The little street was nearly empty, save a few stray cats lying lazily atop the decrepit remains of what used to be brick walls, basking in the sun despite the cold of the day. The gentle lull of the Humber's waves made for a comforting sound, but it was interrupted by the blast of motor explosions every now and again. An odd scent hung heavy in the air, carrying the odours of fish and diesel and smoke through the town.

Highview Crescent was a street that, years ago, could have been considered quaint. At another time, perhaps it had been picturesque. If one went even further back in time, the short stretch of road would have been bustling with the nouveau-riche that toddled over its cobblestones, pockets laden with the profits turned by trading and seafaring.

Now, the once-beautiful terraced houses stood – some just barely – as faded, dilapidated reminders of more prosperous times, with their dirty bricks and rusted gates betraying very little of their long-lost extravagance.

Despite its poverty, or perhaps because of it, there was nearly nothing that set Hull's End apart from any other small, once industrious other towns in England. In fact, there were dozens, perhaps hundreds of little dinky towns just like it. Just like those other towns, Hull's End had the one pub, the one quick-mart; the one industry barely holding the town together, the one union that had once been powerful; the one cinema, the one bookmaker.

There were exactly three events that perhaps set Hull's End apart from all those other towns, and they both happened right there on Highview Crescent, in a house that was as unkempt and threadbare as the others, save for a small pot of yellow flowers on the doorstep. Number Seven, Highview Crescent, had seen more wonder in the span of ten years than most of the town had in its four centuries of existence.

The first event, the birth of a boy, took place just over eleven years ago, and was nothing much to all who witnessed it, for no person in Hull's End would recognize anything remotely extraordinary if it hit them upside the head with a shovel. And thus, it was forgotten before anyone quite realized its true importance.

The second event was much harder to miss, even to the simple-minded folks who overlooked the first. It happened just six years later, and started with a ratty teddy-bear that was thrown in the bin. And no matter how much it went back in the bin, or how much it was torn apart, battered, burnt, and otherwise destroyed, it would always be found back in a child's bed, looking brand-new. In fact, it happened so much over so long that, eventually, the bear was left alone, and its escapades were never spoken of again in the house.

The third and final event was the one to truly, finally, shake things up – if not in the entire town, at the very least at Number Seven, Highview Crescent. It happened just last year: a striped tabby padded softly over the derelict street, stopped right in front of Number Seven and watched the off-centre number 7 on the door for hours on end. It sat and waited until dark, and no one was present to see the cat transform into a rather severe-looking, bespectacled woman with a pointy hat and tartan scarf. She, like the boy born in that house years before, was quite extraordinary, but nearly no one in Hull's End would ever come to know it except three people. Their names were Robert, Martha, and William White.

It was the Whites' house that had been observed for the better part of the afternoon on a cold day in February, unbeknownst to its remaining inhabitants and to most others in Highview Crescent. Even for a witch, Auror Susan Bones was as discreet as they come.

The nearly-abandoned street made it incredibly to set up surveillance easy as well; all she had to do was break into one of the empty storefronts facing the row of houses. At the moment, she was watching quite comfortably from a disillusioned shop window – one with a direct view of Number Seven.

"Heya, Bones" called a voice from behind. Susan turned from her seat – a foldable lawn chair charmed to be exquisitely comfortable – to face her friend and boss, the one and only Harry Potter. "How are we looking?"

"Hullo. Same as yesterday – mom stays home all-day doing Merlin-knows-what besides, dad goes to work at around eight each morning to arrive at around eight every night."

Harry nodded, looking through the dirty glass of the window pane before them. The lights in the kitchen of the White residence were on, but from where he stood, he could not see any movement.

"Alright. Nothing new, then?"

"No." Susan answered honestly. The truth was, she did not quite understand why her boss was so invested on some Muggle-watching. She knew there was something going on with the boy – news of the first Muggle-Born sorted into Slytherin had spread fast in September – but she couldn't fathom why Harry Potter himself wanted an Auror on the case. Not that she was complaining – she was enjoying the relative quiet. "Husband seems to be the controlling type, but there have been no altercations."

"The WiSer assignee should arrive in the next couple of days. Don't let them know you're here, but let me know if they aren't, ah... discrete." He said in a harrumph, brows furrowed. Susan chortled; for as much as Wizarding society depended on discretion to remain unnoticed by Muggles, people who actually worked in remaining undetected could be surprisingly obtuse. More than once had she caught wizards wearing absurdly out-of-date clothing thinking they were blending in perfectly. At one point, a witless Ministry employee had tried to attend a Muggle football match with omnioculars and a hat that spoke to people.

"Sure thing." She said. She wasn't exactly eager to share her turf with some bureaucrat. Harry flashed her a grin of understanding as he pulled an envelope out of his robes.

"Narcissa sent this my way – could you make sure Mrs. White gets it – discreetly? William hasn't been able to send her any post." He explained, handing Susan the envelope.

"Alright. And should she want to reply? There's no owl post in Hull's End, and even if there were one, I doubt Mrs. White would know what to do."

"I trust you to figure that one out." Harry quipped with a laugh. "Maybe make sure she can at least get it back to you? Just remember to be..."

"Discreet."

"Yeah. That."


"Just sign the bloody thing, for Merlin's sake!"

"I will not sign it! I refuse! I don't want it – I will not take it!"

"Take it! Salazar's snakes, why must you insist on being so difficult!"

"I've said it before, and I shall repeat it: I don't want your money."

Narcissa threw her hands up in the air, the very picture of extreme exasperation. Her continuing reunion with Andromeda had thus far proven to be... vexing. She narrowed her eyes, sending her iciest glare towards her sister.

"For the last fucking time..." she threatened.

"Cissy! Language!" Andromeda interjected, scandalized.

"... it is not my money, you aggravating, self-righteous, irksome fool!"

"I really don't appreciate all this name-calling." Andromeda said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She faked a serious, displeased expression, but not frequenting their old Pure-Blood circles had caused her to lose her edge – Narcissa could tell she was having a mighty good time out of their bickering by the smile tugging at her lips.

The blonde wanted desperately to thump her head onto Andromeda's kitchen table in frustration, but that would be rather undignified. They had been at it for hours on end – or at least it felt like it, and Andromeda seemed no closer to giving in, despite Narcissa's persistence.

"This is your money as well, Andy." She tried to reason for the millionth time. Why Andromeda continually refused to accept money that was rightfully hers was simply unfathomable – it wasn't like Ted's Ministry pension gave her much to begin with.

Andromeda just waved her younger sister off. "Save your breath. It's been a long time since I've been a Black – just look at the tapestry."

"To hell with the sodding tapestry!" Narcissa muttered angrily. "You're a Black by blood, that entitles you to this money. Please take it, Andy, if only for my peace of mind."

Andromeda tutted good-naturedly. "We're going around in circles, Cissy. Stop trying to buy my forgiveness, I've already given it to you."

Narcissa could only shake her head, supremely annoyed. "This has nothing to do with forgiveness" she reasoned. "This is about doing the right thing. You're entitled to this money."

"I don't want it. End of discussion."

"Argh!" Narcissa grunted. Trust Andromeda to still be able to push all of her buttons, even after all those years. She was just aggravating now as she had been as a child.

Andromeda looked like she was about to say something further, but they were interrupted by the sound of excited feet stomping down the stairs. That would be Teddy – whom Narcissa had only recently been acquainted with – returning from the Potters via Floo.

"Grams! I'm home!" He yelled; Narcissa winced, and Andromeda smiled knowingly. Narcissa took a mental note to try and prevent her sister from ever teaching Scorpius to call her 'Grams'. 'Nana' was bad enough.

The young boy emerged into the kitchen with a beaming smile and a full head of platinum blonde hair. That had been a thing since the day before, after he had met Narcissa for the first time. Andromeda had looked scandalized, while Narcissa felt extremely – and inexplicably – smug. Teddy had taken to the new addition to his life in stride – he showed signs of his father's intelligence, which made Narcissa look forward to having him as her student in the coming year. However – and this was proven as the boy tripped over his own shoelaces and nearly faceplanted onto Andromeda's linoleum kitchen floors – it seemed he had also inherited his mother's clumsiness.

"Hiya, Teddy." Andromeda greeted with a smile, entirely unfazed by his awkwardness. Narcissa, for her part, had nearly jumped out of her chair to keep the boy from falling, but Andromeda had looked at her with an expression that said 'this happens all the bloody time.' "How was it at the Potters?"

"Great! Ginny left us some stew! It's nearly as good as Auntie Molly's."

Andromeda laughed. "Be sure to never tell that to Molly!"

Teddy laughed, seating himself on the vacant chair by Narcissa's side. Narcissa thought she'd forever be amazed at how easily he had taken to her – despite her immense fear in introducing herself into the boy's life like this, all Andromeda had done was say 'Teddy, this is my sister, your Auntie Cissa' and he accepted it without question.

"Hiya, Auntie Cissa" he greeted with his beaming smile. He looked at her hair intently, and she could see small shades of blonde in his own softly changing to match her own, practically strand by strand – it was almost as impressive as when he had turned his whole head blonde from the electric pink he had sported when she saw him for the first time.

"Hello, Teddy" Narcissa said, still feeling oddly smug at how he had perfected the tone of her hair, much to Andromeda's begrudging amusement. "Did you have fun at the Potters?"

He nodded enthusiastically. "Loads! Harry and I played Quidditch!" Suddenly he looked sheepish. "I fell off my broom."

"Teddy! Are you alright?" Andromeda interjected, worry lacing her voice. Teddy waved her off, obviously embarrassed by his fall.

"I'm fine, Grams – I only skinned my knee," he reassured, bunching up the leg of his shorts above the injury, showcasing a clumsily applied plaster.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" Narcissa asked, unable to help herself. Teddy looked at her oddly, but Andromeda was the one to respond.

"A band-aid," she said with an exasperated shake of her head. "Harry is nearly useless with healing spells. I wish Ginny had been there; I'm not too good at them either."

"Nonsense" Narcissa waved her off, turning to her grandnephew. "May I take a look at your wound, Teddy?" She asked nicely. Teddy nodded, removing the plaster with a sickening ripping sound from where it stuck – literally – to his skin. Narcissa would have to investigate band-aids further at a later time. Perhaps Hermione could help explain the odd things.

"Oh, it's not bad at all" she said, inspecting a run-of-the-mill skinned knee that at least had been cleaned, albeit badly. She took out her wand after a cursory examination and lightly tapped Teddy's knee. "Percuro".

Teddy looked amazed at the shimmer of magic that coursed through his wound, raising new, healthy skin without a trace of blood or pain.

"There." Narcissa said, satisfied, sheathing her wand.

"Whoa!" Teddy exclaimed, smoothing his hands over his newly-healed knee repeatedly, in awe. "Grams, did you see that?"

"I did" Andromeda said, faking a haughty expression. "Just like Narcissa, to show me up" she joked. Narcissa rolled her eyes. "What do we say, Teddy?" Andromeda prompted.

"Oh! Thank you, Auntie Cissa!" He said happily, lunging in for a hug before Narcissa could prepare herself. She regained her composure just in time to return the hug, though now she had an uncomfortable lump in her throat. She would gladly heal this boy's every wound for the rest of her life – nothing would bring back the parents he lost when she was on the other side of the war. It took quite a bit of her self-control to keep tears from surfacing.

Andromeda seemed to notice Narcissa's predicament, but Teddy was blessedly oblivious. "You know, Teddy," his grandmother began in a transparent effort to clear the air for Narcissa's sake, "you should take advantage of your Auntie Cissa's knowledge, since she'll be your Potions professor next year."

Teddy was immediately diverted, settling back onto his chair with eyes wide in interest. "Oh, that's right! What Potions do we learn as first-years?" He looked giddy. "Will we make anything blow up!?"

"If you are successful, I'm afraid there will be no explosions of any kind, Teddy" she said with a smile. He looked mildly disappointed. "But as the years progress, you learn how to brew more interesting potions. I'm afraid you'll have to settle for the basics during first year."

His disappointment showed, but he was quick to recover. "And you are Slytherin's Head of House? Were you a prefect like Grams?"

"Yes" Narcissa said, then smirked at Andromeda, narrowing her eyes. "And I was not only a prefect, but also Head Girl, in my day." Andromeda made a covert rude gesture towards Narcissa, out of Teddy's view. Not getting to be Head Girl would always be a comical thorn in Andromeda's side – she had eloped with Ted before she began her seventh year, defaulting the post of Head Girl to Anita Berkins, a girl with whom she cultivated a spirited rivalry.

"Wicked! Did you play Quidditch as well?"

It was Andromeda's turn to grin with smugness. "No, Teddy – Auntie Cissa has an unnatural fear of bludgers."

Teddy laughed, while Narcissa sniffed haughtily. "There is absolutely nothing unnatural about a fear of bludgers – I call it self-preservation."

"But the bludgers are the best part!" Teddy exclaimed, to Narcissa's utter terror. Andromeda laughed.

"Teddy wants to be a Beater." She said with a shoulder shrug that told Narcissa her sister had given up on the subject.

"A Beater?" Narcissa questioned. Andromeda may have given up on that endeavour, but Narcissa could very well give it her best shot – it also gave her an idea to get back at Andromeda for not accepting the money that was rightfully hers. "But what if there are no Beater positions to be filled?"

Teddy's long pause told Narcissa he had not ever considered it. "I don't know," he finally said, in a bit of a panic. "What do I do?! I want to play in Hogwarts!"

"Simple" Narcissa said with a smile. "You must train for every single position. Make yourself... invaluable."

The young boy smiled widely. "Yeah!" He then sobered up almost immediately after. "Oh. But I don't have a Quidditch kit" he said, scratching his blonde hair. "Maybe Harry can lend me his..."

"Nonsense. We'll get you one." Narcissa declared, shooting a look at an Andromeda so her sister knew exactly what she was doing. "Tell me, Teddy" she leaned closer to her grandnephew, putting her hands on his shoulders tenderly. Only Andromeda saw how wicked her grin truly was. "Have you ever heard of Junior League Quidditch?"


"Cissy, this is insanity" Andromeda hissed as the two sisters and Teddy strolled down Diagon Alley, arms laden with bags upon bags of Quidditch supplies, books, sweets, and any other thing Narcissa felt like torturing Andromeda with. Teddy walked a little ahead, sucking on an enormous lollipop and gazing at the shop windows they had yet to explore.

Narcissa only smiled at her sister. She had developed a perfect strategy – Teddy would look at something he liked; his eyes would then light up, he'd turn to Andromeda in supplication, Andromeda would not even voice her 'No'... and then Narcissa would go and buy whatever the item was behind her back, surprising Teddy with it, to his immense delight and Andromeda's eternal vexation.

It worked every time – Andromeda was not as sharp as she had been to Narcissa's covert operations.

"Insanity?" Narcissa quipped, faking disbelief. "Insanity is not giving the proper encouragement for Teddy to pursue his Quidditch career..."

Andromeda mumbled angrily, but Narcissa could tell that, somewhere deep beneath the true exasperation, Andromeda found the entire situation hilarious.

"You're going to spoil my grandson!" She hissed, lifting the many shopping bags she carried with the aid of a feather-light Charm.

"Nonsense," Narcissa declared emphatically, noticing as Teddy busied himself with admiring the magical animals for sale at the Magical Menagerie. Andromeda saw where Narcissa was looking.

"I forbid you from buying him an owl. I am not cleaning owl droppings."

"Suit yourself, but do I believe I still owe Teddy here a fine set of Keeper gloves – the ones at Quality Quidditch were, ironically, lacking in quality. Perhaps I ought to have them custom made out of dragon hide. Of course, he is a growing boy, so I suppose I should just get a new set custom made every time he outgrows them."

Andromeda looked a little green around the edges. "Stop this madness!" she cried. Narcissa smirked, sensing her victory was near.

"There is a very convenient way to make me stop." She said, pointing to the Gringotts – her intended destination. The shopping trip had been a pretext to have some fun with Teddy and torture Andromeda for a little while.

Her sister shot her a glare, now realizing how she had been subjected to Narcissa's machinations. "You sneaky piece of..."

"Grams!" called a voice by the Magical Menagerie. "Look at this ferret! It poops so much!"

"Would you like a ferret, Teddy?" Called Narcisa, making to walk to the boy. Andromeda grasped her arm forcefully to stop her approach – she looked exceedingly thankful Teddy hadn't heard her youngest sister.

"You win! You in, I concede defeat." Andromeda hissed. Narcissa quirked an eyebrow. "I'll go to the sodding bank with you, just... just stop buying him things."

Narcissa smiled widely in victory.

They left Teddy at the Magical Menagerie, under the promise he would not leave the store until they returned to fetch him; the boy seemed happy to chat with Mr. Woodward, the bubbly and knowledgeable store manager. Andromeda followed Narcissa into the bank like a petulant child in transit to the scolding of a lifetime. Narcissa simply held her head high, hiding her relief now that Andromeda had finally relented.

They approached one of the Goblins available. He ignored them for the better part of a minute, but Narcissa simply bid her time, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her impatience. "Your business here... Lady Malfoy?" he finally drawled.

Andromeda looked like she was about to correct him, but Narcissa held up a hand to stop her, unbothered. "Black. I wish to transfer half of the assets under the Black name to my sister. The paperwork is already filed, you'll just need her signature."

The Goblin scowled, but shuffled through a heavy ledger on his counter before summoning even more papers. Andromeda looked supremely uncomfortable; Narcissa surprised herself and her sister by taking Andromeda's hand in her own.

"May we have a private room to discuss these transactions?" Narcissa requested. The Goblin rolled his eyes in annoyance, before giving them the papers and directing them to a door to the side of the bank – it looked like it led to a broom closet. Narcissa was pleasantly surprised when she opened it to find something that looked more like a waiting room.

"Alright," she said, leading Andromeda by the hand to sit at one of the plush chairs provided. "Humour me, Andy. Why do you not want your money? Answer me honestly this time. None of that 'I've already forgiven you' crap."

Andromeda squeezed her sister's hand, a pained look in her eyes. Narcissa took a seat on the chair next to her, careful to not let go.

"I'm just..." Andromeda began, looking frustrated at not being able to express herself well. Narcissa waited patiently. "I don't know how to do it anymore."

The explanation only served to further confuse Narcissa. "Do what?" she asked.

"To... do what you do. To be a Black. It's not just the money, Cissy. It's the attitude, the demeanour, the way you carry yourself. I've been Andromeda Tonks for so long, I feel like I've forgotten how to be Andromeda Black."

Narcissa couldn't say she understood, because that was the plain truth. Perhaps she could understand why Andromeda felt the way she did, but she would never truly understand how. She had been born a Black, became a Malfoy, and then a Black once more – she had never been removed from the higher echelon of Pure-Blooded Wizardkind. Even now, after the war, despite the numerous allegiances she had lost in her defection to the Light, she could still move discreetly within the same circles.

That was not the case for Andromeda. Sure, her sister still retained a certain... je ne sais quoi in her posture and speech that belied her true upbringing. But as far as everything else went – she had not been a Black for a long, long time.

But Narcissa also thought it was foolish to worry.

"You'll always be both" she said earnestly, her grasp on her sister's hands tightening to drive the point home. "You'll always be a Black by blood, a Tonks by marriage and the child you and Ted created. There's no need for you to be a Black in the strictest sense of the word" she scrunched her face in distaste. "In truth, I don't believe the world needs any more Blacks. We've been blight on this society for too long."

Andromeda smiled, but she looked saddened. "Oh, Cissy, are you to be alone then? The only Black worth a damn?" she laughed.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure I'm worth anything at all." She remarked truthfully. Andromeda looked appalled.

"Cissy, don't say such things!" She cried, encircling Narcissa in a warm embrace. "You're worth the world to me."

Narcissa was taken by surprise, enough to bring a tear or two to her eye – she adamantly willed them not to fall, deciding instead to enjoy having her sister back in a way she never imagined possible. Moments like this, with Andromeda, made her bitterly regret not reaching out to her sister sooner, wasting so much time she could have spent getting to know her again, getting to know young Teddy, and getting to know the late Nymphadora through Andromeda's stories.

"Now, now" Narcissa said, composing herself. "Are you ready to take what's rightfully yours?"

"Fine" Andromeda relented with a laugh. "Not that I'm going to use it, mind you. This is only so you stop spoiling my grandson beyond repair."

"I don't much care what you do or don't do with it" Narcissa declared emphatically. "So long as you accept that it is yours."

Andromeda made a big show of shrugging, but did not comment further. Narcissa felt nearly triumphant as she slid the papers over the small side table to her sister. It was long overdue, of course.

Andromeda rifled through the sheets of parchment, her eyes widening at every page.

"Cissy..."

"Yes?"

Her sister quirked a brow and turned the page to Narcissa, her finger pointing daintily at a number on the bottom. "Tell me this is a miscalculation."

Narcissa leaned over, examining the figure. "Not at all."

Andromeda was silent for a long time. "Merlin's hairless bollocks!" she finally exclaimed.

The youngest Black scowled at the vulgarity. "Is there a problem, sister dear?"

"Oh, pardon me, most illustrious Lady of the Noble and most Ancient of Black" Andromeda squeaked with an awkward, exaggerated bow from her chair, "but this simpleton cannot recall ever seeing so many zeros; you are truly a lady of means."

Narcissa could only roll her eyes. "That's your half."

It took Andromeda a minute to snap her jaw closed.


Hermione was elbows deep in rolls of parchment at the Black Library as night grew nearer. She had spent most of her weekend looking through some of the most ancient tomes and scrolls she could get her hands on; they were numerous and varied in usefulness and complexity.

Despite generations of meticulous record-keeping being readily available to her curious eyes, the Black Family had thus far not been partial to sharing the secrets to their centennial Blood Wards. The little she did find consisted of ward updates begrudgingly added after Ministry law made it illegal to kill Muggles and other undesirables for trespassing.

Hermione shuddered at the thought, the scar on her palm throbbing almost soothingly.

Even with those recalcitrant recounts of warding updates, Hermione still had very little information on how to actually make any changes to them – those Ministry-ordered files told her what was done, but not how. It infuriated the young professor to no end; she had brought all of her notes on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, all of her research on the melding of the two disciplines in the dissection of warding charms, and yet...

Hermione felt she had all the pieces of the puzzle laid out in front of her. They simply refused to click into place. She had tried her best to determine the magical signatures of the wards to no avail. That led her and Narcissa back to where they did not want to be – they needed to find the site of the original runes that first warded the place.

The brunette blew a stray lock of hair from her eyes in a huff of sheer irritation. That particular task could very well take years. The property was massive, made even more unnaturally so by magic. Besides, wards added during renovation and planning for Black Manor got in the way of Hermione's detection charms; the reason why they kept failing despite her ability was simple: they were overwhelmed by the confoundingly large number of wards in the place.

She looked in disdain at one of her notebooks, littered with scribbles. Hermione had become an expert in fine-tuning wards to very specific purposes. More than that, she had become, quite by accident, incredibly talented in fabricating wards from scratch – the geometrical patterns of her wards were all of her own design, not the usual ready-made shapes created by runes or general warding charms.

Hermione flipped some pages on an old Black Family records book, deep in thought. The property could only be warded by Runes due to the age of the wards encasing it – that was her first assumption, and she felt certain she was correct. Usually, Runed wards surged upwards from one central point, like a bubble enshrouding its target in protective magic. If she could find that point of origin, the central point...

Her musings were interrupted by the loud creaking of the heavy doors swinging open. Hermione snapped up to see Narcissa walking in with a look of surprise.

"Ms. Granger," she said, and her tone was playfully rigorous "have you spent all day in this library?"

Hermione smiled guiltily. "Not all day," she defended. "I only came here at noon."

"So you've spent" Narcissa looked at the grandfather clock by Hermione's table, "roughly six hours hidden away in here?"

"For a good cause!" Hermione quipped, lifting a sheaf of loose parchment she had been examining earlier, brandishing it in her defence. "How was it with Andromeda this afternoon?"

Narcissa had just met Teddy the day before. Hermione had comforted her when the blonde seemed about to back out, afraid of what a ten-year-old would think of her, terrified of what he knew, horrified by what he had lost before even knowing it. To Hermione's delight, Narcissa had returned from that first visit reenergized – the young professor had no doubt Teddy already had his Aunt wrapped around his little finger. It was a talent of his.

"It was wonderful" Narcissa said with a happy look, taking a seat next to Hermione, who now found that the room seemed to warm with Narcissa's presence. "I've finally convinced her to take her share of the Black inheritance."

Hermione nodded, acknowledging that it was no small feat. Narcissa had told her, in one of their talks in this very library, about giving Andromeda her due as one of the Black descendants. It also involved the creation of a vault for Teddy – Hermione knew that the boy already had more money than he could ever imagine.

"I have to say, I'm surprised Andromeda relented... I thought she'd hold out a bit longer." She commented, noting there was a glimmer of mischief in Narcissa's eyes.

"I may have... persuaded her by spoiling her grandson." The blonde confessed, not looking even remotely sorry – if anything, she looked rather pleased with the subterfuge.

"Oh, Merlin." Hermione laughed. "Is Teddy now owner of his very own Quidditch pitch, or something of the sort?"

Narcissa looked mildly sheepish, which prompted Hermione to gasp "Oh my Merlin. Really?"

"No, no, of course not" the blonde waved her off with a laugh. "He's now trying out for Junior League Quidditch. With his new Quidditch kit, complete with a handmade Quaffle and Golden Snitch."

Hermione's eyes widened. "I have a feeling that's not all he got from you."

Narcissa beamed. "You would be correct. It might have exasperated Andromeda to no end, but I have ten years of birthday and Christmas presents to make up for."

Hermione smiled tenderly. "But what if you set the bar too high now?"

Narcissa merely shrugged in that effortlessly elegant movement that sent an odd electric shock down Hermione's back every time she witnessed it. "Then I suppose I shall have to surpass it every year."

Hermione had to laugh; Narcissa sounded like she meant it. She wanted to ask more about the outing, since Narcissa seemed so jubilant and carefree, which was quite unusual, but made a warmth pool in her belly in contentment. Narcissa's attention, however, was diverted to the heavy tome Hermione had been looking at.

"How about you? Have you had a productive afternoon?" She asked, leaning in to examine Hermione's notations on another piece of parchment, the angle shifting her robes at the front. The brunette's gaze drifted upwards as she felt a surge of blood flushing to her cheeks – this, whatever this was she felt around Narcissa, was getting out of control.

"Ahem, uh, no, not as much as I'd like, if I'm honest," she stammered, busying herself with rearranging the loose pages she held. "I'm still working on finding the origin point of the first wards created for this place."

Narcissa's brow quirked in thought. "The origin point? You can't possibly be talking about something as rudimentary as a bubble-ward."

"Yes and no" Hermione said, the flutter in her chest being replaced by the effortless delight she found in discussing academics with someone who was able to fully participate. "The property is obviously guarded by a vast arrangement of wards at present – so many my ward-detecting charm was utterly useless."

"It was a good effort." Narcissa reasoned, moving her chair closer to better skim over the notes on the table. Hermione chuckled.

"Not really," she admitted. "But think of how old this property is. It has been warded since before the advent of the wand, as you said yourself. So, naturally, the only way it could have been warded then..."

"Would have been by the use of Runes." Narcissa completed, eyes flickering with awe and anticipation.

"Precisely. Which means..."

"There is a central origin point." Narcissa interjected for the second time; Hermione was so taken by the elation and anticipation in her eyes she could bring herself to care about being interrupted.

"Exactly," she said, immensely happy that Narcissa reacted to advancement in research much the same way she did. "While we still need to find a specific point to see the runes, it certainly narrows things down; it's not such patch-work job anymore."

"That is fantastic." Narcissa said, the awe in her voice at Hermione's notes evident in ways that made the brunette preen in satisfaction. "Once we find that point, will you be able to determine the wards' magical signature?" she asked expectantly.

"I hope so" Hermione said a little breathlessly. Then her enthusiasm dampened considerably. "It's still a needle in a haystack."

"Perhaps" Narcissa conceded, though it seemed she was still running high on the excitement of discovery. "But you've more than halved the haystack." She said kindly, and her smile was simply so infectious Hermione could not help returning it.

"We'll see... it's still..."

"No, Hermione, think about it" Narcissa interrupted yet again, so entranced by the discussion she didn't quite notice the little breathless gasp the brunette released upon hearing her name. "We know the wards must come from Runes since the property and the wards are so old. What if we're looking at this wrong?"

Hermione furrowed her brow in question. "Wrong how?"

"We have been trying to look for wards in a maze of wards" Narcissa said, taking a forgotten quill from the table and flipping a stray piece parchment to its blank side. She hastily dipped the quill into Hermione's inkwell and scratched a large concave curve onto it, drawing a straight line down from the middle of the arch, ending it with a large dot. Another dip, and several, smaller arches were added, each with a different central point; Hermione recognized it as a representation of their previous discussion of wards within wards.

"Yeah, it's part of why it's so difficult to hone in on one ward's original magical signature; they all interact with one another," the brunette affirmed as Narcissa scribbled until the little diagram looked like a veritable tangled mess of lines and arches.

"Yes" Narcissa conceded, sounding thrilled, "but what if we have approached this the wrong way? We've been trying to use the wards to find the runes. What if instead..."

"We used the runes to find the wards!" Hemione cut her off, now picking up Narcissa's train of thought and, consequently, the resulting excitement. The wheels in her brain were turning a mile a minute; she looked attentively at Narcissa's crude diagram, focusing on the mass of dots that gathered at the bottom, representing the points of origin of each ward.

"Would it be possible?" Narcissa asked in one shuddering breath of excitement; her cheeks flushed and eyes glimmering as if she had just run a mile.

"Theoretically," Hermione mumbled, examining the chaotic arches and lines and dots like they were complex Transfiguration formulas, noting the multitudes of times the arches cross-hatched one another while the dots representing centre points all retained some distance. "The points of origin would not be as difficult; they would not interfere with one another as the wards do, since wards span such large areas..."

"In other words," Narcissa interrupted again, standing in her excitement, and her voice was so affected by her enthusiasm Hermione could not help but meet her gaze head on, being completely taken by how those blue orbs shone with sheer and utter giddiness at their discovery. "There can be several wards within wards..."

"... but not nearly as many points within points!" The brunette finished, standing as well – the realization stoking the tenacious fires of her will to push even further. This was it; they had broken it, she was sure of it.

Narcissa gave a little yelp of pure and unadulterated euphoria, taking Hermione's hand and spinning the brunette in a half circle of delight. Hermione could not even bring herself to over-analyse the incredibly out-of-character action, so consumed she was by the older woman's exuberant playfulness at their discovery.

The two laughed together, the mirth of the breakthrough palpable. Narcissa did not even seem to notice she still held tight onto Hermione's hand; she even squeezed it as she turned an expectant look to the brunette – the warmth Hermione felt in her chest returned tenfold.

"Can you do it?" came Narcissa's breathless, eager question. "Do you think you can create a Rune-detecting spell?"

"Darling," Hermione gasped out, and the two were too enraptured by the moment to make note of the out-of-place endearment. "I'm the Brightest Witch of Her Age" Hermione said playfully, cradling Narcissa's hand in her own and squeezing back, completely consumed by her certainty that this was going to work. "I can do anything."

Narcissa's smile was blinding.