Apparition, in Hermione's experience, had always been somewhat of a clumsy, uncomfortable business. Nevertheless, with time, the discomfort was easily forgotten, and the lack of balance that usually plagued novice practitioners was usually gone after a few months of practice. So, while it was not the most pleasant of experiences, it was usually hassle-free if done correctly.
Which is why she was so surprised by the intense wave of nausea that hit her as soon as she and Narcissa apparated on the grounds of Black Manor. To her absolute horror, she had immediately doubled-over in pain, vomiting right by Narcissa's pristine shoes. She desperately wanted to apologize, but the nausea and subsequent headache made it impossible for her to say anything intelligible.
"Oh, dear." Hermione heard the other witch say, worry lacing her voice. She felt the gentle tap of a wand right at the top of her head, and a sudden warmth seemed to drip from there over the rest of her body, stopping the vomiting and vanishing her headache.
Narcissa lowered to the ground to face Hermione. She produced a phial of lilac-colored powder from her robes and held it open right under the brunette's nose.
"Come now, deep breath in."
Hermione obliged, taking in a strong minty scent that instantly stopped her remaining nausea. Satisfied with the brunette's state, Narcissa held out a hand to help her up.
"Whew!" Hermione exhaled, feeling much better, but still aware of a low, persistent buzzing in her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not usually such a mess after Apparition, I promise." She said, embarrassed. Maybe she had become unfamiliar to Side-Along?
"I do not doubt your abilities, Ms. Granger. I am terribly sorry. What you just experienced were the very wards I would like your help with. They were designed to incapacitate any sort of person deemed undesirable to my kin." Narcissa explained apologetically.
Hermione's eyes widened. "That's barbaric!"
Narcissa laughed bitterly. "Believe, me, that was nothing compared to what they used to be. According to the Black Library records, before the Ministry passed laws against it, those of Muggle birth, Squibs, and half-breeds were blinded and burnt alive simply by standing where you're standing." She put away the phial. "Now that is barbaric."
Hermione could only shake her head in disbelief. Rejection Wards were complicated by nature, but most of them were created with the purpose to expel an intruder should they venture to the wrong place. Most often, they were designed to simply confuse and redirect. Never in her life had she encountered Rejection Wards designated for pure and unadulterated punishment and murder.
"Merlin. And the buzzing?" she asked, motioning vaguely towards her own head.
"You are still under the effect of the wards. Unfortunately, we have not been able to stop them; we can only treat the individual symptoms brought on by the Rejection Charms. It has been terribly cumbersome for staffing matters." Narcissa clarified.
"Good Godric. And how long until it wears off?"
Narcissa looked sheepish. "About ten to fifteen minutes."
Hermione's mouth dropped open rather inelegantly. She had no words. "Are you telling me I'll have to sniff some powder every ten to fifteen minutes to remain on the grounds?"
"In a fashion, yes. However, I do not recommend it; Armenian Rose Powder can be quite destructive to the nasal passages." Narcissa stated matter-of-factly. Hermione threw her arms up in the air.
"How in Merlin's name am I supposed to work on wards if I can't even be here long enough to study them?"
"Ms. Granger, I told you these might be beyond your ability to help. However, there might be a way." The blonde stated, looking even more sheepish. It was so odd, to see Narcissa so self-conscious and uncomfortable.
"You could have told me that first hand. What is it?" Hermione demanded, a bit annoyed.
"Well. You see… well…"
Hermione thought she had entered an alternate reality. She didn't think she had ever heard the Potions Professor stutter or stammer in any way, or even stumble over words. Why on Earth was the eternally poised Narcissa so ill at ease?
"Narcissa?"
The blonde sighed, looking a bit defeated.
"There is one way that might render you 'acceptable' to these wards." She started, carefully gauging the younger witch's reaction. "Usually, the joining of two bloodlines qualifies."
Hermione startled. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you talking… What, wait, what? Marriage?" She babbled immediately.
To her surprise, Narcissa let out genuine laughter.
"Oh, no, Ms. Granger. Nothing so dramatic." She chuckled, to Hermione's immense relief. She didn't know why her brain immediately jumped to such preposterous conclusions at times when she definitely knew better; she chalked it up to Gryffindor impetuousness. "Think, Ms. Granger. In all your years of study in the Wizarding World, what are some conclusions you have drawn from us, conceited Purebloods?"
Hermione took a second to think, understanding dawning.
"You Purebloods are always so bloody literal." She grunted. Narcissa grinned
"Apt wording on your part." She said. Hermione smiled back.
"Alright, that shouldn't be too difficult. It's only a pinprick, right?"
Narcissa faltered, then raised an eyebrow. Hermione immediately understood.
"I guess, knowing your family, they're looking to be a little more… what's the word? Barbaric." She said. "No offense" she added quickly.
"None taken; you are absolutely correct." Narcissa regarded the younger witch pensively. "I understand if you choose not to proceed."
Hermione shook her head vigorously. "Are you joking? Slice 'em up, what's a bit of blood if this Mudblood can infiltrate the deepest of the Black defenses?" she said with a devilish grin. "Orion Black will be turning in his grave!"
Narcissa laughed. "Which Orion? My family had many."
Hermione smirked. "All of them!"
"Very well." Narcissa said, reaching into a delicate leather holster within her robes. She took out a small, beautifully intricate silver blade. Hermione recognized it as the kind used to chop and mince Potion ingredients, though she had never had such an ornate instrument herself. It made her want to roll her eyes a bit.
"Spanish steel" Narcissa said, smirking at the blushing Hermione who had been caught in her observations once again. "It cuts through skin like butter; it will bring you no pain." She whispered.
The blonde reached for Hermione's right arm – deliberately avoiding the one marred by her older sister – and gently rolled her sleeve. She took the brunette's hand delicately between her own, and with a brief glance toward Hermione for confirmation, ran it softly over the young professor's palm.
As Hermione watched her own blood slowly spring up and pool into her palm, she noted Narcissa had been exactly right; she had felt no more than a tickle as the blade cut her hand. The blonde rolled her own sleeve, and very quickly cut her palm the same way she had Hermione's.
Hermione had seen more than her fair share of blood over the years, her own and other people's. Still, there was some feeling inside of her, some tugging inside of her chest, that developed whenever she saw how red and vibrant anyone's blood was. 'Mudbloods,' Purebloods, Squibs, house-elves, goblins, werewolves, it didn't matter, it was all red – the great equalizer. And somehow, that red felt ugly and wrong flowing from Narcissa's dainty hand; it felt dark and out of place ebbing from such a fair creature.
"Ready?" the woman asked, interrupting her thoughts. Hermione nodded.
Narcissa then took Hermione's hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and holding on very tightly. Hermione felt more blood flowing out of their wounds at the pressure; they stung, but the pain was very mild. Their bloods dripped over their wrists, wetting the grass and the earth below.
Putting the knife away, the blonde raised her wand to their joined hands.
"Cruor Vinctum, Terra Vinctum." She whispered.
The wand directed a bright purple light to their hands, and the mild, stinging pain Hermione felt turned into a burn. It hurt, but was not unbearable; what was strange was how it seemed to travel up her arm, through her shoulder blades and back, before settling on her chest. The sensation stayed here and pulsed strongly for a few moments. Hermione had never felt anything quite like it.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the light surrounding their hands vanished, and with it the burning Hermione felt. When she looked, their blood was gone, and she could tell her wound had knotted itself together – she could barely feel the scarring. Narcissa looked at her expectantly, pocketing her wand. Neither witch let go.
"How do you feel?" she asked, her voice a little more breathless than normal.
"Much better." Hermione replied, pleased to note there was indeed no buzzing or any other symptom.
"Good, good." Narcissa murmured weakly.
It was then Hermione noticed the blank and unfocused look on the other witch's face. Narcissa's grip on her hand suddenly faltered, and Hermione saw the blonde begin to sway backwards, clearly dizzy. Without a second to lose, Hermione swiftly launched herself forward.
She wrapped her arms around Narcissa's waist just as the woman sunk to the ground. She held on tight as Narcissa's arms flailed limply at her sides. Hermione was very surprised with how she felt – for someone with such an imposing presence, Narcissa felt very small and frail, so much so Hermione had no difficulty holding on and keeping her up.
"Narcissa? Narcissa, are you alright?"
Thankfully, the blonde's fainting spell was brief. She blinked and reached an arm outward, holding onto Hermione's shoulder. The young professor was hesitant to let go, even when Narcissa had regained her footing.
"You alright?" she repeated.
Narcissa nodded, brushing away a lock of blonde hair from her eyes. "Yes, thank you" she breathed out. "Vinctum Incantate is quite a physically taxing charm – I had read about it, but never performed it myself."
Hermione nodded back, interested by the information. There were several old bonding charms around – many of them used in weddings, which is why her earlier hasty assumption wasn't completely absurd. She had read about similar charms designed to tie a bloodline to a piece of land; they were common amongst the nobility in olden times, but fell out of fashion just around the Industrial Revolution, so she had never actually seen one performed.
"How do you feel? Is the buzzing gone, completely?" Narcissa asked, stepping away. Hermione almost frowned; her arm felt cold and empty all of a sudden.
"Yup" she quipped. "I don't feel anything anymore."
"Splendid. I believe this will also give you access to the Black Family Library." She laughed as Hermione's eyes instantly lit up at the mention of a library. "You see, many of its tomes are cursed not to be touched by 'undesirables.' You, however, have been blood-bound to this land – they are safe for you to handle now."
Hermione could not help the beaming grin that overcame her expression. Sod it, she was a bookworm and proud, and she would devour that library at her earliest convenience. She could only imagine the wealth of knowledge contained there, good and bad.
"Now, before we discuss the warding of this place, how about a short tour?" Narcissa asked. "Would you like to see the fruits of our labors?"
Hermione smiled. "Yes!"
Narcissa gently grasped her shoulder, turning her around. "Then this is where we'll start."
Hermione forcefully kept her jaw shut in place, but it was hard. How she had not seen the massive construction she now faced was truly beyond her – but most likely the wards had redirected her vision. Before the two women stood a magnificent building, grander even than Malfoy Manor – truly a noble palace. It was erected in stone, with wrought iron gates surrounding the property. An impeccably maintained garden was adorned with sculptures and fountains, and a neat gravel pathway lead the two women to the ornate doors in front.
"Merlin's soggy underpants!" Hermione breathed. Narcissa merely chuckled. As they walked, Hermione could distinguish the words onto an embellished golden plaque, surrounded by moving filigree. Black Manor Wizarding Wellness Ward, a division of St. Mungo's Hospital.
The colossal doors creaked open as the two women approached. Hermione could at once see that the inside of the Manor was just as majestic as the outside. What had probably once been a grandiose entrance hall was now converted into a welcoming, though still greatly adorned lobby, with a seating area and circular, black marble information desk. A quick glance at a map of the manor – conveniently located by the information desk – had Hermione seeing stars.
"Godric's girdles, this place is huge!" she yipped, taking a closer look. "And there are annexes?"
"Yes" Narcissa said. "Well, three that are in use – the old servant's quarters, a hunter-house, and a guest house. There is also a barn up the West hill, a boat-house by the lake, and a small Quidditch pitch down the hill." she explained, motioning vaguely where those edifices would be located on another map showcased by the desk.
"Merlin. I couldn't even fathom what it would be like to grow up in a place like this." Hermione wondered aloud.
"It had its memorable moments" Narcissa said cryptically. "In any case, I did not live here. We – myself, my sisters and cousins – would mostly come during summers. My grandparents maintained the place. Orion and Walburga, as you well know, lived primarily at Grimmauld Place. My own parents occupied another property, another townhouse in London, and that is where I grew up."
Narcissa led Hermione through a very short tour of the main house – it was too big for a comprehensive exploration, but it was enough to stoke the brunette's curiosity about many things. She was perplexed by the care and attention to detail Narcissa – and Neville, of course – had dedicated to renovating the place. An entire wing of the house had been outfitted with several rooms and living areas for patients – those were all primed and ready, with beds, bathrooms, and all other necessities. Many places had designated functions, much like St. Mungo's itself.
Everything was immaculate; Narcissa had even gone so far as to design areas for residents to interact – the back yard had a small pond, there were small libraries scattered around the house, as well as sitting rooms and tearooms and game rooms. Hermione was incredibly impressed.
"And through there" Narcissa motioned towards a door at one point "are – well, were the dungeons. They have been converted into research labs; mostly for medicinal Potions. Upstairs, in the attic, we have a small Astronomy lab, mostly for the study of the moon for our Lycanthrope Readjustment Range." Hermione turned to the other witch quickly. "And through the other wing…"
"Excuse me, come again?" Hermione interrupted, too floored by the information Narcissa had just imparted.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Lycanthrope Readjustment Range?" the brunette repeated, eyes wide. "You plan to treat werewolves?" she could not contain the awe in her voice. Despite a few legislative efforts, werewolves were still seen as scum by most of Wizarding Society. St. Mungo's often refused to treat them for self-sustained injuries, and most were considered incontrollable beasts. She knew Narcissa did not subscribe to her family's old Pureblooded ideals any longer, but she had a hard time believing the witch would go as far as to shake off the general distaste for werewolves.
To her credit, Narcissa seemed to understand where Hermione was coming from.
"Your shock does not surprise me. I will admit, I am not too thrilled at the idea. But my own blood saw fit to marry one; I can concede that there is at least more to be understood from werewolves." She sighed. "It is a difficult notion for me to accept, I won't deny that. However," she hesitantly grasped Hermione's left arm, almost unconsciously tracing the scar beneath the sleeve. "If I have understood things I thought impossible before, I must try to keep an open mind. That is all I can do."
Hermione was bewildered. Was Narcissa saying that accepting Muggleborns had opened her mind to accepting more people – because that was what werewolves were, every night of the month except for one – that she would have thought scum otherwise? More than that, had she just acknowledged Nymphadora Tonks – and consequently her husband and son – as truly belonging to her family? She contained the impulse to shake her head. Everything had gone topsy-turvy.
She had not noticed the long period of time during which Narcissa held her arm; she only noted its absence once the other witch dropped it without another word. She looked intently at the woman's eyes, their blue clouded by shimmering grey.
"Come with me, I believe you would like to see this." Narcissa said. Hermione was quick to follow.
They walked through a gravel path that wound down into a small road surrounded by trees and thick shrubbery. Hermione imagined it would look beautiful during the morning light, but thus far it looked quite eerie with nothing but Narcissa's wand illuminating their path. She had no idea how long they walked, but sensed that something, somehow, was making their walk much faster than normal – they seemed to have covered quite a long distance in a matter of minutes. Before long, she could make the outline of another building, much smaller though still impressive. This edifice had no gates surrounding it, but before they even approached, she could feel the magic of strong containment wards coming off in waves; its energy vibrated so vigorously it even distorted the view of the trees beyond.
Narcissa stopped a few feet from the house. Hermione gazed at the woman, puzzled.
"This used to be the hunting house years ago. There are about twenty acres of forestry beyond." She explained. In a smooth movement, the light of her wand intensified, and she directed it at a plaque Hermione had not noticed at first. It read, in big, bold silver letters: R. J. Lupin Lycanthrope Readjustment Range.
Hermione could not contain her gasp at what she saw and what it meant. She quickly put all the pieces together: the hunting house and the extremely strong containment wards she just saw. Demarcating and separating twenty acres of woodlands. And, to top off this strange turn of events, Narcissa had memorialized Remus Lupin.
"You are treating werewolves. You're letting them roam free?" She asked, flabbergasted. Narcissa gave an elegant shoulder shrug – something Hermione hadn't thought possible.
"As free as it is safe for everyone else." The witch explained. "The hunting house has been remodeled to provide safe lodging for up to fifteen werewolves at any given time before the full moon. Anti-werewolf wards delineate the acreage beyond the house; they cannot go through while they are transformed."
"Why?" Hermione could not help but ask.
"As I'm sure you're aware, most werewolves who take the necessary precautions before the full moon find themselves badly injured in its aftermath. This is not only due to the punishing physical exertion of a transformation, but also due to the conditions in which it takes place. Cellars, small locked cells – the wolf needs more space to roam and…"
"No" Hermione interrupted. "I mean, why? Why do this at all? Why Lupin?" she interjected, pointing towards the plaque bearing the name of her fallen friend and mentor, one of many. Narcissa looked uncomfortable.
"Ms. Granger, I am no paragon of integrity or generosity. Some would say I am precisely the opposite. I would be lying if I said I did not have extreme reservations about this – about all of it. But as I've said, there is always more to be understood. This" she gestured towards the house and towards the path they had taken there. "All of this is an attempt to understand several things – to understand and atone, even if the latter may never come to fruition."
"As for why Lupin" she sighed. "He was well-loved by many. A war hero, not to mention my kin of sorts. If there is such a thing as a good example of a werewolf, Remus Lupin was it. I knew him in school, you know." Hermione looked like she was about to interject, but Narcissa waved her off. "Make no mistake, Ms. Granger – I despised him them. Not because of his… condition – I was unaware of it at the time – but because of his House and allegiance to one of my best friend's tormentors. Not to mention, his mother was a Muggle. That was just as shameful as being a werewolf in my book."
Hermione nodded in understanding, as well as a bit of sadness. Interacting with Narcissa as she was now, it became harder and harder to remember what sort of views she subscribed to not too long ago. The older witch had noticed her now-wistful demeanor, for she approached, a hand gently lifting the brunette's head upwards.
"My apologies. I can't help but be aware that talk of such times brings you sorrow. Regrettably, I cannot change the past." She whispered softly, her eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "I was never someone in the wrong place at the wrong time. All those horrible things – about you, about Lupin, the Pureblood agenda – I followed not because of circumstance, but because I believed."
Hermione sighed, her hand moving up to hold onto Narcissa's wrist. "But you don't anymore." She hadn't phrased it as a question, yet it hung in the air.
"No." Narcissa smiled sadly. "Not anymore."
"Then that's good enough for me." Hermione declared, straightening her posture. Somehow their close proximity had gone unnoticed, but now she was keenly aware of it; it was almost as if that odd buzzing had returned, but instead of lodging itself in her head, it had spread to her entire body. It was not unpleasant.
Narcissa said nothing further; she moved to walk away from the hunting house. Hermione followed silently.
They were almost back at the main house once Narcissa spoke again.
"You are welcome to return here at your leisure, even if you decide not to work on our warding issues. It is late, but I would like to show you Black Library some other time."
Without meaning to, Hermione let out a disappointed yelp. "Ah! The library! I can't believe I didn't see it!"
Narcissa let out peals of laughter at the brunette's sudden outburst. Hermione reddened, but pushed onward. "But I would love to work on the wards." She said, happy with Narcissa's surprised expression. Did the witch truly think Hermione Granger would back down from such a challenge? She was already vibrating with excitement. "I can't make any promises, of course, but I would like to take a whack at it."
Narcissa smiled. "Very well. You are welcome to use all resources at the Black Library – they are at your disposal. We can discuss plans more thoroughly some other time. I think it is time to return to the castle."
Hermione nodded in agreement. She had no idea how long they had been out, but it was bound to be late. Without a word, she offered her arm to Narcissa this time, taking out her wand in preparation. The other witch took it with a smile.
With a pop, they disappeared.
And with another, they apparated right in the middle of a commotion. Several professors were in the teacher's lounge; before they could even right themselves, Neville ran towards the two witches.
"Thank Merlin you're back! There's been an incident." He huffed, his face red.
"What? What happened?" Hermione asked.
"It's Mr. William White." Flitwick said from behind, making the two witches turn quickly and look down. "He's been attacked – he's in the Hospital Wing!"
