This chapter ended up ridiculously long, for a story that has gotten completely out of control. My muse is on crack. Not that the lot of you are complaining in the least. Do enjoy.
Chapter Seven
At ten weeks pregnant, Hermione's stomach was beginning to round up a bit. It was still easy enough to hide with the right shirt, although jeans she fit two months ago certainly were not going to button up now, and she had to magically adjust the waistline to get them secured. At this point, news of her marriage to Minerva was well spread throughout Hogwarts, as well as word regarding her pregnancy, and through the Hogwarts grapevine, to the greater wizarding community. They'd opted not to share the fact that they were having twins publicly, however. That would not be known to the public until they were born, she and Minerva agreed. Both felt that given the instability of her magical core, her pregnancy was deemed high risk, and they didn't want their grief to be quite so public if one of the twins didn't survive birth because of the strain on her core. Merlin forbid neither of them survived. Poppy did her best to assure the expectant parents, but they still both worried.
George had confirmed that his parents had heard the news of her marriage to Minerva and subsequent pregnancy, and while surprised, had not completely lost their minds. Still, he'd agreed to go with her for her first visit to the Burrow since everything had happened on Beltane. She didn't want her first visit to Arthur and Molly after everything to be months and months into her pregnancy, and while a part of her thought perhaps she ought to have told them before they heard second hand, ultimately there were only so many people she could do that with. The Weasleys were the closest thing she had to parents, and she hoped she could count on them for their support.
"Hey there 'Mione," George said, walking into her and Minerva's quarters. "Still a bit weird to think I'm allowed in here. Who'd have thought I'd have standing permission to just stroll into McGonagall's quarters without risk of getting my balls hexed off?"
"That's what she gets for marrying me," Hermione smirked. "Permanent attachment to the Weasleys. Do your Mum and Dad know to expect us?"
"Yeah," he confirmed. "I figured you'd surprised them enough for one year as it was without having you show up unannounced."
"I'll have to disappoint then, as I did have something of an additional surprise," she smiled. "Also, George, I've been meaning to ask; how do you feel about being godfather to one of my children?"
He shrugged. "You mean this one or one down the road?"
"I mean one of the two I'm carrying right now," she said, poking him in the ribs. "Not certain on genders yet, but if at least one of them is a boy, you get dibs on him."
George's grin couldn't have gotten any wider. "Are you serious right now? Twins? Blimey, that's amazing, Hermione, really! Of course I'll be godfather! Boy or girl, it won't make a difference to me. It'll be one of us, you know?"
"I do," she nodded. "Which is why I felt like you'd be the perfect choice. Minerva thinks she'd like Pomona for the other, although she hasn't talked to her yet. Not that Pomona is a twin or anything, but they've been good friends for ages, and Pomona is sort of responsible for the two of us getting together. I think she'll be a good godparent as well."
He nodded in agreement. Hermione knew he had a lot of respect for the Head of Hufflepuff, often contracting with her for the potions ingredients he needed for the shop. He could buy them already processed and from a retailer, but he liked to just get the plants themselves and do the processing himself. He said that it was a better quality that way, and Hermione agreed, even if she was usually too lazy to actually do the manual labour involved. "Well then, I suppose you'll be telling Mum and Dad about it being twins, then?" he asked.
"I thought I would," she replied. "I thought they would appreciate knowing, even if we're keeping that bit to ourselves for the most part. "Narcissa knows, and I figure we'll tell Robert and…" she paused, having almost said Severus' name. "... a few others, soon. Not many though. When they're born, people will find out. I'll tell Harry and Ron, of course. I'll probably ask Harry not to tell Ginny though. Merlin knows I love the girl, but…"
"She's not great about shutting her gob," George agreed. "Hey Hermione, I've got a question."
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever noticed, with us, how…" he paused, searching for the right words. "... in tune we are? I'm saying this badly, I know. I don't mean to imply anything sordid at all. It's just that when I'm around you I feel connected to you in a way I haven't felt since Fred died. It's comfortable and safe and I'm drawn to it. I don't quite know what to make of it."
"I know exactly what you mean," she agreed, ushering him to sit down beside her. "I've felt exactly the same in regard to you. I've not felt as safe and protected with anyone since Nicolas died. It's close with Minerva, but it's not the same. It's a different kind of bond. Not better, or worse. It's just different. It's like with her it's fire to keep me warm but with you it's water to keep me cool. Both absolutely vital to my survival, but in a completely different way."
"Wicked," he breathed. "I need to find my version of McGonagall."
"Ideally," she teased. "It's really something else. That said, in the meantime, I've almost been wondering if magically speaking there might be a way for you and I to formalise our bond."
"How do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean that twins, magically speaking, are bound to one another," she explained. He knew this. "When one of the pair dies…"
"It buggers everything up," he muttered, sounding their mutual thoughts.
"So while I know nothing could replace Fred, and nothing could replace Nicolas," Hermione continued, touching his hand, "what if we could magically bond with one another, and be a stand-in for one another's twin for the next, oh, hundred years or so? Provided we both lived long and happy lives. Magnify what our magic is already telling us?"
His eyes sparkled at the suggestion, clearly on board with the idea. "How?"
"We'd have to develop a custom adoption ritual," she said thoughtfully. "I couldn't do it till after the twins are born, given I'd need to use magic, but we could do the research while I'm pregnant. In theory, given my parents aren't a factor it would be simplest if I was basically adopted as a Weasley, and from there we additionally adopted one another. We'd need your parents' help and approval."
"Presuming they did approve, could you even get adopted by Mum and Dad given you're already married?" George asked.
"I already checked," Hermione said, waving off his concern. "Since we handfasted, an adoption ritual would not override my marriage. It would just make Minerva a Weasley by marriage as if I'd been born a Weasley, and then married her. The handfast supersedes."
"Well in that case, let's talk to Mum and Dad about it today," George suggested. "I mean, best we know if we need to spend six months talking them into it now, right? Plus, if we talk to them today and tell them about the twins today, we're holding extra cards."
"How do you mean?" Hermione asked, frowning.
"If they agree to adopt you," George said, grinning, "then they automatically get two grandkids incoming. That'll win Mum over right quick, I'll tell you!"
"Even if said grandchildren are technically Malfoys?" Hermione asked, doubtful. "Not that I mean to tell them about that today. But it will come out eventually."
"Oh, I don't think that will bother either of them," George assured her. "They're both Blacks, going back a couple generations, as was Draco. The twins would be distant cousins of ours even if they weren't going to be adopted grandchildren. I'm pretty sure Mum was going to lay claim to them one way or another. She was pretty proud of how Draco was turning his life around, truth be told. I think Dad was reserving judgment, but Dad had to deal with Lucius more regularly than Mum ever did, so his experience was a bit more clouded by that. They also think very differently, Mum and Dad. Poor Dad, none of his kids got sorted to his House. Of course, Ronniekins still thinks Dad was a Gryffindor. I think Ginny still thinks so as well."
"Your Dad wasn't a Gryffindor?" Hermione said, eyes widening in surprise. "I always figured he was."
"Nope," George said, smirking. "Slytherin, like his Mum. Dad sort of made it a coming of age challenge for us kids that he'd let us all assume he was Gryffindor after Bill and Charlie both sorted there and they started off the assumption that it implied that both Mum and Dad were Gryffindors. Bill and Charlie had also heard at Hogwarts that Weasleys always go to Gryffindor, which was more of a generalisation than a rule. Our granddad was a Gryffindor. So was his dad, and most of the Weasleys before that. When Granddad married Cedrella Black though, it brought Slytherin blood into the family. I'm honestly hoping Ron doesn't figure it out for ages yet, gets married and has a family, and then one of his kids sorts to Slytherin and that is when he finally finds out Dad was a Slytherin. Talk about the mic drop of all mic drops!"
"George Weasley, I'm pretty sure you have a fair helping of Slytherin yourself," she said, amused. "Seriously though, how did I not see it? Looking back at everything, I can pick out the Slytherin traits clearly in your father, but I missed them all these years."
"It helped he wasn't evil," the redhead said pointedly. "Or a snarky Potions Master. Man, I bloody miss Snape sometimes. He was a real riot."
"Don't tell me you had a crush on our Potions Professor," Hermione teased, thinking that she would enjoy taunting Severus with that knowledge if it was true.
"Nah," he said dismissively. "I just respected him. I'd have enjoyed being friends with him, if he could have learned to chill the fuck out. I'd have gladly given him some lessons in relaxing."
Hermione made a note to talk to Minerva, Robert, and Severus about the possibility of bringing George in on their little secret. The fact of the matter was that George clearly seemed to hold no ill will toward the man who'd been responsible for his missing ear, and further, Severus really did need lessons in relaxation. If anyone could cajole a reasonably willing Severus Snape out of his shell, George Weasley might very well be the key to making it happen. It could also be the first honest friendship Severus formed that could translate into his new life, and one he'd not have to hold back with, as George would know the full truth of who he was and had been.
"Let's get going," she said after a pause. "We're going to be late."
He stood, and offered his hand to help her up, and then he carefully escorted her through the Floo. When they arrived on the other side, George took the liberty of cleaning the soot off her clothes and fixing her windblown hair, tapping his finger on her nose for good measure. "There, all better love."
"I think Hermione's quite capable of cleaning herself up," Arthur Weasley chastised his son. "Even if she is pregnant. Best not get in the way of an independent witch, son."
"I appreciate the thought, Arthur," Hermione replied with a smile, "and normally I'd agree. However I'm not allowed to use magic for the duration of my pregnancy. As such, George's help was appreciated. There are certain potions that I should be taking right now for a magical core instability that I can't take while I'm pregnant. So no potions, no magic. Minerva and I are not advertising that, of course."
"Blimey," he breathed. "What on earth could have caused that much core instability?"
"I'd really rather not have to repeat myself," she sighed. "Where's Molly?"
"Setting up tea in the living room," he nodded. "Let's join her."
The three of them moved into the living room, where Molly Weasley hugged her and told her she was glowing and tutted a bit about how she hoped Poppy was keeping her up to date on prenatal potions and the like. There was no mention of Minerva, and that didn't surprise Hermione at all. Likely, they didn't know how things were going with the marriage, and didn't want to bring it up until she did. When they finally all sat down and tea was served, Arthur took the lead.
"So, let's cut to it shall we? We'll get back to the issue with your core, but you must know we love you and we're concerned," he said solemnly. "Last we saw you, you weren't married, weren't pregnant, and had not mentioned any intention to get married or have a child. You weren't even dating anyone to our knowledge, much less Minerva McGonagall. She's a good woman, mind you, and we don't disapprove, but we want to be certain that you're not stuck in something that you're unhappy with."
Hermione sighed. "Happy or unhappy, we handfasted, so we're rather stuck at this point."
"Oh Merlin…" Molly groaned. "What were you thinking, Hermione?"
"To go back to the issue with the unstable core, I was thinking that I felt connected to her in a way I'd not felt since I lost my twin brother when I was eight years old," Hermione explained. "That draw was rather intoxicating."
"Oh gods have mercy," Arthur groaned. "Of all the idiotic things left unadressed when Muggleborns join our world… Hermione, I am so sorry about your brother, and I am even more sorry that Albus allowed you to begin your magical education without doing a proper background check to prevent your current situation. Merlin knows Albus was a great wizard, but sometimes… he did not think things through!"
"That's why you and George have grown so close, isn't it?" Molly asked softly. "You understand what he's going through."
She nodded. "Unless you've lost a twin, there is no way to comprehend the grief. I've talked to people who've lost a sibling, and while I don't negate the grief there, it isn't the same as having someone entwined into your very being ripped away from you in an instant. The shock and the trauma is unimaginable. George and me… we understand each other."
"We're not dating, we're not in love," George put in. "We know a fair few have speculated that recently. We feel for each other the way a brother and sister do. We are filling in for each other the lost space of one another's missing twin. We're actually talking about developing an adoption ritual to formally seal that bond. We think it may be a very healing thing for both of us."
"What would that entail?" Arthur asked.
"We're still early in the research," Hermione admitted. "We'd like to know up front if we can count on your support as we do this, especially as the ritual may very well involve your cooperation."
"Our cooperation?" Molly inquired, frowning. "I'm inclined to say you'd have our support provided you're not using dark magic to accomplish this. We want both of you healthy, right Arthur?"
He nodded. "Absolutely."
"We think that before Hermione and I would be able to adopt one another as each other's new twin," George laid out, "that first she'd need to already be my sister. You guys would need to adopt her before we could do the second stage of the ritual we develop."
"Oh," Molly said, surprised. "Well then."
"I would point out," George added. "That Hermione is pregnant with twins right now so getting her as a daughter means automatically getting two grandkids."
Hermione smacked George's arm. "Don't bribe them."
Both older Weasleys were smiling. "The bribe wasn't necessary," Arthur said. "Although you're your father's son for making sure you had a solid case. I'd probably have done the same."
"Twins is wonderful, Hermione. Congratulations," Molly said kindly. "I hope Minerva is thrilled. As to the rest, as far as Arthur and I are concerned, you already are our daughter. By all means, whenever you like, let's make it official. And you bet your wand, those are my grandbabies!"
"Told ya!" George said, nudging her.
"How did you not sort to Slytherin, George Weasley?" Hermione demanded.
"Honestly?" he said, blushing. "The Hat tried. I refused to be separated from Fred."
Arthur threw his hands in the air. "Really? Seven kids and I get one who almost goes to my House. How is that bloody fair?"
"Two, Dad," George said, grinning a little. "You have to get Percy really drunk to admit it, but the Hat wanted him for Slytherin as well. He didn't know about you yet, though, and was terrified it meant he was evil, so he begged the Hat to put him in Gryffindor."
Hermione looked thoughtful. "Honestly, Ginny could have gone either way. She's certainly got the nerve to be a Gryffindor, but she can be awfully cunning when she sets her mind to it. I have to wonder, if she'd grown up knowing her father was a Slytherin, if she'd have sorted there instead. So many children go into their Sorting with an idea of what House they should be in, and it impacts where they go. Me, for example; the Hat said I'd do well in either Gryffindor or Slytherin. I'd heard on the train that no muggleborns ever went to Slytherin, so I steered the hat away from there. What if I hadn't?"
Arthur looked thoughtful. "Perhaps it's time for all of us to stop putting expectations on our children in regard to who they will be. What does it matter if they're full of nerve, or studious, or cunning, or overly hard working? I'd rather have a child who is a bit of a coward, but works hard and is happy, or one that is kind of an idiot on his own but has smart friends and is brave enough to listen to them, and is happy. Happy is the key word. I just want my children to be happy."
George kicked the rug. "Hermione's having kids with Minerva McGonagall. They're going to be brainics with balls of steel who could con a Goblin out of the keys to Gringotts and have no problem working hard to do it. I mean who handed out the genetic lottery to those kids?"
Molly leaned back in her chair. "Ah, but it's children like that who are the most difficult to raise. Constantly getting into everything."
"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his mother. "How do you figure?"
Arthur chuckled. "She's talking about you and Fred, son. You just described yourself."
Hermione was suddenly rather terrified at the prospect of what her genetic union with Minerva McGonagall was likely to produce, down the line. George wasn't wrong in his description, nor was Molly in her comparison. Fuck.
Severus Snape did not make a good patient, Minerva mused. He still hadn't regained full motor function, two weeks after waking up from his coma, and it was beginning to impact his mood in the worst way. Robert was doing his best to keep the younger wizard occupied, setting his soon to be adopted son to task on Hermione's project regarding the Longbottoms, but even in that he was limited to theory given he was not strong enough to be up and brewing.
"I'm tired of reading," Severus grumbled from his bed. "I'm tired of this bloody room. Even when I was laid up during the war Poppy would let a House Elf escort me out to the grounds for a bit for some fresh air."
"Until you can defend yourself it isn't safe," Minerva reminded him. "We have no way of knowing for certain who will defend you and who will not, which is why you are technically staying dead. Until you're stronger, you cannot undergo the adoption ritual, and until you do that, you cannot be seen. We've been over this."
"That doesn't mean I have to like it," he griped. "On the positive side, Robert and I agreed on a name for me."
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So what is my nephew to be called?"
"Sevastian Robert McGonagall," Severus replied. "It's a Russian variant of Sebastian, so we figure we can play at my mother having been Russian, and myself having been educated at Durmstrang. That will explain away why no Hogwarts Alum knows me, and frankly most of the Durmstrang graduates of my generation were recruited by the Dark Lord and are either dead or in prison. The chances of me getting to know a Durmstrang graduate of my generation well enough for them to question why they don't recall me is fairly slim, especially if I stay in the United Kingdom. Which I intend to. Further, it means the shortening of that name, as well as Severus, are the same, so the transition of what I'd be called would be easier to manage."
"Sev," she tried. "Oddly light and casual for you, if I'm perfectly honest. You've always been such a serious man."
"If I'm to make this work, Minerva, I'll need to deliberately make alterations to my personality. I cannot continue to be Severus Snape," he said pointedly. "My survival may very well depend on my ability to relax. Hermione suggested marijuana, of all things. I'm not sure I'm prepared to say it to her face quite yet, but it's not a terrible idea. I know I'm uptight."
She couldn't hold back the snort of amusement. "I'd pay good galleons to see you stoned, Severus."
"I will if you will," he bartered, smirking.
"I have," she retorted. "I was in my twenties at the start of the sixties, if you recall. Even after I began teaching here… if you think that weed didn't make its rounds through the staff room on the weekends during that decade, and well into the next one, you're delusional. Me, Pomona, Filius, Poppy, Horace, Albus… we all had a go at it at least once or twice."
"Sybill?" he asked, looking amused.
"Sybill hasn't not been stoned since I met her," Minerva laughed. "She's a proper pot head. Where the hell do you think we got it from? She was our supplier long before she was an employee here; her father was our supplier before her."
"Why did you all stop?" he wondered out loud. "By the time I joined the staff, you weren't passing a joint around at staff meetings. That would have been a hard thing to miss."
"It fizzled out in the late seventies," she admitted. "The war happened, mostly. We were all too afraid to be caught with our pants down, as it were. We didn't want to be stoned if there was an attack and we needed to be alert and sober. By the time the war was over the habit had been kicked and we just never really went back to it. I think Albus indulged now and then over the years, though. He always said he had some of his best insights while stoned."
Severus grunted. "He would. However, I don't want to wrap the whole of my new personality around being stoned. I do think that perhaps it would help me get into the swing of things though; a bit like how watching Death Eaters helped me learn how to behave as one. I could get into a rhythm of being more relaxed around people by forcing the relaxation, and then be able to do it naturally, later, without the chemical aid."
"I can get some weed from Sybill, if you like," Minerva offered. "Knowing Hermione, she has a contact as well."
"George," Severus confirmed. "That of course was absolutely no surprise to me at all."
She laughed. "Nor me. I wonder if Hermione's ever…"
"Do not finish that sentence, Minerva," her nephew-to-be glared. "I may never have gotten stoned, but I know plenty of people who have, and I am well aware of how being stoned can make a sexual encounter more scintillating. I am beyond not interested in hearing about the marital affairs of you and Hermione."
Minerva pursed her lips, eyes twinkling. "I'd not suggest we do so, in any case, until after the twins are born. While not strictly high risk to smoke weed while pregnant, it's still not advised by any means. Similar risks to smoking muggle cigarettes, as I understand it."
"I think she'd be like Albus," Severus admitted. "She'd probably be less interested in jumping your bones, and more interested in grabbing the nearest bit of parchment to write down her latest, greatest idea."
"Good thing there's always more weed," she quipped.
"Bad thing she always seems to have more ideas," he shot back. "Insufferable know-it-all, that one is."
"You don't have to pretend to dislike her anymore, you know," Minerva pointed out. "The war is over, and more to the point, she's family now. You two are very alike and would work well together if you'd just set aside the fact that you've been pretending to be enemies for so long."
He smirked, and then said in an uncharacteristically whiny voice, "But Aunt Minerva, I don't wanna!"
She laughed, and smacked the top of his head with the book that had been resting on his lap. "Tough!"
Hermione had just been dropped back off at Hogwarts by George, and was meandering her way through the halls of the castle en route to see Severus before going back to her and Minerva's quarters. She was nearing the turn which would lead her toward the dungeons when she came upon Professor Flitwick who seemed to be watching her rather studiously. "Can I help you, Professor?" she asked the Head of Ravenclaw.
He regarded her for another moment before responding, waving her toward him. "Come. Let's have some tea, you and I."
His invitation was not unusual. His phrasing was. Filius Flitwick was unwaveringly polite, and never one to impose his presence on someone unless it was in his capacity as a Professor carrying out some sort of disciplinary action. Hermione was all but certain that she'd not done anything to warrant him dragging her to his office for tea to lecture her like some errant schoolgirl, so she couldn't for the life of her figure what he might want. "Sir?" she asked cautiously as she fell into step beside him, especially as she realised that they had passed his office.
"Filius," he corrected. "You are Minerva's wife, Hermione. The decision you two made on Beltane demands a level of respect be extended from her to your friends, and from her friends to you. I haven't asked you to tea as your Professor. I've asked you to tea because I wanted to talk to you about a few things. My quarters are just down here."
"Alright then, Filius," Hermione agreed, offering him a small smile of appreciation. She still had no idea what he was up to but whatever it was seemed to stem from an interest in making an effort with his friend and colleague's wife, and that much she took immediate relief in.
The pair walked only another few minutes before the demure man put his hand on a section of wall and it simply vanished before her eyes, eliciting a small gasp. "No doubt you are surprised by my lack of portrait or password?" he asked.
"Honestly, yes," she admitted. "I've been to most of the Professors' quarters and offices at one time or another for various reasons, and all of them have been guarded with a portrait who had to be offered a password. The only exception is the Head's office. Your office is like the others, but clearly not your quarters."
"I use Goblin enchantments for my quarters," he admitted. "I do not often have guests in my rooms, and when I do I personally escort them or I am waiting for them and can open my door from the other side. Another Goblin might be able to break into my room with work, but it would be difficult. They are completely impenetrable to any other, however."
"Are you just generally paranoid?" she asked, following him inside, and taking in the cosy living area, "or is there another reason for that choice?"
"A little bit of both," he admitted. "I've made enemies in my time; not just the sort who are Dark Lords and Death Eaters. Sore losers can be just as dangerous, as I learned in my third year of teaching. That was what prompted the door."
She took a seat across from him, marvelling at his show of wandless, wordless magic as a tea service appeared with the wave of his hand, hot and ready to go. "Sore losers?"
He motioned her to make her own tea before he leaned back with his newly made cup. "You and I are not dissimilar, Hermione. Although for different reasons, I too came to Hogwarts feeling very much like I had something to prove. My mixed heritage left me feeling torn between two worlds much the same way your muggle roots, I imagine, left you feeling."
"Very much so," she agreed.
"I graduated Hogwarts at the top of my class, although I was not Head Boy. Dippet was not about to give that position to a half-Goblin. In those days, it was a wonder I was allowed to attend at all," Filius went on. "In any case, I found a Charms Master with whom to continue my education, and after only three years of study, I was ready to take the exam. I tested directly into the Level Two Mastery. Still, I didn't feel worthy. At that point, I thought that perhaps I'd get the sense of completion I was seeking by completing the Goblin education that my father wished for me. I locked my wand away for five years, and did nothing but study the Goblin Arts."
"I had no idea," she breathed, fascinated by the tale.
"Few do," he admitted. "Most assume my first and second masteries simply took longer than they did, and I don't bother to correct them."
She coughed. "Second Mastery?"
"I have four," he said, holding up four fingers.
"Four?" she exclaimed. Many respectable jobs were acquirable without a Mastery. Most witches and wizards never bothered to get one. Two was a rarity. Three was all but unheard of. Four… Hermione had never heard of someone having four masteries before. "Four!"
"I'm getting there," he smirked. "Patience."
"Well one thing is certain," she admitted. "You were clearly sorted to the right House."
He laughed. "Clearly! In any case, after five years, I left the Goblins with what might as well have been another Mastery, although I don't really count that. I get enough funny looks admitting to having four to the few who know. From there, I picked back up my wand and decided that I still had much to prove to the Wizarding world, and beside the point, I felt rusty. I couldn't very well go back to Hogwarts at that point to learn, so I felt like another Mastery was my only real option. I chose Defence Against the Dark Arts. I found another Master, and after only two years of study under her, tested. Again, I tested directly into a Level Two Mastery. The following year I went back and tested again, raising to a Level Three. I also spent that year revisiting Charms, and at the same time I was raising my Defence Master Level from Two to Three, I also Raised my Charms Level from Two directly up to Four. I hadn't meant to do that, in fairness."
"You hadn't meant to test into Grandmaster status?" she asked, incredulous. "Across the Five Core Disciplines there are only - what - twenty eight Grandmasters? That's an absurdly hard thing to do!"
He cringed a little. "Twenty-seven, technically. Considering the fact that in the mid eighties I got bored one summer and went back, getting my Defence Mastery up to Level Five as well. I hold two Grandmaster Titles."
"How did I not know this? How does everybody not know this?" she demanded. "You should be famous with those sorts of achievements!"
He held up his hand, as if to calm her. "I had my day in the spotlight. After the Defence Mastery, I still felt unfulfilled. I still felt I had something to prove. With my skills at that point, I began trolling the Dueling circuit. I duelled competitively for the next three years until finally two things happened; first, I succeeded in becoming the uncontested duelling champion in the world of that time. This much is public record, to my present annoyance. As I mentioned before, sore losers make serious enemies. I've had numerous former duelling champions who I beat out of titles come to Hogwarts for a rematch, over the years. Thus my door. The second, and more important thing I realised is that no amount of fame or power, nor adoration of others would make me feel like I was good enough."
Hermione's eyes widened in understanding. She remembered hitting that point, summer between third and fourth years. It had not been pretty and had involved a good deal of muggle liquor. "How sloshed did you get?" she asked softly.
"You ask this with a tone of familiarity," he said, looking amused. "To answer your question, very. Not sure how long I'd have stayed that way, although I was on a three month long bender when Albus Dumbledore showed up at my flat."
She laughed a little. "Of course he did. Is that when you took the Charms post?"
He nodded. "Six months later. Albus gave me something to look forward to. The Charms Master at Hogwarts of the time was looking to retire, and Albus felt I'd be a good replacement. He wanted to know ahead if I'd be interested, and give me a chance to get sober and pull my head out of my arse. It wasn't for another five years before I took over as Head of Ravenclaw, but I knew pretty much from go that I'd found my calling. Coming back to Hogwarts was coming home for me. I could belong here in a way I'd never belonged anywhere else."
"So how did two more masteries come into play?" Hermione asked.
"About two years after I began teaching here, I got into an argument with Cuthbert Binns," Filius admitted, letting out a sigh. "That argument culminated in a History of Magic Mastery."
"Forgive me, Filius," she asked, once more feeling incredulous, "but how does an argument culminate in a Mastery, for Merlin's sake?"
"We were debating the finer points of some of the Goblin Wars," the Charms Professor explained. "Cuthbert outright stated that regardless of my parentage, I did not have a Mastery in the subject of History of Magic and thereby did not have the authority to question his conclusions regarding the interpretations of certain texts. As I thought this was a pile of shite, I simply took the next weekend to go over to the Ministry and sit the exam for the History of Magic Mastery. Given it's not a Core subject you don't require a supervising master to sign off before you test. The weekend after that I showed Cuthbert my certificate and resumed the bloody debate."
Hermione laughed. "Did you seriously let a ghost goad you into an impulse Mastery?"
"That may or may not have been a similar inquiry of Albus'," Filius muttered, blushing. "In my defence, I was still fairly young at the time, and far more rash."
"So your final Mastery then," Hermione prodded. "Let's have it. I wouldn't even know where to begin guessing."
"Potions," he admitted. "I began to study for it the year after you and your friends arrived here, and it became clear that Voldemort was indeed on the rise again. Albus was concerned that when the time came for Severus to take his place back among the Death Eater ranks, he'd be hard pressed to keep up with his duties as a Professor at this school. He came to me and asked if I would pursue a Potions Mastery so I might be helpful to Severus; a backup."
"And you just said sure, why not? like taking on a Mastery is no big deal?" Hermione posed, more amused than incredulous at this point in the conversation. Filius Flitwick truly was a remarkable man.
"Ravenclaw," he said pointedly. "It took two years before I felt ready. Potions really isn't my best area, if I'm perfectly honest. I only tested to Level One and have no inclination to take it further. It did enable me to be there to help Severus with grading and so forth once Voldemort rose again and he stepped back into his role as our spy. He had a hard enough time keeping up with classes, much less office hours and everything else. My doing his marking for him saved him a ton of time. It also probably saved the poor Gryffindors' grades, if we're all going to be honest here, especially in your year. Harry really knew how to get under Severus' skin."
"True enough," she agreed. "I suppose all of us Gryffindors should thank you for the fair grading. That said, while I appreciate this insight into your intellectual prowess, I don't honestly think you opted to share all of this without good reason."
"Perceptive as always, Hermione," Filius said, nodding his head. "I dare say you'd have made a decent Ravenclaw yourself, although Severus swore you'd have been a Slytherin if not for your Gryffindor placement."
"He'd have been correct, I'm sorry to say," she admitted. "The political climate, however, didn't lend to a friendly environment for a muggleborn in Slytherin House. Thereby my choice. So, what is it you really wanted to talk about?"
"Goblins can sense magical energy signatures, much in the same way twins can," he admitted. "Our skills are far more refined than yours, however."
She paled. "How did you know I was a twin?"
"Supposition," Filius replied. "As the odds of a woman conceiving twins of opposite genders who was not herself a twin is incredibly low. Further supporting the theory is simply my knowledge of you, Hermione. I do not believe you would have married Minerva impulsively on the night of Beltane if you did not sense that she was, magically speaking, your match, or as close to it as you were likely to find after the loss of your twin."
"Everyone knows I'm pregnant," she admitted. "Very few know I'm expecting twins. Minerva and I didn't even know… a boy and a girl?"
"Part of my Goblin abilities, and what I can sense," he explained. "The magical signatures of males versus females are slightly different. It can be detected even in foetal form; even before Poppy's scans can tell. The Malfoy heirs will be one son, and one daughter."
Hermione nearly dropped her teacup. "More Goblin magic?" she asked, hardly able to keep her voice from shaking.
Filius nodded curtly. "Perfectly sensibly that you'd hide the fact that you carry Draco's offspring. I presume you and Minerva will come out about it eventually, but for now it's safer for all of you not to. However, every magical signature is unique, and every child has something of their parents' signature within them, just like DNA. I know your signature, and Minerva's, and I knew Draco's. Draco Malfoy, for all his faults, was quite gifted at Charms, and had he lived I'd hoped to offer him the chance to gain a Mastery under my tutelage. Should either of your children express his talent in the subject, I'd like to see that nourished."
Hermione nodded, her secrets laid bare and quite without her consent. She really wasn't sure how to feel about that. She liked to think she was gaining a friend and ally, but it was still disconcerting to see nearly all of what she made great effort to hide simply dismantled by this man. His ability to sense magical signatures had truly been her undoing, it seemed. Then, a thought crossed her mind. "Oh, bugger you!" she snapped, looking up at Filius. "You've known all this time, haven't you? If my clothes and skin didn't stop you from seeing my children, I don't see why walls would cause you any trouble! Why didn't you say anything?"
He offered her an approving smile. "You were right in how you were operating. I didn't need to affirm your actions to agree with them. However, he is awake now, and I'd quite like to see him."
"You might have helped wake him sooner!" she snapped. "With all your knowledge, Filius…"
"Unlike Robert, Hermione, I am a Professor of this school and my movement is watched by many," he said seriously. "Consider that when Robert began working to wake Severus, even Minerva did not go to visit often; not wishing to draw attention to his location. Any help I might have given to wake him sooner was not worth the risk that I'd have inadvertently alerted the wrong person to his condition. I trusted you to get the job done, and so you have. Now, shall we? I do believe I've been patient enough."
"If Minerva hexes you, I'm not helping," she grumbled, standing. "Not that you'd need it."
"Minerva is a fairly competent opponent," he admitted. "Have you ever asked your wife about her Masteries?"
"Please tell me she hasn't got four," Hermione groaned, looking ill at the thought. She and Minerva were just getting to a point where she was starting to feel there was some equality between them, and if she was honest, learning that her wife had four masteries would likely make Hermione feel a bit inferior, especially in light of her current inability to do any magic at all.
"Only three," Filius said gently as they exited his quarters and resumed her original course toward the dungeons, "and she's only achieved Grandmaster status in Transfiguration, which I'm sure you already knew about."
Hermione nodded, having learned about that years ago. "What are her other two? I'd guess Defence, having seen her duel."
He nodded. "Level Two in Defence. Level One in Ancient Runes."
"Runes is an interesting choice," she commented as they moved down the stairs. "Any idea why?"
He chuckled. "As a tool to beat me. There are a number of runic spells which cannot be blocked by their Latin cousins. Minerva and I share a passion for competitive duelling. I don't actively do so anymore, but we like to both keep in shape and often meet in the Room of Requirement to practice. I believe it was eighty-three when she'd finally had enough of getting her arse handed to her and decided to go for the Runes Mastery in an effort to gain an upper hand in our practices. To her credit, it worked. We remain fairly well balanced to this day."
"I don't think I realised how close you and Minerva were," Hermione admitted.
"She and Pomona are closer," Filius said. "Minerva and I have what estimates to be more like what you feel toward the Weasleys; something familial in nature. Of course she has Robert and I'd not think to replace his role in her life by any means, but I never did have a sister. Minerva is the only sister I've ever known, as it were."
Hermione nudged him, offering a smile. "The thing you have to understand about siblings is that when they get married, you get in-laws. I'm afraid that means you're stuck with me for a sister as well, then. Also, you'll be getting a niece and a nephew in a few months, if all goes well."
He halted and looked at her, clearly dumbfounded by the implication of her statement. Hermione understood his surprise, she really did. If anybody could understand what it meant to spend years and years assuming rejection and wearing that assumption like armour because it was so often true it became necessary, it was her. She was honestly surprised she'd never realised how alike she and Filius Flitwick were. "Hermione, I appreciate that," he finally said, "but you don't have to…"
She waved him off, smiling brightly and tugging him along. "Come on, Uncle Filius. Weren't we going to see Severus?"
The Charms Professor said nothing the rest of the way there, following her inside Severus' quarters without comment. To Hermione's pleasure, both Robert and her wife were there visiting, although it was Severus who noticed their guest first.
"Filius," the Potions Master said, smiling a little. "I was wondering when you were going to show up."
The diminutive man smirked. "Well I'm glad somebody was paying attention in History of Magic."
"Hardly!" Severus chuckled, waving the pair further in. "Just know a good bit about Goblins at this point."
"Yeah, Minerva, your brother here is a sneaky little prat," Hermione said, playfully shoving Filius.
"Minerva, Robert, hello," Filius greeted, rolling his eyes at Hermione. "How are you?"
The McGonagall siblings both looked baffled at the scene unfolding before them. "Darling," Minerva finally said, "Have I missed something?"
"Indeed," Robert said. "For example, when did we adopt Filius? Not that I object, but I feel like maybe I should have been made aware of the fact that I was getting a brother."
Hermione held her chin up, thinking about her last encounter with Narcissa Malfoy, and the other witch's confidence as she'd spoken of how the purebloods were just going to have to accept Hermione's blood status, like it or not. As far as Hermione was concerned, the McGonagalls were a dying family. Robert had used an obscure potion on his sister to ensure that she found a wife for the direct purpose of continuing the family. Perhaps they were going to develop into an odd sort of family; she and Minerva, Narcissa and the twins, George and the other Weasleys, Robert and Severus, and now Filius, but she'd be damned if conventional definition of family stopped her from making them into one.
"Yes," she said. "Filius is your brother. Minerva, you've been treating him as such for years, just as he's been treating you as a sister for as long. It's long past time you both stop dancing around the subject and call it for what it is. Our children would do well to have an uncle such as him, don't you think? Robert, get with the program. You'd do well to have a brother in your life as well."
Filius' cheeks colored at the attention. "Is she always this bossy?"
The question was answered at once by both Severus and Minerva in tandem. "Yes!"
A note regarding this chapter: the older I get, and the more I go back over canon, the more I honestly look at the character of Arthur Weasley and honest to Merlin think there was a solid chance he was a Slytherin. It's not explicitly stated, I don't believe, in the books, that he was a Gryffindor. It's merely assumed and then later "Pottermore confirmed". His mother, Cedrella Black, was Pottermore confirmed to have been a Slytherin, however, which means that odds were that he could have gone by way of the traditional Weasley Gryffindor or turned toward the Blacks' traditional House of Slytherin. When you get to the core of his character, however, while Arthur is always willing to be brave when he needs to be, it is not his first impulse, ever. He's kind and caring, and diplomatic. He uses good sense and cunning to work the environment around him the way he wants it to be. Maybe wealth or power in the general sense was never his ambition, but that doesn't mean he wasn't ambitious. He had a large family on a minimal income, and that had to have required a certain cunning to pull off. Above all, he is a very loyal man, and Slytherin House is unfailingly loyal to their own, when it comes to it. I also look at the Weasley children, and like portrayed in this chapter, I think there are several of the children who showed solid Slytherin qualities which Arthur may have passed down to them. Anyway, all of this is just food for thought. What I most enjoy about fanfic is the challenge of taking the usual characters and upending the typical expectation of them. It is typically assumed Arthur Weasley was a Gryffindor. I challenge that assumption, and make a case for him being a Slytherin. I think it's really plausible, and we all know Slytherin could use some better representation. Cheers, and as always, PLEASE REVIEW!
