Author's note: You get a new chapter, and youget a new chapter, and everyonegets a new chapter! Mostly because I'm super frackin' excited about the one after this and just want to get there, lol. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, everyone! It is truly a lifeline. *heart*
Her navy coat helped ward off the chill coming from within her just as well as from the outside as Hermione cracked onto the road just outside the wards of the Burrow, such as they were. Her legs were unsteady beneath her—as much from the unpracticed and unlicensed apparition,although she had been practicing, as it was from the weakness still coursing through her body from the injuries she should still be in bed for.
But she just… couldn't stay at Grimmauld for a moment longer. She wasn't running, per se, but she needed some space before she confronted the truths which had come to light about her entire life. Not that the life she had experienced with her loving parents—they would always be her parents—was any less real now that she knew, as best as possible, that she was not their biological daughter. Her experiences with them had been nothing but loving, supportive, and full of life and joy.
They had been real and their love had been genuine . Hermione had nothing to not be grateful for, as far as the Grangers were concerned.
Shoving the thought of what she would do or say to her parents into the back of her mind, along with the further testing she'd want done from Sirius and herself—Merlin, that was weird, and that wasn't even taking into account the repercussions that would follow for her life if it were 100% truly real—Hermione fought back some frustrated tears alongside a wide yawn. She hadn't realised until just then how tired she really was.
The Burrow was the only safe place she could think of that would welcome her in, no questions asked. Despite her and Molly's butting heads in fourth year, all had been forgiven, and Hermione no longer felt like the outsider she had once been. Hermione knew nothing would come of anything between her and Ron, and Molly had once assured her she didn't need to marry into the clan to be a part of it. The unwavering acceptance of the woman—after the lies Rita Skeeter had spread had been sorted out—had nearly overwhelmed Hermione at the time, and she still found herself thinking back on that conversation.
It was nice to have somewhere to go, with a magical maternal figure who wasn't also a professor.
Hermione breathed out a long sigh, tucked her hair behind her ears, and wandered barefoot up the drive. The tingle as she was allowed through the wards without question was a welcome sensation, and moments later the recognisable figure of Molly Weasley could be seen in the doorway of her loving, warm, and very eclectic home.
"Molly!" she greeted happily, albeit tiredly, as she tucked her wand into one of the deep pockets of her transfigured navy coat. Molly's arms were already wide open and she stepped into them for a long hug before being ushered into the warm and cozy kitchen and offered tea.
"What brings you here, love?" Molly asked gently as she sat across from Hermione with her own mug of tea, well-worn and well-loved like the rest of the home.
Hermione blinked back a sudden surge of tears, and Molly immediately set her cup down, reaching over to do the same for Hermione's cup. "What is it, Hermione?" she asked with great concern. "Is it your injury? Do I need to call Mrs. Tonks for you?" At least now Hermione knew that Mrs. Weasley was in on some of the goings on around the battle at the DepartmentoM.
Hermione shook her head, messy hair flying everywhere. "No, no, I'm just… tired. I've had a lot of… new information slammed into my head, and it's a lot harder to absorb than any exam I've ever faced. Even the farces from this year," she added wryly.
Molly stilled for a long moment, her eyes flitting from her face and to her hand a few times. She gently reached out, as if she were afraid to scare Hermione, but Hermione trustingly put her right hand into Molly's, knowing exactly what she'd placed her focus on.
"Is this…?" Molly began, then blinked hard and shook her head slightly. "Of course it is; I'd recognize it anywhere. The Prewetts never did shortchange us on our pureblood education." Her eyes bored into Hermione's. "You know what this means, don't you?" Her face twisted into a frown that Hermione recognised as one she reserved for Sirius.
Hermione could only nod and swallow, ignoring Molly's disapproval of the man because she just didn't have it in her to protest Molly's feelings about Sirius Black—plus, she was being rather mild compared to her past voicings of disapproval. She nodded again. "It's not official. We haven't checked everything, from what I understand. I just… I only just found out myself. Only put that," she gestured at the ring with her chin, "on about ten minutes ago. I sort of… ran before we could talk about it," she murmured, a little embarrassed at her lack of courage.
Molly hummed, tilting Hermione's hand from one side to the other, but her face was nothing but gentle and compassionate. If she'd seen pity, Hermione wasn't sure what she would have done.
"Well," Molly said with finality as she gently put Hermione's hand back down and picked her tea up once more, "you're still my Hermione no matter what; I have every faith in you not turning into either a lunatic or a pureblood fanatic overnight, especially not with Sirius as…" She gestured to encompass the everything that could mean.
Hermione nearly gaped. Molly Weasley saying something nice about Sirius Black?
Molly chuckled at her expression. She gave Hermione a sly grin and said, "He has his uses, and not being a dark wizard is one of them, at least. He is also someone who I trust Harry with, especially after this latest fiasco, and I cannot say that of very many people, even perhaps Dumbledore." Molly scowled a little—there was definitely a story there, or maybe just the recent battle at the Ministry was all the excuse she needed to doubt the Headmaster's abilities to protect her children and the other students. They had , in fact, escaped from a heavily protected school and broke into the Department of Mysteries, chased by Death Eaters, and Dumbledore—though not quite to blame for it—had been nowhere to be seen.
"Well," Molly said with a tone of maternal finality. She stood up and floated her and Hermione's half full cups to the sink to set them to washing with a flick of her fingers. "Most of the children aren't home yet, and I believe you'll fit into something of Ginny's if you need to borrow anything in the morning. You can sleep there. You look a step from falling on your face, dear." Her words were gentle but her tone brooked no nonsense. "And you can stay as long as you need," she added with empathy. "I understand the need to distance oneself to think, especially when family is involved, but that's a story for another time."
"Thank you, Molly," Hermione nearly choked out, suppressing tears at the unreserved kindness of the woman before her.
"But I will floo Grimmauld and let them know where you are." Molly held up a hand. "I'll let them know they aren't welcome here until you say so, though I suppose that won't stop Harry. Is that alright?"
Hermione could only nod, then reached over compulsively to hug the Weasley matriarch. "Thank you," she whispered into her shoulder.
"Now off with you, shoo, on to bed!" Molly mock-chastised.
But Hermione hesitated slightly, placing a hand on the table to steady herself. "Molly… I know you and Sirius have your differences, but… why are you being so accepting of this? Of him? It just seems so… too sudden. Forgive me for asking, but I'm just trying to understand. It seems so unlike you, based on your and his history of the last few months."
Molly searched Hermione's features for a good long moment, her lips pressed together in a straight line, but finally answered. "As much as Sirius has been a thorn in my side, between the couple years we overlapped at Hogwarts and then the whole business of everyone thinking him a mass murderer, and his sulking about Grimmauld without doing much else for the last year—and yes, I know that was at the request of Dumbledore—I will admit that a lot of my opinion of him has been coloured unfavourably as a result. But I've had time to think, and to talk with Arthur, even Remus, about what happened at the Ministry a week ago. He comported himself bravely, and even took the time to save you when no one else had stopped to offer you what turned out to be life-saving aid." A tear welled up in the corner of one eye, but Molly didn't brush it off; she'd always been able to wear her emotions on her sleeve without embarrassment.
"Hermione, you are like one of my very own children, and he saved you. That alone is enough for me to forgive many things. And then he dove into battle to protect the rest of my children and your friends, resulting in the capture of nearly all of You-Know-Who's most important Death Eaters. Despite my previous reservations, even dislike, he has proven himself to be a useful and caring man, and now—"
She gestured at Hermione's ring. "—he has, albeit unknowingly, demonstrated that he was a man who loved deeply. I don't know what happened with him and whomever your mother was, but…" Molly huffed out a slightly watery laugh. "I may not like him very much personally, but he has hidden depths, that one, it seems. I will always support you, and it seems you will need support that involves Sirius in the days, weeks, years to come, and I'm willing to put up with the ruffian he is if I can help you navigate what is doubtless to come. And you will need help. If you decide to be open about who he is to you."
Her gaze searched Hermione's eyes for a long moment, and Hermione let the confusion of her emotions show all too clearly—what else was she supposed to feel now?
Molly sighed softly and shooed Hermione towards the staircase doorway. "I will always be available for you to ask any questions you need. As I said, the Prewetts didn't skimp on my pureblood education. And as much as I know you will shake things up, there are plenty of things you'll still need to learn to toe the line—especially if you plan to change the world like the Hermione I know." Hermione shared a somewhat shocked, but conspiratorial smile with Molly—she wasn't shocked Molly knew she wanted to shake things up in the wizarding world, more that she was surprised it seemed Molly approved.
Hermione let a small smile linger on her lips, the warmth of the conversation and the welcome in Molly suffusing her until she'd shed her coat and climbed under the covers of Ginny's bed. They were her last thoughts, besides the ache in her torso, before sleep dragged her deep into its hold.
Hermione was wearing one of the few dresses Ginny had in her wardrobe, a deep blue that complemented both Hermione's colouring as well as Ginny's, though she had had to expand the material in the bust and shoulders so that she could fit into it comfortably. She'd thrown her navy coat over her arm, pleased the transfiguration was holding, and walked as quietly as possible out of the Burrow early in the morning so that she could enjoy the sunrise at the river without needing to face anyone or be forced to eat a breakfast she wasn't sure she could stomach at the moment.
She'd slept alright, likely because she'd been so exhausted from all the information—and what information it was, my goodness—but she credited the fact she hadn't tossed and turned to the pure physical exhaustion her body was in after foregoing the potions she probably should have remembered she needed before she'd hastily fled last night.
Dipping her bare feet and calves into the river on the edge of the Weasley property, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to breathe the pain into submission. She'd gone through a good twenty cycles of breathing in and out, with some success, when she was interrupted.
It was not an unwelcome interruption.
"Hermione!" Ron called her name, coming at her from behind and to her left, and Hermione turned around gingerly instead of twisting her torso around—which would inevitably have undone all the meditative breathing she'd been doing to soothe the ache. "Ron! I thought you'd still be at school!" she exclaimed happily, though surprised, and went to get to her feet to give him a hug.
Ron waved her down, giving her a mock stern look. "Don't get up, silly, you're still hurt." He plopped down beside her before wrapping her up in a gigantic, very-Ron-like hug. Hermione buried her nose in the collar of his shirt, breathing in the scent of one of her best friends and finding solace in it. She hadn't expected to see him here at all.
Withdrawing slightly, he held her at arm's length, looking at her from head to toe but lingering on the vivid, still raw scar that travelled a good half-foot past the neckline of her borrowed dress. It wasn't that the dress was risqué or particularly low-cut; no, it was just that the scar was that long. But she'd chosen to own it, to wear it like a scar earned in battle, well-earned—which it was , even if some would disbelieve that a sixteen-year-old could have such a battle scar.
Ron looked like he wanted to reach out and trace what he could see of the scar, but thankfully, for Hermione at least, he resisted the impulse (… it seemed Ron could learn, after all).
A small part of her—the part that had pined for her red-headed best friend for the last two years—gave a sad, internal pout, but Hermione was well aware that something had irrevocably changed during or after the Battle at the Department of Mysteries. She wasn't sure what, maybe the information about her future and all it entailed—especially the responsibilities the Black name would inevitably come with, even simply as the Heir—had made her realise she would need someone that was far more mature and world-wise than Ron Weasley was. He was a gentle soul, albeit with some anger issues, but his political acumen was slim to non-existent.
Not sure when her brain had come to some sort of… accord about her circumstances, she had to admit that there was no practical use in denying the evidence that had been laid bare before her. She sighed.
"What's wrong, 'Mione?" Ron asked, oddly in tune with her mood for once.
Hermione couldn't quite put it into words for him—she wasn't sure how he'd react, honestly, especially after how he'd reacted to some of Harry's luckier familial news over the years—so she settled on something that was still weighing on her mind, and thus just as true. "I'm wondering how everyone else is, after the battle," she admitted. Her eyes sharpened as she turned her gaze to him, hand reaching subconsciously to rub over the top end of her scar. "Actually, why are you even home? I was told that everyone else had been sent back to Hogwarts and that you wouldn't be home until next week."
Ron gave her one of his disarming smiles—one which would have once set her heart racing—and answered quickly enough. "Well, the reporters got hold of the story and they started inundating Hogwarts with the most ridiculous amount of mail you've ever seen." Which was saying something, because over their years at Hogwarts, they had seen some truly unreal amounts of owl mail delivered. "If you or Harry had been there, I imagine it would've been worse. But as it was, McGonagall overrode Dumbledore and sent anyone adjacent to the battle back home early."
"Where was Ginny then?" Hermione asked, confused. She'd stayed in the younger girl's room last night, and hadn't seen hide nor hair of her.
"Ginny was driving mum up the wall," Ron stated while rolling his eyes, though Hermione wasn't sure if it was at Ginny or his mum, or both, "so Luna sent an owl inviting her over for a couple days. I think it'll be good for them both; the battle wasn't…" He trailed off, hands clenching and teeth grinding as his memories swamped him.
"Are you okay, though?" Hermione asked gently, placing her free hand on his knee and squeezing it lightly.
Ron's cheeks pinkened slightly, telling Hermione all she needed to know, but her friend blustered in any case. "Yeah, I'm fine." His expression turned excited. "We caught so many Death Eaters! They're bound to give us Orders of Merlin, First Class for this!"
Hermione could guess with almost 100% certainty that they would not , in fact, be given Orders of Merlin of any class, because the Ministry was corrupt and filled with officials who would rather hide their heads in the sand like ostriches than admit a passel of teenagers had managed to break into the Ministry and catch more Dark wizards in the course of a few hours than they had in over a year.
Sigh.
She was saved from having to break the news to Ron by a shout coming from behind them both.
"Ron! Hermione!"
They both turned simultaneously to catch a glimpse of Harry jogging easily over to them from the direction of the Burrow; obviously his first stop.
They both waved at him, but didn't get up, enjoying the feel of the cold water on their heated skin too much. Harry immediately shucked his shoes and socks when he reached them, rolling up his jeans before plunging his own feet into the depths. He sighed happily, and leaned back on his elbows.
"Hey Harry," Ron returned amiably.
Hermione just smiled slightly awkwardly at him, hidden from sight because Ron was on her other side. There was still a lot going on in Hermione's life that Harry was privy to, and she—
"Hey Ron, you doing alright?" Harry asked, though didn't wait for a response. He turned to Hermione again. "Sirius wants to see you right away, Hermione," Harry said sombrely, obviously troubled by something.
The mere fact that Sirius had sent Harry to come get her, rather than a Patronus or an owl, spoke volumes as to how important the issue was. She couldn't help but feel a slight panic start to rise in her stomach and up into her throat, nearly choking her words, stopping them from forming at all.
"Why would Sirius want to see Hermione?" Ron asked.
Oh Merlin and Morgana , Ron didn't know.
"House business, apparently," Harry replied easily.
Merlin's hairy balls and Morgana's saggy tits , Hermione cursed internally. Ron was not bloody stupid, Harry. He could have checked with her before advertising her personal business to all and sundry, even if all and sundry at the moment included one person, and that person just happened to be their other best friend.
"Bloody hell, Harry," Hermione muttered darkly. Both that and exactly what Harry had implied had both of her friends staring at her in varying degrees of surprise and consternation.
"You didn't tell him?" Harry's voice rose in pitch, practically strangling itself on the higher notes of his register.
"I was working up to it , you daft man," she snarled, though her heart wasn't really in it.
Both young men just stared at her for long moments, before Ron started to connect all of the dots possible.
"You're related to Sirius!? " he practically shouted.
Hermione shoved her face into both hands and groaned. She elbowed Harry and bit out, "You handle this." She stood up and spelled her feet dry enough to put on her ballet flats. Smoothing out her dress, she glared at Harry. "Apparently Lord Black has summoned me back home, and it must be… serious," her lip curled in distaste at the use of the word, "if he sent Harry to fetch me. To make sure I went back, I suppose."
Harry looked uncomfortable, his eyes switching back and forth between her and Ron, as if wondering who he'd rather face in this instance. Too bad; she wasn't giving him a choice. He could explain as much or as little as he wanted, but she'd give Ron the pertinent details so that Harry couldn't walk his way around the words in any fancy way.
"Ron." She turned to her friend, thankful he remained seated so that she didn't have to crane her neck up to meet his eyes. "Harry's going to make it up to me —" She glared at Harry before returning a softer gaze to Ron, "—by explaining what happened and what we know, but the gist of it is that during the battle at the Ministry, a ward keeping a bond dormant on me was broken and it appears that I am, in fact, Sirius Black's child. My parents, the Grangers, don't know. And this," she raised her hand to show his slowly darkening face the signet ring she had tried her best to remove and failed, "is just one way that he was able to prove that."
She leaned down and gave Ron a hug, lightning-quick, before his ire could rise any further—she knew exactly what was starting to churn about in his mind, all jealousy and anger at being the last to know, and more—and then stepped well back from them both. "We'll get through this," she said with more conviction than she felt. "I love you both, and to me, nothing has changed even if everything has. You're still my best friends. Now I better get going; it sounds important if Sirius and Remus sent for me directly, rather than a patronus or owl." She paused, wincing slightly as she took a few steps back. "And I need my potions, honestly," she admitted with a scowl.
Hoping that had helped stimy some of Ron's likely-explosive reaction, Hermione made sure she was still within the magical region of the Burrow and disapparated back to the floo room of Grimmauld Place. She knew she really shouldn't be taking advantage of the learner's permit for apparition, given out four months prior to a witch or wizard's birthday, but she was taking every chance she got to practice so that she could be well ahead of her peers—and ready for any danger coming away.
What she was told upon her arrival back at Grimmauld nearly made her disapparate right back out the way she had come, again—barring that, the fireplace was lit, the floo powder pot was easily accessible, and she had a clear shot at it. And she had her wand. But as soon as she saw Sirius' face, her courage rose within her, knowing he wouldn't allow her to be harmed, and she threw her shoulders back, and went to stand beside the man who was at the very least a good friend, even if not yet—or ever—a father. But he, as a friend, could always use her help, and, together with Remus, while waiting for Harry to return, they prepared to go and meet two people who had made a very... unusual... request from the Black family.
Hermione deliberately chose to play the part of the heir, and to look it as well, as she prepared. And there was no question of her staying behind in this case; she wasn't leaving Sirius to face these people alone. Not on her watch. She may or may not be the heir, but she knew at least one thing about who she was: she was Hermione Granger.
Author's note: Definitely won't be seeing the last of Ron and his jealousy, but I'm aiming for a more together trio than I tend to seek out in fic. But who knows, the characters might tell me to stfu and let them hate each other. I'll try not to ahahaha.
SO excited for next chapter. If you love, let me know! It fuels my soul (and serotonin). ;D
Sixth year is going to be a blast, with politics, pureblood grandstanding, courting, and action too! Can't wait to show you what I have in store for this. Eeee!