AN: I am so sorry it took so long, but I should be back to my Monday/Tuesday updates now. Enjoy!

Chapter 12: Laughter and Hard Truths

Hermione sat primly next to Mrs. Longbottom and took her tea. She didn't squirm as as she so wanted to under the scrutiny of the older woman. Mrs. Longbottom had returned from her trip and insisted on meeting with the girl to see the progress before letting her into the shark tank that was sometimes Hogwarts.

"Miss Granger, how was your summer?" Mrs. Longbottom started it off. Hermione noticed the formal greeting and replied in kind.

"It was lovely, Lady Longbottom," she said. "Quite enlightening, if I may be so bold."

"In which ways?" It was a trap, of course it was a trap. Proper conversations were full of them.

"The levels of conversation are simply fascinating," Hermione fawned. Her face showed not the disgust at the words. "It is a delicate art, of course comunication always is-to understand and be understood. However, to evolve such to this graceful dance...well, it's beautiful." Hermione took a sip of her tea and swallowed back the bile. 'Graceful, my arse,' she thought.

Mrs. Longbottom laughed and took a sip as well.

"Quite well, my dear," she smiled. "I've always had such little patience for the 'delicate art,' as well. But necessity being what it must, I guess. You have learned the rules well. I am quite impressed, Hermione. As time goes, you will also learn when to break them, though that is even more delicate."

Hermione sighed, the use of her first name releasing her.

"I despise it," Hermione whispered. "I didn't know that I could. I didn't know enough to know that I would hate it. But now I do and oh do I." She started long into the tea in her hands.

"I understand," Mrs. Longbottom started slowly. "It is one thing to learn a bit of history behind current prejudices and another to learn all the ways they can and will keep you down. Most days I hate it too." The young witch looked up at that confession and the old woman smiled.

"My grandson is considered the boy-who-lived and pureblood to boot," she continued. "Quite the catch, of course, but then I have to politely decline betrothal contracts for girls whose fathers tried to wipe the Longbottoms out. It is disdainful, but necessary. But you can make it work for you."

"How?" Hermione shot out.

"You lay the traps in conversation. You let those pureblood princess walk right into them and then they can bow and kiss the tips of your fingers and eat their words. You may be bound by the rules of society now, but so are they. The level of protection Haydrien has placed on you makes them treat you as an equal. You can be bitter, my girl, because they look down at witches and wizards with your situation of birth. Or you can make acknowledge that you are not only their equal, but their better."

She started at the formidable witch beside her. Months ago she would have been left with mouth agape, but now only surprise hinted around the corner of her eyes.

"You are quite the witch," Hermione finally commented.

"So are you," Mrs. Longbottom replied, "and don't let some bigot convince you otherwise. Their belief make mark you as less, but they are wrong. Shove that in their face. They may want to rail against the injustice, but they will have to congratulate you. And that is victory." She smiled.

"Now how have those boys been treating you?" Mrs. Longbottom asked with a smile lighting up her face.

"Worked me near to death learning this stuff," Hermione huffed, but smiled as well.

"They were proper, of course." A warning was hidden in the tone, though not one for the girl sitting there.

"Of course," she answered. "Didn't even complain with how many times I stepped on their feet in those blasted dance lessons." They both laughed at that.

"Good," Mrs. Longbottom said. "And how are your parents?" Hermione's eyes dropped to the now cold tea and lost their sparkle.

"They're fine. I have been to see them a couple times, but there was so much to learn and we were on a tight deadline."

"I'm sure they understand." Hermione looked up and searched the eyes of the woman before her.

"They do," she answered slowly, "it's just...I don't know. They are critical thinkers you know. They take nothing at face value, whether it's a new study in dentistry or even just a show on the telly."

"They sound like the kind of people I would enjoy meeting," Mrs. Longbottom answered.

"They are," Hermione said. "They are always that way, you know. Except...except with me." Mrs. Longbottom's eyes shuttered closed, but Hermione didn't notice. "When it comes to me, they just accept whatever I say. I mean I know they trust me, but it just feel like they don't care to look deeper into it," she confessed.

"That's not it," Mrs. Longbottom replied. "It's not their fault, dear." Hermione's gaze snapped to her.

"What do you mean?"

"It's a problem with magic and muggles. Muggles seem to be more susceptible to suggestion in regards to magic. It has been studied to some extent. The Statute of Secrecy actually expands on the natural occurring effect so that muggles will accept any large magical event as natural disasters and such."

"Is there a way to shield them?" Hermione asked, eager for information. The older witch shook her head sadly.

"Not that we know of," she answered. "The studies didn't go that direction. It is sometimes slightly lessened with the knowledge of magic, but that was not true across the board. The more exposure to magic, even being around magicals, will cause a great effect. It won't affect the other aspects of their lives, they will only be less critical in regards to anything or anyone magical."

"So me, in this case."

"Yes."

"And the statute makes it worse."

"Not exactly," Mrs. Longbottom said. "It allows muggles who are not around magic to be not critical around magicals and their influence. For example, in the last war, large attacks against muggles were explained as gas explosions. Someone who has never encountered magic, wouldn't necessarily believe the explanation as much as someone who has been exposed. The Statute makes it so that all muggles are suitable in regards to large magical events whether they have had exposure or not."

"I can understand how that would be important," Hermione said, setting down her cup on the table with shaking hands. "But my parent? I don't want my magic to change how they see the world, how they see me."

"It's a natural side effect. I'm sorry."

Hermione sighed, the breath rattling out of her lungs as she tried to contain the pain in her chest. It made sense. Her parents took everything in regards to her at face value, not something they did in regards to anything not magical in origin.

They accepted she was a witch without missing a beat, even Hermione doubted it at first. It was terrifying when she had accidental magic when she was younger, but her parents allowed her to make all decisions in regards to it. Hermione was admit that she wouldn't get tested by doctors. Her parents, doctors themselves, said that was fine. And when Hermione would lose control, they would simply clean up and say it was okay.

'God, it makes so much sense,' she thought helplessly, 'I wish it didn't.'

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Mrs. Longbottom repeated. "I don't know how to stop the effect, but if you need anything, I'm here."

Hermione nodded and smiled tightly and excused herself.

Millie came when she was called, to take Hermione where she needed to go. The Granger home hadn't been hooked up to the floo, so travel with elf was the easiest.

"Where to, miss?" Millie answered. Could she face her parents right now, knowing what her ability did to them?

"Black manor, my room, please," Hermione answered.

POP.

~XxXxX~

"Calm down," Haydrien gently ordered.

"But Miss is so upset, she'z crying," Millie explained as if it her tears were heralding the end of the world. Haydrien smiled indulgently at the elf.

"If she needs something, she'll call," he replied. Millie looked doubtful. She had taken to the young witch quickly.

"Millie'z sure a cake will help," she said decisively and popped a cake into her room with the snap of her fingers. With a nod, she turned back to her other duties.

Haydrien started after the creature and sighed. His grandfather had hand picked Millie as his personal elf when he was still a baby for her mothering qualities. She fretted and pecked after her charges as well as any mother hen. He loved that dear elf, though now she was his charge.

His thoughts turned to Hermione and he glanced at the letter he'd received from Mrs. Longbottom. Hermione had passed her scrutiny, to his great relief, and she expected great things of the girl. Haydrien had to smile at that. He expected great things of her to, but for a different reason. Though if tea had gone so well, why would she have returned in tears? And why did she return at all? He thought her plan was to go back to her parents house for the few days until they boarded the express. So what had brought her seeking refuge here, of all places?

Haydrien ran a hand over his face and sighed. The questions would get him nowhere and if Hermione wanted to tell him, she would.

"Nabby," Haydrien called and the elf appeared.

"Master?" he bowed.

"Dinner will not be a formal affair, but do plan for Miss Granger as well," Haydrien said.

"Of course," the elf bowed again with a wide grin and then popped away. That was due to lift his spirits at the very least. Hogwarts was calling, insistent and dangerous, but required all the same.

~XxXxX~

A cake appeared on a small table that sat next to a comfy chair. The chair was arranged by the large window and Hermione had sought refuge reading there in the past. She was curled up on the bed now, though, arms pressing one of the pillows to her chest. Yet, she saw the treat appear and smiled.

"Thank you, Millie," Hermione whispered. The elf was beside her immediately with an offered handkerchief.

"Master said to let you be, but Millie knew a cake would help. And Millie wanted Miss to not be sad anymore," the elf explain. Hermione let her fingers fold around the cloth and dab at her eyes.

"That was very sweet," she answered.

"Millie just wants Miss Hermione to be happy. Canz Millie do anything, please?"

Hermione remembered the battle with the elf to call her by her first name. Millie raged that it wasn't proper and was wrong. They eventually compromised on 'Miss Hermione.'

"I don't think there is," Hermione answered, "I'm sorry." Millie frowned.

"Call Millie if there is something," the elf asked. "At least dinner should brighten your day." Millie smiled at that.

"Why is that?"

"You'll see," Millie answered, then popped away with a smile. Hermione smiled at the spot where the elf had been, through the tears that had merely slowed. She was going to miss Millie when they headed back to Hogwarts.

~XxXxX~

Haydrien knocked gently on Hermione's door. She pulled it open and stepped out. She eyed Haydrien's black slacks, T-shirt and bare feet.

"Casual," he said by way of answer.

"I'm glad," she replied, "I don't think I could stand another dinner in those dresses." He laughed and offered her an arm, that she automatically took.

"No formal dinner tonight," he chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. She shrugged, more comfortable in her own jeans and T-shirt.

Of course when they entered the dinning room, she gasped and stopped dead. Haydrien laughed at her reaction. Around the table, in the more casual of the two dining rooms, sat Millie, Nabby and ten other house-elf. There were two seat still empty at the one end of the table.

Haydrien pulled her forward and sat her next to Millie, with him and Nabby on her other side. The rest of the elves stretched around the table.

"But I thought…" Hermione paused, trying to find the polite words for saying 'you never dine with house elves.' Haydrien just laughed again.

"When I was five years old, Grandfather asked what I wanted for my birthday dinner," he said. "We couldn't have formal gathering because no one knew I existed. He meant what I wanted to eat, but I told him that I wanted all the elves to join us for dinner. He laughed himself hoarse and then granted my request. The elves were so nervous at first, but then it became a tradition. When we just wanted to relax, when we wanted to feel surrounded by allies and friends, we all had dinner together."

Hermione thought of how children weren't born with prejudices or hate and smiled. She could clearly image a five-year-old-Haydrien insisting on inviting what was technically his servants to his birthday dinner. It warmed her heart.

"Well you know Millie and Nabby," Haydrien said. "This is Wooky, Danby, Zalky, Warby, and Joory." He pointed at each of the male elves sitting on Nabby's side. "And this is Zeeley, Dimply, Risky, Seesly, and Mimsy." He pointed out the five female elves on Millie's side.

"Nice to meet you," Hermione replied honestly.

Nabby lifted one hand, snapped, and all the food appeared on the table. Haydrien grabbed the dished in front of him and spooned potatoes onto his plate before passing it to Hermione. She added to her own plate and passed it on to Millie. The elves each grabbed the dishes before them and then floated the platter to the next person. In a few short minutes everyone's plates were full with delicious food.

"Tuck in," Haydrien said, and they all did.

The meal reminded Hermione of so many at the Gryffindor table, loud and full of laughter. Only Haydrien was more relaxed here than he ever was at Hogwarts. He leaned down to Nabby and said something that made the elf laugh. This was his home. This was his family. He lost his grandfather, yes, and he's still only 14 years old, but he's not alone-not here.

When the meal was finished, the game of clean up started for the elves. All of the dishes simultaneously rose into the air a few inches. Then the elves were waving their hands and the different pieces were whipping towards different elves. Glasses went zooming towards Nabby and plates towards Millie. Warby was collecting the knives and Risky the spoons.

Each elf easily caught their share with their magic, the item never wavering in the air. They laughed as they did this, as if trying to outdo each other. Hermione giggled at their delight. The elves were at ease here too.

When the table was cleared, the dishes popped away with a snap of their fingers, desert was served. Cake covered with strawberries appeared in front of each. Haydrien looked around the table as they each started eating again and then down at his own plate. The weight of responsibility pulled down the corners of his eyes and mouth. Hermione splayed her finger out on his forearm.

"Is everything OK?" she whispered. He gave a tight smile.

"I'm just going to miss this when we go back to Hogwarts," he answered, "but until then…" A true smile split his face. He started singing a low note in a language she didn't know. The elves quickly joined in, singing a song they all knew. Hermione thought it might be french, but was enchanted regardless. The squeezy voices blending with the deeper tone of the wizard at her side was not what anyone would classify as music, but the joy in the air was simply beautiful.

~XxXxX~

Hermione slept peacefully that night, despite the crazy day she had had. Of course tomorrow she really did have to go see her parents. The express left in three days time.

~XxXxX~

Breakfast in Black Manor was more relaxed, the leftover happiness of the night before bleeding into it. Yet Hermione could barely taste what was probably delicious food. Her knee bounced restlessly under the table. Haydrien eyed her over his cup of tea and said nothing.

When the breakfast dishes were cleared away and Hermione was still worrying at her bottom lip, he was about to ask her, when she spoke.

"I have a question for you," Hermione said, though looking slightly left of his face. "About the mark thing."

"Yes?" Haydrien kept his face carefully neutral, not wanting to scare her off with hopeful eyes.

"Why is it so important to you? I was going to ask Mrs. Longbottom, but then...anyways."

"I have given you the strongest protection I can," Haydrien started, "but that doesn't mean you're safe. Without a mark, purebloods have plausible deniability for first offenses. Basically, each one can take a shot at you and I can't enact punishment for it. I can't stop it. A mark will make it so that they wouldn't dare lay a finger. I want that. I don't know if I'm being selfish or controlling or unreasonable. This is how things are done in this world, specifically pureblood circles. This is what I know. I will, of course, abide by your wishes. But surely you can see the benefit?"

"What is the procedure for getting the mark and for getting rid of it?" she asked, ignoring his question.

"I prick my finger and touch your skin while saying the spell. To take it off, it can be done with either your blood or mine on a cloth. Again the incantation needs to be said while wiping the mark away. Though upon the mark disappearing, they can all take another shot 'thinking you are no longer in protection.'" Haydrien snarled the last words, though the anger was obviously not pointed at her.

"I see the benefit, yes, but what kind of mark are we talking about?"

"A circle slightly smaller than a gallon of grays and black and whites."

"Alright."

"Alright?" Haydrien questioned.

"I don't want to deal with each taking a shot at me," she clarified. "This will keep that from happening. And then I will make them eat their words and kiss my fingertips." He smiled at her.

"They often place the mark on the back of the hand, though I feel that is a bit gaudy. I think behind the ear is more tasteful and just as common, but it is up to you. Anywhere on skin that normally shows is acceptable."

"Behind the ear is fine," she said, her hands shaking slightly beneath the table.

'The magical world is really a terrible place,' Haydrien thought bitterly.

"Ok."

~XxXxX~

Hermione sat in the high backed chair, back stiffly not touching the cushion. Haydrien kneed at the arm of the chair. His pricked his thumb with the tip of a dagar and then placed the bloody pad of the thumb to the skin behind her right ear.

"Notam Protectionis," he whispered, then pulled the healed thumb away. Behind her right ear was a black circle, the edges fading to a lighter gray. In the center of the circle was a shaggy dog or wolf, outlined in stardust, bright against the black of the center. The nose of the beast nudged a brightly lit star near the top.

Haydrien held a mirror up, angled for her to see it. The lines of the fur shimmered as if moved by a wind. The starlight that was his eyes was watchful, protective. While the center of the marking was a deep black, broken by the wolf, it grew to lighter shades as it worked out. This mixture of the light grays made it look less bold on her skin.

"It's beautiful," Hermione whispered, watching the subtle movements.

"The Mark of the Blacks," Haydrien sighed. Hermione turned to him, seeing the wariness in his eyes, like she might just walk away.

"Beautiful," she replied.

~XxXxX~

Hermione thanked Millie for popping her home and asked that she pick her up on September first. The elf nearly burst with joy when she agreed and then popped away with a large smile.

"Mum?" she called, searching the house for her parents. She found them sitting in the back garden reading.

"I thought you would be home yesterday," Emma admonished.

"I'm sorry, I got caught up," Hermione answered, hugging her mother.

"It's alright. How is Haydrien doing?"

"He's fine," she replied, purposely tucking her hair behind her right ear.

"Is that a tattoo?" Dan asked, eyeing the mark.

"Kind of," she answered. "I can take if off whenever I need to. Magic, you know," she added with a shrug.

"Oh, ok then." She was disappointed. Somehow knowing her magic made them more compliant made their go-with-the-flow attitude sad.

"Why don't you come sit with us and tell us about what you have been up to?" Emma suggested. Hermione smiled and took the offered chair next to them. They were still her parents. They still cared. They were just a bit more accepting. And given all she knew about the magical world now, it was probably safer if they didn't ask too many questions.

"Well Haydrien taught me how to waltz," Hermione started. "He said that there were balls sometimes in the magical world and it was a good skill to have."

"That sounds fun," Emma encouraged. Hermione laughed. If you took all the politics out of it, then yes, it was rather fun.

"I stepped on his foot a lot when I was learning," she said. Emma laughed and Dan winced at some memory, only causing his wife to laugh more. Hermione joined in too.

"It was probably nice for Haydrien to have something to focus on instead of the loss of his grandfather," Emma said when they settled down. Hermione thought of how sad he looked sometimes as if he just remembered again that his grandfather was gone.

"Yeah," Hermione whispered.

"It'll take time," Emma said wisely.

"Everything does," Hermione muttered.

AN: I thought that would be a fun explanation for muggles believing a lot of magic as natural disasters. Like, sure we haven't had a gas explosion in 15 years, but now we've had two this week, but I'm sure that's normal. Or a lot of people are going missing, but no one's looking, I'm sure that's fine. This smooths that over a bit.

House elves, because I know someone is going to be up in arms for Hermione being ok with them. Hermione's experience so far has been with happy elves who love what they are doing and their family. In the HP series, she became aware of it with Dobby, who was being abused. At this point, she doesn't know that goes on in other houses, since it isn't going on in the Black or Longbottom house. Elves are treated like family among them, especially for Haydrien who had so little outside contact before Hogwarts.

As always, let me know if you have questions or what you think. I love to hear from you. Onward to year two. Enjoy! Thanks.