger –"
"Hermione."
"Hermione, I know there can be no forgiveness but please accept my apologies for ever hurting you. Never ever was it my intention to hurt children. I reacted on instinct to being silenced and struck out. After he broke us out of Azkaban I stayed with the Dark Lord because I was in no shape to be of use anywhere else. I joined because I wanted a stricter adherence to the Statue of Secrecy than Dumbledore and his friends proposed, I had lost my mother and two brothers in Russia to witch-hunts. Then the Dark Lord became more and more deranged, leaving politics behind and turning to violence, believing in divinations! By the time he targeted the Potters I and quite a few of my friends wanted out. I am so sorry- "
"Mr Dolohov- " Hermione tried to stop the distraught man.
"Antonin!" Finally he looked up, "We were at war. I believe you when you say you didn't want to hurt me. I've looked at the whole ministry-fiasco in a Pensieve numerous times and now what I saw makes sense. Lucius Malfoy, you, the Lestrange brothers and Yaxley all either were completely useless at combat or seemed to hold back. There is one instance that looks as if Rodolphus Lestrange shields Neville from a curse Bellatrix sent. I have forgiven you long ago for cursing me then."
She tried to kneel down at the same time Dolohov made a move to stand up which led to both of them tumbling down the dune. The former Death Eater shielded Hermione as much as possible until they stopped, she laying half across his body. He tried to tuck her hair behind an ear but the wind snatched it loose again a second later.
"Hermione, I do not deserve your forgiveness but I will take it gladly. Did you know that Severus broke my nose in retaliation? With his fists! He was absolutely furious that one of his students got hurt. I guess he was as angry about Dumbledore's machinations but I was closer."
She sighed, "It is one of the things that haunts me most about the war. It is about me being Muggle-born that I did not try to help him when Nagini bit him. A Muggle dies with such wounds but a wizard might have had a chance if I would have done something, close the wounds and put him in Stasis, anything really!"
"If there's one to blame it's the Dark Lord! Besides, if you had closed his wounds the venom would have stayed in his body and everything would have been lost."
"What do you mean would have been lost? He was lost!"
"Oops, I thought you would know, being close to the minister and all. Sev never gave you the `put a stopper to death´ speech in your class? If you'd closed the wounds his pre-ingested anti-venom could not have worked."
"Professor Snape lives? Where?"
"I can't say, it's secret-kept. Right now he's probably having terribly boring discussions about amplifiers and strings, D'Addario versus Dunlop or similar stuff."
"He's at Wacken?!"
"Of course, every year. Potter might believe Sev defected because of Lily Evans, but I guess it was when the Dark Lord summoned him during a Motörhead concert he had to queue two days for a ticket."
"You're kidding."
"Of course I am, but it could have been possible."
Hermione was working herself up over Snape, railing at Dolohov. He caught her flayling arms in one of his hands, "You are barking up the wrong tree, Hermione. Shacklebolt knows, Potter might know. They would have been in a position to tell you. May I kiss you?"
That shut her up and the widening of her pupils and her shorter breath indicated `oh yesss!´ without further words. Their first kiss soon turned into heated snogging until Hermione withdrew. What she could make out of Dolohov's mien in the growing darkness looked disappointed. He started to withdraw.
"Antonin, wait! I would love to take this further but I hate sand with a passion. There's no way I will make love to you on a dune."
With an agility that belied his befuddled state he was standing up, casting a wandless Tergeo over them to get rid of any sand in their clothes.
"Your place or mine? No, we have to Apparate to your's. At mine Sev might stumble into the room sometime during the night."
Hermione Apparated them into her room. The initial plan might have been to take a shower first and get rid of beer splashes, mud and sweat but neither had the patience.
"I am going to make love to you over and over but right now we will fuck!" Antonin sighed at seeing her for the first time in only her underwear. Hermione answered by mounting him.
For a first time coupling it was marvellous, what made that night the best of the young witch's live so far happened later however.
In the small hours of the morning, a shower, a midnight snack courtesy of room-service and twice times making love later Hermione felt rather emotional. She was tired, well-shagged, on the brink of falling in love and she was afraid of the problems that would await her in the morning, what with Antonin being who he was. When he enquired she prevaricated and told him of her visit to her parents three weeks earlier. What she did not expect was him sitting up in the bed, exclaiming, "Shit!"
"Will you let me check for something?" At her nod he fished his wand from their discarded clothes and drew it in figures she had never seen before. When he was finished he looked hopeful and sad at the same time.
"I will explain. Corban Yaxley was my best friend. Several years older than me he protected the nerdy little Ravenclaw with the strange accent. He told me that he had been sent to your parents' house to kidnap them. He found the house empty, not a trace of you, not even on the pictures around the house. Puzzles like this intrigued him. He recorded the traces of magic he found, researched them and consulted me. I am good with wards. Corban found out which memory charms you used. We both thought your way of protecting them quite ingenius. There was one hitch however: the charm you used is a derivation from a ward and as such has to be anchored in both parts, namely your parents and yourself. Otherwise it would derail after a few weeks. So when Corban came across you dressed as Mafalda in the ministry he used the opportunity to check. When he found out you hadn't anchored the ward he did exactly that and sealed it. You have to undo both again for your parents to remember. I checked, Yax's seal is still in place."
Hermione's hands flew to her mouth.
"Can you undo it now?"
"I could but it would be better to be near your parents when I do it. Imagine their state of mind if they suddenly gain a second set of memories. They will think they are going mad."
Antonin started to dress, the witch was still sitting on the bed, shellshocked. He crouched in front of her, taking her hands, "Hermione, we can leave now. I always carry an open Portkey with me. Come, get dressed."
She looked at him in awe, "You will go with me, just like that?"
"Of course. I told you that I did not become a Death Eater to hurt children. Call it penance. If not for me and my comrades you would not have to send your parents away. Helping you getting them back is the least I can do. And while I do not know where we are going with this" – here he motioned to the crumpled bed - "I do know that you will be preoccupied until you have your parents back."
Hermione finally started to get going but stilled after pulling up her jeans.
"Antonin, when you touched my scar it felt warm and tingly. Is there something compelling me to trust you so easily because of it?"
"No. My magic gave you that scar and it recognises me. If I had intended to hurt you you would feel that recognition as well but revulsion, too." He sought to lighten the tone, "We were not drawn by our magics. For my side, I was drawn to you by your smile and by the way your old tee fits now, you must have filled out a bit since being seventeen."
For a second the witch seemed outraged but then caught his reasoning.
"To be totally honest I was ogling your arse before you turned around."
"I knew my trusted festival jeans would work their magic!"
Antonin phoned Sev at their hotel in Itzehoe, telling a grumbling Potions master that he was leaving with a woman he'd met and not to worry.
After calculating the time difference Hermione bespelled Antonin's open Portkey to land them in a copse near the Wilkinses private address, as it was Sunday. Back in England the Grangers liked a leisurely and late breakfast, followed by a walk around noon. Hopefully they would catch them at home.
Ringing the bell and a Hominium Revelio however showed an empty house. The couple were about to leave when a car pulled in the Wilkinses driveway. Hermione watched with an open mouth as her parents unloaded two surfboards from the car. The Wilkins were wary of the two strangers – the woman looked vaguely familiar – waiting at their front door. They were sort of scruffy with their wild hair, muddy shoes and trousers and wrinkly matching t-shirts.
When Mrs Granger rooted in the car-boot, for a carjack presumably, while her husband kept his eyes on the strangers Hermione jumped to action.
"Dr and Dr Wilkins, I am Hermione Granger. I've just been by your clinic for my check-up."
Mr Granger thawed a little, "Oh yes, the young woman from back home with the perfect teeth."
"Yes, well my parents were rather strict with me brushing and flossing." Here her voice broke. Antonin took over.
"If you could spare us a moment, everything will be explained soon."
Mrs Granger huffed, "Well, I am sorry if you are stranded, but we can't spare money for plane tickets. We can put you up until you can contact the embassy if you've been robbed."
"No, Ma'am, we do not need any money. You're welcome to search us for weapons."
Hermione's parents communicated with their eyes. Mr Granger said, "We'll be with you in a moment, just stowing away the boards."
They went into the garage and moments later her mother opened the front door, motioning them to follow her. When all were seated in the living room with sparkling water – iced tea contained way too much sugar – Antonin stood up and introduced himself. He kept a careful distance from the Grangers and said, "In a minute everything will become clear, please bear with me a moment longer." He drew his wand, pointed it at Hermione and released first the seal and then the ward Yaxley had anchored. At first nothing happened. Then Mrs Granger suddenly drew a breath, a sob escaping her, "Hermione!"
"Mum!" The young witch approached her mother carefully, keeping an eye on her father. Just as Antonin was about to cast a diagnostic charm on the man he pointed at the her t-shirt, "We were there! We saw Motörhead. And Helena was at Glyndebourne meanwhile!"
Hermione was crying openly now, "Yes, Daddy, yes! I am so happy! I thought I'd lost you forever!"
While parents and daughter were hugging each other Antonin busied himself with brewing tea. He put everything on a tray and added glasses and the bottle of single-malt he'd found in the pantry. By the time he returned to the living room Mrs Granger's eyes were already narrowing and she frowned. Hermione noticed as well and went back to her seat on the settee.
"Mum, Dad, I know that I took a terrible risk and that I acted very high-handedly and without your consent, but please let me apologise first and try to explain."
The young woman started from the beginning, telling her parents every bit she had withheld from them over the years. Antonin kept to the background, supplying the trio with hankys, tea, water, toast and fruit. So far there had been a lot of tears all around and Mrs Granger had sounded quite bitter when telling Hermione of their disappointment with the witch spending so much time of the holidays either at the Weasleys or staying at Hogwarts. Mr Granger had inserted, "We missed you terribly, poppet." When the story came near the time of the memory charms Antonin sat down, sometimes supplementing the plot with the Death Eater view. The parents did not believe in the necessity of their daughter's actions. The Russian went into great details what Walden MacNair, who had been sent along with Yaxley to their home, used to do to his victims. All three Grangers blanched at the descriptions and for a while Hermione could continue. At telling her parents over her heartbreak of not being able to undo the memory charms Mrs Granger jumped up and started to shout, "Did you truly think you can charm a child away from a mother and a father? I have been taking anti-depressants these seven years just to be able to get out of bed! Your father has chased every skirt in the vicinity to fill the void! We made a plan to separate as soon as the clinic is paid off! Do you really think you can wave your magic wand and everything is all right again?!"
With that she stormed off. Hermione made a move to follow her mother but Mr Granger stopped her, "Hermione, it might be better to let her calm down."
"Dad, is it true?"
Despite his tan her father looked much older than his years right now, "Yes, unfortunately. The first year was quite all right but then we could not settle down, we could not enjoy anything. Your mother went to therapy and even thought about adopting, I made an absolute fool of myself, chasing younger women. – I am going to show you the guest-room where you can freshen up and then I will talk to Helena."
After a shower and a change of clothes Hermione went to find her parents. Sadly an easy task as they were shouting at each other. Antonin dragged her out of the house for a walk and maybe lunch.
When they were seated in a small café he said, "It went pretty well, I think. They need some time."
"Pretty well?! Mum was shouting at me!"
"She just found out who was responsible for ten years of anguish, doubts of her sanity and the end of her marriage, my mother would have hexed me into the next century in such a situation."
"What should I have done otherwise?"
"There's been no perfect solution, that's the point. You've got to live with your decision and the outcome is better than yesterday, isn't it?"
Hermione wanted to lash out at someone but knew that Antonin wasn't the right target. Still she uttered a petty comment.
"You would know about living with your decisions, don't you?"
His mean grew stern but he nodded.
"Indeed I do. We were both motivated by love for our family, only mine was mostly dead when I joined snakeface."
"Sorry, Antonin, I lashed out even though I knew I should be grateful to you. It is so much better than yesterday. They need time, I can understand that."
"Let's have lunch, we might need our strenght."
The witch squared her shoulders and attempted a wobbly smile at him.
"Yes, we might. I feel a bit worn out and it wasn't the Portkey."
He actually blushed, taking her hand, "Yeah, I don't know about you but last night has been the most exhilarating experience in my recent history."
Hermione tried to hide behind her hair.
"What did you do since the war?"
They ordered salads and Antonin started to explain, "After I wounded you in the Department of Mysteries I contacted Kingsley Shacklebolt. He was a prefect when I started at Hogwarts. I offered my assistance. He put me in contact with Madam Bones and we came to an agreement. I gave intelligence about new followers and planned attacks. In return I got a closed-court review of my supposed crimes during the first war. I am notorious for the Prewett-murders but that had been a duel, where I was a second, gone wrong. When Rodolphus got hurt Bellatrix felt that through her marriage bond and Apparated on the scene. From that moment on it was fight or die. Besides that I, much as Severus with his potions, was mainly designing wards for Riddle. I hadn't had a trial before but now got a manslaughter conviction and one for being part of a terrorist organization, the sentences considered to be served by my fourteen years in Azkaban. The action in the ministry was the first time I had been out after being broken out from the prison. As long as I only did what was necessary to stay in cover any future crimes were waived. I brought Yaxley into the fold because at that time the Dark Lord's main focus was undermining the ministry, Corban knew all about that."
"What happened to your friend?"
"He would have gotten the same deal as I, but during the Battle of Hogwarts a wall collapsed and killed him. The same one that killed a Weasley, I believe."
"I am sorry, Antonin."
"Me too, me too. He's been my best friend since school. It's not the same with Sev, although we grew closer since the war."
"You told me that you and Yaxley and a few others grew discontent in Voldemort's service. Was there no way out earlier? For people like Malfoy or the Lestrange brothers bowing down to a halfblood maniac can't have been easy."
"You know about the frog in the water, don't you? And it only started to shift from being a political movement to terrorism shortly before his fall. Both Malfoy and the Lestranges had been offered to Voldemort by their fathers. And we were few. There were others like Bellatrix, Crouch, Macnair."
With a shudder she added, "And Greyback!"
Antonin laughed, "Oh no, Fenrir only worked on his image! He's as harmless as a puppy, no vicious bone in him."
"Excuse me, he threatened to eat me! And he was quite convincing!"
"Image. Just like in his real occupation."
"And pray what is that? Being an aide for Mother Theresa? Leading crotcheting circles for the elderly?"
"Cut the sarcasm, love. Did you ever take a close look at the guitarists of Powerwolf?"
Hermione choked on a piece of salad, "Matthew Greywolf is Fenrir Greyback?!"
"The very same. Although Charles Greywolf is his cousin and a Squib. Fenrir is married to a Norwegian kindergarden teacher and has a bunch of kids with her."
"But he is a werewolf?"
"Yes."
"And his wife or the children?"
"Frida is a Muggle. Lycanthrophy is not genetic. They are certainly the most unruly bunch of kids I ever encountered but I'd put that down to Frida's educational methods, very laissez-faire. One aspect might have bled over from Fenrir's wolfish side, they have two sets of twins and one of triplets."
"That sounds exhausting."
"They live on the border of a nature conservatory area, plenty of space for the children to run around. Before a full moon Fen Apparates to Spitsbergen."
"What if the band tours?"
"They have a superstition neither to rehearse nor play around the full moon. Greyback never admitted but I suspect a bit of Confundus plays a role there."
"I think I need some chocolate cake right now."
"Will your mother be swayed by confectionary? We might bring some cake back if it's good."
"We can try. What about Remus Lupin? He was bitten by Greyback."
"A rumour planted by Lyall Lupin."
She enjoyed her cake, thinking about all the revelations of the last half hour. Dolohov being no fugitive in the sense of the law certainly would help if her budding feelings for him would grow. During the last ten years Hermione had questioned a lot of Dumbledore's and the other adults' decisions during the Vold Wars, which had led to some quarrels with Ron. Harry was of a similar mind as her but chose not to be so open about it, finally applying his Slytherin sense of politics. Even if the Arithmancy Department was more a research facility than an administrative body of the ministry the witch had learned a lot about politics in her time there. But the scope of things had eluded her so far. She said as much to Antonin.
"It was the other side. And while I believe Kingsley wants to be a minister for all factions of magical Britain the winner writes history. Most Pureblood children the side of their family as most of them, much more than on the side of the Light, have lost someone in the two wars."
Mrs Granger was not swayed but somewhat mollified by the cake. The Grangers were set to leave for a dentistry conference in Sydney the next four days. They offered the young couple to stay in the house and wait for their return. Mr Granger thought it a good opportunity to come to terms with their new situation and promised Hermione that whatever would happen they would stay in contact.
The farewells the next morning were not precisely warm but less tense and Robert even told Antonin to prepare for a talk with him after their return about his intentions. The Russian blushed fiercely but took the opening as soon as Hermione's parents had left.
"Hermione, I have met your parents before we even talked about us. Please take all the time and space you need but I for one would like to see whether we have other things in common besides Wacken and the bedroom."
She settled into his arms, "I would like to as well. Before we came here I was worrying about falling for a fugitive. Do you have even time to be here with me waiting for Mum and Dad to come back?"
"I always take my holidays after Wacken. I have to be in Hongkong at the beginning of September and it would be prudent to do some research before this assignment but otherwise I am free. I've never done any sightseeing in Australia but the question is - do you want me here?"
Hermione drew her arms tighter, "Yes, I do. I can't imagine rattling around in this house alone, fretting about their decisions." Her tone grew lighter, "And you can be very distracting!"
Slipping his hand under her tee he grinned, "You have no idea!"
By the time the Grangers returned to Perth Antonin and Hermione were an established couple. Helena and Robert had had long talks in the evenings after the lectures. They agreed to get marriage counselling and try to pick up from where they were uprooted more than ten years ago. Hermione still had to answer some very pointed questions but overall Robert's argument that they might never know their grandchildren if they stayed on the out with their new-found daughter had some weight.
"Wendell never felt right if I think about it. How could she chose such a horrible name? And Robert – what is this with the tacky t-shirts? Are you into hard-rock?"
August 2009
Hermione and Antonin had thoroughly enjoyed Motörhead's show before Apparating back into their Hamburg hotel. In the morning, after a leisurly fuck they had breakfast on the hotel's terrace, meeting Severus and then indulgently listening to him dissecting Würzel's solos. Over her third cup of coffee the witch proposed a visit to a museum before going back to W:O:A. The Potions master declined, blushing slightly which prompted Antonin to tease him about a certain Norwegian Motörhead fan in whose tent Sev might have spent the night if the woman had not had to care for a friend who had been too drunk to know her mind. They had agreed to meet again today.
Antonin searched the newspaper for fotographic exhibitions and found one with landscapes. The photographer had found his motives in the Wadden Sea, on the isles dotted in the North Sea or in the Lüneburger Heide. Most of the pictures were in black and white. Hermione liked them well enough but Antonin was fascinated. Only in the last room was a picture with people on it. Set against dark clouds over the North Sea was a woman, hair flowing in the wind, a man kneeling in front of her. Hermione gasped.
"Antonin! Look! That's us!"
They got the address of the photographer who lived in Hamburg and on a whim went to the loft in the Speicherstadt. The man had obviously still been sleeping but woke up quickly enough when he recognised the couple. After a glance at Hermione's left hand he said, "Oh, good, you've said yes!"
"The picture you took was actually before our first kiss but yes, we're married now." The sale and the delivery of the picture to their house in Guernsey was arranged and then the Dolohovs went back to Wacken.
August 2025
"I said no! Thirteen is too young for Wacken!"
"But love, Powerwolf is playing. Sev and Elin are even bringing the baby. Your father has offered to watch the kids in the evening. We can have tents next to each other, it would be fun!"
"I vowed to myself never to go camping again!"
"You are a witch! You can charm the inside of our tent to look like Buckingham Palace!"
"Mum, I promised to Grandpa to go with him before he has to have that hip operation. You and Dad are going every year, why can't we go with you?"
"It's loud. And people drink a lot of beer."
"Oh. More than Uncle Hagrid?"
"No."
"Is it louder than the Quidditch World Cup?"
"No, it isn't."
"Well then. There is no logical reason for us not to go."
"Antonin, why are you laughing! This is your fault!"
"No, love, I did not read Arithmancy texts to a three month old. You have yourself to blame if you're out-logicked by your fifteen year old son."
"He would not go to sleep without those books."
"He fell asleep just fine with my singing."
Hermione threw a towel at her husband and huffed.
Alexej patted her arm, "Mum, it's no problem that you can't sing. Even you can't be good at everything."
"Fine, fine, if you are all ganging up against reason then we will go."
Perdita, thirteen, Slytherin and Quidditch mad, piped up, "Besides, Sacre du Printemps at Glyndebourne with Grandma last year was loud, too. And there were drunk people there as well. The man on the blanket next to us fell over after two bottles of bubbly stuff."
"I said we are going already!"
Antonin drew his irate wife into his arms, kissing her to the disgusted eye-rolls of their children who left quickly.
"Don't fret, in too few years they won't wish to go anywhere with us. We've got to enjoy it as long as they are young."
Hermione sighed, "You are right. It's just that Wacken is the one time a year I am not sensible, responsible and boring Hermione Dolohov. I am not sure if I am ready to show them the `Wacken´ side of me."
"You are never boring, Hermione. I do not plan to let our kids know that we've shagged against a tower of speakers once but they've seen us dancing often enough, you turn up the volume every time you are cooking lasagna."
"I don't know why I made such a fuss just now. Maybe I am getting old."
"Careful, love, if you are old I am ancient. And you look far from old, in fact you look radiant – chort vas my! I can remember times when you got all irrational, sixteen and fourteen years ago! Is it possible?"
It took Hermione a second to follow Antonin's thoughts, and then a glance at the calendar on the kitchen wall, counting weeks and coming up with seven. She withdrew from his arms and sat down on a chair. Her husband was hoovering in front of her. A few years after Perdita's birth they had tried for another child but had not conceived. When the girl had left for Hogwarts they started to use contraception again. Hermione remembered that her last monthly potion had been store-bought as she had too much to do before the childrens' return from Hogwarts. She smiled tentatively in her husband's direction, "Well, ancient man, do you still remember the charm?"
August 2026
W:O:A had to be watched at Mr Granger's living room on live stream as the twins, Corban and Elena, were much too young to bring to the festival. Mrs Granger might roll her eyes about the deployment of – in her eyes – horrible t-shirts and even worse music but it was so much better than the alternative, Hermione not meeting Antonin on Wacken and Robert and she never knowing their daughter and her family.
Fin