Listen To Your Elder
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Hermione giggled unable to stop herself as she listened to Marguerite recant a story about a loose pixie in her summer home making a mess of the dinner her daughter had planned for them all. Evidently the deviant little thing managed to get itself into the game hen only to give chase while wearing a suit of meat. "Oh my word…your granddaughters must have been traumatized!"
"They let the pixie loose in the first place! They thought it was the greatest time! Now that poor daughter of mine." Marguerite shook her head solemnly. "She was so angry and frantic!" The silver haired woman laughed, watching how Hermione's face shifted and changed with every emotion. "But enough of that, we were in the middle of a story were we not?"
Hermione nodded excitingly, before smiling slyly. "You were about to tell me why it is your English is so good."
Marguerite chuckled indulgently. "Ah yes, my English…I've lived in the Northern part of France since I was born, my whole…family has in fact. But there comes a time in every younger girl's life when she feels the need to break away from her family to find herself beyond the family." She sighs wistfully. "I found myself in Scotland, and as luck would have it, I found myself in the company of a very nice Wizard." Hermione blushed as Marguerite grinned at her. "He was very charming if not a little curious. He showed me a great many things and introduced me to the Wizarding World of England. I spent a great deal of time learning and in turn teaching with this Wizard…until…"
"Until?" Hermione pushed.
Marguerite smiled softly, "Until I met mon seul…or so I thought." Her smiled turned tiresome. "You see mon petit in some families and cultures they have certain beliefs. My family has always and will always believe in âmes sœurs. Soulmates, qui?" Hermione nodded to show her understanding.
"Was he not the one then?" She whispers.
Marguerite pats the back of her hand. "Non mon petit, he was not, but he gave me the most wonderful daughter and the start of my family. It was difficult in the beginning, to think that my soulmate was not out there, but I've lived on and my family has thrived." She paused, debating on her next words.
With a firm nod, Marguerite started again, but this time in French. "Pour une Vélane pour trouver son compagnon, il est pour elle de trouver l'autre moitié d'elle-même. Elle devient complète dans le plus merveilleux des façons, mais seulement si le processus de l'accouplement est terminé. Le Vélane et son compagnon sont les matchs les plus parfaits, le plus vrai. Mais cela ne signifie pas qu'il est sans ses défis. Avant l'achèvement de la liaison le Veela et son compagnon se ressentir des émotions volatiles à la fois le bonheur et la colère, le plaisir et la douleur. Et parfois, dans des cas très rares et uniques un Vélane est né sans un partenaire. Il est le plus triste des événements." (For a Veela to find her mate, it is for her to find the other half of herself. She becomes complete in the most wonderful of ways, but only if the mating process is completed. The Veela and her mate are the most perfect matches, the most true. But that doesn't mean it is without its challenges. Before the completion of the bonding the Veela and her mate will experience volatile emotions of both happiness and anger, pleasure and pain. And sometimes, in very rare and unique cases a Veela is born without a mate. It is the most sorrowful of events.)
Hermione frowned, "I'm sorry…I don't understand."
The older woman gave her a secretive sort of smile. "No matter mon petit, just remember that you should always be open to love…no matter what form it takes." Hermione frowned with suspicion, surely the woman had said more than that…but really she shouldn't push, Marguerite had been more than patient with her thus far.
A silence crept between them and in it Hermione checked her watch. "Merlin's beard!" She sprang to her feet with a start. "I've got to go; I'm nearly late to meet my parents." She looked sullen at the prospect. "And I didn't even find a gift for Harry or Ron." She groaned, rubbing her temples.
Marguerite stood and grasped the girl by her shoulders, "Calm yourself mon petit, here take these." She produced a small ring box from underneath the table, in it a simple golden band. "It is enchanted to warm when danger is near and it will protect against smaller curses and hexes; for Harry." She then turned and dug through what must have been her bag, producing a red pocket knife with a dozen different gadgets on it. "For Ron." Then, with one smooth movement she pulled a rectangular box from the shelf behind her. "And this, my little one, is for you."
Hermione opened it and there lying in a bed of silver silk was the most beautiful quill she had ever set eyes on. The feather was a bold red attached to a golden body and nib with a Fleur De Lis connecting the two. "Oh my…" She was stunned, she reached for her purse. "How much?"
Marguerite scoffed, "It is a gift!" Hermione made to protest, but was cut off by a gentle nudge against her chin. "Run along now mon petit, don't keep your parents waiting." Hermione smiled gently at the woman, then turned and left the tent.
Marguerite sighed, if her daughter found out she was meddling she was sure to get a scolding…oh well! She meddled in her daughter's love life before and look how well that turned out! Yes, yes Marguerite was doing the right thing…still best not get caught.
Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing, surely it was a joke or a mistake but he just knew that it couldn't be right. "How is this possible?" He whispered brokenly, his fingers brushing over the spot on the tapestry. "Sirius, how is this possible?" He whirled around on his Godfather, fire in his eyes.
Sirius raised his hands trying to quell the boy's anger. "Calm yourself Harry." Truly Sirius had no idea how this could have happened, the thought that he didn't know something so huge about his own brother's life just killed him. "How could this be?" He mumbled to himself.
"This will kill her you know?" Harry sighed out sorrowfully. "You know it will! How is she going to deal with this? After everything she's been through because of who she is, this happens? This will change everything!" He cried, hurting for his friend.
"It doesn't have to change everything Harry. It doesn't have to change the way you see her. She'll need a friend Harry, this can't change that." Sirius stressed, his fingers tracing the elegant script beneath his brother's name. He leveled Harry with a determined look. "If this is true Harry, then she's the last Black heir and when that becomes public knowledge things will change drastically for her. I have no doubt that my dear cousin will want to get their hands on her. Being a Black changes everything."
"Alright dear, we leave for the airport in an hour, you're all packed right?" Jean Granger called over her shoulder.
Hermione rolled her eyes, but smiled kindly at her mother's back. "Yes mum, I've been packed since last night."
Jean chuckled, turning around to drop a kiss onto her daughter's forehead. "You're more responsible than your father dear."
"Hey!" John protested coming from the bathroom, zipping up his toiletry bag. "Of course she is! Smarter too, I'd gather!" He joked. Hermione shook her head at his antics and promptly looked away when her parents shared a small kiss.
"Well seeing as I'm more responsible and smarter than dad, can I go into town real quick?" Hermione asked with unease, sighing as their posture went from relaxed to rigid in response. "Honestly, I'd just like to say goodbye."
Jean and John shared a look, John staring hardly into his wife's eyes as she spoke. "I really don't think it necessary; you don't even know this woman."
Hermione frowned, her mouth moving into a hard line as her resolve built. "I'm not daft. I know how to be careful, you've had no problem when I went and saw her over this past week, so why now?"
John shook his head, "Listen to your mother. You've no business with that woman." He spat.
Hermione grinded her teeth together, hearing the blatant prejudice in her father's voice. "That woman has been nothing but kind to me! I know you don't understand the magical world but it was really nice of her to let me visit her…you don't know what it's like to be separated the world you belong in!"
John reeled around on her, "You belong in? You belong in this world, with us! It's the world you were born into, that's what matters!"
"Yes I was born in the Muggle world but I don't belong here! I'm different father, you know it! I'm a witch and yes, a part of me will always belong in the Muggle world, but the biggest part of me belongs in the Magical world. I don't have to hide there, I can be myself and I don't feel like a freak because I can do things that the Muggles can only dream about doing." Hermione shouted, unable to stop herself.
Jean covered her mouth to hold in a sob as John tried to comfort his wife. He cleared his throat and with resignation he spoke, unable to look at his daughter. "We leave in an hour, don't be late. Hermione's throat constricted and her eyes burned as she nodded; leaving the room before any more damage could be done.
She ran through the streets of St. Tropez frantically trying to get to the market square to find Marguerite. Her eyes are blurry and so she misses the first step leading into the square and trips, skinning her knees and bloodying her palms. She picks herself back up, ignoring the stinging pain and pushes forward, picking out the woman's tent immediately.
She throws herself throw the flaps and is immediately encircled in Marguerite's arms, her tears no longer kept at bay. "Shh mon petit, shh. Il est bien grand-mère vous a eu, mon petit. Souffle. Venez maintenant et sécher vos larmes, grand-mère est ici. Tell me what has happened to you, little Hermione." (It is alright Grandma has got you, my little one. Breath. Come now and dry your tears, Grandma is here.) Marguerite tries to calm the girl by rubbing her back. When Hermione's tears start to dry she manages to put the girl into her chair and leans down in front of her. Seeing the bloody skin Marguerite covers one knee with her hand, chanting softly until a golden light wraps itself around Hermione's skin. When she pulls away there's not even a scar left behind, she continues to the next knee.
"W-What? H-How can you do that without a wand? Even Madam Pomfrey needs a wand." Hermione hiccups. Still, Hermione has no problem offering one hand to the elderly woman, and then the other.
"Ah! It seems my secret is finally out, non?" Marguerite smiles charmingly at the girl, keeping her hand firmly grasped in her own while Marguerite's free hand reaches up to wipe away any stray tears. "I am not a witch Hermione, but I am a magical being." She admitted softly.
Hermione frowned, hurt bubbling her within her. "You lied to me?" she whispered.
"Non mon petit, not exactly." Marguerite rushed to explain. "I am a Veela and we don't share our secret with anyone outside our coven or family. I did not think it mattered so much where my magic comes from, you just seemed to be looking for a connection to our world…I'm sorry if I hurt you little one."
Hermione bit her lip, thinking it over. True Marguerite had kept her heritage from her, but since when had Hermione ever cared about blood line or heritage? It had always been simpler to Hermione, either you had magical abilities or you did not, it didn't matter how those abilities came about. Besides who was she to demand an explanation? "No, it's quite alright. I just assumed you to be a witch…what is a Veela though? Is that like a werewolf or centaur?"
Marguerite laughed at seeing that intelligent spark grow into a curious, unstoppable flame. "No child, we Veela are magical beings, no Ministry has ever or will ever monitor and regulate us. We are different from wizards and witches, but we are not corralled like unmanageable beast. We govern ourselves and so, our culture is separate and kept secret from the rest of the magical world." Marguerite grinned. "Other than that there's not much too tell you, the only instances in which we share our history and what it means to be a Veela is when we find our mate. Sometimes our mates is not a Veela and so they must be taught on how to be with a Veela."
Hermione nodded, understanding. "So there are half Veelas and the like? When a Veela has mated with a witch or wizard?"
Marguerite laughed, "If that were the case our race would have died out long ago. No the Veela blood is dominant and stronger than any witches or wizards and so any child born of such union is a full blooded Veela. I assure you it's not as complicated as it may seem."
"You just can't tell me everything because I'm not your mate." Hermione blushed as soon as the words left her mouth.
"No, you are not my mate. I was one of those born with no mate. It doesn't always happen, but just like Witches and Wizards have squibs, Veela can be born without a mate…though we would never disown anyone for such a thing. Family is family, blood is blood and mates are mates; we hold everyone connected to our coven, our family, in the highest places of our hearts, no matter the circumstance. "
Hermione smiled at the thought and emotion behind Marguerite's words. "My parents don't understand my connection to the magical world. I was born to Muggles you see and they refuse to understand that a huge part of me will always fill like I belong in the magical world and not the Muggle one…That's why I was so upset, I got into a fight with my dad, he didn't want e coming here or being around someone like you…but I am someone like you." She stressed.
Again Marguerite shushed the girl before she could work herself up. "You must not judge them too harshly Hermione. They will never understand this part of your life, they may not every accept it, but they do love you, never forget that. Parents always try to do what they think is best for their child, sometimes they're very wrong, just don't sever that tie unless it absolutely has to be cut."
Hermione sighed. "I just wish they'd accept it, accept me." Marguerite didn't know what to say and so she said nothing. Placing a kiss onto Hermione's forehead she stood the girl up, clearing her tears once more, and walked her to the entrance.
"It is time for you to go home Hermione. Tell your family that you love them. Make peace with the situation before you go off to school. And remember…keep your heart open to love…" Marguerite smiled, looking to the girl expectantly.
"No matter what form it come in." Hermione smiled and gave the woman one last hug. "Goodbye Grand-mère Marguerite." She turned and left without waiting for a reply.
Marguerite watched her go, a small smile on her face. "Au revoir, mon petit, être patient, notre fleur vous trouver bientôt."
"It seems your dear brother Regulus had quite the few secrets of his own Sirius." Dumbledore smiled around the rim of his tea cup.
Sirius swallowed heavily, "So it's true then?"
Albus nodded, "It is true and now that we know Severus can explain it to us." All at once both Harry and Sirius blew up.
"What! That snake knew and didn't tell me!" Sirius yelled.
Harry glared at the man as he entered the room; his robs billowing behind him with flare. "How could you not tell us?"
The stoic Professor sneered, "Regulus had me under the unbreakable vow that I could not tell anybody until the change on the tapestry was discovered."
Sirius frowned, "By who's wand?"
At this Severus looked away, a look of pain almost appearing onto his face. He did not answer, but Ablus did. "Lily Potter."