Chapter Five

"Right then, so finish reading the Companion Encyclopedia of Ancient Magical Herbs and Fungi," Angus ordered. "Once you have that sorted we'll start going over the higher level spellwork involved with integrating Herbology with other disciplines. Great stuff, that."

"Looking forward to it, Master," Hermione assured him.

The American Wizard nodded. "I'll be off then. I'll see you next Thursday, Miss Baker. Actually, by then, you'll be Madam Black, won't you?"

"Assuming Sirius doesn't run off on me, yes," she said with a smile. "Of course, I do keep telling you that you're welcome to call me Hermione, sir. How many times must I remind you?"

"At least once more, Miss Baker," he said with a grin. "I was brought up to mind my manners in the presence of a lady. Melok, I'll see you at the bank."

With that, Angus took his leave, and Melok was left alone with Hermione in the room above the Hog's Head they had rented to do their studying. It was a private, but neutral location, and had its own Floo so any one of them could get there with ease. Melok waited until the door to the room closed behind his long-time friend before he spoke. "You're making good progress with the Herbology Mastery. I expect you'll be finished with it within the year."

"After that, it's just Potions," Hermione mused.

"I've come up with an option for a Master on that front," he admitted. "If you find it amenable, it will mean that the location for your lessons won't even need to move."

Hermione's lips parted, surprise evident on her face. "Aberforth? I mean, I knew he was a Potions Master. I didn't know he was a Grandmaster."

"He doesn't advertise the fact," Melok reported. "Given his brother's fame, he tends to shy away from the spotlight, but I've already spoken with him in a casual way, just to feel him out, and he seems willing to take on a student. I did not admit the student might be a Mage."

She sighed. "Getting close to Aberforth will make it difficult to stay away from Albus."

"Was that something you wanted to do?" he inquired. "I would have thought the opposite. Given you mentioned Albus Dumbledore was one of those I entrusted with the location of the Catacombs in your reality, I would have guessed by the fact that you were on a dangerous mission together that you were friendly with him."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, clearly trying to gather her thoughts. "My relationship with Albus is complicated. It took extraordinary circumstances for a tentative trust to build between us, and it was a trust brought on by necessity. He is not a man I would willingly befriend. I don't suggest that he's a bad man in general. His efforts to defeat Grindelwald speak for themselves, Melok, but he is a man who I would not trust with power of any sort."

"He's merely a Professor at Hogwarts," the Goblin reminded her. "That is hardly much in the way of power. I've even heard tell that he turned down offers to run for Minister of Magic."

"I've heard the same rumors," she admitted. "I think even he knows he shouldn't be trusted with power, but that does not mean he isn't tempted by it. It does not mean he wouldn't be tempted by my power."

"You think that if he knew about you - knew you were a Mage - that he would seek a way to control you?" Melok asked.

"That's my concern," she confided. "Of course, I don't honestly believe he'd be successful in that endeavor, but I am inclined neither to offer him the opportunity to become a perpetual thorn in my side as he attempts it, nor to present him a means to become corrupted by the drive of that effort. I do want him to remain the reasonably decent man I remember, and while I remember an Albus who was friendly with another Mage, that Mage did keep Albus at a distance, and I hope to do the same."

"Does that mean I need to find you another Potions Master?" Melok frowned.

"No," Hermione replied. "Aberforth is a good option, and I know I can't avoid Albus Dumbledore forever, Melok. I would prefer to avoid him knowing I'm a Mage, for as long as I can. In my experiences with the man, I have learned he is far more amenable when he is not the one with more pieces on the board. He's not someone I trust to be a responsible chessmaster. Albus uses the greater good as an excuse for deplorable actions far too often. I will just require, when we contract with Aberforth, that he take a Vow not to tell his brother he is training a Mage, and specifically not to tell Albus that I am a Mage."

"I think he'd be amenable to confidentiality," the Goblin said with a nod. "They're not particularly close."

"Not since Ariana's death," Hermione commented absently.

Melok huffed. "This all knowing, knowledge of the future thing of yours is a bit annoying. Hardly anyone knows about Ariana Dumbledore. She was just a child when she died."

The young woman smirked. "Speaking of children, have you and Genia decided what to do on that front?"

He groaned. "One part of me wants to have a child genetically because given my family's long tradition of training Mages, I would prefer to hand that tradition down to a child who was, at least in part, Goblin by birth. On the other hand, that seems incredibly selfish of me, knowing damn well that Goblin half-breeds who are born with the smaller stature required for their mothers to safely birth them are usually plagued with chronic pain issues later in adulthood as their joints decay."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Do half-Goblin children born without the smaller stature not have those health problems?"

"Those children are rare, Hermione," he remarked. "They're accidents when they do happen, and in the few documented cases, no, it appears they get the best of both genetics and are typically very healthy. Shorter than the average human, certainly, but with a stronger musculature, better eyesight and hearing, and overall better health and longer life."

"Fascinating. It's a shame that the mothers can't handle the birthing process of children like them," Hermione mused.

He shook his head. "In any case, my personal sense of family duty aside, and even setting aside potential health problems, there's the general social ridicule to consider. Half-breeds are hardly welcomed in the world, and rarely find success in life."

"My Charms Professor was a half-Goblin," she admitted softly. "Head of Ravenclaw for many years."

"Then he was a rare case," Melok mused. "Either that or the world radically changed, and if the world was as you say it was, and many were killed, then I might speculate that his rise to that position was merely a side effect of slim pickings for the post. However, if you mean to save as many lives as you do, then opportunities for a half-Goblin child would be even less."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're pessimistic?" she asked.

"Genia mentions it at least once a week," Melok grinned. "All of that said, I'm leaning toward finding a donor and giving her a child that is wholly human. My greatest issue with this plan is quite simply that I fear - and I mentioned this to you before - that whoever the donor is would at some point try and reassert claim on our child. I don't want to raise this child and then have somebody come back later and try to take him or her away."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I have a suggestion, if you're interested."

He raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Regulus, Sirius' younger son," she began. "He has Menspina Mors. With all the shakeup that Sirius and I are doing, Regulus has expressed a desire to do something to contribute to the new, more tolerant legacy of the Blacks, but he is not inclined to take a wife and father children, knowing that within the next few years, he will die, effectively leaving a widow and orphans."

Melok understood. "In other words, if Genia and I use Regulus as a donor, he could have his legacy through our child, and our concerns about a father who'd come back to claim his progeny would be moot considering he'd be dead before too long. That's a very elegant solution, Hermione."

"I thought so," the young Witch agreed. "I haven't said anything to him. I felt it best to speak to you first. If you're open to the idea, you're welcome to reach out to him yourself. Or I could set up a meeting."

"I think it more appropriate if I reach out to him," Melok mused, "However I will tell him it was your suggestion that led to making contact. Of course, this is all assuming that Genia is on board with the idea. I will tell you right now that if she thinks this is as good an idea as I do, and Regulus is agreeable, and all of this leads to us having a child, she's going to want you for Godmother in thanks."

Hermione looked like she'd been hit with a stunner. "Seriously?"

He shrugged. "Considering what I know about you, the reality is that you know more about the future of my child than I do, and I couldn't think of anyone better to be looking out for him or her in any case. Even if Genia doesn't think of the idea, I'm inclined to suggest as much. I'd be willing to bet good Galleons on the notion that you do know our child."

She nodded her head. "I refuse to tell you details, Melok, as so much can change. I did know a child of yours and Genia's. They were a mentor to me, so you'll have to forgive me being slightly boggled at the notion that you want me to be a mentor to them."

"This is what you get for going back in time, Hermione," he smirked. "It was bound to happen. You already mentioned that the Potions Master you would have most preferred to train under won't be born for another few years. You'll have your own Potions Mastery by then. What if you're the one to train him?"

Hermione looked scandalized. "Merlin! Don't even suggest that!"

He laughed. "Right then. Shall we go downstairs? I know it'll be awhile yet before you're ready to start the Potions Mastery, but I can at least introduce you to Aberforth. I imagine you've technically met him before, but not in this reality, so an introduction is proper."

She sighed. "I suppose so."

Aberforth Dumbledore looked up from his place behind the bar as Melok came down the stairs a few minutes behind that American friend of his in the company of that young Witch he'd been meeting for the last few weeks. The three of them had been coordinating get togethers in one of the rooms upstairs, getting up to Merlin knew what. It wasn't his business. He didn't ask, and they didn't tell. Aberforth freely speculated, as speculation was worth everything to a Slytherin, of course, but only at the right price and to the right person. He didn't give information out to just anyone. After all, he was running a business. That said, it didn't seem like the Goblin and his companions were up to anything unsavory. Melok had a reputation for being rather above board, as far as Goblins went, and Angus Steward was a Herbologist that worked out of Gringotts with a reputation for an interest in anything related to genealogy. What the young woman in their company could possibly have in common with the pair of them, Aberforth wasn't sure, but as she and Melok seemed to be coming his way, he ventured a guess that he was about to find out.

"Melok," he greeted. "Something the matter with your room?"

"Not at all," the Goblin replied. "I just thought it was high time I introduced you to Miss Hermione Baker. She and Sirius Black are to be married this weekend."

Aberforth raised an eyebrow. He'd heard that the presumed dead Head of the Blacks had resurfaced and that he'd come back betrothed to a young Muggleborn Witch. That was the talk of Pureblood circles these days. So this was the girl. "Aberforth Dumbledore," he greeted her, offering his hand.

She took it with a smile. "A pleasure. Melok tells me you're a Potions Grandmaster."

"Melok talks too much," he grunted. "I don't like advertising the fact."

"It was slightly relevant to me as once I've finished working with Mister Steward on my Herbology Mastery," Miss Baker said softly, "I will be seeking to begin working on my Potions Mastery. I was hoping that perhaps you'd be willing to take me on."

Aberforth snorted. "What, one Mastery isn't enough for you, girl?"

Melok leaned forward and picked up a bottle of Firewhisky, pouring each of them a glass. "Potions will make a sixth Mastery for her, and the final required for her to become a fully awakened Mage. Of course, I trust you understand this information is sensitive. She's particularly disinclined to have your brother learning of her existence."

He had to admit that this girl exercising caution in regard to Albus gave her points in her favor from the off. Anyone who considered his brother someone to approach with care and to not trust with power, Aberforth considered to be somebody with a good head on their shoulders, Mage or otherwise. "Well then," he said, sipping the drink Melok had poured him.

Discussion paused as the door to the back room opened, and his son stumbled through it. "Father, have you got a pain potion?" he asked without preamble.

"Of course," he replied, quickly rummaging under the bar and into a cabinet where he kept a stock of potions. "Here you go, son."

"Well bloody hell," Miss Baker whispered. "Aurelius Dumbledore. How are you still alive?"

The younger Wizard furrowed his brow. "Do I know you?"

"No," the Witch replied. "However your reputation somewhat precedes you, and I'm somewhat of an expert on Obscurials. I would have expected you to have died long ago, no offense."

"None taken," Aurelius said with a shrug. "My still being alive is a combination of a stubborn Father and a willful Phoenix. Even with the two of them, I don't expect I have more than a few years left. That said, no offense to you, Miss, but you seem quite young. How is it you come to be an expert on my condition?"

Aberforth suddenly realized who, or rather what he was talking to, and hope bloomed in his chest for the first time in years. He reared on Miss Baker, disregarding his son's question. "Is it possible? I mean I know you're not fully…"

Miss Baker turned to Melok. "I'm not certain. What do you think, Melok? Can I at my current level?"

"Perhaps," the Goblin said, looking thoughtful. Then, he reached out and touched Miss Baker's hand, sending a jolt of his own magic toward her.

"Ouch!" Miss Baker said, shaking her arm. "What was that for?"

"I was testing to see if our magic was compatible," he explained. "Your wand core is a Goblin artery, so that already suggested you are attuned to Goblin magic. That did not necessarily mean you could tap into the magical core of a Goblin, but it did suggest it might be possible."

"I could feel your magic," she breathed, "when you did that. You're incredibly powerful."

Melok smirked. "I'm aware, Hermione. To answer your question, I believe you could manage the task, if you tap into my core. I presume Aberforth has Invigorating Draughts on hand. We'll both need them after."

"Are you willing to do that?" Miss Baker asked. "I mean tapping into someone else's core… Melok, that's an extremely intimate thing."

Aberforth raised an eyebrow as the Goblin met Miss Baker's gaze firmly. "I trust you," he said simply.

"Does somebody want to fill me in on what the bloody hell is going on?" Aurelius demanded.

Miss Baker turned and smiled at the younger Dumbledore. "I'm a Mage, Aurelius."

"Good for you," he said, shrugging. "Still don't understand what this has to do with me."

"I never told him, Miss Baker," Aberforth admitted. "I didn't want to give false hope when Mages are so very rare, after all."

"Oh," she said, frowning. "Well I'll answer two questions in one, then, Aurelius. I'm an expert on Obscurials because while not all Obscurials are Mages in the making, it's fairly common for an unawakened Mage who has not been properly trained to become an Obscurial. Further, the only known cure for an Obscurial is for another Mage to force a merger between the Obscurus and the host Witch or Wizard. From what I'm told, it's painful, but it is a complete cure, provided that you properly treat your magic from here on out."

"Cure?" Aurelius said, eyes widening. "You're serious?"

"Completely," she replied.

"When can we do it?" he asked anxiously.

Miss Baker looked at Melok, who shrugged. "Now is fine with me, if that's amenable. I see no reason to wait. You're not getting healthier by the day, Merlin knows."

"What do I do?" Aurelius asked, straightening his shoulders.

"Aberforth, if you would please ward the bar?" she requested, as she began to move chairs and tables against the walls and making space in the middle of the main room, leaving only one chair in the center. "Aurelius, if you would just take a seat there."

The older Wizard took note of the fact that the young Mage hadn't even drawn her wand to do any of that, and while he supposed he shouldn't be surprised given what he now knew about her, it was still astonishing to witness this young chit just wave her hand around and have the furniture of his bar just obey her whims soundlessly. When she finally did draw her wand, he could sense her adding a few of her own wards on top of his. "Were mine not sufficient?" he asked, not offended.

"They were actually better than I expected them to be," she replied with a smile. "However, if the Obscurus breaks free at any point, I want to be sure it remains contained here rather than getting out. I had occasion to come across a property about six months ago that was warded specifically to keep a dying Obscurial in, set up by a Mage before he died. I had to take down those wards and therefore was able to learn a bit about what specific wards are effective in containing Obscurials."

"You seem awfully young to have lived as much as it sounds like you've lived," Aberforth remarked.

Miss Baker looked amused. "You are hardly the first Slytherin I've come across, Mister Dumbledore. I've told you I'm a Mage out of necessity and need for a teacher. I'll help your son because it's the right thing to do, and because believe it or not I do believe that his life may very well serve a greater purpose in the long run. Love is the most powerful thing in the world, after all, and while love can build you up, grief over lost love can just as easily destroy you."

"You sound like a fellow Slytherin," he admitted.

"Home educated," she smirked. "I've been accused of all of the Houses at various points. Melok says Gryffindor. The fact that I'm Muggleborn sort of makes Slytherin unlikely, although a man I considered a brother was as Slytherin as they come. We had a Kinship bond, in fact."

"I think you have secrets," Aberforth accused. "I do believe I'm going to enjoy uncovering them over the course of our studies together."

"Oh, so does that mean you've decided to take me on for the Potions Mastery?" she asked, offering a cheeky grin.

"You're saving my son's life," he reminded her. "I think that's the least I can do."

"Let's get to it, then," Miss Baker said, moving to kneel in front of Aurelius on a conjured pillow, Melok taking up a stance directly behind her and placing his hands on her neck for skin to skin contact. "Aberforth, be ready with Potions, but otherwise just stay out of the way."

He swallowed thickly, but did as she asked, watching as with a touch of Miss Baker's hand, his son fell unconscious, and Melok's eyes began to glow blue as his unique form of magic began to flow through his body and into Miss Baker's. From there, a violent storm of magic unleashed around them, seeming like a tornado funnel of electricity, bright and powerful and stemming from Miss Baker's wand. Just when Aberforth thought things couldn't get any more violent, Miss Baker thrust her hand forward, impacting Aurelius' chest with her free hand, and the storm suddenly seemed to siphon back through the wand and her body, and out through her other hand and into his son's chest.

Aurelius screamed, causing Aberforth to wince. Miss Baker had warned him it would be painful, so he supposed they both should have expected something like this when he'd fallen unconscious at the beginning. A cure for something like an Obscurus could not have been an easy or simple thing, and certainly nothing subtle. The unleashing of power seemed to go on for endless minutes, although in actual calculation of time, Aberforth thought it was probably less than two minutes in the end before she slumped forward, only just casting a cushing charm in advance of Aurelius tumbling off the chair he'd been sitting on. "Oops," Miss Baker groaned.

"Hermione," Melok croaked. "Are you alright?"

"Lovely," she said, rolling over and looking up at the Goblin. "You, darling?"

Aberforth was dumping a series of potions down his son's gullet, but spared a glance at the Witch and the Goblin. The term of affection fell easily from the Witch's mouth in her dazed state, and he could see that it left Melok feeling conflicted. There was clear love in Miss Baker's eyes as she glanced at the Goblin, which Aberforth found odd considering that as far as he knew, she'd only met him a few weeks prior. He also knew that Miss Baker was betrothed to Sirius Black, and Melok was married to Genia Flitwick. Therefore, any affection between them, beyond the platonic sort, was far from ideal. Still, Aberforth Dumbledore ran a bloody pub and he knew what platonic love looked like and he knew what non-platonic looked like, and Hermione Baker was looking at Melok like a woman who loved a man, not like a woman who loved a friend.

That was interesting, to be sure. Still, it was an issue for another day.

Finished with Aurelius, he moved over to the pair of them, offering them each Invigorating Draughts. "Do you need anything else?" he asked.

"Burn salve for my neck wouldn't go amiss," she admitted. "That was a lot of raw magic to channel."

"Sorry," Melok apologized, looking sheepish as he examined what were clear hand shaped burn marks on her neck.

"Don't be," she shrugged. "Don't apologize for being powerful, or for being willing to share yourself for the sake of another. Certainly don't apologize for trusting me to tap into your core. A little burn that will heal quickly enough is a small price to pay."

Aberforth handed her some burn salve. "You're a strange Witch, Miss Baker. Still, I thank you."

The morning of February twenty-fifth arrived quickly enough, and Sirius was more than a little thrilled to be finally marrying Hermione Granger. He never honestly thought he'd be the marrying type, when he was young. James had known from the moment he'd laid eyes on Lily Evans that he wanted to marry her, and even Remus had had some gentle longing for a life partner, even if it took him years to get to a point where he felt like he was worth having one. Peter, Sirius mused, before things had gone to hell, had always been on the lookout for a steady girlfriend as well. He'd never been the sort of bloke that liked being on his own, and while he was socially awkward and that put a damper on his ability to find someone special, Sirius wondered in retrospect what might have happened in a reality where Peter had found someone to love, who'd loved him in return.

He resolved to not let his own personal history with Peter Pettigrew get in the way of trying to pave a better future for the boy who wasn't even born yet. The truth of the matter was that there were a lot of ways Sirius, James, and Remus could have been a better friend to Peter. They'd all known a good deal about one another and each of their families, but Peter had been the exception to that rule. Wormtail had just always changed the subject when the topic of his parents came up, and while he knew his former friend didn't have siblings and that his father hadn't been around, that was basically all he knew about Peter's home life. It begged to question, knowing that his own home life had been key in the development of his personality, what the early years of Peter Pettigrew had been like, and how they had impacted him, potentially even becoming a driving force in how he ended up serving Voldemort in the long haul. What if, Sirius mused, he could intervene in Peter's life the way the Potters had intervened in his? What if Peter had a chance at happiness this time around, and never became a Death Eater? Was that maybe the key to saving James and Lily?

Twenty-five years was a long time, Sirius knew, and there would be a war between now and then. There was no guarantee that he or Hermione would live through the coming conflict, so the smartest move was to put things in place so that other people made the right choices to save Harry from the crap future in store for him if they did nothing. They couldn't be assured they'd be there to stop James and Lily from making Peter the Secret-Keeper. He could, however, work to stop Peter from having a reason to betray them. Hermione had also mentioned some sort of wards Melok had taught her in Beta that would protect all the Blacks that she herself could cast, but that depended on her still being alive to cast it. She seemed hesitant to use that option though, and he figured it was probably because of how far reaching it was. It would lock every single member of their family, which by that time - if all went well - would be huge, under Fidelius.

In preparation for the wedding, Sirius had gone to St. Mungo's for a physical, and had been amused to meet Healer Robert McGonagall. Both of Minerva's brothers, and their families, had been long dead in both Alpha and Beta, so he'd never had the pleasure. As much as he'd wanted to be nosy and inquire about the other McGonagall brother, he knew he was a virtual stranger to the Healer, and short of claiming some sort of standing relationship to Minerva, which was a lie in this reality, there was no way to ask without sounding like a total creep. He could, however, play at being very pleased with Healer McGonagall's service and demand to see him and only him for the foreseeable future.

Besides, he was pleased with McGonagall's service, and he would be making that demand. Nosiness completely aside.

Sirius knew that it would be a matter of maybe half an hour before Arcturus was up his arse to begin getting ready, so he sat up in bed and grabbed the box from his bedside table that contained the wedding gift he'd gotten for Hermione. It was an unusual gift, he supposed, and in no way would any Pureblood bitch his dear mother would have wanted him to marry have appreciated it, but he thought Hermione would like it. She liked to pretend otherwise, but she was one for sentiment, and while he couldn't give her some link to their past specifically, he could give her a symbol of their future that was a piece of history.

Also, he knew that his year-long obsession with Muggle history, sixth year at Hogwarts, would come in handy someday. He bloody told James and Remus so. Peter, at least, had been semi interested. The other two had been total prats about it. Who needed to know about Goblin Wars when you could read about the American Civil War? Merlin! Way more interesting!

Box in hand, Sirius crept out of his room and into Hermione's, sitting on her bed and shaking her carefully, knowing better than to jump scare her. Startling her from sleep was a good way to get seriously hexed. "Love, wake up," he said.

She rolled over. "Early…" she muttered. "I expected Lycoris to wake me up in another half hour."

"How can you even tell what time it is?" he asked with a grin.

"Level of the sun on the wall," she grumbled. "It's not half six till the shadow hits the knob on my nightstand."

"Bloody know-it-all," he laughed. "Wake up anyway. I wanted to give you a present before we start getting fussed over for the day."

She took a defeated breath, and then rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and propped herself up in bed. "Okay. Presents are a good thing to wake up for. I hope you didn't get me anything girly. You know I'm not one for jewelry and whatnot."

He snorted. "I'm well aware. Here."

He handed her the box, which he hadn't even bothered to wrap, knowing she wouldn't care. They both still had habits picked up from living in Beta, and one of those habits was to be conservative, and practical in gift giving. Wrapping paper was a waste of time and of resources. She smiled at him in quiet thanks ahead of seeing what he'd gotten her, and then opened the box. "Merlin," she said, picking up the Muggle revolver from where it was neatly nested. "I know it's antique. I'm assuming there's a story?"

Sirius grinned, the light of appreciation in her eyes making all the Galleons he'd spent on the damn thing well worth it. "A hundred and eighteen years ago, Samuel Colt patented the first revolver. This revolver, as it happens. I went through a bit of a phase, studying Muggle history, and if you ever look into the history of Samuel Colt, you'll realize that his legacy is a pretty solid analogy for what we're trying to build here. Innovation. Pioneering. Redefining convention. Putting family first, even when it means going against the grain of tradition. I wanted to give you this gun as my symbol to you that no matter what, I will stand by your side and see this thing through. Please don't shoot me with it. I'm told it's still in working order."

Hermione let out a laugh, and after carefully placing the gun back in the box, leaned over and kissed him soundly. "After the wedding, I'll give you a proper thank you. I love it. I may even Transfigure some bullets and go somewhere safe and have a go with it. My Dad taught me how to shoot the summer between my fifth and sixth years. He said he didn't give a damn what I could do with all my fancy wand waving, and that he was pretty sure that push come to shove he could do in a Wizard just as easily with a forty-five Magnum as I might with a wand. As such, I learned to shoot."

"I wish I could have met him," Sirius admitted.

She shrugged. "One day, perhaps that can be arranged. I mean, he's only a few years old now, but when he grows up a bit I'm sure we can accidentally run into him."

"Accidentally?" he teased.

"Sure, if I can accidentally, accidentally get myself thrown back more than fifty years into my own past, I'm fairly certain I can accidentally, on purpose, meet my Dad in a few years. Can't be too hard to arrange," she smirked.

"Starting to see why people like to toss you in Slytherin, love," Sirius taunted. "You're sneaky."

"Don't say shite like that on the day I'm supposed to agree to marry you, Sirius Black!"

He pressed another kiss on her lips and then stood. "Understood, ye fine example of Gryffindor House. That said, I'm going to be a piss poor example of our alma mater and retreat before Lycoris comes to wake you up and finds me in here."

Hermione's laughter was still ringing in his ears when he made it down the stairs and into the kitchen in search of something to eat before Arcturus hunted him down. Why the hell had he agreed to a high society wedding again?

The Floo fired up and out popped Cedrella. "Good morning Uncle Sirius," she greeted. "Are you ready to utterly shatter convention by marrying a Muggleborn in the old traditions in front of every Pureblood Lord and Lady this side of the Atlantic?"

He swallowed. Right. That was why. Hermione wanted to make a bloody statement. He offered a weak smile to his niece. "Bring it on," he said.

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