Sorry for the delay, folks. Ended up with a 'go to the hospital' level tooth infection. Then followed some serious time with narcotics and antibiotics. To my displeasure, the antibiotics always seem to make me sick to my stomach. Overall, UGH sort of week. Hope you enjoy the new chapter.
Hermione looked guiltily at her publisher, Alexander Poppins. "Actually, I haven't really made much more progress than the last time we spoke."
"I don't get you, Hermione," the man said, running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair. For the better part of a decade you were churning out new books yearly, and then this year, you've not even gotten past an outline and the first couple of chapters. I'm honestly a bit concerned. This isn't like you at all."
"The last year has been…" Hermione sighed, not even sure what to say. "There have been certain things in my personal life that have become a distraction."
"Everything okay with you and Ron?" Alexander inquired, looking sympathetic.
"More or less," Hermione replied. "Though I'm not sure how much longer that will be the case."
The older man frowned. "Is that tosser cheating on you?" he demanded.
Hermione blushed furiously, unable to answer.
Understanding dawned on her publisher. "You…?" he gaped.
She nodded, looking at the desk as she mumbled out something in her own defense. "It's complicated. If I did leave Ron for my lover, it would cause ripples for more than just my own family."
"Is your new man also married?" Alexander asked, looking more than a little interested in Hermione's personal drama. While he dealt only in the publishing of educational books, he was well known for being caught with a trashy romance novel in hand. It was no wonder the man was a lifelong bachelor.
Hermione had known Alex since her early days at the Ministry, right out of Hogwarts, and she felt she could trust him with her secrets. Besides, the older man had long been vocal about how he didn't think she and Ron were well suited.
"No. She is quite single," Hermione whispered.
Alexander's jaw dropped. "She?!"
Hermione nodded.
"Blimey."
"I know. I was rather surprised by that twist myself."
"She hot?"
"Incredibly, but also a pureblood whose family was very much associated with Voldemort," Hermione explained.
"Thus the problems regarding any situation in which you were public about your relationship," he mused.
"Exactly."
"I won't tell a soul," Alexander promised. "And I won't ask for her name. I know you well enough to know that while you'd put your own head on the line by confiding in me, you would not also endanger her reputation."
"You're a good friend, Alex," Hermione smiled. "Thank you for… understanding. That said, you're right, I do need to get back on track with the writing. Not that I really need the money, but I don't wish to harm your reputation by forcing you to tell distributers that the book you promised them is no time soon in the coming."
"I appreciate that," he replied. "That said, we still have three months till they were expecting an official release date, so if we can have a rough draft finished by then, we should be alright. I know you're more than capable of making that happen, provided you make it a priority. The research is done, we've already talked about that. All that you need to do is assemble it into something the snot nosed little brats at Hogwarts can understand."
"Two of those snot nosed brats are mine," she said pointedly. "And another belongs to my lover. Well, two for her, if we're counting her grandchild."
"She has a child and a grandchild at Hogwarts, huh?" Alexander mused, eyes gleaming. "Factoring in the dark family background, there's really only one, single witch who fits that description. And my, my, Hermione, she is indeed hot."
"Damn!" the brunette cursed. "Why do I always forget I'm talking to a Ravenclaw?"
"It also helps that my mother was a Slytherin," he mused. "It's in my nature to analyze clues on the fly. Still, I won't say a word. Even to dear Narcissa."
"Thank you," she sighed.
"Though when Ron finds out… I would really love a view at your memory of that event."
"Prat!" she laughed, smacking his arm.
"I can't figure it out!" Draco announcing, walking into the Malfoy library where his mother had been sequestered for the last several hours.
"What?" Narcissa inquired absently, peering intently at the open text in front of her.
"What your sudden interest in making peace with Potter, Weasley, and their families is," he explained. "And how it relates to your present research. I know you well enough to know they must be related."
"Maybe they are, maybe they are not," she replied, closing the book and covering the title with her hand. No need to give her elder son any extra clues. "With Indus off at Hogwarts, I simply have free time for the first time since he was born. Perhaps I am simply getting new hobbies."
"Or perhaps not," Draco accused.
"Draco, like it or not, your brother and your son have attached themselves to the Potter and Weasley children. Harry has been amicable to this thus far, and Hermione has also been supportive of the relationship between the children. I merely think it's time to take that foundation and move forward. Regarding my frequenting of your library, as I stated, I am simply making use of my newfound free time."
"Most well off senior witches take up golf," Draco argued.
"Call me senior again any time in the next thirty years and I'll hex you to look one-hundred and fifty. Permanently."
Draco's face paled. "Yes, Mother. Sorry. And on that note… I think… I'll just leave you to your very sensible hobby of reading obscure books about base magics. See you at dinner."
Narcissa smirked as her elder son scurried out of the library. It was nice to know that even though he was a grown man with a child of his own, she could still scare Draco into submission when necessary.
Hermione flinched as Narcissa's fingers drug over the scar on her arm. The scar Bellatrix had given her. The scar that said mudblood. "Don't look at that," she whispered.
They cuddled close in what had become their bed at Narcissa's cabin, using the residue heat from their lovemaking to ward off the chill in the February air. They could have of course cast warming charms, but Hermione found that she preferred to just hold her lover close. She never liked to cuddle with Ron, but she felt completely comfortable when Narcissa curled up behind her, breasts pressing into her back.
"I'm sorry," the older witch sighed. "Just… sometimes I forget it all happened. That we have history that should have been reason enough for us never to be friends, let alone what we've become."
"If it makes you feel any better, it's much the same line of thought for me everytime I see you with Draco," Hermione admitted. "He reminds me of who your husband was."
"Draco isn't Lucius," Narcissa said firmly.
"Nor are you Bellatrix," Hermione said pointedly. "Love, I know that your family caused me pain in the past, but you never did. Yet, you still seem to feel guilt."
"Hermione, you were in my home, tortured, and I stood there and did nothing to stop it," the blond said, voice cracking as she pressed her face into Hermione's shoulder. "I should have done something."
"There's nothing you could have done," Hermione said. "Had you helped me that day, it would have put you, Lucius, and Draco all in a lot of danger."
"True, but still, what kind of monster just sits there listening to a child scream in pain and does nothing to help?" Narcissa argued.
Hermione wasn't sure why Cissa seemed so intent on carrying guilt over her torture, but arguing about it seemed to be going nowhere, so she opted for another approach. Rolling over to face her lover, she was shocked to see tears streaming down her lover's cheeks. "Oh, Cissa…"
"I'm so sorry…" the older woman choked out. "I'm so, so sorry."
"Look at me, love," Hermione said, touching Narcissa's cheek. "It's not your fault."
"I suppose not," the older woman muttered, looking away.
"Narcissa," the brunette said firmly. "It's not your fault."
The blond tried pulling away. "I get it, Hermione."
"It's not your fault."
"Stop it!" Narcissa demanded.
"It's not your fault," Hermione whispered again.
And then the dam broke, and Narcissa collapsed into Hermione's waiting arms, sobbing as if her life depended on it. She was crying for her sister, for her parents, for all the lives lost on both sides and the role she'd played or not played in the grand scheme of things. She cried for a choice of love she'd not had as a teenager, and for the husband that she'd grown to care for despite being forced to marry him. She cried for how Hermione, Harry, and all their friends had suffered under Voldemort, and she cried for all the children who'd grow up without one or both parents because of the deaths. She cried for the future of both her sons, and how their lives would be impacted by the choices made by the previous generations. Most all, she cried for the situation she was facing now, and the soul consuming love she felt for the woman holding her.
Hermione knew the reasons Narcissa cried, because she had cried for all the same reasons before, some years ago when Harry had said those same words to her - it's not your fault - when she'd been laying blame on herself for not being smart enough, or fast enough, to save more lives. "Shhh," she cooed, stroking her lover's hair. "It's going to be alright. I promise you, Cissa, it's going to be alright."
Narcissa arrived at Hogwarts, this time with an appointment. "Narcissa Black, to see the Headmistress," she stated to the stone guardian.
The gate swung open enough to give her entry, though this time she was not interrogated about her presence. It was well into July now, and more than a little warm. Rain the night before had left the stone pathway a bit slippery so she was careful as she made her way to the castle's entryway. Narcissa found solace in the quiet halls as she continued toward the Head's office. She'd been here many times in the last several decades relating to Draco, and then Indus' education, though then the halls had been busy and rattled with noise.
The last time Narcissa had seen these halls so quiet had been directly after the final battle of the war. Hogwarts had been in ruin then, and while the many injured could be heard moaning, and those who'd lost loved ones could be heard crying, the distinct lack of laughter echoing off the stone had been deafening, lending to the illusion of silence. No one laughed after the battle. For weeks, she hadn't heard a single laugh. The war had just been too devastating, and to have the final battle be in these halls had seemed something akin to a slaughter on holy ground. It seemed wrong that Hogwarts would be forever tainted by that fateful night.
Further back in Narcissa's memory, there was a time when she could recall being here when the halls were just like this - completely empty. She'd been at the end of her seventh year as a student, and weeks prior her father had Owled and informed her she was to wed Lucius Malfoy over the summer. At the time, she'd been secretly involved with a young Gryffindor with flaming red hair and brilliant green eyes. The girl had been a year younger, though far more sensible than Narcissa. She had known that the engagement to the Malfoy heir meant that their relationship had to come to an end. She had kissed Narcissa goodbye and gotten on the train home that day, while Narcissa had hidden in her dorm, afraid to go home. Afraid of the life she was meant to live, and terrified of the rising Dark Lord to whom she knew her betrothed was already allied.
Dumbledore had found her hours later, wandering these very halls, and personally escorted her home. Before he'd left her, he'd offered an out. He'd told Narcissa that if she truly did not wish to acquiesce to her father's arrangement, he could protect her. In the end, it boiled down to duty. Andromeda had already been disowned by then, and her father had recently discovered that Bellatrix was barren. If her family line was to continue, it was up to her, and so Narcissa had smiled tightly and told Dumbledore she'd manage. She had done just that, even if the road had been hard. She was a Black. Blacks were strong.
The door to the Headmistress' office was open and waiting for her entry, and Minerva was already sitting on the sofa making two cups of tea. "Good afternoon, my dear," the older witch smiled.
Never one for beating around the bush, Narcissa got right to the point. "I was wondering if I might trouble you for access to the Hogwarts Library," she said, taking a seat next to her former Transfiguration Professor. "Despite being extensive, neither the Black or Malfoy Libraries seem to have much regarding a way to break the Clairsentience Link."
"You promised, Ron!" Hermione shouted. "I have a deadline to meet."
"But I said I'd meet Seamus down at the pub!" Ron shouted right back. "They'll already be there by now, I can't back out this last minute!"
"I'm sure the guys will understand when you tell them you'd forgotten you were taking your children to see their uncle," Hermione snapped. "Family comes first, Ron. Not the man-whore extraordinaire Seamus bloody Finnegan."
"He's my best mate!"
"I thought Harry was your best mate," she scoffed. "Oh, that's right, you two stopped hanging out as much when Harry told you to grow the bloody hell up!"
"Hey! I love Harry, you know that, 'Mione," Ron grumbled. "We don't hang out as much anymore because we see each other at work every day, and when we're not working, he's too busy to do other stuff."
"Yes Ron, busy with his children. Who are rightly his priority!"
A few minutes more of arguing and Ron had sent a patronus message to Seamus and stormed off to find the kids. Hermione hoped they'd stayed out back for the duration of the argument… she knew it wasn't good for them to hear their parents yelling at one another. Of course, what started as a simple question of what time Ron was heading to the Burrow with the kids, as planned only two days ago, hadn't meant to be another screaming match. It was just so frustrating how often things like this happened. Ron would agree to something, and then claim he'd forgotten. Usually his forgetfulness coincide with drink with Seamus, or a Cannons game on the tele. Hermione hated where his priorities were.
"Bye Mum!" Hugo hollered at her, his growing feet stomping down the stairs and toward the fireplace in the next room.
Rose startled her by coming at her from behind, pulling her into a tight hug. "Bye Mum," the fourteen year old whispered.
Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying. It was clear that Rose, and probably Hugo too, had indeed heard every angry word between she and Ron. The sympathy in her daughter's voice had been heartbreaking. It was a tone that said we're used to it. Her children shouldn't be used to hearing their parents bicker.
Ron didn't even bother with a goodbye as he tossed Floo Powder into the fireplace, and with a roar and a hiss, escorted his children to his parents' place for the afternoon. As planned. So she could get some work done on her latest book without distraction. Something he'd offered two days ago when she'd been stressing about how much she still needed to get done.
She'd jumped at the opportunity, feeling a roar of satisfaction and pleasure in her chest that told her that maybe, just maybe, she and Ron still had a marriage worth fighting for. Hermione couldn't deny what she felt for Narcissa, but really, what sort of life could she and Narcissa have? They came from two completely different worlds, and they stood to lose so much if one wrong person learned of their relationship. And so if they couldn't be a couple publically, what was the point of leaving Ron for her, really? She'd get divorced and then somewhere down the road people would begin pressuring her to date again, and she couldn't tell them that she was blissfully already seeing someone.
On the other hand, she was just shy of miserable with Ron, and she hated how their disagreements impacted Rose and Hugo. Perhaps divorce, regardless of Narcissa's role in her life, was the avenue to go. If her friends started to pressure her to dating, what's the worse that could happen? It wasn't as if they could force her to actually get involved with someone. She could, occasionally, go on a date with someone and then report it as a disaster. Or, perhaps she could get Alexander to pretend to be her boyfriend. Downside to that would be the accusations that they'd been involved prior to her divorce, that she'd been having an affair.
They wouldn't be wrong on that count. She was having an affair. Just not with her publisher.
Hermione sniffled, fighting back the tears as she sat down at her desk with a cup of tea and her laptop, current writing project in front of her, needing to be worked on. Once this one was done, she was going to have to tell Alexander that this was going to be her last book for a while. She had too much else on her plate right now to really focus on a source of income she didn't actually need. Alexander would understand her need for a sabbatical.
So... who wants to see more of Alexander Poppins in this story? PLEASE REVIEW!
