AN: Happy New Year guys!!

Chapter 08:

A couple of days had gone by since that incident and the Lord of Winterfell had received news of a direwolf in the woods. Despite being sure that there weren't any of them this side of the wall, the men left for the hunt only to come back with a litter of the pups, one for each of the Stark kids.

Hermione sat by the steps at the large ground, playing with Arya's direwolf, Nymeria she had named her, when a small grey pup bounded up to her and his sister.

"This one is Grey Wind. He's Robb's," Arya informed her, scratching the tiny grey pup behind his ears.

"A handsome little thing, isn't he, my lady?" Robb asked her, his eyes shining with un-suppressed glee.

Ever since the day they had fought in the woods, something between them had changed. Robb had started, dare she say it, flirting with her. And to make matters worse, she had started warming to him in ways unconceivable to her at the beginning of their tentative friendship. He had even started breathing in her scent every morning when he helped her with her bow and arrow, for crying out loud!

Hermione schooled her blush down, much to Robb's amusement, just as Ginny plopped herself down beside her. "Where's yours?" she asked looking at Jon.

Jon looked around and called out "Ghost," and a ball of white fur with red eyes ploughed his way towards them. "This one's mine, Lady Ginerva. I've named him Ghost," Jon announced looking lovingly at the pup by Ginny's feet.

"Of course you have," Ginny rolled her eyes while Hermione smiled at him, "I think it's perfect for him."

Ginny snorted, "You named your familiar Crookshanks, what do you know about appropriate names for pets?" Jon chuckled, Robb looked at Hermione in amusement and Arya rolled on the floor in laughter.

"Crookshanks? Really? What were you thinking?" Arya asked between gasped breaths.

"Well, her brother named his owl Pidwedgeon, Pig for short, do you really think I am the worst one still?" Hermione asked of Arya, who looked blue with the lack of oxygen in her system due to the long bout of laughter.

"No," Arya shook her head. "Not anymore."

"But I have to hand it to you, Arya, you chose her name well," Hermione smiled at the three pups playing in the mud ahead of them.

"Of course she did! I helped her after all!" Ginny sniffled in indignation.

"She did?" Hermione pouted when Arya nodded her assent. "Damn, I am reconsidering now," she joked. "What's Sansa's called?"

"Lady," Arya snorted in distaste, making the four young adults chuckle. "And the other two?"

"Summer and Shaggydog," Arya replied.

"Yeah, I think I'm going with Shaggydog," Hermione bobbed her head and picked up her book, laying it on her lap and opening it to the page she had held using her finger as a marker, making Arya chuckle some more.

"Bookworm," Arya and Ginny coughed in sync and cackled again at Hermione's expense, making her sigh and shake her head without bothering to lift her eyes off the book.

Jon looked low the next morning during their practice, making Ginny and Hermione wonder about his mood. "It's his nameday but Mother won't let him have a celebration at Winterfell," Arya explained after breakfast when the girls were forced into the sewing class. "I am really angry at her, but I don't know what to do," she shared helplessly with the elder girls.

Ginny at once left the class to find Lady Stark and give her piece of her mind. How could anyone punish a poor child, a mere by-product of someone else's promiscuity? Well, she was going to find out for herself! She left for the Lady's chambers.

Hermione on the other hand excused herself and sought Jon out.

"Fancy a walk, birthday boy?" she beamed at him.

He lifted his brow in question but motioned for her to walk along.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked after a few minutes of silence elapsed between them.

"About what, the nameday fiasco? No, thank you, my lady. My name isn't really something to be proud of, to celebrate, anyway, is it?" he asked with a shrug to his shoulders.

Hermione immediately laid her hand on his shoulder. "Never say that, Jon. You are a good man, and despite whatever name you bear you will always stay good. 'What's in a name? A rose called by any other name will still smell as sweet' a wise man will say a few centuries down the lane and this saying's going to take the world like fire, trust me."

"Doesn't help me now, does it?" he sighed resigned.

"Jon Snow! No more of that self-pity anymore!" Hermione sighed. "Okay, I am going to tell you something that only two of my best friends know, not even Ginny. In my world, we were in a war, and one of my best friends was the prophesized hero. As you can imagine, life with him was a rollercoaster, not that I'd change anything about it. Once, while we were on a secret mission, we were captured and my best friends were separated from me. They were tossed in the dungeons while I was held back, for torture, all because of my blood. The people we were fighting against, they believed they came from pure magic and wanted to finish off everyone like me, who were new into the world of magic, who had no magic in their blood through heritance."

"I was tortured for hours with the torture curse that is actually banned by our governing authorities. It lights a fire under your skin, melting your insides and the women who tortured me threw the curse every few seconds, lighting a new flame in me even before the previous one ended. And then she thought I needed to learn my place in the world and so she carved into my wand hand with a cursed dagger, I can't get the mark to go even with magic."

"Despite it all, Jon, I know I'm meant for more. Just as I know you are meant for so much more. Names, they are just that, something to help others bring themselves to our attention, they don't serve any other purpose."

"Didn't you once say you were one and eight?" Hermione nodded. Jon gave a half smile. "Do you really expect me to believe that tale of yours? Where a woman fought a war when she was younger than now, no less? I appreciate the gesture, Lady Hermione, I really do, but I do not need your pity, I have enough and more of its resources."

And with that Jon turned on his heels and walked briskly away.

"Hey Jon," Hermione called behind him, making him stop and turn to look at her. She gave him a sad smile and lifted her sleeve showing him the crude name tattooed on her creamy flesh.

"It says MUDBLOOD. It means someone of bad blood, someone whose blood is no different from mud. Someone who is bad and impure, someone who..." her voice cracked and she bit her lip hard to keep from crying.

"I don't lie, Jon. Never was good at it, and I am proud of that quality of mine. Think about what I said, okay? Make an oath to love yourself despite your flaws, on this birthday of yours." Saying that Hermione walked away, tracing the path they had come from, but at a faster pace this time.

That noon, when the household was slumbering in the warm sun, Jon sat alone by the boundary of Winterfell, rethinking his entire life plan, while Ginny slaved at the kitchen, careful to not use her magic to bake him a small birthday cake.

After blasting Lady Stark well, Ginny had found Hermione and they had both decided to surprise Jon on his birthday with a cake and a gift. Ginny had opted to bake while Hermione was to assemble him a gift. In the evening, they planned on tugging Arya and Robb along and surprising Jon with a small party in his chambers. Thinking he'd be mighty surprised, Ginny smiled behind the curtain of her flame-kissed red hair and twirled her hand this way and that and began baking in earnest.

Hermione sought Robb out, pleading with him to find her some steel. She had the perfect idea of a gift for Jon and she needed to start working on it quickly or she'd never be able to finish it in time. So she ditched her book on Targearyns, the dragon keeping house of this era and bent down on the steel Robb had obtained for her, wand out and pointing at the small ball of steel as she put in all her concentration into shaping the metal as per her mind's picture.

Lady Stark stood by the window in her chambers. The slip of a girl had threatened her in her own house and yet she hadn't retaliated. She was speaking the truth, Cat knew it in her heart. She had always judged the son for the father's sins and yet had laid beside said father and borne him four more children. She hated Jon, how could she not? He was the constant reminder of her husband's unfaithfulness, a look, even in passing, at him, boiled her blood because he reminded her that she wasn't enough. Ned wasn't meant to marry her. He hadn't loved her when he'd vowed himself to her. She was meant for another, handed to him only on second thoughts and Jon drove the point home, straight to her heart that she was only a duty to her husband when their lives together had started. He was the best husband in Westeros now, but back then... back then, he hadn't wanted her, he was only playing nice, that's all. But was punishing Jon for it right? It wasn't, she knew it wasn't, but could she really clean up her act as she aged so she would be granted a happy after life?

She wouldn't love him as her own, never could, never would, but could she at least turn a shade tolerant? Was there still any hope left? To assuage her sins, even in the slightest?

During dinner that night, Ginny whispered her plans to Arya who shook her head sadly. "Since mother said no for his nameday celebrations at Winterfell, Theon and Robb have taken him out for the night. They won't be back till the morrow," she informed them.

"That's sweet of them," Ginny smiled. "We'll surprise him tomorrow morning then. He'll get two days of celebrations this time," she shrugged and the girls went back to their dinner.

At night, Ginny put a stasis charm on the cake and Hermione put the small giftbox beside it, both lying down on their neighboring beds in the same room and slept. Just as Ginny shut her eyes off, Hermione whispered an incantation to silence her bed. After the details she had recounted for Jon that morning, she was sure she was going to be plagued by that mad woman's dreams all of that night.

Jon walked into the candle lit room where Ros, the prettiest and the most expensive whore in all of Winterfell, sat provocatively in the middle of the bed. She gave him a long look, parted her lips and ran her tongue around it to entice him and all he felt was revulsion.

When she pulled her shimmering see-through robe off her head, her naked body open for his perusal, he bolted from the room. He did not want Ros, as beautiful as he had once thought she was, he wanted another.

A feisty red haired witch from the future, who pulled pranks with his little sister, taught non-sense tricks to their pet direwolves, who annoyed and exasperated him and yet pulled a smile from him every single time. Shite! When had that happened?! He wasn't worthy of her, he knew. But.. oh, but how he wished he was...

Theon watched Jon storm out of Ros' room. A minute later she came flying down to fight with him, while Robb ducked out behind Jon to see what the matter was with his half-brother. Was he done already or had he not been man enough to go ahead and do it at all?

SPOILERS: Fireworks ahead!!