Song Suggestion: Benee- "Never Ending"

A/N: I overestimated my ability to post during the week. Until late May, Wednesday posts won't be an option. I'm going on vacation for Spring Break, so I won't be able to post next Sunday, but after that I plan to resume Sunday updates until I finish. By the end of May, I may be able to do occasional Wednesday updates. Sorry Vi, I know you were waiting!

A/N: I posted another Katie/ Marcus chapter today as well. This will be the last chapter in the past. After that, it will be concurrent to the events in the story, and it will get spicy in later chapters. This is the last chapter without Draco for the rest of the story.

The Talent

Hermione

Hermione walked out of Fortescue's. She promised Scorpius ice cream before going home. He held a giant cone of strawberry ice cream, licking it happily as they walked along the cobblestone street.

She pulled to a stop when she saw Katie Bell on a bench with her head in her hands, crying. Her blue serving uniform rested at her feet, crumpled in a haphazard ball, leaving her in an undershirt and dark trousers.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked. After chastising Pucey, she never saw Katie again. Hermione assumed she just needed a breather, but something else happened.

Hermione sat next to her.

Katie dropped her hand and looked up, showing puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

"I quit," she said. "I shouldn't have."

"Why not?" Hermione asked. Just the memory of the incident made her blood boiling. "I'd quit too if something like that happened to me, and my employers didn't say anything."

"Because I won't be able to find another job." She shrugged. "I wanted to stay in the wizarding world, but they won anyway, didn't they? Now I don't know what to do. My dad is in America. I have no desire to live overseas, and my mum doesn't have the room. My sister has the only bedroom." She wiped her nose and cheeks. "Ugh, sorry. You don't need to hear my problems. I just… I couldn't work there anymore. I used to work at Gringotts before the… well, The Leaky Cauldron hired me when no one else would, but they didn't stop people from harassing me unless it got bad."

"And that wasn't bad enough?"

"No. It was usually much worse. Pucey comes most weekends and always sits in my section."

Hermione anger flared to life again, wondering if she should find Pucey to finish the job.

Scorpius stood in front of Katie, concerned, even though he had no idea what she talked about.

"Do you want some of my ice cream?" He asked.

"That's sweet," Katie said, eyeing the drool he left on it. "But I don't think I'm very hungry right now." She examined the little boy with curiosity. By this point, the whole wizarding world knew Scorpius was Draco's. Her son shrugged and wandered over to a nearby quidditch store looking through the window. Katie twisted back to her. "It's as if someone transplanted a nice personality into Malfoy's body."

Hermione laughed at that, and Katie joined her.

A brilliant idea came to her.

"I could hire you for the castle. The elves are disorganized with their cleaning. They need someone to oversee them. We also need someone to manage other areas of the estate, including the removal of several unsavory objects, along with updating all the heating and cooling spells. I plan to work in the ministry, so I don't have the time to do it. I'd pay you a lot of money."

Katie pulled back her head in surprise. She touched her wrist where Marcus had grabbed her, leaving his mark of blood. It bothered Hermione, wondering what went through her brother's head. He'd been so angry. At first, she thought it did have to do with purist ideas, but after going over the scene in her mind again, she decided his anger was directed at Katie cleaning up after him. Though why he cared so much was beyond her, and he could have been a little less gruff.

"Work at Flint manor?" Katie asked quietly. "I don't know, Hermione. Your brother… well, I don't think he likes me much."

"He's changed." Even as she said it, she knew it sounded idiotic.

Katie shook her head.

"In school, he charmed bludgers to chase after me during quidditch. And two years after he left for Hogwarts, he sent me an owl, saying the Death Eaters would come for me." Katie shuddered at that, face pale, as if living through something horrid.

Hermione stayed silent. Katie somehow survived a revel. Cantan Nott taunted Theo with the information, asking if he knew her. "Well, she's rotting with the worms now, son," he said. When Theo saw her after the war, he'd had been relieved and confused, unsure what happened. The only thing Hermione knew for sure was Katie Bell went through something horrific.

Hermione reached out and grabbed her hand for comfort.

"Whatever happened in the war… well, he's not who we knew in Hogwarts. He told me he doesn't believe in blood purity or anything the Death Eaters stood for. Maybe he was warning you."

"No," Katie said. "It was threatening."

Hermione sighed. Marcus had a lot to answer for still. He was a taciturn, prickly, complicated person, constantly attempting to shut out any human comfort or contact. He only allowed Hermione into his life, because the alternative would be under Lucius Malfoy's thumb. Even then, she didn't see him much, always at work, where he sat alone in an office separated from others. She suspected he hid several secrets from her and prying them away from him would require substantial force.

"I promise he won't bother you. I'll talk to him. He works in the ministry Department of Magical Games and Sports, overseeing the new world cup. He's barely home, and when he is, he shuts himself away. You'd never see him."

Katie bit her lip, and Hermione sensed she still wasn't comfortable with the idea of Marcus so close.

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't know if I can work for a pureblood estate right now. No offense."

Hermione understood.

"Well, the offer is on the table," she said. "I was attempting to hire someone anyway, but I'd rather the job go to someone I trust. You've always been a brilliant organizer. It can be temporary too, just until you can get on your feet."

Hermione stood up, calling Scorpius over. He'd finished his ice cream and was attempting to climb up the to the window to see better into a quidditch store.

"I'll think about it," she said.

"If you decide to accept, you can come over tomorrow. I'll just show you around the place and explain what needs done. Then you can make your decision."

"Thank you," Katie said. "For standing up for me. You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did." The fury rose in her again. "The Wizarding World can either move forward, or they can expire. Now that I'm back, the old pureblood families are done making the rules."

Hermione

"My son couldn't have been the sacrifice," her ancestor said the moment she opened the grimoire. He stood there in his ancient doublet, sword clinking by his side, brow wrinkled in concerned thought.

Hermione sat at the desk in her room after putting Scorpius to sleep. She'd finally absorbed all that she knew from Marcus. The memories replayed in her mind.

A girl isn't likely to inherit the talent…

Maurice, the Dark Lord, and even Dumbledore either wanted to use or suppress something innate to her. They all believed her to be a weapon. She needed to discover how.

"What do you mean?" She asked, a little thrown by his certainty.

"You said you believed my son to be the human sacrifice right before you rudely interrupted me for the second time, but that would be impossible."

Hermione sat at her desk. A stained-glass window perched above it, letting in last remnants of dusk. She rolled a quill in her fingers.

"Why are you sure of this?"

"If Kaspar truly stole Stefan's power, he needed to be alive. The power requires three sacrifices, but if Stefan perished, so would the magic." He paled as much as a memory phantom could. "He possibly used my son as a conduit, somehow controlling him. With binding soul magic, most likely."

A conduit, stealing the power. Voldemort wanted to use her. She wondered how.

"Who was sacrificed if not your son?"

"Other family members." His voice quivered, showing he couldn't be objective in this conversation. "He loved his brothers and sisters the most. They'd be the only ones to do it willingly."

"Three sacrifices?"

Three was a number sacred to magic, especially binding ones. It created a stability, a triangle, three stings of a rope, making it sturdy. Most old and dark magic required things in threes.

"Yes, it's what activates the talent in the first place."

Hermione set her quill on the desk and turned toward the memory.

"What is so special about our family bloodline, others seek to use or destroy it?"

Alaric seemed taken aback. He turned his head in confusion.

"You mean to tell me you have no idea what you are?"

Hermione grimaced.

"I'm not sure if I am or not. I just know I was bred to be something, and I'd like to know what that is."

Alaric eyed her carefully.

"The talent appeared four hundred years before I was born," he said. "It made us the most influential family in all of Europe. On a whim, we made kings and queens, knights and dragon riders. It didn't appear in every child born to the family, but when it did, it often came at great cost, sometimes chaos, depending on the morality of the user. Sacrifices are imperative to activate it, and most wizards balked at what needed to be done, not containing the cruelty necessary for the task."

"How can you tell when a family member has the potential for the talent?"

"The indicators are there beforehand—a natural tendency toward powerful magic, often wandless at a young age. Most important, they are capable of sensing magic in a tangible way others can't. By the age of five, I knew my son had the potential to become the golden dragon, though he vowed never to become it, because the power that comes with it can easily corrupt even the purest of souls."

"A golden dragon?"

"Not a real dragon, but a metaphorical one. It's a name we gave to the few family members that activated the talent, a reference to our sigil." He examined her, narrowing his eyes. "Can you do these things? Can you feel the veins of magic in the ground?"

The description fit her, but it also fit her son. He levitated his toys on purpose, without even trying. Though other wizards could sense magic in an abstract sense, she could tell the type and source. It almost glowed when flowing strong.

"Yes." Hermione did not lie.

Alaric grinned, but there was a sadness behind it.

"Then you are a Siphon."