December 23th, 1976

Christmas break had come at the perfect time for Hermione. She had boarded the Hogwarts Express the day after Slughorn's party, making a point to pretend not to see Remus when he had tried to make eye contact on the Platform. It was a petty move that brought her no satisfaction, but it was for the best. It didn't matter that no one had seen her, crying had been humiliating enough and she was still too mad at Remus to play friends.

She hadn't sent him any letter since that day, he hadn't sent one either, and she told herself it was a good thing. Nothing positive could come from her family, or worse, Bellatrix, learning about the existence of Remus Lupin. They had no way of knowing about his lycanthropy, but him being a half-blooded Gryffindor would be enough to make them dislike the idea of Hermione receiving letters from him.

So, she had spent her week away from school doing everything to refrain from thinking about Remus. She had spent an afternoon at a tea party hosted by Narcissa Malfoy, done her homework, researched the Sopophorous plant she knew they would study before the end of the school year and the effect of its beans on the Draught of Living Death, eaten her weight in pastries to appease the elves who thought her too thin and let Rab convince her to have a snowball fight in the garden. She had even talked to her father about something that had nothing to do with her studies, something she was sure had never happened before. The conversation hadn't lasted long and had ended with her father telling her in his usual brutally honest fashion that the opinion of a schoolgirl on his work at the Wizengamot was of no interest to him. Still, they had talked.

She had been so busy her break felt more physically draining than the past semester in school, and her only solution was to wait until everyone was asleep to have some alone time in the library. Rab had teased her mercilessly about it and made a point to come to her room every morning to wake her up by invading her bed and stealing her blankets or 'accidentally' making noise when snooping around her room. Hermione had tried everything, going as far as to threaten to complain about it to Roddy who would inevitably take her side, but nothing had worked so far and she had given up on the idea to get more than six hours of sleep during the holiday. Lack of sleep wouldn't deter her from spending time on her own every night to recharge her social battery.

She was getting used to it, the dim lights, the unnatural silence of the manor and the rough wake-ups, which is why she was so surprised when she heard someone coming in through the private floo two rooms away from the library and soft steps walking down the corridor. Objectively, she knew it couldn't be anyone that would put her in danger. The Lestranges were the only one keyed to this fireplace, which could only mean her father or Roddy were coming back from a late meeting or, in Roddy's case, a catch-up with friends. Still, she got up to investigate the source of the noise.

She was expecting many things, but certainly not to see Bellatrix and Roddy walking together in the dark corridor. Her brother and her sister-in-law never did anything together, not if they had a choice, and when they didn't, Bellatrix wasn't sporting a satisfied smile like the one that was currently stretching her lips. Her lips stretched some more when she noticed Hermione, a violent contrast with the shocked a slightly panicked expression that twisted Roddy's features before he schooled them to look his usual aloof self.

"Baby sis! What are you doing up this late?"

She ignored Bellatrix's question, too focused on the red stains on the sleeve of the white button-up shirt she could see under Roddy's dark cloak. In a matter of second, his arm was hidden back under the cloak, but it was too late.

"What happened?" she asked despite not being confident she wanted to know the answer.

"Circe, here I was thinking the night couldn't get better," cackled Bellatrix. "My dear husband and I went out to have some fun. Sort of like a date, I suppose. A great one, too."

The glare she received from said dear husband was enough to shut her up, even though her smile didn't falter.

"Spoilsport," she teased, walking past Hermione with a dismissive gesture of her hand. "I guess I'll leave you to it, then. A witch needs her beauty sleep. I'd recommend to get used to this sort of things, though. Your future husband might be in a similar state when he'll come home to you after long nights out."

Hermione's eyes didn't turned away from where her brother's arm had been a minute before even as she waited for Bellatrix to leave the corridor, relying on her ears to determine the moment the witch disapeared in the staircase.

"So?" she eventually asked.

Her brother let out a tired sigh, running his hand through his curls in a obvious show of nervousness.

"I don't think you want the answer. I know for sure I don't want you to hear it."

"Were you with them? Is that why you came back with her?"

His eyes met hers as he nodded in answer, an honest and assured gesture that didn't fit with his clenched jaw and the almost apologetic way he looked at her. Seeing him like this made Hermione regret knowing him so well. He was sorry for disappointing her, but not sorry about whatever it was he had been doing out there.

"Did you hurt someone?"

Another nod.

"Did you kill them?"

A shake of his head. Hermione wasn't relived. She had been raised in a library filled with dark books, she wasn't innocent enough to believe there was no fate worse than death. Still, there was something comforting in knowing her brother hadn't killed anyone before running into her.

She didn't tell him she didn't like the idea of him hurting people or coming home covered in their blood, he already knew. Resigned, at least for tonight, she simply let out a sigh before offering him a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I should go to bed."

She had only taken a few steps when Rodolphus called her name, stoping her in her track. The sight of the hand raised in her direction slowly retracting under his cloak put a faint smile on her lips. He had raised his hand out of habit but hadn't touched her, wouldn't touch her when stained with blood. Hidden behind the political schemes and his dark mark, her Roddy was still there.

"About what Bellatrix said… Don't worry about it."

It took a moment for Hermione to understand what he was talking about.

"I'm not worried," she said with a confused frown. "You know I don't want to get married."

"I know you don't want to," confirmed her brother.

There was something in the way he said it, something hidden between his words she refused to understand on her own. She crossed her arms, her frown deepening.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"We don't always get what we want, Mina. You're old enough to understand it."

"I was old enough when you married Bellatrix to understand how miserable you were, and I'm old enough now to understand no men father chooses would be any good to me."

"I'll find you a good man," he promised.

Had she been less tired, or calmer, Hermione would have paused to wonder what her brother could possibly consider a good man. A man she wouldn't completely hate, maybe. A man who wouldn't hurt her, at least not physically, for sure. A man who would bear the same mark Rodolphus did on his forearm, obviously.

"I don't want you to find me anything. I want you to talk to father like you always said you would. He listens to you."

"I don't have a choice here, Mina." His tone was as close as pleading Roddy's would ever get, which did nothing to appease Hermione. "None of us do."

"We're Lestranges! We always have a choice."

"I wouldn't call having to choose between offering you as a soldier to the Dark Lord's army or marrying you off to someone who'll be happy to keep you safe and away from the fight a choice."

He took a step towards her and she wasn't mad enough at him to take a step back. Betrayed, indignant and a wrong word away to try casting the Cruciatus curse wandlessly, sure. Still, she knew her brother and refused to believe he would ever choose to do something to her he thought would harm her. In his mind, marrying her off to a misogynistic bigot who couldn't conceive the idea of a woman doing anything other than drink tea and attend parties between pregnancies was the lesser of two evils.

Rodolphus kept taking steps towards her until he was close enough to be heard by her as he whispered his next words.

"I swear on my magic, if I had a third option I'd take it. I'll keep looking for one. For now though, all I can give you is the certaintainty that if you have to get married, it'll be to a good man."

Hermione wondered if he was close enough to hear the sound of her heart breaking in her chest. If he did, she knew he wouldn't understand. He couldn't, not without knowing she knew of a third option, one that didn't want her. An option given to her by Magic itself that she wasn't at liberty to choose.

She couldn't stay here, she decided. She couldn't think about marriage or her future or the red stains on her brother's sleeve. She couldn't be alone, either.

She nodded weakly at her brother before turning around and making her way towards the stairs. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, not needing to turn back to know Rodolphus hadn't move.

"I'm glad you weren't hurt tonight."

A thank you and a peace offering, wrapped in a voice too soft to be used for anything but honest words.

She left after that, not bothering to pretend going to her room and heading straight to Rab's. Mispy would lecture her about sleeping in day clothes in the morning, she knew, and she couldn't be bothered to care. She would also lecture her about sleeping in her own bed, but that was a battle the elf had lost a long time ago and the twins took full advantage of it. More often than not, her twin fell asleep in her bed, either because he didn't felt like being alone or for the sake of annoying her by settling in the middle of her bed and refusing to move by claiming being a four minutes older than her gave him a right on everything belonging to Hermione.

Tomorrow, he would ask why she was doing here and she'd use his shoulder to cry on and eat her weight in chocolate and ice cream before freshening up and joining the rest of her family for Christmas Eve. She didn't have any idea what she would do abut her prospects for the future, but she still had her twin. And Roddy, in a way, though not the one she would have preferred.

She had never felt more lonely, but at least she wasn't alone.