The Rise of the Houses
Malfoy Manor
Tuesday 1 September 1998
Hermione's life was ever changing. It was something that she couldn't control. But she desperately wanted to. It was hard not being able to control certain aspects within her life.
The young witch sat in the large chair in the Malfoy Manor's library. Her uncle use to sit in it a lot and read her stories. This was all when she was young. Hermione missed those moments. The innocence of her youth was lost long before she was born. The path that she would lead was set in stone years before she was even thought of – years before her siblings were even thought of.
Arcturus and Adhara were her older siblings. The eldest, Arcturus, was a strong wizard but at times acted like a brain-dead, old fool. He wanted too much. Hermione knew that he meant well but she couldn't help but want to push him off the roof. He hovered around her too much. However, for the past month Arcturus was so busy with work that he hardly was at the Manor. Adhara differed from much of the Lestrange family – taking after Aunt Narcissa in personality and Aunt Andromeda in looks. Hermione also knew that Adhara meant well when it came to pushing her with studying. Her sister was always a scholar and Hermione liked that.
Despite her siblings' flaws, Hermione thought of herself as the black sheep of the Lestrange children. Arcturus and Adhara followed the Dark Arts – no questions asked. Hermione refused to be anywhere near it. This was growing increasingly difficult as the days went on. Especially with the Dark Lord walking about the Manor and her mother's determination to kill anything that rivaled the Dark Lord.
Hermione's relationship with Bellatrix had always been rocky. Bellatrix nearly forced Hermione into every situation in which the young witch didn't want to be in. And no matter how many times Rodolphus had to pull Bellatrix off Hermione, the mother and daughter always ended up in a Muggle-like brawl. This was something that many Death Eaters did not know how to react to. Hermione sometimes considered that maybe she was very similar to her mother …or maybe they were just too different.
The door to the library quietly creaked open as Hermione reminisced about some of her closest relatives. She didn't notice anyone stood in front of her until a dark curl hovered over her text. Slowly, Hermione left her daydream and tilted her head up to look into her mother's grinning face. Hermione's hair texture and eyes matched Bellatrix's – in fire and passion. Yet Hermione had been told since birth that she looked so much like Antoinette Lestrange, her father's mother.
"Good morning, my sweet pumpkin juice," Bellatrix sang before pushing herself upon the arm of the chair.
"Morning Mother," Hermione grimaced at the nickname Bellatrix had become so fond of. "What brings you to Uncle Lucius' private library?"
Bellatrix's dark eyes fluttered with bafflement. "What? Can't I see my wittle baby from time to time?" Bellatrix used her infamous baby voice. It grated on Hermione's nerves.
"Mother, must you talk like that?" Hermione slammed her book shut. She twisted in her seat to look up at Bellatrix.
The older witch's smile fell. "Aquila, must you be so cruel all the time?" Her voice had returned to its native octave – alto and sultry with a hit of lunacy.
Hermione scoffed before pushing herself out of the chair. She walked over to one of the stacks to place the book upon the shelf. Bellatrix followed briskly. She leaned against the bookshelf as Hermione reached for another.
"Aquila, listen to me," Bellatrix said sternly. It was a tone that she rarely took. This startled Hermione, if only for a moment. The daughter turned towards her mother. "Listen, I understand. You're tired. But you just need to try a little more and all will be better. We're almost in our Lord's good graces again. Your father has sacrificed so much for our wellbeing."
"Whose wellbeing, Mother? Did Father ever think of Adhara's wellbeing?" Hermione asked tartly.
Bellatrix looked perplexed. "Of course he has. Your sister has done a good thing by marrying into a Pure family. Something that you'll have to do one day."
Hermione looked astonished at her mother. Her eyes were wide with shock and irritation. "You don't get it do you?" Hermione paused. "You sold your eldest daughter off to a Death Eater for affection from Voldemort!"
CRACK!
Hermione's head lashed back as her mother swung her open palm against her cheek. A warm flush bloomed across her skin and her eyes watered. Tears threatened to spill across her face. She was again caught unawares as Bellatrix pressed her against the bookshelf.
The young witch could see the lunatic grin that was across Bellatrix's face. There was a burning in her hooded eyes. "Don't you ever use our Lord's name in vain," Bellatrix said darkly, teeth clenched. "He's done things for this family that you couldn't even imagine. Your sister is doing something for this family that you couldn't even imagine. And soon, Aquila Hermione Lestrange, you will have to do the same – just like all the woman in our family have had to do. Except of course for your Aunt Andromeda, who shamed the House of Black. And if you even think about doing something as disgraceful as that, you'll have the pleasure of humming under the Cruciatus Curse." Bellatrix's lips hovered close to Hermione's ear. Hermione grimaced as she felt her mother's warm tongue flick against her earlobe like a snake testing the air. "Do you understand?"
Hermione tried to push against her mother in one final attempt of insubordination. Yet Bellatrix was having none of that; the Dark witch grabbed a fistful of Hermione's hair and yanked. Hermione whimpered but was hushed as Bellatrix scratched idly at the girl's scalp. "Do you understand, Aquila?"
"How many times do I have to tell you, Mother? Call me Hermione," she gritted out with a small smirk on her face.
Bellatrix gave a sharp tug to Hermione's hair. "Aquila," she warned.
"Yes, I understand," Hermione sighed.
Bellatrix pulled away. "Good." She then reached for Hermione's blouse and pulled the fabric down for it had ridden up during their tiff. "The Dark Lord requests that you attend the next meeting this Friday," Bellatrix said as she deliberately messed up Hermione's hair in an effort to make it look more like her own. "Your brother and sister will be there, as well Draco. He has a task for you both."
Hermione pulled away. "Another?"
"Yes, another," Bellatrix lifted an eyebrow. "Before you ask, I don't know what it's for." Without saying good-bye, Bellatrix turned on her heel and walked towards the library door.
"Mummy," Hermione said quietly. She honestly didn't think Bellatrix would hear her.
Very slowly Bellatrix turned, her face softened for this brief moment.
"Addie's birthday was last Tuesday. Did you forget?"
The older witch looked confused but then she grew pale, sickened by the thought of forgetting her daughter's birthday. "It was, wasn't it?"
Hermione sighed. "Yes." Then Hermione gripped her fists tightly at her sides. "Will you forget mine?"
Bellatrix paused; her infamous dark grin graced her features. "The nineteenth? I won't miss it."
Hermione returned the same grin.
Malfoy Manor
Thursday 3 September 1998
"But Father!" Arcturus shouted while slamming his fist against the desk.
"No Arcturus! My word is final." Rodolphus shouted back from his side of the desk. "There is absolutely no way I could even approach the subject with Him."
"Why not? It's perfect and it gives us a position of power," his son looked at him pointedly. It was clear Arcturus was covertly trying to egg his father on.
"Why can you not understand this? We're on thin ice as it is. Hermione and Draco properly fucked us over with that." Rodolphus ran a hand through his hair. A vein throbbed near his temple.
"But this is an excellent idea. He'll reward you for this," Arcturus said a bit softly.
"The Dark Lord will not reward us with anything at this point," Rodolphus said darkly. "The best we can do is follow orders."
Arcturus scoffed. "Follow orders? You'd like us to follow orders?" The son rolled his eyes before slamming a fist down once more. "We're Purebloods. We should follow no one!"
Rodolphus' darkened with rage. It wasn't as if his son was necessarily wrong but it was the fact that he insinuated to defy the Dark Lord. That would get them killed.
At that moment Rabastan, who was sprawled out on the sofa of the study, thought it was a nice time to intervene. "Alright, alright, stop your quarreling. Arcturus," Rabastan sat up to look at his nephew. "We understand what you are saying. And I for one will say I whole-heartedly agree with your reasoning. But…"
Arcturus looked at his uncle with wide eyes. "But…" he prompted.
"But it isn't the right time. The Dark Lord has many plans for all of us. When he finally gets what he wants from the Potter boy, he'll decide what to do with us," Rabastan said.
Arcturus shivered; clearly not liking the tone or what his uncle was saying.
From across the room, Lucius sat in an arm chair reading a book. He slammed the book shut. "May I remind all three of you that if the Dark Lord was going to instate one of us into office as the French Minister for Magic, he would place Antonin at the helm."
The room was blasted into a surreal quietness.
"Ahh," Lucius paused, a small deranged smirk slithered on his face. After the war, Lucius seemed to have recuperated right afterwards, but not in a healthy way. "No one thought of that. There was a reason, of course, for Antonin staying at his summer home in France."
"The Dark Lord asked him," Arcturus said out loud what everyone else was thinking. "So, you believe the Dark Lord put Antonin in France to make him Minister once the current one is assassinated?"
"All I'm saying, Arcturus, is that we've already taken over Ireland; captured the Scandinavian countries; pillaged Germany; and successfully defiled Russia and the Balkans. The Dark Lord will be after the Mediterraneans soon. And to get there he'll need France. He's been saving France for last."
"That's the country where most Pureblooded families originated from," Rabastan said pointedly.
Rodolphus cursed loudly and hit the desk with his open palms. "You believe this to be his plan all along?"
Lucius chuckled. "Of course not. Immortality has been his focal point. Hermione has told me that many times. Potter and she discussed this frequently to the point where they almost destroyed most of his horcruxes." He sighed sarcastically, "Alas, they failed."
Arcturus quickly digested this information. It couldn't be. He wanted to beg the Dark Lord to give the position of Minister for Magic of France to his father – the rightful heir. But perhaps…
"This could work to our advantage," Arcturus said quickly, before he commenced with his pacing. "He's married to Adhara. If we could get Adhara on the inside and gain enough information to have us take over, we could…" he paused thinking of what he wanted to say next. "We could have the power."
"Whoa," Rabastan laughed. "Slow down there. Like Roddy said, we're on thin ice as it is. Turning against anything the Dark Lord should be the last thing we ever think of."
The Leaky Cauldron
Thursday 3 September 1998
Dear Nymph –
I've received word from Aunt Bella that Addie and Mr. Dolohov will be attending the next Death Eater meeting this Friday. I've also heard from her that Hermione will be attending the meeting. This will be her first meeting and hopefully her last. However, it seems that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has a new task for the both of us. I will try to tell you what it is as soon as I learn about it. I'll keep her safe …or at least try to do this.
Mother told me to tell you to tell your mum that the paper work did not make sense. The wedding presents were plentiful. But the two packages that were peculiar were the snake and dragon egg. And Addie spoke Parseltongue; this makes no sense since no one in our family has that gift. Nevertheless, I'll tell her to write to you in this ink when she arrives.
Love, Dragon
As soon as he was done writing the letter to his cousin, the ink from Draco's quill evaporated into the parchment – turning invisible. Tonks would need a password to activate the writing. He only hoped she would guess right. He slipped the paper in an envelope and wrote "Nymph Black" on the front. He folded the whole package and handed it to the person across from him.
"Longbottom, be sure to give this to her. Please, it's important," Draco pleaded.
"Yeah, yeah Malfoy. Just keep your eyes on Hermione. If one piece of hair on her head is ripped out tomorrow…" Neville said roughly.
"Don't worry," Draco cut him off quickly. "She'll be safe with me."
The Gryffindor did not believe him.
Dolohov Château
Friday 4 September 1998
Adhara awoke on Friday morning with a gripping pang within her stomach. Her gut clenched as she sat upright. Her hand searched for husband's hand that was usually lying on her. However, when she looked over, Pierre was curled up in his place. Perhaps Antonin had business to attend to before the meeting later in the day? The childlike Pierre must have wandered into the room after Antonin had left.
Carefully the witch swung her legs off the bed to sit up fully. Another pang gripped her stomach as her gorge rose. Not even caring to grab her robe, Adhara hurried to the connecting bathroom. When the door slammed open, Pierre stirred in the bed.
Yet she wasn't worried about that. She was more concerned with the bile climbing her throat. Rushing to the toilet, Adhara nearly threw her head into the open porcelain bowl. Her stomach lurched once more before throwing a wet heave into the toilet. The splatter nearly made her vomit even more. Not to mention the smell. Did vomit normally smell this bad? She could even smell the filet mignon and broccoli from last night.
"Addie?" Pierre called from the doorway.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Adhara tossed him a look. "Please, Pepé, don't come any closer. I'm ill."
Her brother-in-law scoffed. "Well I'm mentally ill and I can say when I can come to the help of a damsel in distress." Pierre walked in, almost rushing to her side. He held her hair away from her face and patted the crown of her head. "Did you eat something bad?"
"I don't think so," she said, licking her lips. Adhara grimaced. Pierre helped her stand – taking her to the wash basin so she could clean her mouth while he brushed her hair back.
"Are you with child?" Pierre asked with candor.
Fresh tap water nearly flew from her mouth but she managed to swallow it. "Pardon me?" Adhara was bewildered by his question.
"Are you with child? Pregnant?" He explained.
Adhara was at a loss for words. Did she miss her period? It was supposed to come around her birthday. She had been so caught up with her research on dragon breeding that she had forgotten her birthday. She was even more involved with her research on basilisks and cockatrices that she couldn't even remember when she last bleed. She had had sex with her husband three times after they were married but that was it. Of course she knew he wanted children and so did she; but this was too soon.
The witch protectively placed her hand over her lower belly. She looked into the mirror at Pierre behind her. He wore a goofy grin and his greying curly hair looked disheveled. His eyes reiterated what he had said.
"You are pregnant."
Adhara looked at the ground near Pierre's bare feet. She and her brother-in-law had not noticed Tanith had slithered in to the bathroom.
Slowly and very thoughtfully, she uttered similar words. "I'm pregnant."
Malfoy Manor
Friday 4 September 1998
"I have come a long way with the Potter boy," the Dark Lord stated thickly. His red eyes nearly burned holes through all of his Death Eaters and closest supporters. "As many of you know, I've been keeping him very safe within the confinements of one of my properties. My reasoning," he paused, sweeping his gaze once more, "Is that the more contact he has with me, the more he'll be able to bend to our will.
"He has decided to," a slow dark smile stretched across his face. "How shall I put this? Harry Potter has joined our campaign."
Gasps were heard amongst everyone in the room. Hermione's gut dropped within her. The Dark Lord must have been torturing him for so long.
"I have been teaching him the Dark Arts every day. Last week, I finally made some headway."
Hermione couldn't keep her mouth shut at this point. "My Lord, what did you have him do?" Hermione wouldn't deny it; she was downright frightened for Harry. From across the table her sister gave her a stern look.
The Dark Lord seemed thrilled to answer this question. "He successfully performed the killing curse on one Muggle by the name of Vernon Dursley, his maternal uncle by marriage." He grinned, "The boy took much pleasure out of that act."
Hermione heard and felt everyone softly chuckle at the Dark Lord's statement.
Why did she come to this meeting? Why was she even invited? The Dark Lord knew that she had been friends with Harry during their school years – that wouldn't change now. Hermione felt a ball of emotion curl itself in her throat. Draco, who was seated next to her, held her hand underneath the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"Madam Malfoy," the Dark Lord said, "The boy will need a more permanent place to stay."
Narcissa nodded, more to herself. "Of course, my Lord; anything, my Lord."
The Dark Lord then straightened up in his seat. "Draco, Hermione, you will be the ones to train him."
Hermione felt Draco's hand squeeze her fingers tighter. She gritted her teeth.
After the Dark Lord spoke, Hermione couldn't hear the rest of the meeting. Blood was rushing to her head and she was beginning to get lightheaded. Train Harry? She shook her head to herself; her brown curls twirled around her. Hermione almost wanted to laugh. The Dark Lord wanted her to teach Harry the Dark Arts. She shook her head again. Hermione silently added another mission, which she would surely mess up, to the list. She gave a short look to Draco and then her sister. They both showed similar faces of displeasure.
Author's Notes: Please review. I would love feedback
-Rosie