Hermione had never seen such a change come over someone before. Forty minutes ago things had still been tense, a little stifling in the aftermath of years of unshed tears and unpolished apologies. Now, two glasses into a very expensive bottle of elvish wine, it was like she was in a parallel universe. The others were far ahead of her, of course, as seasoned experts in drunken revelry. This last part was being explained to Hermione by two thirds of the Black sisters.
"Oh Andy," Narcissa started to say, interrupted by a shockingly unrefined burp, "remember—member the time we drank some of daddy's elvish draft and we," hiccup "we…we…we—"
"Oui! In Paris, the summer before our sixth year. Oh, those Beauxbaton girls showed us a good time!" Andromeda said, little too loudly to sound sober. She and Narcissa had been going through a naught list of all the girls and boys they snogged while drunk out of their minds. When they first started talking about girls, Hermione wanted to jump out of her skin. She looked at Andromeda in alarm when Narcissa recounted the ludicrous tale of Andromeda sneaking out past curfew to shag her Hufflepuff girlfriend in the Room of Requirement. Andromeda repaid Hermione's shocked expression with an arched eyebrow and a shrug of her shoulders—a look that said What, did you think you were the only one on earth to fancy girls? Now, however, the conversation was moving to more sordid accounts of all sorts of debauchery.
"You loud, sloppy fools are turning Hermione into a tomato," Bellatrix drawled from the corner of the loveseat, where she was curled up. She had decided early on to be a silent observer for the most part, adding jeering remarks every now and again and occasionally correcting small details from the conversation; Hermione had felt her eyes on her since they had migrated from the dinner table. She wanted desperately to continue their mental conversation from earlier, but Hermione had had too much too quickly to even attempt any sort of magic.
Narcissa seemed to take her sister's comment literally, and whipped her head up from where it was beginning to lull against the side of the couch's armrest.
"Oh dear. Hope that was-wasn't-" hiccup "me—my fault."
"Noo Cissy," Andromeda reassured her little sister, "Bella meant that in a metamormorphical way."
"Metaphorical" Hermione corrected under her breath.
"Amazing, the girl is tossed and she still corrects us," Narcissa said in a light tone that dulled the blow of her words, "no wonder my son can't stand you."
"Yes, she has a talent for surprising you with her know-it-all-ness" Bellatrix said from her corner.
"I'm not surprised anymore," Andromeda said proudly (and loudly), "living with Hermione is like having a walking talking book that also happens to be your daughter." Hermione flushed at this, as she always did when Andromeda got sentimental. Or expressed any kind of emotion, really. Across from the young witch, Narcissa sat up straight and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and putting her chin in her hand
"About that," Narcissa started, and Hermione already knew how she'd finish, "how did that come about? Not that we're not pleased to be welcomed into the family," she hastily added, in fear of her words being misunderstood, "I'm just curious how a mud— muggle sorry, dear, how a muggle-born came to live under my sister's roof." Hermione glanced at Andromeda, trying to communicate with her like she had with her sisters. Thankfully, she didn't need to project her thoughts for Andromeda to understand what she was thinking. She nodded when Andromeda made eye-contact and raised an eyebrow. It was their signal for Are you alright with this? Andromeda cleared her throat, Narcissa leaned forward still, and Bellatrix tried to look like she was nonchalantly inspecting her nails. She wouldn't be fooling anyone if they were looking, but luckily for her all attention was on Andromeda. Hermione tucked her legs underneath her and wrapped a shawl over her shoulders, unconsciously curling up into a protective ball.
"As you well know, Hermione comes from a muggle family," Andromeda began, "in her first year, Tonks was already a seventh year. They saw each other occasionally at Black Lake. Hermione liked to read there in silence and Tonks liked playing with the mermaids. Always liked to play with fire, that one," Andromeda added, a little sadly, "Anyway, one day there was an incident, a mermaid got a little too friendly and Hermione acted quickly—one thing led to another, and my Tonks shows her gratitude by buying Hermione her first butterbeer. And her second. And third and fourth and fifth." Hermione smiled at this, despite knowing that in just a few moments, she would be reliving her most painful memories.
"So, my tossed little lion and my slightly tipsy badger get to talking, as we do when liquor loosens us," Andromeda continued, aware of the irony in her words, "And Tonks notices that Hermione doesn't talk about her family, her home—not even herself, really. Just books and theories. So Tonks asks outright, what about your parents? And Hermione, she—" Andromeda stops, gathers herself for the hardest part, the one she could never understand; how could any parent worth their salt? "She explains, slurs really, that this is her last year at Hogwarts, that her father had fallen under the influence of some…disagreeable characters, and had given her an ultimatum. Leave the school, or leave her family. Hermione hadn't been able to contact her mother in all this time, since he forbid all forms of magical communication—even a letter delivered by owl was just too much for the man!" Andromeda huffed, then remembered herself.
"So, what does my Tonks do after hearing this? She gets Hermione to her dorm safely, because she did just get an impressionable first year drunk for the first time—and the golden girl, at that. Then she gets to work, mining over the details Hermione had given her. Where she grew up, what kind of house she grew up in, those kind of things. One week later, she sneaks out of Hogwarts in the middle of the night and hops on a train to Kings Cross. She finds Hermione's house after some trial and error—I recall her telling me that she knocked on the doors of half the homes in the neighborhood and every single time, it looked liked the exact same pale white middle-aged couple came to the door. Well, finally she gets to a house where only a woman answers. Apparently she looks just like an older version of Hermione. So Tonks starts talking about Hermione right off the bat, telling her that she really misses her mother. The lady interrupts her, telling her she has no idea who Hermione is. Then Tonks says, I go to school with your daughter. And the woman's face changes. Suddenly, she leans in, as if afraid of someone inside listening to her conversation. She tells Tonks that no matter what, in any circumstance, Hermione cannot come home. Ever. For her safety. Before she can say anything else, a man comes up behind her. His eyes look wild and bloodshot, his hair combed a little too neatly. Tonks gets a bad feeling immediately. The woman's entire demeanor suddenly changes; now she is just like the other wives in the other houses she knocked on—complaint, meek, afraid. He asks what this is all about. Tonks looks at Hermione's mother and sees pure terror on her face. So she says, I was wondering if you'd seen a stray cat around—I just lost mine, this neighborhood was the last place she was soon. He didn't buy this story. His grip on the door frame grew tighter, his knuckles were white. Before he can say anything, she thanks them for their time and runs down the street, shouting Pumpernickle! Where are you! Meow if you can hear me!"
"Instead of going straight back to school, Tonks came here. She waited, oddly patient, while I reprimanded her, which is how I knew something serious was happening. She showed me her memory of the day in our pensive. She didn't even need to ask. Hermione came home with her at the end of the year." Andromeda smiled as she came to this part, "And we've been a bigger family ever since." The room fell into a thoughtful silence. The grandfather clock chimed unobtrusively, alerting the occupants that it was one in the morning. No one made a move to leave. Finally, Narcissa broke the quiet.
"Have you heard anything from your mother since then?" She asked softly, an uncharacteristic shine in her eyes. If Hermione didn't know any better, she'd think Narcissa had been moved to tears.
"No," Hermione answered softly.
"What about the rest of your family?"
"Nothing, from anyone."
"Hermione," Bellatrix interrupts suddenly, "did you live in the muggle part of Chatsworth?"
"Yes. Yes I—how did you know?" asked Hermione
"On my sabbatical I—" Bellatrix stopped just as suddenly as she started, clutching at her throat. Hermione put the pieces together.
"You think its related? My father's sudden change in disposition and the thing you mentioned earlier—could it be?" In answer, Bellatrix nodded tightly. Evidently, it was still hard for her to speak over the fidelius. Hermione made the rest of the connections for the rest of the party, "The part that struck me about what Tonks said was the other families—the identical nature. I don't think it was looks so much as behavior, mannerism. What if there was larger force influencing them? My father was always such a mild-mannered man…it's hard to explain the change that came over him in my first year…it's almost too good to be true." At this, Hermione got some strange looks. She explained,
"It would be nice to have an actual answer as to why…why this happened. I know sometimes the truth is that people change for the worst, for reasons we can't understand, but if there is an actual explanation for this…that would be so…it would just be easier to understand. I want there to be a reason."
"There might be," Bellatrix said softly, looking at Hermione with her intense, dark eyes. The young witch thought she could detect traces of sympathy in her voice. Maybe even pity. She pushed this from her thoughts.
Another silence filled the room. Each witch was lost in her own respective thoughts, thinking of what one usually thinks of in these moments—one's self.
Narcissa wondered if there was a force on earth strong enough to keep her away from her son. She discarded the notion almost immediately. Preposterous.
Andromeda was thinking about whether she could ever fill the shoes of Hermione's mother, if Hermione would ever call her 'mom', or if that word was tainted for her forever.
Bellatrix, on the other hand, wondered if she should have worn a lower cut gown. If there was anything she learned in her years as Hermione's professor, it was that a little cleavage could possess the girl's thoughts for quite some time. And right now, the poor girl looked so torn, Bellatrix just wanted to take her mind off things. She actually considered walking up to her and pulling the young girl to her bosom. Not in a sexual way, she tried to rationalize it to herself—just to reassure the girl that she was there. As quickly as the thought came, she tried to stamp it out. I'm not the girl's mother, she thought, or even her friend. She didn't dwell on why that last part made her heart ache.
They heard a shuffling sound from upstairs, a door open and shut quietly and a set of feet slowly made their way down the stairs. Ted stood at the bottom of the staircase in his pajamas; a loose pair of flannel pants and a large faded shirt that said "I LOVE MY WIFE" in big block letters. Andromeda had gotten it for him as a gag-gift on their anniversary, and Ted, being Ted, loved it and vowed to wear it everyday of his life. And he did, technically, by wearing it to bed every night. He walked over to the entrance of the living room and leaned against the frame, glancing around at their tired, inebriated faces.
"I take it you ladies had fun?" He was met with a chorus of grumbles, and a distinct "Oh dear Merlin someone stop him and his relentless optimism" that Hermione was pretty sure came from Narcissa.
"Well, its just after one in the morning, you all are very clearly in no shape to apparate home, and if my wife hasn't offered already, you are welcome to stay with us for the night. I make a mean egg in a basket, if you need convincing."
"Very well, show us to our rooms" said Narcissa, surprisingly not putting up a fight. Hermione thought the pure-blood would make a scene at the implication that she was not capable of apparating home. She must have been more drunk than she looked.
"Ahem…well, we currently only have one guest room, with a twin bed…I converted the other guest room into a study" Ted offered sheepishly.
"Well then," Bellatrix said matter-of-factly, "We'll just transfigure—"
"NO!" Ted yelled in a panic. Narcissa and Bellatrix looked at him in alarm. Andromeda and Hermione shared a knowing look.
"It's just that…everything in this house is a statement piece, you know? I've arranged everything just right and transfiguring anything—I mean anything is just absolutely—its just. Well, I absolutely prohibit it." To emphasize his seriousness, Ted cross his arms over his chest and lifted his chin up, daring anyone to challenge his interior decorating authority. Bellatrix looked like she was going to take the bait.
"Putting your foot down, are you?" Bellatrix asked innocently enough.
"Both of my feet are firmly on the hardwood floor that I laid down myself" Ted said proudly. "It's teak, if you couldn't tell," he added.
"Well," Narcissa said while releasing a sigh, "It seems I owe you an apology Andy. I thought you married a weak man, but he's obviously got his priorities straight." Turning to Ted, she looked him up and down cooly before saying, "I admire a man who takes pride in his home."
Ted smiled and looked at the ground, obviously flattered. Bellatrix huffed and said, "Well, that's fine then—I'll take the guest room if you're so in love with the idea of not changing a thing." Ted jumped to attention and made a big show of directing Bellatrix upstairs. Narcissa looked at Andromeda expectantly.
"It seems our dear older sister has taken the only available bedroom for herself. Shall I be sleeping with you and Ted then?" Hermione blushed beet red at this, but Andromeda just laughed and she realized it was a joke. Narcissa, the ice queen, had just made a joke.
"Since Tonks is out, you can take her bed. She probably won't be back until tomorrow afternoon anyway."
"It must be so hard, to let your child go out into the world like that. Not knowing…" Narcissa trailed off empathetically. Andromeda only offered a half-smile in response.
"Very well, then. Show me to my room?" Narcissa asked.
"Hermione, would you be a dear?" Andromeda asked instead. Turning to her sister, she
said, "You'll be sharing the room with Hermione."
"You and Nymph—Tonks share a room? Even though there is a guest bedroom?" Narcissa asked, puzzled.
"Yes. We, um, tried separate rooms for a while but we kept ending up sleeping over in each other's room. It just made sense. Practically speaking."
"I see. Well then, Miss Granger. After you." Hermione wondered at the sudden shift in the woman into her former, formal self. She led them up to the bedroom without another word. Once inside, Hermione heard Narcissa close the door. And then lock it. She turned around to look at her and was surprised to find the witch standing so close.
"Ah..um..your bed is on the…on the right" Hermione sputtered. Narcissa glanced at the bed.
"The one with the badger bedspread?"
"Yes. That's the one." They shared an odd moment of peaceful silence, standing perhaps a little too close. Hermione could smell the fruity scent of the elvish wine on Narcissa's breath. Then, as is she had reached some conclusion, Narcissa shook her head and headed for her bed. She sat on it, prim and proper, and began to unbutton her blouse. Hermione hastily averted her eyes and began to dress for bed as well.
"I suppose you wish it were my sister here, instead of me," Narcissa remarked casually. Hermione turned around from where she was struggling to pull her jumper off, ready to deny this. Unfortunately, her jumper refused to cooperate and her arms and half her head were stuck, while the rest of her torso was bare save for a thin black bra. She felt her cheeks grow warm—she had just flashed Draco Malfoy's mum. Her embarrassment only increased when she heard the click of heels approaching her. A tug, and the blasted jumper was off. Hermione stood topless in front of Narcissa, who had also removed her blouse.
"That's alright, though. Bella always needed to learn to share, anyway," Narcissa continued, "There's no need to deny it, dear. I see the way you look at her." She took a few steps back, as if appraising the young witch. Hermione felt the need to cover herself with her arms, but she didn't. She didn't want to think about why.
"Oh you brave little lion," she said, stalking towards her as if she were a prize to be won, " 'You confuse yourself for a wave, but you are the entire ocean.'" Hermione had no idea what the older witch was talking about. She turned her head so that she was not on the receiving end of a look which she did not—could not understand.
"What is it with you Black sisters," she said, a rosy flush coloring her cheeks and neck, "that makes you so damn romantic?" The older witch smiled slowly, a sparkle in her eyes.
"It's simple, really," she leaned down and brushed Hermione's hair back, so that the side of the younger witch's neck was exposed, "we see a pretty, young girl," Hermione could feel the puffs of hot air against her neck, "and we just have to make her blush."
"W-well, you've succeeded" Hermione replied a little breathlessly.
"'And I will continue to succeed where others have failed'" the older witch said, much in the same strange cadence as before, as if she were quoting something. Bringing both hands to Hermione's face, she gently cupped the girl's cheeks.
"'I will conquer you,'" Narcissa's eyes danced with a spark of mischief, her breath puffing over Hermione's lips, "'I will let myself be conquered by you.'" Hermione felt herself close her eyes, but she she didn't realize it herself. She could see her, still, behind her closed eyelids. A scorching, cool beauty in impractical heels.
"I hope I'm not interrupting something," Bellatrix said, barging into the room the expression on her face decidedly not contrite. It was rather deadly, the way she looked at her sister in proximity to the girl she—but not that, not now.
"I thought I locked that" said Narcissa, unperturbed. She didn't take her hands or her eyes of Hermione. Hermione, on the other hand, scrambled to cover herself with her discarded jumper.
"You did. I unlocked it" Bellatrix grit out from her locked jaw.
"Would you mind closing it and locking it again? We were kind of in the middle of something…"
"We weren't!" Hermione denied, "She was just helping me..my jumper got stuck…" Bellatrix looked at Hermione for a long moment.
"I came here to tell you something I just realized…but it can wait, apparently." Hermione's heart sunk at the tone. She sounded…hurt? Before she could reply, Bellatrix turned and left the room, closing the door behind her.
"Well then, goodnight Hermione" Narcissa said, letting go of her and walking to her bed. Hermione stood there, dumbstruck at this rapid turn of events.
"Don't just stand there dear. As much as I love the view, you'll catch a cold" Narcissa said from underneath her covers. Hermione shivered, not at the cold but at her words. She quickly threw on her pajamas and hastily undid her bra beneath her shirt before diving under the covers. She fell asleep tipsy, turned on, and very, very confused.
