Professor Sage Westminster sighed and rubbed her temples as she walked, trying to ward off her oncoming headache. She had made it through her first week of teaching and she was looking forward to having some time over the weekend to recover and plan for her next week. And she was regretting her choice to live so far away. Unlike the other professors, she had taken a small cottage in Hogsmeade, just off the school grounds. It was still a 30 minute walk, thanks to Hogwart's anti-Apparition wards. At least she could pack her books and folders in her enchanted bag so she didn't have to worry about carrying an extra 20 pounds of stuff on her walk to and from the school. And the walk helped her clear her mind. Except the only thing on her mind at this moment was getting a fire going and having a piping hot cup of tea.
Finally her quaint little cottage came into view and she almost broke out into a run in her eagerness to get off her feet. There was a healthy batch of creeping ivy vines that grew up the side of the small, single story, brick building and a sod path leading through small flower patches up to the red front door. If she had her choice she would have opted against plants, not being particularly skilled at herbology and keeping flowers alive, but it was what was available in the sleepy village and she couldn't be too picky.
She unlocked her wards and entered and reset the defensive enchantments. When she had finished, she immediately sensed something was off. She proceeded cautiously, her wand drawn, quietly closing the door behind her. She crept down the narrow entry hallway, her eyes squinting against the darkness.
Suddenly a light flickered on just as she entered the sitting room and she whirled on the spot, her wand mid-flourish to hex the intruder.
Colette Bouchard giggled from the couch where she was casually reclined, twirling the ends of her brown hair through her nimble fingers. She smiled over at the stern witch and a soft giggle floated through the thick tension "Took you long enough. I almost sent a search party out for you."
"Fleur! Damn it, I almost hexed you!"
"Mmm, but you didn't, mon amour." Fleur dropped her glamour and sashayed over to her, her fingers walked up her arm and across her shoulder as she leaned in to kiss her. "As much fun as it might be to role play one day, I think we are both safe here and your disguise is not necessary anymore, oui?"
Hermione sighed and melted into the kiss, the visage of Sage Westminster melting away to reveal the young brunette witch. She threw her arms around the blonde's neck, pulling her close for a proper greeting. She pulled away after several long moments, "How was your day, love?"
"It was good. One of the benefits of teaching an elective course is that I have very few classes to worry about. And the students seemed to enjoy interviewing the fairies who joined us for the day."
"Lucky! The Slytherins were trying my patience beyond measure today. We're starting this term with dueling and were discussing common dueling jinxes and their counter-jinxes and all they wanted to do was jinx each other without bothering about the defensive strategy! One benefit of being a professor is I can give Malfoy detention for being an arse. Not that I would ever abuse that power but I'll admit that it's sorely tempting. It's rather aggravating, actually. Now that he thinks I'm interesting, he keeps trying to suck up and get on my good side. If only he knew, I think it would give him a heart attack!"
"Well, it was your idea to return to Hogwarts as teachers… I can't believe that you talked me into this and that Dumbledore went with it." Fleur chuckled and guided them over to the couch, sitting down so that Hermione's back was pressed to her front, the brunette settled between her legs.
"It made the most sense. We have access to resources we otherwise wouldn't and can keep an eye on Harry and make sure he doesn't do something to accidentally mess up the timeline. He means well but he can be so rash and quick to act without thinking. And this way we are close to Dumbledore and his Pensieve. Oh, that reminds me, we have a meeting with him tomorrow afternoon to look through some of his collected memories. And Hogwarts is safe. Need I remind you that there's a stark raving mad woman looking for you? Voldemort and Bellatrix wouldn't think to look for us here, nor do they have the strength to infiltrate."
"That is all very true. And fortunately everyone seems to be less affected by my thrall, since they were all exposed last year and the new first years are too young to notice. What I don't understand is why we have to live in Hogsmeade. There are plenty of available rooms for professors on the school grounds."
"Because of that damn Marauder's Map. If Harry was looking one night and saw 'Hermione Granger' or 'Fleur Delacour' running about, that might raise some questions. Especially when we're supposed to be far away."
"Fine. I suppose the exercise does us good, too. I miss running with you." Fleur nodded, reaching up to dig her fingertips into Hermione's shoulder muscles. "Do you think everyone bought our cover stories?"
"Well, one of the benefits of assuming the role of an Unspeakable, I have an excuse not to answer and everyone knows not to ask. And no one on staff is well acquainted enough with Madame Maxime to go poking into your backstory. Besides, the other schools are very private and don't share information readily with others. I think we are fine, but we can keep our ears open for any suspicions." Hermione sighed when she felt Fleur's hands on her shoulders and lolled her head forward, allowing the blonde full access to give her a massage.
"So tense, mon amour." Fleur hummed softly, continuing her gentle ministrations.
"Well, that's to be expected when you have the weight of the future on your shoulders." Hermione deadpanned, but leaned into Fleur's touch, those magical fingers working out the tension. "I mean, we have so much to do. We have to find the Gaunt Ring, not to mention getting the Cup out of the Lestrange vault and finding a giant snake. Once we have all of the Horcruxes, we need to assemble the Order and pray that Voldemort falls for the trap. Ugh, I need to work on my basilisk poison at some point in time… It doesn't make sense to collect the Horcruxes without a way to destroy them."
"Oui, there is a lot but think of what you've already accomplished. Dumbledore said he would handle getting Bill involved and convey the plan to get the Hufflepuff Cup. And you put the Locket into the Room of Requirement already, oui?"
"Ugh, thank you for reminding me that I need to make the duplicate Cup." Hermione groaned softly. "But yes, the Locket is with the Diadem in the Room. I put it there the night of the Start of Term Feast."
Fleur shook her head and wrapped her arms around the petite brunette, holding her close. "And Snape made it sound like he's taken the bait about the prophecy, at least, so that should keep him occupied for a while. We know that his paranoia will make him fixate, at least. But I suppose that doesn't stop Bellatrix or the others."
"True, but he won't let them do anything that could jeopardize his plans. Then we have to get Harry prepared for the Battle at the Ministry. We did a lot for him last year and he's leaps and bounds ahead of where he was last time, but he can't take on Voldemort and half a dozen Death Eaters. He's going to need help. Which means we need to figure out a way to form Dumbledore's Army without having the excuse of Umbridge breathing down our necks."
"Ah, oui… the Pepto-Bismol Toad you called her?"
"Yes, she was horrible. Didn't teach us anything, basically tortured us during detention with a blood quill, and just made life at Hogwarts bloody miserable with her Inquisitorial Squad. She even threatened to use the Cruciatus Curse on Harry! Merlin, I had forgotten about that… you best pray to your Goddess that you never meet her." Hermione cringed at the memory and subconsciously rubbed the back of her hand.
"Mon Dieu… She sounds horrid." Fleur murmured as she kissed Hermione's neck, earning a nod and a happy sigh "So, why do we need Harry prepared? Can't we just keep him out of the whole battle?"
"Well, as much as I'd like to, we need to be prepared for anything. If Voldemort finds out about their mental connection like he did last time, he is going to start planting visions in Harry's mind of Sirius being tortured, setting a trap of his own. And because Harry is Harry, he's going to run headlong into that fight. Hence Dumbledore's Army. Ugh, that reminds me, I need to tell Dumbledore about Harry's Legilimency and Occlumency lessons."
"Can't you just tutor him?"
"No. If he somehow breaks my barriers and sees my memories, he will know I'm not actually Professor Westminster."
"Ah, good point."
"And to top it all off, there's just that little bit about finding some way to get that piece of Voldemort's soul out of him, or this will all be for naught." Hermione huffed "And I'm sure there's something I'm missing but that's all I've got for now."
Fleur hummed softly "You need to relax, mon amour… and you forget that I am here and I can help with some of this. If you need me to go investigate for that Ring, I can do so. I have more free time than you."
"Mmm, perhaps, but right now I just want to rest and snuggle with you."
"That I can do." Fleur got up and scooped the younger witch into her arms and carried her to the bedroom.
Fleur woke the next morning to a bright beam of sunlight spilling through the window and into her eyes. She groaned softly and wrapped herself around Hermione's lithe frame, burying her face into the unruly brown curls to try to hide from the offending light. As she did, she felt her body press against Hermione's backside and… damn it.
It seemed that as their magical and emotional bonding continued to progress, her Veela was pushing her harder to complete the physical bonding, which she was still reluctant about. They had experimented with some gentle petting and touches, but nothing remotely close to actual intercourse yet. And it seemed that someone was getting impatient and was choosing this particular moment to make that well known.
She carefully tried to extract herself from the mess of limbs and blankets but Hermione latched onto her arm and held her close, preventing her escape.
"Mmmph… please don't go." The brunette's sleepy voice broke the morning's silence.
Fleur blushed slightly, knowing that her mate could probably feel her growing issue pressing against her.
"I don't mind. And you're warm." Hermione turned around to face her, pressing their foreheads together before pulling away to look at her.
Fleur's heart melted when she saw those sleepy brown eyes open. It was one of her favorite times of the day, seeing Hermione so relaxed and at peace when she first woke up. A glimpse of that youthful innocence that she was robbed of because of the horrors she had experienced in the previous timeline. It was just them.
"So… my birthday is coming up."
"September 19, oui? Would you like anything in particular? I was going to make a special dinner and have a nice night in. I got the impression that you didn't want to be out and about."
"True and that sounds lovely… and I was thinking… I don't really want anything. Just you." The younger witch blushed slightly, "If you're ready."
Fleur felt herself twitch in her sleeping shorts at the implication, her cheeks burned hot. Her Veela just about lost her shit with excitement, she could practically feel her jumping around inside her head. "If you want me, then you shall have me," she managed to squeak out.
The Gryffindor smiled and planted a quick kiss on her lips before rolling out of bed.
She couldn't help but pout at the loss of heat next to her "What happened to being warm?"
"Sorry, love. Morning calls. And I just remembered that I have Saturday breakfast and hall duty to report to soon. I think I've already developed a reputation for being more of a stickler than Snape!" The brunette called from the en suite.
The blonde grumbled slightly and rolled out of the bed, waving her wand to smooth out the sheets and fluff the pillows before making her way to the kitchen to start tea and a light breakfast for herself.
The new DADA professor emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, full glamour already in place. She quickly kissed her while she sat at the table reading the morning edition of the Daily Prophet and swept out of their cottage to head up to the school with a gentle reminder to be at Dumbledore's office at 3pm.
Fleur spent part of the morning tidying up their house while she waited for her not-so-little issue to go away, though they spent so little time here that there wasn't much to be done. She had never considered herself to be particularly maternal or domestic, but it warmed her inside and out to think that maybe this could be their future if they were successful. That she and Hermione might one day have a home together where they could raise a family. She blushed at the thought, especially given what Hermione had wanted for her birthday gift. Maybe one day. Hopefully one day.
Once she had finished around the house, she headed up to the school under the glamour of Colette Bouchard. She made a quick detour to check on her fairy guests who had agreed to stay for a few weeks to assist her with her lessons. They had established a little camp on the edge of the Black Lake and seemed to be settling in nicely.
At a few minutes to 3, she approached the stone gargoyle, checking that the hallway was empty before speaking the password, "Peppermint patty."
The statue shuddered and jumped to the side to reveal the door and she quickly ascended the spiraling stairs up to the Headmaster's office.
"Ah, Professor Bouchard, I'm glad you made it. Please take a seat. Professor Westminster should be along momentarily."
Fleur nodded and took an open seat opposite of Dumbledore. She didn't drop her glamour, just in case someone stumbled in on their meeting.
At precisely 3pm, the stone eagle statue guarding the upper entrance to the Headmaster's office swiveled, revealing a calm and composed Professor Westminster.
"My apologies for being late." Hermione ducked her head apologetically.
"Not to worry, you're exactly on time." Dumbledore smiled and placed his protection wards to ensure they were not interrupted.
Both witches dropped their glamours once the coast was clear.
"A good afternoon to you both," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brightly "I trust you are having a pleasant first week and are settling in well?"
Both women responded with a simple 'yes' and the headmaster got straight to business. With a flourish of his wand, the silver disk of the Pensieve emerged from its place and floated across thin air, coming to a stop about a foot from where the witches were standing.
"Now, as I mentioned, I had done some research into Tom Riddle's history when he was a student here and I have managed to collect a few memories that I hope you will find useful." The white-haired wizard summoned a small vial that contained an opaque swirling silvery liquid. The tag on the vial said M.G.
Though she had never used a Pensieve before, Fleur recognized that these were memories, having seen her own grandmother store her memories of Veela rites and history from the Clan. The Veela wrote almost no books about themselves, instead passing knowledge from generation to generation via memories.
"Are you ready?" Dumbledore held the vial aloft, tilted almost on its side but not enough to release the contents.
Fleur gently grasped Hermione's hand and interlocked their fingers, which would allow them to both enter the memory together, but moved over slightly so they wouldn't bump heads when they dove in.
Once he received an affirmative nod, the aged wizard poured the silver liquid into the Pensieve and both women entered the Pensieve, face first.
"Father! Please don't do this! Morfin was unmarried and had no offspring before he died. This child will be your heir!" A young woman was on her knees, pleading before a man sitting in a moth-eaten, misshapen arm chair. Her robes were tattered and poor, her face was sickly, malnourished, and hollow. Dark hair hung in greasy strands about her face. But it was her eyes that struck Fleur to the core and made her heart ache, even though she did not know this woman. She looked desperate, absolutely defeated. Hopeless.
She looked around the rest of the room, what she could make out from the vague details before they morphed into mist. The state of the room was abysmal, hardly livable, but it looked like it might have once been a beautiful parlor before it fell into ruin. There were boxes of empty bottles of fire whisky and other alcohol lining the walls. The grand hearth was barely lit, casting an eerie glow about the space.
"Silence, Merope!" You have brought nothing but shame and dishonor upon the House of Gaunt. I would rather my line ended with Morfin than see your bastard child." The seated man looked slovenly and unkept. His dark eyes held nothing but hate and contempt toward the woman before him, his own daughter. It made Fleur's blood boil to think of how he treated his family, his own flesh and blood.
"He's not a bastard! Tom and I married…" Merope wailed, her thin fingers clutching at the ends of his robes.
"That would have been a greater service. He's a Muggle!" The man spat angrily "Why aren't you crawling to him for support?"
"Because he doesn't want me, when he found out what I am…"
"Well, he's not alone. We have no room for blood traitors in this House. Now, get out." With that he raised his right hand and brought it down hard across her face. The last thing Fleur saw before the memory faded to mist was a ring with a large black stone.
Fleur gasped for breath when she pulled herself from the Pensieve. Hermione was doing the same, the gears visibly turning in her head as she tried to process the vision they had witnessed. Her own blood was burning with fury at the way the man had treated his daughter. His pregnant daughter. To cast her out because she loved a Muggle. It went against everything she had ever been taught about family.
"Sir… was that…" Hermione stammered.
"Yes, Miss Granger. That was Tom's mother, Merope Gaunt, the night Marvolo Gaunt turned his back on her and disowned her." Dumbledore had moved over to his desk where he was selecting a lemon drop from his candy dish.
"How did you get that memory?"
"It wasn't difficult, actually. Marvolo had a habit of drinking himself to a stupor each night." Dumbledore shrugged as he waved his wand to collect the memory and replace it in the vial. "He gave his consent for me to extract whatever I wanted in exchange for a bottle of whisky…"
"What happened to her after this?" Fleur cut in.
"Ah, I have that as well… this time from a nurse who worked at the orphanage where I found Tom when he was a boy."
The next memory was short as well, it showed the young woman in childbirth. Once the baby was delivered, she held him once, whispering the name Tom Marvolo Riddle before life left her, her will to fight finally exhausted.
"What else can you tell us? Things you remember about him when he was younger?" Hermione had extracted a roll of parchment and her special quill that Fleur gave her for Christmas.
It calmed Fleur a little to see that her mate still used her feather quill, she liked seeing the royal blue and silver tipped feather between the Golden Girl's fingers.
"Unfortunately the other memories I have about Tom at Hogwarts are minimal. He was an exceptional student. He was quiet and kept to himself mostly, making little effort to make friends when he first arrived here. Though if I recall he became a bit of a bully as he aged and started building a following among his peers. And he held grudges against those who wronged him. When we first met, he told me that he could speak to snakes, which is something that caught my interest and sparked my desire to learn more about his lineage."
"Because the only descendants of Slytherin are true Parseltongues." Hermione mused out loud, her quill scratching away.
"Right you are… I have a memory of young Tom talking with his professor first mentioning 'Horcrux,' but it has been tampered with. But given what you have told me, it seems that he learned how to make them, so finding the untampered memory seems rather moot."
Hermione finished writing out her thoughts before looking to Dumbledore "That reminds me. How is it going with recruiting Bill Weasley to the Order?"
"He is on board." Dumbledore smiled softly "Why?"
"We have a special mission for him, if he is willing to take it. There is a Horcrux in the Lestrange vault."
"Hmm… breaking into Gringotts. Almost as foolish as trying to break into Hogwarts. The goblins are not to be trifled with," watery blue eyes twinkled behind half-moon frames.
"True. But as a Curse Breaker, he would have access to the vault if he was put on the team that does the routine internal defense checks." Fleur explained, drawing on her own experiences as a Curse Breaker to fill in the gaps for the others.
Dumbledore listened, his fingertips drumming together. "Consider this done."
"Before we do, I need to make the replica, so in the off chance she visits her vault, Bellatrix wouldn't notice it missing."
"You think Madame Lestrange would walk into Gringotts to access her vault?"
"Well, I did," Hermione snorted then elaborated slightly, "Polyjuice Potion."
Dumbledore smiled "I see the Sorting Hat really did place you correctly. I always thought you would be better off in Ravenclaw, but you have undeniable bravery to you. What else do you need assistance with?"
"Well, we need to find the Gaunt Ring. We know that he hid the Horcruxes in significant locations. It would probably be best that we went to the Gaunt residence and started from there."
"I can give you the location." Dumbledore held his wand tip to his temple and extracted the memory before implanting it into Hermione's head.
The brunette staggered a little, softly whispering "whoa" as the memory entered her mind.
"Apologies for the disorientation but you need the physical memory in order to Apparate, seeing it in a Pensieve is not enough."
"It's fine, sir. Thank you. I think we have enough to go on for now."
"Good, I'll make sure you both are off of hall duty tomorrow so you can begin your quest. And do take a lemon drop before you go," he held out the candy dish to Professors Bouchard and Westminster as they turned to leave.