Hullo hullo lovelies!
I originally wanted to get this chapter up on Wednesday, but that didn't work out, so here we are! Happy Friday :)
A few fun things happen in this chapter, and it is so bizarre how close I am getting to finally finishing part I.
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
Monday, April 2nd, 1979
Potter Manor
"I think it's the first time I've ever seen you wear Draco's Quidditch jersey," Lily remarked, taking a small sip of her orange juice. Hermione lowered the large newspaper held out in front of her a touch; enough to peer at her good friend.
"I staunchly avoided wearing it for years, always choosing to nick James's or simply wear my own," Hermione responded lightly with a cavalier shrug. It'd become a habit not to wear it in times gone, but it was one of the first things she'd found in his drawers that morning when rifling for something clean to wear after her shower. She'd also nicked some of his black boxers, and some matching socks.
The witches were in the dining room adjacent to the kitchen, directly across from each other. A plate with some pork sausages and a few pieces of buttered toast was in front of Lily. A pot of blackberry jam remained untouched beside her plate, she'd meant to spread it across her toast, but she was thoroughly distracted. Laid on the table to Lily's left was today's edition of the Daily Mail. "They're explaining the incident yesterday as an emission from a nearby factory," Lily said, toast in hand, brow furrowed as she read the article.
Yesterday, on the first of the month—April Fool's—Caractacus Phelps exploded eight hundred Stink Pellets; he dropped them en-masse from the roof of the Daily Prophet, and as a result the streets of Diagon Alley were still unpleasantly foul. The gas cloud had traversed London, immediately causing discomfort and around five-hundred cases of Stinkitus were logged by the DMLE. The only reasonable explanation the non-magical authorities could come up with was that it was a putrid emission from one of the close by factories.
Hermione couldn't help but think Fred and George would have been envious they hadn't thought of it first. James, Sirius and Draco all grumbled that it was brilliant, and they wished they'd done it. Lily promptly informed James and Sirius—who were weeks away from becoming official Aurors—that they were meant to uphold the law, not break it. The brazen smile on her face had stolen away any severity in her words.
"The prophet hasn't uttered a peep about it," Hermione said with a wry twist of her lips, resuming her reading, her foot bouncing up and down unevenly. "On the other hand, Newt Scamander was awarded the Order of Merlin, Second class."
"Newt Scamander…why does that name sound familiar?" Lily asked, biting into her toast and chewing with a pensive look. Attempting to place the man in her memory's vault.
"Author of Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them, a famed Magizoologist, plus he helped massively during the war with Grindelwald," Hermione said languidly, as if they were ordinary feats that a child could accomplish.
"Grindelwald, that's the one Dumbledore—"
"Was in love with?" Hermione supplied, the same time Lily said, "defeated."
The girls blinked blankly at each other for several pregnant moments. Lily's jaw dropped, her toast fell onto her plate, halfway onto one of her sausages, and in those quiet moments she began to fiddle with her engagement ring. It was a new habit, something she did whenever she got lost in thought. It'd taken her a few days to get used to the jewellery's presence, but she never took it off.
Hermione nodded curtly, raised her paper once more and continued reading.
"Wait! Dumbledore is—"
"Knocking the quaffle into his own team's hoops? Yes, quite," Hermione shrugged. She frankly wasn't interested in discussing Dumbledore's love life nor his former lover. So, she instead said, "whoever he was in love with doesn't change the fact that he's a wanker."
Lily picked up her orange juice, nursing it as she absorbed what Hermione'd told her. "He is a toerag, isn't he?"
"Yes, he is," Hermione hummed, flipping the page of her newspaper. A toerag I've been forbidden from setting on fire.
Sunday, April 15th, 1979
Easter Sunday
Potter Manor
Easter break started for Hogwarts students on Wednesday, and Riley came to stay with them for its duration. She'd also brought a pile of assignments, textbooks, and sought out Lily and Hermione's tutelage during her stay (although she did ask errant questions of all of them during meals). NEWTS were only a couple months away, and the Hufflepuff was a stressed mess. At first she was going to stay at the Castle and bury herself in revision, but Sirius went to Hogsmeade and convinced the witch to come to Potter Manor for the break.
"You'll burn yourself out. You need a break, Riles," Sirius'd said to his girlfriend. He'd sent a patronus up to the Castle. After some time, bundled up in her Hufflepuff scarf with a slightly dishevelled uniform, the girl had come down to meet him.
Despite his pleading, it was only when he reminded her of James and Lily's engagement that she agreed. She hadn't properly congratulated the couple yet, and she missed her mates far too much. Truthfully, the Castle had become stifling. The atmosphere in its hallowed halls had shifted, there was a confining heaviness to them now.
Riley slipped her cold hands under his shirt onto the unbearably hot, taut skin of his abdomen, and he'd hissed at the contact. "Fine, I'll come, but only because you asked nicely. Go wait at the Three Broomsticks, tell Rosmerta hi, and I'll go grab my things. I won't be long."
Riley supposed she should have gone to see her parents for the break, but with the war going on she was unintentionally putting distance between them. She wanted to protect them, and keep them safe. They were blissfully unaware of the wizarding world's turmoil. They thought she was staying at the Castle in preparation for her upcoming examinations; she hadn't informed them of the change in her plans for the break.
Mipsy, Draco and James were in charge of cooking their Easter feast, while Hermione and Lily had popped down to the muggle shops to buy champagne, beers, and Scotch. Riley had offered to help, but she'd been kicked out of the kitchen and instructed to revise until dinnertime. Sirius was assisting her.
"Right, charms question this time. When turning vinegar into wine, what can go wrong?" Sirius asked. Sirius was half-sitting on his desk, which he'd shifted beneath one of the windows on the outside wall, and Riley was seated in the desk chair facing him. A plethora of books, notes, parchment and a few broken quills were scattered across the mahogany desk.
Riley twirled some of her short locks between her fingers as she replied. "It can either turn into ice, or explode?"
"Correct," Sirius grinned proudly, rapping his knuckles on the desk's surface. "You shouldn't doubt yourself, love. You've gotten all the answers right so far."
"I've always been better at the practical side of magic, sometimes it takes a while for me to grasp the theoretical concepts," Riley sighed, rubbing at her temples. The corners of her lips turned upwards. "If you weren't an Auror, you would have made a fine Professor."
Sirius snorted. "Me? Teach? I'd be rubbish at it. Can you imagine me being in charge of imparting knowledge onto the future generations? Helping to shape their young minds? It would be a disaster."
"You shouldn't doubt yourself, love," Riley threw Sirius's prior statement back at him with a cheeky grin.
"Hush, witch," Sirius smirked. "Herbology next?"
"We haven't really touched on that much today, so yes please," Riley said, leaning towards the desk, her eyes searching for the scrolls pertaining to the subject. Sirius found them first, unrolled them, cleared his throat and sought out a question to ask her.
Riley crossed one leg over the other, sat back in her chair, folded her hands in her lap and admired her boyfriend. His luscious hair, voluminous dark eyelashes, the way his mouth twisted as he focused. He was a gorgeous lad, but behind that pretty visage was a man who'd been tormented as a youth and who bore the scars to prove it to this day.
"Sirius?"
"Gorgeous?" Sirius asked, not looking up, eyes still scanning the parchment.
Riley stood up, swiped her hands across the front of her dark jeans, and took three steps forward until she was inches away from him, the tips of her shoes bumping his. "Maybe we should take a break from revision and go join the others."
Sirius tore his gaze away from the parchment, lips pursed. "Are you sure? I don't mind but—"
"I think if I try to shove any more information in my head it will burst. I need a bit of a break, and I suspect you do as well," Riley stated, looping her arms loosely around his neck, her fingers toying with his silky hair. Sirius carefully placed the parchment on the desk beside him before his arms wove around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
Riley let out a noise in surprise, forced onto her tiptoes. Their faces were breaths away from each other, and Riley was lost in his searing gaze. Sirius Black was an all-consuming force, he loved with every fibre in his body. He didn't know how to do things in half-measures. He never dipped his toe in to test the waters, he always vaulted in, head first.
Riley's nature, that was as steady as the earth and calm as a summer breeze helped to ground him and it was part of why they worked so well. He pushed her to do things she might not do otherwise, and helped her be more bold and to be the best version of herself.
Riley hummed an old lullaby as she nudged his nose with hers. "I missed you," Riley confessed, drinking in his cinnamon and leather smell, letting the spice tickle her nostrils.
"Aren't you glad I convinced you to come stay for the Easter hols?" Sirius asked, and she could sense his smile. He brushed his lips over hers, not quite touching and it sent ripples of tingling sensations throughout her system all the way to her toes.
"I am," Riley allowed, and she finally closed the distance between them and slanted her lips over his. It was a brief but decadent. A thought suddenly occurred to her and her brow puckered as she asked, "do you know what Hermione wanted to talk to me about later?"
Sirius swallowed thickly, eyes darting about frantically. "Maybe?"
"She isn't actually a vampire, is she?" Riley asked, mouth agape. Sirius sputtered for air, jerking back enough to look her properly in the eye. "A vampire?"
"If it isn't that, then what is it?" Riley hummed pensively. Sirius was uncharacteristically stoic and silent, and the only response she got was a timid shrug. It only served to further pique Riley's curiosity. What in Helga's name could Hermione have to tell her?
Several hours later after they'd enjoyed an elaborate feast, drank until they were pink in the face and laughing gaily, Riley was pulled aside, not by Hermione as she'd anticipated, but by Draco.
Draco instructed her to throw on something warmer, told her to meet him out back and provided no further information before he strutted away. It was oddly cryptic.
Riley hurried to the room she shared with Sirius, when she reached the grand staircase, she almost tripped over her feet on the stair's nosings on her way up. The witch fumbled about in her trunk for far longer than she would have if drink wasn't impeding her movements. Riley tugged out a black knit cardigan and her house scarf. She tossed the scarf around her neck, and slid the cardigan on as she strode out of the room.
Draco appeared tortured in an internal battle when she found him waiting on the back porch. He smiled tightly as she stepped outside, carefully closing the door behind her. It may be Spring, but the night air maintained an icy chill.
Riley wrapped her scarf around her neck a few times until the ends were short nubs sticking out. She pulled the cardigan around her, and Draco held out the crook of his elbow and gestured to the dark grounds.
Riley bounded over to him, one hand clinging to the sleeve by his offered elbow. Draco smiled gently and the pair headed down the porch steps, branched left and strolled towards the Orchards.
The wizard spoke as they meandered with no purpose; his words elegant but stilted. Draco was anxious, clearly rattled and the usual ease and confidence he carried himself with was absent. Riley gripped onto him tighter as he revealed a secret while the stars and inky sky bore witness. And it was far more shocking than Hermione being a vampire.
Originally Hermione was supposed to tell Riley the truth about herself and Draco, but Hermione had consumed criminal amounts of Firewhisky and had cuddled into Lily's side early into the evening; she refused to budge for several hours, wrapping herself around the witch like a vine. Thus, Draco took it upon himself to impart their secret onto Riley; alone.
The witch was unreadable after she learned the truth, her wide eyes the only indication that she'd heard every word. Afterwards, Riley returned to the Manor on her own, went back to her bedroom, and went to sleep. Leaving Draco out in the cold—mind spinning—wondering if he'd made a grave mistake.
Draco's limbs were leaden as he made his way back into the Manor through the mud; it clung to his boots. Stiffly, Draco assisted Mipsy tidy up and clean up the mess they'd made. The house elf could tell something was wrong, but the only words shared between them pertained to the tasks at hand.
Draco was restless and unable to sleep that night. It didn't help that his pack members had all passed out in the one of the living rooms on the West side of the house, surrounded by mountains of pillows and enveloped in blankets.
Draco lay awake on top of his covers, fingers laced together on his chest, staring blankly at the ceiling throughout the night. He didn't budge an inch—his thoughts running wild—and it was only when the first of the morning's rays reached into his room that he rose.
Draco hastily threw on a running outfit, bundling up enough to not feel the cold but also ensuring the clothing would not hinder his movements.
The wizard's trainers squeaked across the floorboards as he hurriedly made for his bedroom door. He flung it open, only to find Riley lurking outside it, her hand raised as if to knock.
"Riles?" Draco asked, voice raspy and strained.
"I couldn't sleep last night," Riley confessed. The dark discolouration under her eyes and the haggard lines of exhaustion pulling down her features emphasised her statement. She nervously tucked her short hair behind her ears. Her freckles stood out proudly.
Riley was wearing the same outfit as last night: black leather pants, a black t-shirt she had cropped herself so it landed just above her belly button, neon blue socks, and her house scarf was loosely wrapped around her. She'd probably left her worn, laced up boots in her bedroom.
"I was having a bit of an existential crisis," Riley said, cheeks pink. She shifted from side-to-side, fiddling with her scarf and looking everywhere but at him.
The words possessed him, he needed to get them out before she spoke again. "Even if you hate me for deceiving you, or you can't accept us, please don't take it out on Hermione—"
"Draco," Riley said his name in breathy shock, and she took a step forward, her hands outstretched towards him.
"I could never hate either of you. I was simply in shock, so I spent the night mulling over the idea, trying to get used to it," Riley explained.
"And? Have you—gotten used to it?"
Riley reached up to grasp the lower part of his face, her thumbs rubbing in comforting motions across his jawline. "Is this why you and Sirius got into that big fight last year? The one where he refused to tell me anything? Because you told him that you and Hermione weren't siblings…and you're dating?"
"Yes," Draco answered curtly, wholly aware that she had answered his question with a litany of her own questions.
"It's going to take some time for me to adjust to the idea…" Riley's lips pressed into a thoughtful line, and she squinted at him as if attempting to unravel his mystery. "Why don't you tell me more about it? Help me wrap my head around it."
"You want me to tell you about Hermione and I's relationship?"
"How it began, why Hermione and not some other witch—" Riley cut herself off, and wistfully continued, "—well, I suppose there are no witches like Hermione. She is extraordinary."
Draco swallowed thickly, covering her hands with his. He'd been frozen stiff in place. "It's quite a long story, plus I don't want to take away from your precious revision time—"
"Bollocks. As if I'll be able to focus on studying now."
Draco heaved out a sigh, rubbing a hand through his messy locks, meeting the obstinate gaze of the determined Hufflepuff. "Okay. How about we go downstairs, I'll put on a cuppa, then we can sit and have a chat. How does that sound?"
"It sounds brilliant," Riley said, smiling gently. Riley tugged on his sleeve, took a tiny step back, twirled in a half-circle on her heel and strode away. Draco trailed after her like a sheepish schoolboy.
"So you don't hate us?" Draco boldly asked, shoving his hands into his sweatpants' pockets.
"Why would I do something as silly as that?" Riley called over her shoulder. She halted at the top of the grand staircase, and her pale shock of hair whipped about as her head swivelled in his direction. She laced her fingers together behind her back, and rocked back and forth on her heels.
Unfiltered relief pumped through his veins, and fear relinquished the vice grip it'd had on his heart. Draco smiled wanly, and stopped beside his friend. She looped her arm through his.
"It'll probably take me some time to wrap my head around all of this, but I figure I should have it all sorted by summer holidays."
"It's bloody mental that you're going to be graduating in a few months."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Draco Potter. I still have to sit my ruddy NEWTs."
"You and I both know you have nothing to worry about."
Riley snorted gracelessly, and she led the way down the grand staircase.
In the latter hours of the morning, the rest of Manor's occupants found Riley and Draco sitting on the floor in the corner of the Sun Room—sharing a large, grey knit blanket—and staring out at the grounds. The pair were sipping tea and quietly conversing.
"You told her?" Sirius asked, hovering over them, anxiously rubbing his palms across his leather-clad thighs.
"I did," Draco replied calmly, taking another sip of his earl grey tea.
"Thank fuck," Lily exclaimed. The witch peeked out from behind Sirius, and moments later Hermione and James were flanking them on both sides. "Riley's eyes are so warm and loving, and whenever I look into them I feel like I should unburden my soul. Keeping a secret from her feels dirty and wrong."
"How did you somehow make it sound like you are trying to proposition my witch?" Sirius chuckled. Lily dove under his arm, hugging him round the waist.
Arrogantly, with a cocky grin, Lily retorted, "trust me, Black. If I was Sirius-ly trying to proposition her, I would have done already, and I would have succeeded."
"Those are fighting words, Evans."
"Won't be able to call me that for much longer."
"Won't I? You'll always be 'Evans' in my heart."
Lily blushed profusely, and said, "but I'll be a Potter, so you should get used to calling me that."
"Never."
Draco closed his eyes, the muted sounds of their playful bickering drummed against his eardrums. The delightful scent of his tea with the hint of bergamot wafted upwards, swirling about his nostrils. Draco drank it in deeply. Chamomile and vanilla mixed in with it as Hermione knelt behind him. Her warmth radiated off of her, reaching for him. The witch pressed her cheek in between the valley of his shoulder blades and wound her arms about his abdomen.
"You okay?" Hermione murmured, rubbing her face against his back much like a cat.
"I'm okay. Are you?"
"At the moment."
Draco hummed absently, bursts of vivid colour pulsing across the backs of his eyelids. Telling Riley hadn't gone anywhere near as planned, but he was grateful that—for the moment—everything had worked itself out.
Only a few more days remained in April, and the crisp Spring was littered with sporadic rain showers and partially cloudy days.
Hermione and Draco had kept themselves occupied. They were nearing the end of their rune carving venture, and they'd taken the initial steps in building a cottage for Riley. Throughout the rune carving process they'd continued to draw blood from Riley, who was so used to it now that she no longer asked questions. (Riley continued with her casual theory and running joke about Hermione being a vampire, and liked to tease her whilst the witch drew her blood.)
With the aid of James's Invisibility Cloak and some nifty spellwork the pair had carved the blood runes in a myriad of locations: The entrance to Knockturn Alley, on many a shop in Diagon Alley, on the front door of the Leaky Cauldron, some of the columns inside the foyer of Gringotts, and St. Mungo's.
(In reference to Gringotts they prayed the Notice-Me-Not charms they'd woven into place were strong enough even to fool the Goblins, and if somehow they did notice, they wouldn't care.)
Hermione and Draco were nearing the home stretch. The couple had spent the better part of their morning—fingers numbed by the cold—carving runes through Hogsmeade village, and were now working their way throughout Hogwarts Castle itself.
They'd enlisted Dumbledore's help for this part. Hermione had smiled sweetly, briefly explained what they were doing and managed not to hex him in the short time they'd been locked into his office together. Draco was on the other side of the room, as far away from the man as possible as he did not trust his wand not to move of its 'own' accord.
Draco's theory was the more runes they carved the better. The easier it would be to cast the spell, the less taxing it would be on them at the time, and in case any of the runes was weakened or damaged over time they would have plenty of others to keep the memory spell firmly in place.
There were only a couple runes left, and the pair would be done; finally. Hermione was comfortably sitting on Draco's shoulders, working on the rune to the left of the Great Hall doors. Draco grunted under the effort and was thankful they had a disillusionment charm cast on them, and that most of the students were currently attending classes.
Draco sandwiched his eyes shut and pondered on the conversation they'd had that morning when they apparated just outside of the Three Broomsticks.
"This has to work, right?"
"It is a bit mad what we're doing. But it'll work, you'll see."
"When are we actually going to perform the ritual? We've talked about most everything else…"
"On my birthday, because there can't be—"
"Two of you. Right, I've got it," Draco replied, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to circulate some warmth into them. They'd left Hogsmeade and Hogwarts until the very end in an almost symbolic fashion, but truthfully, they wished to avoid Albus for as long as they could.
This was the last set of runes they'd planned to carve, and the blood runes would remain dormant until they'd both left the past.
The stone was malleable, and the dagger cut through it like butter; as if the Castle was encouraging their work.
"You almost done? This is the last one."
"I'm aware that this is the last one, Draco. I was present when we discussed how many runes we were going to carve. Not to mention I participated in the conversation about where we were—"
"I understand, but can you hurry up? My shoulders are getting sore," Draco whinged, tapping his index finger against her thigh. Hermione squirmed on his shoulders, momentarily offsetting his balance; the wizard swayed backwards before righting himself.
"I'm almost done, I just have a few more cuts to make, then we seal it, and voila," Hermione said. She clenched her thighs, squeezing his neck slightly, and Draco gagged for air.
"Are you trying to kill me?" Draco croaked out, inhaling deeply as Hermione relaxed above him.
"No, and if I was, it would be in a much more refined manner," Hermione grumbled lowly, intently focused on the task at hand.
Draco groaned: his body ached, and the soreness from his shoulders was seeping down his spine and settling in his lower back. He blankly stared ahead at the limestone stone wall in front of him, his vision blurring.
Several minutes later, Hermione finished the physical carving of the rune, the pair swiped a few drops of their blood across it (Draco managed to levitate a few drops from a small cut on his index finger up to the rune). Hermione retrieved the phial with Riley's blood from her coat pocket, and dripped the crimson onto the rune. The witch muttered an incantation, and the blood rune glowed a dark red—almost sinister in nature—and then sank into the stone, hidden from view.
"We did it," Hermione said in quiet disbelief. The backs of her fingers were pressed against her lips so her voice was faint and muffled.
Draco crouched down, fingers digging into her flesh and keeping her steady. Hermione held the hand with the dagger out as far away from Draco as possible, and her other one burrowed into his hair; her palm pressing against his scalp. After a few moments, Hermione managed to clamber off of Draco.
Draco heaved out a sigh, and collapsed onto the ground, knees bent, his arms languidly strewn across them. "We did it."
Hermione squatted beside him, and gently rested the dagger on the stone floor in between them. "Not much left to do now."
"You've got to be bloody joking right?"
"What? The runes and the spell are the most difficult steps of our plan. Everything else is fairly straightforward. Changing the locks on our Potions room—"
"And somehow leaving a key with Remus or Sirius," Draco interjected.
Hermione nodded graciously, cleared her throat and pushed forth. "Yes, there is that issue. Other than that we just have to get the boys to pack all their belongings in their chests. That shouldn't take too much effort."
"You're leaving out a few things, but I think you're forgetting that we have to finish building a cottage," Draco said, exasperated, hands moving to grip her face. "A cottage, Hermione."
"It won't be that hard."
"You've got a lot of building experience that you've just happened to never tell me about, have you?" Draco inquired with a quirk of his brow.
"Well…no." Hermione said through pursed lips, averting her gaze from his.
"This is going to be a nightmare…isn't it?" Draco moaned, his head falling forward.
"I don't think it will be a nightmare. Although, I can't wait to see you with a hammer," Hermione giggled delicately. There was an itch on the left side of her head by her hairline, and she absently scratched it as she imagined Draco undertaking manual labour. It was a delectable and amusing sight. She could hear the whinging now; it was sweet music to her inner ear.
"I guess you'll just have to wait and see," Draco sulked.
"I guess I will," Hermione smirked, already looking forward to it far more than she should have. Also she absentmindedly noted that she might not enjoy it when it was her actually swinging the hammer. Regardless, she chose to ignore that tidbit of information.
Hermione inhaled and exhaled softly as the completion of their project sank in. There was a triumphant feeling in her gut with the accomplishment, but she was also dolorous as the knowledge settled within her. There was no stopping it: the blood runes were all in place and that only cemented the fact that their time was extremely limited. Their sands of time were running out.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter lovelies! Please leave a review and let me know what you think x