February 1991
The rest of their trip consisted of the two children marvelling at the wonky shop signs and curious magical items on display in the windows. Hermione eventually managed to convince Sirius to take them to the bookstore she'd spotted previously, where she proceeded to spend most of her weekly allowance Walburga had provided her with. Hermione had never been poor, but the sheer amount of gold clinking in her bag was unfathomable to someone like her, whose parents used pound notes and plastic cards.
"Next time, don't take that hag's money, love," Sirius mentioned after she'd paid for her books. "I have enough money to last us several lifetimes. There's no need to be indebted to them." His words sliced through her fragile state of happiness like a knife.
They made their way back towards the pub, where Sirius would first apparate her, then Harry home. Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that he just wanted to spend the rest of the day alone with his godson. The thought left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Harry was a nice boy. His unnatural eyes sparkled with genuine kindness every time he addressed her, and he did his utmost best to make her feel included throughout the day. She'd no reason to dislike Harry Potter. And yet.
"It was nice to meet you, Hermione. I hope we can see each other again soon." Harry turned towards her with an awkward smile.
"Y-you too." Was all she managed to reply, her thoughts still occupied with her conflicting emotions towards the other boy.
Sirius cleared his throat and proceeded to usher them inside the Leaky Cauldron. "Let's get you an owl next time, Harry. Then you two can write to each other." It was pretty apparent to Hermione that the older man wanted the two of them to get along.
"That'd be great!" Harry replied.
Hermione clutched her books closer to her chest, ready to get this day over with. The sun was already setting, and Walburga was expecting her for dinner soon. Her shoulders dropped. Sirius probably wouldn't join them. He never did.
"Right. Let's get you home. Got everything?" Sirius grabbed her hand and looked down at her.
"Yep. Bye Harry!" She said before the world grew blurry, and a second later, she found herself standing in the by now familiar halls of Grimmauld Place.
"I'll be back by tomorrow at the latest. Don't let my mother get to you, kid." Sirius advised offhandedly as if he didn't know how impossible his suggestion was.
Without another word, Hermione turned on her heels, eager to get away from everyone for a while. Her father was definitely the lesser evil out of the whole Black family, but no matter how much the man tried, it was still evident that he didn't quite know how to deal with his daughter. It was probably easier to forgo the child he'd never known existed until a few months ago in favour of his beloved godson.
Finally, back in her room, Hermione pulled out one of her new books and cosied up in her armchair next to the fireplace. Dinner was still nearly an hour away, and she'd learned to cherish the little time she had to herself.
The following days passed by in a blur. Hermione spent most of her time enduring lessons every reputable pureblood witch should attend, according to Walburga and reading her books. Magic in itself was fascinating, as it turned out, and she was relieved to learn that not everything about being a witch was as awful as she'd feared. She could do without the French lessons, but at least she'd ample time to read up on all kinds of thrilling magical theories and something called Arithmancy which combined her favourite subject, maths, with the wonders of magic.
It had only taken a few chapters before the girl found herself utterly enthralled with that particular school of spellcasting. Arcturus greatly approved of her intellect and eagerness to study. He was a regular guest at the house and spent many days of the week supervising Hermione's lessons and joining their dinners. Which she was very grateful for. Walburga was always on her best behaviour around the imposing man.
"Madame Black is expecting the young Miss in the study."
Surprised by the elf's sudden appearance, Hermione dropped her feather. "Curses. How many times have I told you to knock, Kreacher!" She grimaced at the large ink spots splattered all over her parchment and fingers.
The elderly house elf tsked. "No worries, Kreacher will take care of it." With a wave of his hand, the mess on scrolls vanished. "There. Now up, up! The Madame is waiting."
Hermione was ushered from her seat and out of her room. Taking a deep breath, she collected herself before making her way downstairs with clenched fists. Her grandmother usually only called her to the study to scold her. Hermione quietly passed by the slumbering portraits of her ancestors, her heartbeat picking up with every step she took. What could be the problem now? She'd done every assignment and kept to her room.
"There you are." Walburga looked up from behind her late husband's desk. The imposing witch's eyes shone menacingly in the flickering candlelight, and to her surprise, Hermione spotted Sirius sitting across from his mother. A deep scowl etched into his face.
Hermione hurriedly closed the door behind her and sat down next to the older wizard. "Good evening, grandmother." She spoke demurely, wanting to get this over with.
Walburga acknowledged her greetings. "I've called you two here because of that wretched Potter spawn."
Sirius was already seething, "That boy is my godson and heir. Show some respect."
The flicker of her wand was so sudden that Sirius had no chance to dodge what Hermione recognised as a stinging hex flashing from his mother's wand. "Silence. I'll not have a halfblood tarnishing the name of our noble house."
She let Sirius writhe under her spell for a few seconds longer, unaware of her granddaughter's paling complexion.
Hermione bit her lips until she could taste the familiar tang of copper to keep herself from flinching.
"Arcturus has just restored your titles, do not assume he cannot take them away again." Walburga finally lifted her spell, "we brought you back so that you can raise your daughter, not to dally around with mudbloods and werewolves."
Hermione's eyes grew wide. Werewolves?!
"I'd take Hermione with me in a heartbeat if I could, but you two did a good job preventing that at the ministry, didn't you?" Her father spat, his arms and legs still trembling from his mother's hex. "Did you seriously expect me to just roll over and become a proper Black again?!"
The pair glowered at each other. The air in the room felt suffocating under their malicious thoughts, making Hermione's chest ache. Why had Walburga summoned her in the first place? This clearly concerned Sirius more than her.
"It appears you'd rather ruin your daughter's future for your silly ideas than man up and take up even an ounce of responsibility for the child you have fathered." The older witch remarked with pinched lips.
Sirius barked out a cold laugh, "Ruin? Nothing would do so more than leaving her with you and Arcturus."
Hermione gripped the polished wood of her seat harder at his callous remark. She was right here. How could they say such vile things in front of her?
"You want her to end up like Andromeda's child? A good for nothing Hufflepuff with no promising prospects?" Walburga hissed, "Who will have to take up work someday, mingling with all kinds of questionable folks, diluting her precious blood even more than her mother did."
At the mention of her scorned aunt, the room grew even colder. Hermione had learned of the woman's fate from her grandfather. The scandal of her generation. The esteemed witch who'd married a mudblood. It was the only time she'd seen the man lose his composure. Her betrayal had left a deep mark on him, which continued to grow and fester like an ulcer.
Sirius crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Times have changed, mother. Accept it."
Silence followed. It lay heavy over the occupants of the room. After a while, Walburga inclined her head. "As long as Arcturus and I still breathe, you'll listen. No more vanishing acts and overnight excursions." She folded her hands, "spend time with the child and refrain from exposing her to that Potter boy."
Another screaming match ensued after that. Hermione felt her composure slip as the grown-ups continued to throw insults at each other's heads. Forcefully shutting her eyes until she saw stars, the girl tried to block out the avalanche of hatred she was slowly suffocating under. "Please stop." She whimpered, unable to regulate her breathing anymore.
Her pleadings went unnoticed. Dread crawled up her chest and settled in her lungs as she listened to the terrible words Sirius hurled at his own mother. She couldn't endure it any longer. Hermione jumped up from her seat and flung herself towards the door. In her hurry, she toppled her chair, the resounding bang finally tearing the two other occupants of the room away from their fighting.
"Hermione?" Sirius called after her, but she was already out of the door. "This is all your fault!"
Hermione heard him yell at Walburga, but she was already too far away to listen to her reply. She stumbled up the stairs and made a mad dash towards her bedroom. The second her head hit the soft sheets of her pillows, she let out a strangled sob and clutched her blanket tightly to her body. "Why must they be so terrible?" She asked into the silence of her room.
Hermione wanted her mum to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be alright. She'd never gone so long without a hug or soft kiss to the cheek. There were no pats on the head at Grimmauld Place. Or warm smiles. Only cold eyes and cruel words. Hermione fancied herself to be a rather cheerful child, but as she lay in her too big bed, vacantly staring at her too tall ceiling, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd felt genuinely happy…
I am, in fact, alive! xoxo.