Chapter Four
One of the advantages of advanced age, Helen Magnus thought, was an ability to easily recognize patterns within one's own life. Therefore, when she was sitting in her office working on patient files and heard the clack of heels coming down the hall, she briefly frowned as she realized it was not a member of her staff coming toward her, pausing in her writing for a moment to place the gait of whoever was approaching. Ah, she thought with a half hearted smile. Hermione.
Under other circumstances, she'd be more than pleased to see her friend, but she knew that these were not the best of circumstances at all. The Mage had sent word the week prior of the attack on, and subsequent deaths of Arcturus and Lysandra Black, and while Helen herself had never actually had the chance to meet Cedrella's parents, she grieved for them all the same as she had become friendly with the spunky redhead who was in their little circle of trust, and it hurt her to think that Cedrella was facing the loss of not one, but both of her parents all at once.
No doubt, Helen imagined as the sound of Hermione's footsteps grew closer, the younger woman was here to update her on the state of things in England. She wasn't surprised at all when Hermione walked into her office and immediately closed the door behind her, locking it and warding it for privacy. "Good afternoon, Helen," she greeted.
Helen finished writing the last bit of the sentence she'd been on before looking up. "Good afternoon," she greeted in turn. "How's Cedrella?"
Hermione sighed heavily and took a seat across from her. "Broken hearted, but holding it together. The more I get to know her, the more I see where Ginny got her personality. She's so good at shelving her emotions and channeling them into focus and fight. She took to Occlumency like a fish in water, and I imagine Gin will be the same once she gets born this go around. She never did try in Alpha, and I didn't really interact with her much in Beta."
"Ginny is Arthur's daughter, correct?" Helen asked, trying to recall everything Hermione had mentioned offhand about her past.
"Yes," came an easy confirmation. "The youngest of Arthur and Molly's children, and the only daughter. Molly once mentioned to me, in Alpha, that she and Arthur talked about having more after Ginny in hope of giving Gin a sister, but money was tight enough as it was. I wonder if, since they'll be part of the Black clan and money won't be an issue, they'll have more children after Ginny this go around. If so, I'm half tempted to start planning on making renovations to the Burrow now. It was a tight fit with just the seven kids."
Helen smirked. "You'd probably have to send Cedrella, Septimus, and the boys on holiday to get away with it. You know full well Septimus would say no because of the monetary implications, and Cedrella would say no based on her own control issues."
"Sending them on holiday is completely viable," Hermione grinned. "Perhaps I'll just wait though. I already know that at some point Septimus and Cedrella move out and Arthur and Molly move in. Historically, the Burrow is the seat of the Weasley Head of House, which in theory will be Septimus until he dies. I don't know the circumstances of his death prior to Arthur taking over, or even when. That was not something Arthur and I ever discussed in Alpha or in Beta. My issue here is one of if Septimus died in the war, leaving Arthur to be Head of his House and then move into the Burrow, because ideally I'd prefer to avoid that."
"Even if it means Arthur doesn't become Head of the Weasleys?" Helen asked, looking curiously at her.
"I'm not going to throw Cedrella's husband under a metaphorical bus just so Arthur can become head of the Weasleys, Helen," Hermione said firmly. "With as many sons as Arthur has, chances are he'll become Head eventually in any case. It just might take longer. Or, if he doesn't, one of his sons may take the seat. If not, it'll be one of Peter or Edmund's sons. I'm not too concerned with what Weasley takes the seat, as long as Ron Weasley manages to get born. Arthur was never particularly active in politics, so I can't imagine that not having the seat will change him in any major way. Besides, if Septimus and Cedrella remain Head for years longer, and Arthur and Molly end up married and starting a family prior to taking up residence at the Burrow, I'll just put them in one of the Black properties that has more rooms than they know what to do with, tell them they're doing me a favor being stewards of the property, and they can take their good old time filling it up with children."
Helen chuckled. "You'd have made a decent Slytherin."
"So I'm told," Hermione mused. "It's just that damn Muggleborn thing. Of course, Petunia Evans is a few years old now, and all indications suggest the alterations to her genome took, so she should show up at Hogwarts eventually, and I'll eat my boot if that child doesn't sort to Slytherin, Muggleborn or not!"
"She'll need support, if that happens," Helen said softly. "You know she won't get it from Horace."
"Oh, I'll make certain she gets it from Horace," Hermione said firmly. "Not above blackmail, remember?"
"What are you going to blackmail him with?" the Head of the Sanctuary inquired.
"I haven't figured that bit out yet," came an honest admission. "I have time to sort that out, though, Helen. I'm sure he's got some skeleton I can use. In any case, I didn't come to talk about any of that rot. I came to return those books I borrowed from your Library."
Pulling out a pile of books from her bag, shrunken and then properly resized, Hermione began stacking them on Helen's desk neatly. "Helpful?" the older woman asked.
"Very," Hermione reported. "You weren't kidding when you said the Magnus' were into some heavy magic in days gone by. I told you that they used blood magic to secure the camps in Beta, and I found a series of wards in one of those books that looked like it may well have been the basis of what protected the camps there. I'm sort of wondering if your father had a hand in setting up the wards in Beta, before he evacuated with the Abnormals."
"At the least, I imagine he offered his Library to the Resistance," Helen speculated. "He wouldn't have had much use for it in the course of protecting the creatures, wherever he went with them. That does still puzzle me, though. Where on earth could he possibly have evacuated them to, if Voldemort had truly taken over the world? I can only think of one possibility, but to get all the creatures there would have been quite the feat."
"Where?" Hermione asked, curious.
"In the Indian Himalayas. The Lost City of Bhalasaam," Helen said. "It was a Vampire Stronghold, and one of the last to survive the cleansing. My father hid what remained of the Sourceblood there, secured behind tests so that only the Five acting together could possibly retrieve it, under orders that we must never retrieve it unless the need was dire. So far, we have not had the need, thankfully, but Father hid it there because it is by far one of the most secure and remote places on earth. It is also fairly expansive."
"It's possible," the other woman agreed. "He may have retreated there. It's remote enough Voldemort wouldn't likely have been interested in it, and from what you've told me of Vampire technology, it was advanced enough that it may just have kept magical attack at bay should they have been found. It's a decent working theory, for what that's worth."
"Indeed," Helen replied. "Now, I trust you found some rather nasty wards with which to protect Black Manor?"
"I basically did the same wards they did around the camps in Beta," Hermione said with a shrug. "I still need to brew the Potion and explain it to the family. I somehow doubt it'll be great fun convincing certain people to accept the embellishment that comes along with the ward…"
With that said, Hermione rolled up her sleeve and showed Helen a small Phoenix tattoo on the inside of her right wrist, about the size of a Galleon. "Is that from the wards in Beta?" she inquired.
"Yes," her friend confirmed. "I haven't decided what to do for the one here, but ultimately the what is less important than the fact that it will protect anyone keyed into the wards. As long as they take the Potion, they will be able to get into the property, and anyone who would think to harm them won't be able to follow. One of my particular favorite bits about this ward is that the tattoo won't duplicate under Polyjuice, so if you are approached by someone you know to be an ally and they don't have the tattoo, you know straight away they're an impostor."
"That is handy," Helen agreed. "How often do these wards have to be renewed?"
"Annually," she said with a sigh, "although I mean to plan on renewing them every nine months to be safe. I also mean to stockpile vials of my blood in your care so that if for some reason I am… indisposed, someone else can renew the wards in my stead. You will have both my blood and the books to show how to renew the wards. I plan to step up Minerva's training on wards, and Sirius would be capable as well. Aberforth might be able to, also."
Helen stood. "Shall we go down to the lab, then?"
Hermione smiled. "Thank you."
Hermione looked at the gathered crowd, mentally evaluating them. Some she knew quite well, some she didn't. Some she could take good guesses on so far as their potential, based on how skilled she knew their children would one day be. All of them would be diamonds in the rough, however, and it was her job to turn them into something better. Running some quick calculations, she decided that if she pulled eight of them and trained those herself, and allowed the others to work amongst themselves for now, once she had the eight she hand selected up to snuff, they could assist in training the others. "Cedrella Weasley," she called. "Charlus Potter. Druella Black. Elise Black. Orion Black. Ignatius Prewett. Harfang Longbottom. Minerva McGonagall."
Minerva wasn't technically family, however as Edmund Weasley's Godmother she had as much interest in this fight as any of the rest of them did. Merlin knew that if someone was threatening the Flitwick boys she'd be rearing for a fight. In any case, she knew Minerva's skills needed sharpening and would prefer to see to it personally. They'd done some dueling in the course of their harmonic magic work, but not nearly enough. It wouldn't be enough to save her in a battle situation.
"You eight come forward. Hermione is going to work with you first." Melok called, seeming to understand her plan intuitively. She loved him for that.
Hermione addressed the rest of the group. "Those of you who are left, I want you to make groups of three. Most of the time when you find yourself in a conflict, it isn't one on one. You are nearly always outnumbered, so I want you to trade off going two to one. Use minor hexes for the time being so you don't cause each other any real harm, and focus on preventing hits. I want to remind you that you can just as easily avoid getting hit by stepping out of the way of an oncoming spell as you can by casting a shield against it. The advantage in being limber on your feet is twofold! First: you are neither wasting your magic energy nor your time in casting the shield. Second: if a Death Eater casts the Killing Curse at you, and I assure you they will, then you need not worry about a shield failing to block it, as you will have already stepped out of its path. Most of you endured dance lessons as a result of your upbringing. The Waltz will serve you well in dueling, as for as long as you maintain those steps, your opponent will find it quite difficult to maintain a wand lock on you, however given you know what rhythm you are keeping, you will find it a very simple matter to get a wand lock on them. Now spread out and get to work. Melok is going to come around and set wards around each of your groups so that your wayward spells don't hit other groups. Sirius will be walking around checking on you and offering pointers as needed."
Her former lover and her husband both nodded in understanding of her desires, and ambled off to do her bidding without question. Once again, she was a General, Hermione thought with a sigh. She hated how easy it was to slip back into this mode. At the same time, she knew it was necessary and appreciated that she was capable. She turned back to the group of eight she'd gathered.
Cedrella reminded her so much of Ginny, there was no doubt that even without the rage from her recent loss that she'd grow into an incredible fighter. Charlus was a Potter. James had been skilled from what Sirius said, and Harry certainly had been as well. Hermione had to believe there was just something about the Potters worth exploring. Druella, she suspected, was where Bellatrix had gotten her skill, and Gods knew that no matter the incarnation, Bellatrix had skill. Elise, from everything Minerva had told her in Beta, had been exceptional, albeit having a tendency to be independent. So long as Hermione stressed to Elise that she needed to work in a team, she felt Elise would be a good addition. Orion was, she assumed, where Sirius got his skill, given there was no indication Walburga could duel through a paper bag. Selecting Orion had been one of the easiest choices. Ignatius had fathered Gideon and Fabian, who by all accounts were gifted duelers, as well as Molly, who had been skilled enough to take down Bellatrix. Hermione was almost excited to see what he was made of. Harfang was father to Andrew, who was a gifted Auror on his own, and was newly grandfather to Frank, who'd be a noted Auror in his own right. Harfang would eventually become great-grandfather to Neville, who had also been gifted in defense. Choosing him had been one part logical and one part personal, she admitted. Hermione just couldn't fathom a world without Neville Longbottom, and if Harfang wasn't skilled enough to survive and protect his family, then perhaps Frank wouldn't live long enough to father Neville. She knew whatever she taught Harfang he'd teach not only Andrew, but Corinna and Algernon Longbottom as well. Therefore, in Hermione's mind, Harfang required training. Minerva, of course, was Minerva. That was just a bloody given.
"Alright you lot," she said finally. "I'm going to begin by stating that I realize that some of you are a number of years my senior and probably scratching your heads trying to sort out what I could possibly teach you. Aside from the fact that I spent two years in captivity with Sirius and learned what I needed to in order to survive, and before that had spent a number of years on the run because I have a bit of a habit of rubbing dark lords the wrong way…"
Ah, now they were paying attention.
"...I also happen to be a Mage," she concluded, twirling her wand through her fingers.
The only ones who didn't look astonished by the declaration were Cedrella, which she expected, and Minerva, which was a surprise. Hermione had to admit she was curious if somebody had let it slip or if Minerva had worked it out on her own. She'd have to ask later.
"Fully awakened?" Charlus asked, looking curious.
"With an additional three Masteries to my name on top of it," she confided. "Not that I'm advertising, mind you. I prefer to keep the extent of my knowledge under wraps. If the wrong people learned…"
"You'd be a target, clearly," Elise mused. "Got the Mastery in Wandlore yet?"
"On my list," Hermione admitted. "Hasn't been a high priority though."
"What was a high priority, if you don't mind our asking?" Minerva was bold enough to pose.
"Above the five cores, I have Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic," she replied, "and I'm working on Astronomy."
"Goblin Arts?" the Scottish Witch pressed.
"Merlin, you are nosy," Hermione groused. "That is on the list, probably after I finish with Astronomy if Melok has his way, the bloody nag."
"If you're going for the Goblin Arts," Elise said, looking interested, "then you must have Goblin blood."
"Yes, well," she shrugged. "Shall we not advertise that fact to some of the more conservative members of the family?"
"Like my wife?" Orion chuckled.
"In example," she agreed. "Walburga already barely tolerates me, darling. Let's not make it worse."
Orion nodded in agreement. "My lips are sealed."
"In any case," Harfang said, getting the group to refocus, "you being a Mage certainly would explain how and why you'd be able to teach us a thing or two. I get why Uncle Sirius is comfortable leaving us to your tutelage, Aunt Hermione."
"It also explains why he so often says I'll ask my wife," Druella chuckled, looking amused, "when posed with a difficult question. I've often thought he treats you like a bloody library. I see why now."
She smiled a bit at that. "All of that said, I don't have access to everyone's transcripts from school, so would you all be so kind as to tell me what your NEWT scores were on the core subjects? That will give me a good idea of where you are all at to start with. I already know Minerva and Cedrella's."
"When the bloody hell did you get a hold of my NEWT scores?" Minerva asked, incredulous.
It had been discussed in Alpha and in Beta, actually, and the scores had been the same in both cases so she didn't imagine they differed here, but she couldn't exactly tell Minerva that. She opted for the tone of mystery. "I have my sources and not all of them are Hogwarts Professors," she remarked. "So, everyone else?"
Druella raised her hand first. "Exceeds Expectations in Herbology and Potions, and Outstanding in Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration."
Charlus went next. "I only managed an Acceptable in Herbology. That was not my strong suit. Exceeds Expectations in Potions and Charms. Outstanding in Defense and Transfiguration."
"Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration and Potions," Harfang offered. "Outstanding in Herbology, Charms, and Defense."
Ignatius spoke up after that. "Outstanding in everything except Transfiguration. Exceeds Expectations there."
"Well done, old boy," Charlus said, clapping him on the back.
"I wasn't Head Boy for nothing," the other man grinned.
Elise rolled her eyes. "May not have been Head Girl in my year, but I wasn't Ravenclaw for nothing. Outstanding in everything but Defense. Exceeds Expectations there, and barely scraped that grade. My family might be great at making wands. Using them? Not so much."
"We can work on that, Elise," Hermione assured her. "Orion, you're up."
"Exceeds Expectations in Defense, Charms, and Herbology," he replied, frowning a little. "Outstanding in Potions and Transfiguration."
Well, Hermione mused. That was unexpected. She would have anticipated him having pulled an Outstanding in Defense given Sirius' clear talent for the subject, although given Sirius had become an Animagus, and that Orion had a gift for Transfiguration, perhaps that had been the gift he'd gotten from his father, and the defense gifting had come from a more distant relative. Who knew? Either way, she did want to see Orion trained up more, as when Sirius' younger counterpart was born, it would be up to Orion to protect him, and that wasn't too far off.
"Alright," Hermione said with a deep breath. "Let's begin with the Patronus Charm. Who already knows how to cast it?"
Minerva raised her hand, as did Cedrella. Nobody else.
"Never saw the bother," Charlus admitted. "I mean, how likely are we to come across dementors?"
"There are numerous dark spells that allow them to be controlled," she replied softly. "Voldemort is not above using them, and therefore we must be prepared for him to use them as attack dogs. Mastering this charm could be the difference between keeping your soul or not. Further, if you're lucky enough to never cross paths with a Dementor, this charm is still very useful for sending messages. It's quicker than Owls, requires no fireplace connected to Floo, and can cross enemy lines without risk and carry messages that could be all the difference between intelligence reaching your allies or not, or you being able to reach out for help or not. Am I being clear on the distinct advantages on knowing this spell?"
Charlus swallowed hard. "Yes, Aunt Hermione."
"How the bloody hell do you manage to sound so much older than the lot of us?" Ignatius asked bluntly.
Cedrella scoffed. "Because, you idiot, she's already lived through one war. We were all lucky enough to sit Grindelwald's rise and fall out from the sidelines. She was in the thick of it from the time she was a child."
"Truly, Aunt Hermione?" Harfang asked, voice sounding so small to her ears.
She paused, looking at each of them, and then nodded. "I was twelve when the war found me," she said, meaning every word. "By the time I was fifteen I was battle hardened and had buried my first comrade in arms. Am I younger than many of you? Yes. But I have bled for war, I have buried loved ones, and I have watched those I care about suffer the after effects of what it means to survive going through hell. How do I manage to sound older, Ignatius? I am older. I've lived too much to be anything resembling young anymore. That all said, are you all ready to learn how to survive a war?"
Minerva had done enough work with Hermione to be able to sense that the wards about Black Manor had changed. There were more of them now, and they were stronger. If she were a betting woman she'd say they were blood wards, possibly tied to Hermione herself, and given Hermione was a Mage, that wasn't something to laugh at. This manor was now all but impenetrable to whoever Hermione didn't want in, although as they hadn't been specifically keyed in when they arrived, Minerva wasn't certain who or what they were keyed against. Her immediate guess was that they were keyed against those bearing the Dark Mark, but she knew Hermione well enough that she wouldn't find that simple a block acceptable for the long term. There were far too many loopholes that would allow an enemy access.
"Minerva!"
Speak of the devil, she mused, turning around from her place on the side patio to see Hermione striding toward her. "Hello," she greeted, raising an eyebrow.
Her friend didn't beat around the bush at all. "So? Who told you? Or did you figure it out on your own?"
The Scottish Witch let out a laugh. "Hermione, that's a loaded question, given how much I know you're keeping from me, or don't want to discuss, at any given time. Be specific."
The other woman blushed. "About me being a Mage, Min. Come now, don't be obtuse."
Minerva took a breath. "When Genia found out she was going to die, she came to me and asked that I be available to look after her family, after she was gone," came a quiet admission. In all these years she'd never told Hermione or Melok what had prompted her folding into their oddball family. "She specifically expressed a worry that if left to your own devices, you would carry the weight of the care all on your own, Hermione. While she didn't doubt your ability to care for the children and Melok, nor did she even object to it, she knew you were a Mage, and knew what duty came with it, and did not want to be responsible for distracting you from it. She asked me to be available to assist so that when the time came… when this time came… I could be there to stand in and care for Melok and the children, and they be ready to accept me in that role, so you'd be free to do what you were destined to do."
Hermione let out a ragged breath. "More than three years gone, and that woman is still surprising me. I guess it isn't too shocking she worked out that I was a Mage. After all, of all people she knew full well what Melok's expertise was, and that he was training me. Only an idiot wouldn't have put two and two together, and she wasn't an idiot by any means."
"Nor am I, point of interest," Minerva replied. "Genia may have spelled it out for me, but I've had three years to do my research. I'm fairly well educated on the subject at this juncture, Hermione. It has done a great deal to explain, well, you. There was so much about you that I found so confusing before I learned you were a Mage that makes perfect sense now that I know, and now that I know more about Mages."
Hermione looked amused. "Like what?"
"Your wide range of knowledge, for one," the other woman said easily. "Your respect for life. Your relationship with Melok. Your bloody hero complex."
"I do not have a hero complex!" Hermione objected with a laugh.
"Really? Shall I just pull out my memory of that day in Diagon Alley and drop it in a Pensieve for you?" Minerva teased. "Most everyone there was in terror for what they faced, myself and Cedrella included, but not you. You relished in the opportunity to face a challenge worthy of your skill."
"I relished in the opportunity to kick the shite out of some Death Eaters," Hermione said with a frown.
Minerva put a hand on her arm. "I'm not asking you to defend your reasons or intentions. I merely meant that I've enjoyed getting a unique insight into you. As I've told you before, true to my Animagus form, I'm a curious creature, and the more complex the puzzle the more interested I become. You are, in many ways, the ultimate mystery and I find myself continually fascinated. A question though, if I may?"
"Of course," Hermione allowed, although she looked wary.
"Aberforth," she pressed. "He knows you're a Mage, doesn't he?"
The little sigh of relief that escaped Hermione's lips intrigued Minerva, as if that was a much less scary question than she'd been expecting the Scottish woman to ask. "He does," Hermione replied with a soft smile. "I got my Potions Mastery under him, after all. I'll let him know he's free to discuss my status with you, if you wish. Merlin knows I got more than a few frustrated comments from him over the years about your pestering."
Minerva shrugged. "I shan't be criticized for asking questions."
"No more than you'd criticize your students for the same?" Hermione bantered.
"Precisely," the Transfiguration Professor agreed. "Questions do eventually come to answers. I told you a long time ago that I was intent on working on our harmonic and would be patient if you needed time. I've not changed my mind on that account. Merlin knows there's avenues we've not explored with the harmonic. It's interesting, you know. Another thing I learned about Mages is how infrequently they are monogamous. Curious, isn't it?"
Hermione winced. "Are you trying to start an argument?" she ground out.
Minerva raised an eyebrow. "No. Merely making an observation that it seems to me no more realistic for you to fight your nature in that regard than if you were to deny your magic. You are what you are."
"Just because Mages are rarely monogamous does not mean that they can't be," the other woman countered, standing firm.
"Perhaps, but you haven't been," the Scottish woman said, flicking her wand and casting a localized privacy ward around them, knowing Sirius was still in the manor somewhere. "I don't know if you and Melok have gone to bed together again or not, and frankly I don't care, but at the very least you're emotionally involved. That much is clear. Merlin knows I have to listen to Cedrella bitch about the immorality of it often enough, and she doesn't know that you shagged."
"We haven't," Hermione whispered. "We haven't shagged again. Snogged a few times in the interest of being honest, but that's it."
"I rest my case, then," Minerva said smugly, "and I inquire why you even fight it. You are what you are. I'm not Cedrella. I'm not up on some high bloody horse about the ethics of fidelity or anything. I mean, ideally you shouldn't be sneaking around Sirius' back and all but I'm not going to judge one way or another even if I also won't point blank call it alright."
"Then what is your point, Min?" she asked, looking annoyed. "Or are you just enjoying being right?"
The Scottish woman scoffed. "Hardly. I just wonder sometimes, alright?"
Hermione looked almost scared to ask, but she did anyway. "Wonder what?"
There weren't words, or if there were Minerva couldn't find them. How did one explain that it wasn't about love but that it was about more than lust? How did one verbalize a need to connect with a harmonic partner on every level, and that the craving to do so was growing stronger and stronger as the months passed on by. Sighing, she moved forward a step and reached out her hand, pressing it just over Hermione's heart. Then, she forced her magic forward, groaning a little when the other woman's magic immediately responded and pushed back, the mingling effect incredibly arousing. "That," she said breathlessly. "I sometimes wonder… about that."
The other woman stumbled backwards, and Minerva was shocked to see a tear rolling down Hermione's cheek. When she spoke, her tone sounded oddly like she was reminiscing. "Between our mutually Gryffindor natures, we are both thinking of doing something before we cannot. That does not mean we should."
She did not allow Minerva time to reply before she turned and walked away, leaving the Scottish woman standing there alone, trying to digest what had happened. Admittedly, yes, the deaths of Arcturus and Lysandra Black had her thinking more urgently of exploring the sexual element of harmonic magic with Hermione, because what if one of them were killed and they never did have a chance? Hermione, it seemed, knew her better than she had ever really given the other woman credit for.
James Watson walked down the hall through the living quarters on his way downstairs, knowing he had a guest meant to arrive any minute. He paused as he passed one particular doorway, smiling a little as he took a moment to open the door and step into the room, flicking on the light and taking in the sight. Centered on one wall was a child's bed, newly updated from the crib that had occupied the room previously. There was a nightstand on one side, a dresser on the other, both fastened securely to the wall so that the young boy who sometimes resided here couldn't topple the furniture on top of himself.
It had only been three years since Zayan had come into his life, James mused, and yet there were days he could hardly remember what life had been like without his Godson in it. It wasn't as if he'd had a long standing relationship with the boy's father prior to the day he'd been born, but Zayan's birth had been emergent, complicated, and the child's mother had not survived. Father and son had remained at the London Sanctuary for several months following the birth, and in that time James had bonded with them both. Before they'd taken their leave, Zayan's father had taken him quite by surprise and named him Godfather to the child.
Since then, about once a month or so the boy would get dropped off for a long weekend with James. He was quite certain he was spoiling the child rotten but he was under the impression that was in the job description so he couldn't bring himself to be sorry. He'd teach the child hard work and so forth when he got older and could begin to learn the ins and outs of working in the Sanctuary properly. After all, Zayan was an Abnormal himself. James couldn't imagine he wouldn't be eager to learn about working in the Sanctuary in due time.
With a sigh, James turned off the light and exited the room, mentally thinking about when Zayan was next due to visit as he made his way down the stairs to the main level and to the den, unsurprised to find Sirius Black already there sipping tea and waiting for him.
"You're late, Watson," Sirius ribbed.
"It's my house," he countered. "How can I be late in my own house?"
The other man shrugged. "How have you been, mate?"
"Same as last month," he replied. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to make it to the funeral. How is Cedrella holding up?"
He snorted. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Cedrella and Hermione were actually related by blood. Peas in a pod. She had her moment of breakdown, and now she's just rearing for a fight. I'm worried it's going to get her killed, but Hermione says to trust that she can get Cedrella in good fighting form before she actually sees any armed conflict."
"I take it the General is back in action," the elder man mused, thinking of previous conversations he'd had with Sirius about Hermione's ability to shift from being a family woman to a General in charge on a whim.
"Yeah," Sirius grumbled. "General Granger. I guess it's General Black, now. Seriously Watson, she gets like this and it's like I don't even have a wife anymore. I respect the hell out of her, really, but what's left for me when she's busy leading all the soldiers to war? Am I really meant to sit back and just… lose her?"
"It's the hazard of loving a soldier, I fear," James admitted. "I deal with much the same in regard to Helen."
"Helen never signed up to have and hold with you, though," Sirius pointed out. "Hermione married me. She married me, and now I have to share her with a war, share her with Melok, share her with Minerva, share her with her research, share her with her training schedule… by the time I'm done bloody sharing her she doesn't have five minutes for me!"
The pair were silent for a moment, James looking at his friend critically. "What is it that you're afraid of, Sirius?"
The Head of the Blacks slouched in his seat. In the past few years, he'd watched Sirius go from a brash, impulsive man to a socially refined gentleman he was proud to call a friend, and he had been appreciative of how well the two of them seemed to balance each other out in conversation, challenging each other into personal growth. As such, it troubled him to see Sirius struggling so much.
"I'm afraid she'll leave me," came a soft admission. "I mean, I know she won't divorce me. We both value our magic too much for that, but I love her too much to say no if she asked for a separation. Even a permanent one."
"So you doubt her love for you?" James inquired. "While I can see that she has clear issue managing her priorities, Sirius, I don't get the impression Hermione loves you any less than she did the day you wed, old boy. Do try to have more faith in her. Yes, right now things are a bit chaotic, and her time is stretched thin and she is torn in many directions, but it will not always be this way. The affection between you is clear, and the things which keep you apart are only temporary."
Sirius straightened in his seat, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Thanks, mate. You always seem to know what to say."
James snorted. "It is merely an advantage of being rather old, I'm afraid. Wisdom comes with time and experience, my friend."
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