August was a glorious month. Most of Hermione's assignments involved riding Vercingetorix into the communities that had been stricken by the ongoing war and passing out supplies. She spent quite a bit of time passing out better food parcels in the Ministry Housing Districts. The residents had begun to greet her warmly by name, and more and more people swelled Ma Griesly's ranks.
After one such morning, she returned home to find the Manor empty.
Her mother had decided to outfit Coram with every luxury imaginable for his first year at Hogwarts, and every time she went out with the poor boy in tow she returned with an armful of parcels for Coram and Hermione. Every evening Hermione returned to find her bed piled high with new curiosities. Winky had begun to catalogue them all, and made secret piles for "School" and "Thistledown."
Because it was still early, her bed was bare, and Hermione flopped down on it and let out a sigh. Vercingetorix had been seen to by the stable elf, and the afternoon was her own. She ran her fingers over the plush velvet throw that bore Percy the Pegasus' valiant form, and reached out to Bellatrix-
Are you busy?
There came a spasm of amusement. "I'm listening to your father spew on and on about reformations to the Ministry Archives. I can slip out. Are you home?"
Yes.
"Don't move. I'll be there soon. Get the potion ready."
Hermione grinned and called for Winky. "Can you get the polyjuice, Winky?"
The elf appeared a moment later with a black bottle Bellatrix had procured recently, and two short cups.
"Is Draco still at Aunt Andromeda's?" Hermione asked as she slid out of the formal robes she wore. The Dark Lord liked her to be dressed in her best when she made a "public appearance".
Winky set the cups down and picked the robes off the floor. "He is, and the Potter boy too. And Mistress' mother has been visiting as well. They've been doing the most-" Winky clamped her lips shut as Hermione gave her a look. "Sorry Mistress! Winky forgot that Mistress does not want to know what her mother does with the Potter boy and young mister Draco. Winky will-" Another look from Hermione made Winky swallow hard. "Winky will not punish herself, because Mistress will not allow it."
Hermione nodded, "Good, Winky. That's exactly right." She chose her most casual robes and slid them on. The light cotton was a relief after the heavy brocade of her formal robes.
The jingling of Turnip's collar indicated Bellatrix's arrival. The dark witch strode in, and then stooped to scratch Wubble under his collar.
"We'll have to get him a companion," Bellatrix said when she straightened.
Hermione grinned. "I'm his companion."
Bellatrix leaned over and tugged one of Hermione's curls, "I know that. But perhaps he needs another canine companion."
Hermione laughed, "He has you for that."
"Har har," Bellatrix rolled her eyes, and pulled two tightly rolled handkerchiefs from her pocket. "They're a little bit older this time," she warned, revealing the tufts of hair she had procured. They had decided it was best if Hermione didn't know how she'd gotten them.
Hermione nodded, and took one of the strands. Winky was at her side with the polyjuice-already poured into each cup, and Hermione dropped her hair in one. The potion bubbled, and turned a light pink.
"Thank you, Winky," said Hermione as she picked up her cup. After a pointed look, Bellatrix huffed and snapped, "Thank you Winky."
The potion tasted like peppermint and dishwashing detergent, and Hermione made a face as her body snapped into another shape.
"It's not as bad as last time," she said, eyes widening at the gravelly sound of her voice. She shot over to the vanity- or tried to shoot, as her legs refused to move faster than a slow amble. "Bella!" She shrieked, "You said a bit older!"
A short, pudgy with in her nineties stared serenely back at Hermione. The eyes were blue, the hair smooth grey and cropped close to her head.
A tall woman appeared next to her, she had a long, hooked nose and gunpowder curls, and looked like the severe Headmistress of an all-girls school. Bellatrix laughed and said in a deep voice, "You look like you'll get cold easily. You'd better pack a sweater."
"At least the ring fits this time," said Hermione, slipping her ring on. It glittered in the light from the window, and Winky let out a great sob. "I wish we could go as ourselves," she grumbled.
"Not until we have the Dark Lord's permission," said Bellatrix mildly. "It will be strange enough even with his permission. The rest of the world thinks I'm your aunt."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like to be reminded. "It's not so unusual," she said hesitantly.
"No," Bellatrix put an arm around her, "And it's perfectly legal. The Sanguine laws allow you to marry a relative as long as you don't share more than two grandparents," she grinned, "And it's safe to say that we don't!" With a slight grimace she added, "It happens in the Black family all the time!"
"But not in the Malfoy family," said Hermione softly.
Bellatrix gave her a squeeze. "Don't think about it. Let's go outfit our home!"
They had spent all of their free time furnishing Thistledown to their liking. It had been a grand few weeks of choosing the perfect chairs for the music room, and the perfect beds for the guest rooms. Hermione had given each of the five guest rooms their own theme, and Bellatrix had taken up the idea with aplomb, so that every room in the house had it's own theme.
That day, they were shopping for their bedroom.
"I want a cage for Dust Mouse," said Bellatrix. "One for our room, and another for the living room, and one for my study, so she can go between them."
"And I want a wardrobe like my mother's," said Hermione, "One with a door for every season, and a drawer with three compartments-"
The theme they had settled on for their bedroom was the night sky ("Constellations," Bellatrix insisted) so they headed into the furniture store with that idea in mind.
"Oh Bella," Hermione whispered, pointing to a giant clock that was painted to look like the moon, "It's perfect for over the headboard."
A salesman sidled up and explained that the clock would mimic the phase of the moon, and Bellatrix laughed at the giant eyes Hermione cast at her, "Fine, but if it keeps me awake I'm going to move it to the library.
"You can't," said Hermione smugly, "The library is dedicated to seafaring."
They had a lovely afternoon picking out the furniture and then linens. Bellatrix insisted on getting a cat bed and two dog beds, "You never know when our family might expand," and then they had tea (and more polyjuice potion).
"I think we should hit the nursery next," said Bellatrix as she licked cream from her fingers, "I wanted to have a whole kitchen garden, and I hear they have a venomous rosebush at Tithings- Hermione? What is it?"
Hermione had gone still at the sight of the Evening Prophet. It showed Harry's face and said, "Harry Potter's Secret Helper."
"Oh Merlin," she whispered.
Bellatrix's brows knit in confusion, and Hermione felt her presence dipping into her mind. The earlier conversation with Winky played through Hermione's memory.
Bellatrix tore up out of her seat and limped across the tea house to the counter. "I'd like a copy of the Prophet please. Yes, the Evening edition!"
A moment later she was back, and the paper rustled as she ripped through to the relevant page. A few curious glances stole their way, but Bellatrix ignored them. Hermione remained frozen as she watched Bellatrix scan the article.
"Thank Morgana. It's about how refusing to help with the war effort is aiding Harry Potter." Bellatrix relaxed, "There's nothing in it about- well, anything. They're safe." She looked up, her eyes concerned. "Hermione?"
"I can't do this," Hermione said hoarsely. "Why can't everyone I love be on the same side?"
Bellatrix had no answer.
They went to the nursery, but the good mood had been spoiled. Hermione listlessly pointed out the plants that were a necessity in a magical home, and then feigned a headache.
She returned home and went straight to the stables. Vercingetorix popped his head out the moment she entered, and she slipped into his stall and wrapped her arms around his thick neck.
Turnip would have helped ease the horrible ache in her chest, but she could not bring herself to look for him. Instead she set to untangle the knots in Vercingetorix's mane.
He sat patiently as she worked. Slowly, the knot in her chest loosened.
"Anything I can do?"
Her father's voice made her jump, and she looked up to see him leaning against the stall door.
When she didn't answer, he disappeared, and returned a moment later with a bucket of brushes. His movements were slow, but he set the bucket on the ground and withdrew a soft brush. Silently, he began brushing all the hay and sawdust from Vercingetorix's glossy side.
"Bellatrix asked me to marry her," Hermione said.
Her father said nothing, but kept calmly brushing the same spot.
"I said yes."
Still, he said nothing.
"We were waiting until we got permission from the Dark Lord to say anything, but I think we should have told you and Mother first." Tears began to pool in her eyes. "I'm worried about Mother. I think she's working with Harry, and Draco. And Ron Weasley," She said Ron's name so harshly that Vercingetorix threw up his head to look at her.
Hermione stared at Vercingetorix. His dark liquid eyes bore into hers. "I don't know what side I'm on anymore, Papa," she whispered.
Warm arms wrapped around her. "Oh, my girl." He rested his chin on her head.
Safe, the tears began to slip down her cheeks. She buried her face in his robes and sighed. "What do I do?"
"Nothing yet." He kissed her head. "You are a Malfoy. We are never on anyone's side but our own. Eventually the correct move will make itself known. When it does, we'll know what to do."
"But Mother-"
"Your Mother is a Black, first and foremost. It makes her more impulsive than you and I. She has stronger convictions, and unfortunately Draco takes after her."
Despite herself, a small smile tugged at her lips.
"We'll be alright though. All of us. Our family is the luckiest family there ever was, and luck like that doesn't run out."
Hermione bit her lip. "And Bellatrix?"
Her father sighed. "I guess that now she's part of the Malfoy family too." He pulled back, "This isn't the choice I would have made for you. Terence Higgs is-"
"My friend," said Hermione firmly, "And Bellatrix-"
"I wasn't done," he interrupted. His arms were still strong around her. "I think the choice was made the second Bellatrix initiated the bond. I did a lot of reading, and I have come to the conclusion that it was inevitable for the two of you to end up together. Your mother will understand when I tell her. It's not ideal," he smirked, "You know that Malfoy's do not marry their aunts. But you have always been an exceptional Malfoy, so I'm sure we can forgive you this once."
The tension drained from her shoulders. "Mother's going to kill me," she joked, "and Draco…" she stiffened again, and stared at Vercingetorix's mane.
"What about Draco?" He prompted, brushing her hair back.
She swallowed, and tried to form her thoughts into words without revealing anything. "I'm-worried for his safety."
"Ah." He bent and picked up the bucket. "Will you allow me to show you something?"
After a moment, she nodded, and took his offered hand.
They returned the bucket to the tack room, and made their way across the back lawn. The grass was soft underfoot, and the scent of her mother's garden was sweet and comforting.
Her father took her upstairs to his study. And he opened a drawer to this desk. Withdrawing a large silver pocket watch, he opened it and passed it to Hermione.
She knew that many Purebloods had family clocks that told them about the members of their family. Harry had described the Weasley clock several times, but she had always assumed the Malfoys were beyond such trinkets.
She stood corrected.
The clock had designations, school, work, travelling, mortal peril, poor health, and at leisure. Three arms were pointed at "mortal peril" and Draco's was pointed at "travelling."
"I've been watching it since my return. Draco's will occasionally flip to mortal peril, but for the most part it stays at 'travelling' or 'at leisure'." He gave her an amused look, "Yours has stayed at 'mortal peril' steadily. Mine was at 'poor health' until earlier this week. I don't know that this is an advantage."
"He's safe?" Hermione breathed.
Her father took the watch and closed it gently. "Safer than the rest of us, sweetheart." He put his hand on her shoulder. "We knew it would be dangerous when he returned. And it is. But we will get through this." He kissed the side of her head, above her ear, and held her for a moment.
"Enough melancholy," he said gently. "Let us go see what our newest family member is up to. Your mother will be heading out any minute for a top secret mission, and I don't want the boy to be lonely."
"You should really add an arm for Coram, Papa," said Hermione, sniffling.
He grinned, "And so I shall. I'll head to the watchmaker's tomorrow. I was thinking about getting you your own anyway. Would that make you feel better?"
She swiped the back of her hand over her eye and nodded.
They found Coram sitting desolately in Narcissa's sitting room. "She left again," he said, looking up from an empty plate. "She's always leaving."
Hermione and her father exchanged a glance. And then he clapped his hands. "I understand that you found your own wand yesterday?"
Coram nodded without looking up.
"Go get it then. I can't have you going off to Hogwarts without learning a thing or two."
Coram looked up, his eyes wide. "But Aunt Narcissa said I was never to use it outside of Hogwarts. Not before I'm of age."
"Well, what mother doesn't know won't hurt her," whispered Hermione.
Coram looked between the two, caught between his idolization of Hermione and his worship of Narcissa. Then he tore out of the room.
Lucius taught him a few stinging hexes, and then they turned the Manor into a massive playground. It was Lucius and Coram against Hermione, and they nearly beat her.
Dinner was two hours late, and the three of them sat clustered around the head of the table, covered in welts from the hexes.
"You're getting good at this," said Lucius. He ruffled Coram's hair.
"Not as good as Hermione," Coram said loyally.
Hermione beamed, and called for dessert.