August 1940
"I hereby declare Rabastan Lestrange and Loreen Mulciber husband and wife. May your Magic carry on strong, and your lives be long and prosperous." At the officiant's words, the hall erupted into loud cheers. The smiling pair bashfully entwined their hands before walking towards the entrance of the beautifully decorated chapel. Hermione's eyes wandered over the sparkling white gardenias lining the upper balconies and benches.
Except for Bill's and Fleur's, Hermione had never been to a magical wedding. So, when she'd been dragged into the tedious preparations for her uncle's ceremony, the young witch had quickly realised that this wasn't her forte. She neither had the patience to sit in a room full of chatty witches fawning over cake toppings nor did she care to be honest. The past four weeks had been hell, and she was glad that the big day was finally here.
"Five Galleons that my brother will trip over the carpet again." her father whispered in his seat.
Hermione giggled but quickly covered her mouth. Just as the newlyweds were about to exit the hall, Rabastan stumbled, and Hermione couldn't help but snort at her uncle's clumsiness.
"All right, I'll pay you back home." She continued to clap until the pair was out of sight.
"You mean I'll pay myself, seeing as every single coin in our vaults technically belongs to me."
Hermione rolled her eyes at the man. "Why bet at all, then? Just suggest something else next time."
They stood and followed the rest of the guests who were already making their way towards the extensive gardens. Hermione had been confused when Loreen had first shared that the wedding would be held in a chapel. She'd only recently learned about the wizarding world's places of worship, where some still honoured the old gods today. It made sense in retrospect. In school, they'd learned plenty about the likes of Morgana and Merlin and the ancient rites, most of which were banned today, but Hermione had never thought to connect them to their respective deities.
Once they'd found their table, Hermione sat down again, this time next to Loreen's younger sister. The girl was a year younger than Hermione but already looked like the fresco of a Greek goddess come to life. Golden tresses surrounded her youthful face like a burning halo in the setting afternoon sun, making her azure eyes stand in stark contrast to her pale skin. Hermione internally rolled her eyes at the girl's bright grin, her ridiculously white teeth nearly blinding the young witch.
"Hermione! Wasn't this the most beautiful wedding you've ever seen? I'm so jealous."
Said girl just nodded, taking a deep sip of her water.
"I'm sure your wedding will be just as splendid as your sister's, Estelle." Mrs Mulciber spoke up from her seat across from the two girls, her thin lips stretching into a reassuring smile.
"Now I wish I'd gone to Hogwarts instead of Beauxbatons. Hermione and I could've been best friends then."
Hermione closed her eyes for a second, thanking everyone who might've listened for saving her from that hellish thought. Just as Estelle opened her mouth to continue, the food appeared on their previously empty plates, and thankful for the distraction, Hermione eagerly dug into her meal. She listened to the guest's idle conversations for a while, content that no one was addressing her for a change.
"How about you, Hermione dear?" the older Mulciber woman asked. "Is there any young gentleman who caught your eye?"
She shook her head. "Of course not. I'm barely thirteen."
"Loreen told me you are"- The witch tapped her sharp nails on the table. "-Acquainted with the young Malfoy heir, wouldn't he be a good match?"
Hermione felt a little nauseous at the thought of her and Abraxas together. "He's more like a brother to me, so please don't assume anything." It was ridiculous how a witch's success in life seemed to depend entirely on whom she was married to. It irked her to no end that the first question she always got wasn't how she was doing academically but which young wizards she was associating herself with.
"As you say, dear. Our Estelle here has already caught the eye of a few admirers. We got two proposal letters this year." Madame Mulciber boasted.
And this undoubtedly hasn't anything to do with the fact that your oldest daughter is a Lestrange now. Hermione wanted to say but wisely kept her mouth shut. She didn't want to start an argument at Rabastan's wedding, so she just put on her most convincing smile.
"You must be so proud. I hope you'll find a suitable match for Estelle in due time," she spoke, internally screaming at the woman's pleased look at her answer…
After the feast, Hermione found herself strolling through the enchanted gardens of the chapel, marvelling at the complex spellwork that had gone into creating the flowerbeds. She was admiring a fountain that had a dancing fairy made entirely out of gold on top of it when someone called her name.
"Hermione! Light of my life, nothing glows brighter than your radiant smile!"
She scowled at Evan's theatrical words and skilfully evaded the older boy's arms. Sighing, she turned around to the beaming boy, only to find him towering over her suddenly much smaller form. When did that happen?
"Merlin, be quiet. I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea." Grabbing his arm, the girl pulled him away from the rest of the guests before letting herself fall onto one of the many benches set up around the gardens. Hoping they'd have some time for themselves before anyone noticed their absence, Hermione took a deep breath and leaned her head back.
"Spoilsport. I've been keeping myself together since eleven," Evan plopped down next to her.
She glanced at the older Slytherin, admiring the boy's perfectly smooth curls. How can this be natural? Why doesn't my hair look like that? She subconsciously wove her fingers through her own bushy locks, feeling the numerous potions Winny had used to tame them in the morning slowly losing their effect.
"How're you holding up? Found yourself enjoying the domestic bliss of preparing a wedding?" he teased, knowing fully well that Hermione would rather have a picnic under the branches of the whomping willow than spend the day being poked and prodded at Madam Malkins.
"You wouldn't believe how much I'm enjoying myself right now." she drawled.
"Cheer up. At least you seem to get along with your father better now," Evan said. "I saw you two joking back at the chapel."
Hermione pursed her lips. "I guess? I haven't noticed." She furrowed her brows. Hermione really couldn't think of a single argument since her return home this summer.
"It's kinda eerie seeing you two today after what you've told me about him."
Hermione rested her chin on her left hand. Something about all this does feel - off.
"I mean, Brax told me that Riddle was staying over the summer, and I thought maybe that he's the reason your father doesn't bother you as much anymore, but then again, why?"
She absentmindedly listened to Evan's ramblings.
"I get that he's a parselmouth, but that still doesn't explain why your family is so overly welcoming towards him. In the end, you're Mr Lestrange's child, not Riddle."
Hermione turned her gaze back to Evan. "Riddle is just a means to an end for my father, nothing more."
"Then why? What happened that fixed your relationship so suddenly?" A soft breeze wove through the boy's curls, making Hermione's fingers itch to smooth them down again. "I could really use some of those tricks as well, you know?" He half-joked, his green eyes coldly reflecting her thoughtful gaze.
"I-I'm not sure",- Hermione began, scratching her neck. "We just stopped. No more fights, arguments or whatever. It just happened one day."
"When? Did you just come home, and suddenly the world was okay again? Come on. You know things don't work this way." Evan replied scornfully.
Hermione once again tried to think of a reason for the sudden change in their relationship. When did we stop fighting over things? She looked up to the cloudless sky.
"Maybe this mysterious potion of yours stops him from getting mad at you." He mused.
Scoffing at this ludicrous idea, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's ridiculous. Such a potion doesn't exist." she began, but Evan interrupted her.
"Am I the only one who thinks it's weird that you're so relaxed about drinking an unknown substance daily? Don't look at me like I'm the mad one here!"
"It doesn't do anything, Merlin. I'm the only one who can actually see it, so who knows, maybe it's not even real, maybe there's something wrong with my eyes." Hermione snapped back.
"Blimey Hermione, calm down. I was joking. No need to get all hysterical over the matter."
Hermione wanted to slap the boy for his demeaning words. She was fine. Everything was fine! Why was he bothering her with this?
"Anyways, what did your father have to say about all this?" he asked.
Hermione raised her brows. "About what?"
"That weird potion, for Merlin's sake, do keep up, would you?"
A stream of shimmery silver flashed before her inner eye, and something in her mind shifted at that moment. He wouldn't- Hermione felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head. He couldn't have-
"Hermione, hello? Anyone home?" Evan waved his hands in front of his friend's face, confusion clearly written all over his handsome features.
Hermione's mind was working feverously over the realisation she had just had. Only a moment could have passed before her fists hit the wood beneath them. "That lying, disgusting piece of shit."
Evan flinched away from the seething girl.
Hermione whipped around and shoved the boy off her before standing up, immediately crumbling to the grassy ground. Her throat burned, and she feared that she might get sick right on the floor. She saw Evan scramble towards her, unsure how to deal with the distraught witch. His panicked face would've been quite hilarious if Hermione hadn't been so busy fighting down a magical outburst at that moment. It felt harder and harder to breathe as her surroundings closed in on her.
"Hermione?" Evan's whispered plea ripped Hermione from her racing thoughts, the sudden shift in her head nearly giving her whiplash.
She was trying to form a coherent sentence over the thudding of her heart. "I-I'm not feeling so good. I should leave." She pushed herself back up from the ground, her white robes wrinkled and her intricate hairdo dishevelled.
Hermione absentmindedly cast a few charms on herself to avoid any gossip and was just about to hurry back to the portkey field when the person she wanted to see the least at that moment stepped into the garden, a stern-looking man at his side.
"There you are, Evan. The house-elves told us that you two were enjoying some time away from the crowd." The stranger at Rodolphus' side called.
Hermione watched her friend's eyes harden, concluding that this must be his father.
"Hermione, everything, all right? You look a bit under the weather."
She gave her disgusting excuse of a father her most impressive glare. The older Lestrange looked a little taken aback by her hostile reaction before putting two and two together and crossing his arms, daring her to make a scene in front of their small audience. Then, after a few seconds of silently glaring at each other, he raised one dark brow. Humiliation churned in her chest.
Sensing the animosity between the father-daughter duo, the other two wizards stood silent. Evan slowly stepped away from Hermione and towards his father. The last rays of sunshine covered the garden in a crimson hue, and Hermione's dark brown locks seemed to move on their own.
Evan swallowed hard as he watched his friend's magic spark dangerously around her, once again in awe of her raw power. He could only think of a handful of wizards that surpassed her.
"We will speak about this later. This is my brother's wedding, and we should respect him and his bride." Rodolphus ordered, his voice deceptively calm, but Hermione could feel the rage boiling underneath his skin. She had known the man long enough to know when his sanity was hanging by a thread. She was oh so tempted to cut it, but she couldn't risk anyone else getting hurt. No, she would wait. And then I'll curse him 'till he doesn't recognise his own reflection anymore.
"Of course, I wouldn't want to cause any trouble." she smiled sweetly, watching Evan flinch out of the corner of her eyes.
"Very well, now, Hermione, this is Lord Rosier, Evan's father." At the mention of his name, the older Rosier stepped forward.
Hermione curtsied in return, as any prim and proper pureblood witch would.
"Pleased to meet you, Lord Rosier. Thank you for attending my uncle's wedding. It's an honour to have you here."
The older man gave her a curt nod, clearly seeing through her polite façade. A blind man could've felt the barely contained fury behind her false pleasantries, but it wasn't his business what went on behind closed doors. As long as she played nice, he'd do as well.
"You're pretty enough, and according to my son, not one for gossip, a good quality in a prospective bride." The water in the fountain behind her froze at the man's degrading assessment. Evan chuckled nervously at his father's words, desperately trying to diffuse the tension between the two, whereas Rodolphus obviously enjoyed his daughter's struggle to keep her calm immensely.
"Indeed, my friend, she'll be seventeen in no time, so your son won't have to wait too long."
Screw you, Rodolphus. Hermione seethed, praying that this conversation would be over soon. She wouldn't be able to hold back for much longer.
"Shame that she's a Gryffindor, but what can you do? At least her blood is pure."
At that, Rodolphus barked out a laugh, his deep voice carrying over the small garden like thunder. "Of course, Rosier, as pure as the driven snow." Still chuckling at his own words, Hermione scowled at her father, anxious to get away from the men that were talking about her like she was some pretty bauble.
She detested it. Soon she'd be off-age. Hermione was determined to speak up for herself then, and if she followed Riddle on his path to control the Ministry, she'd be free from any obligations, just as Rodolphus had promised her. But until then, she had to play her part as the demure pureblood daughter to at least a certain extent, so she swallowed her pride and kept quiet…
"You bastard spiked my drinks!" Hermione screeched, hurling a curse at the man standing across from her in the dark entrance hall of Lestrange Manor. It was late, and the two had just returned from Wales after sending Rabastan and Loreen off to their honeymoon.
"You disgust me! How could you do this to me? I did what you asked!" Another curse shot from her wand only to be repelled by a potent shield Rodolphus had cast. The crying girl hastily pulled up her own barrier and watched her spell explode into an array of dark purple colours on impact.
Rodolphus send a series of wordless spells crashing into her wavering barrier, causing Hermione to stumble back a few feet.
"It's your damn fault! If you weren't so damn stubborn and just shut your mouth, I wouldn't have had to use the potion in the first place." he barked while narrowly evading another spell by throwing himself to the side.
"Screw you, old man!" she snarled, her vision blurry from her tears. "Stupefy!"
She watched Rodolphus block her spell and immediately sent two more in his direction, hoping to catch the man off-guard with the third one. To her disappointment, he saw right through her tactic, and before she could react, her wand was ripped from her hand with the flicker of his wrist.
Hermione suddenly found herself kneeling on the cold wooden floor. "Damn it!" she yelled while trying to break the spell she was under before the wizard could reach her.
The seething man strode towards her, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk as he watched her struggle against his binding spell. "You always seem to forget, my dear, that I'm the better dueller out of the two of us." He knelt before her, grabbing her chin in a bruising grip. "The fact that you fought through the potion's haze is quite admirable. Pity. Just as I was beginning to find you tolerable."
Hermione pulled away from the man and rubbed her burning face. She had never felt so betrayed in her life. Everything she had thought and felt over the past months had been tainted. Corrupted by that blasted potion.
"How long?" she whispered.
"Since the beginning of your second year. When you went to that mudblood friend of yours, you had a short relapse but nothing that couldn't have been fixed."
Her hands were shaking. She tried to control her rapid breathing, but this only made her feel more nauseous.
Rodolphus watched her struggle for a few seconds before sighing and lifting the spell off her legs. "Winny!" he called, and the elf immediately appeared beside her catatonic Mistress.
"Bring her to her room. She isn't allowed to leave until I say so."
The elf's eyes darted between her Master and Mistress before she hesitantly agreed, carefully grabbing the girl's shoulder before they both disappeared with a soft plop…
In his study, Rodolphus grabbed the nearest object his hands could find and smashed it into the wall with a frustrated yell. He threw the girl's wand into the farthest corner of the room before swinging his own, ripping the old tomes from the shelves lining the walls of his study and sending them flying through the space. Standing between hundreds of torn pages slowly sailing towards the ground, the former death eater grabbed his favourite whiskey and drank straight from the decanter before hurling the precious crystal container into the fireplace. He pressed his hands onto his face before eventually sliding down into his chair.
"Foolish girl, I should've killed her in that field back then." he hissed, trying to regain control of his raging emotions. He was angry. No, he was furious at Hermione and himself. He hadn't been lying when he had told her that he was beginning to feel more for the young witch than cold apathy.
During the past weeks, he had felt at ease for the first time in Merlin knows how many years. The way Hermione had been looking at him without the usual wariness in her amber eyes- how she had craved his approval as any average child would…It had been exhilarating. He'd seen a glimpse of what his life could've been if there hadn't been a war. If his wife hadn't been a madwoman who'd rather drink poison than bear him an heir.
Once, he'd watched Hermione squabble with his Lord in the gardens, hidden behind the curtains of his office, thinking to himself that he was, for once, content with how his life was going. He could see a future where Tom Riddle became the Minister of Magic and Hermione Lestrange, his daughter, his closest confidant.
The wizarding world would finally put the needs of its people first and introduce laws that would protect their culture instead of diluting it in favour of those precious mudbloods Dumbledore was so fond of. He sneered at the memory of the old geezer announcing that several magical holidays would be replaced with their muggle counterparts during his second school year, sending shockwaves through many parts of the magical community.
He remembered clearly how angry he had been that his little brother would never experience the same magical nights as the older students during Samhain. Instead, he had to celebrate something called Halloween.
That drastic change had been the last straw for many people, which had led to the growing resentment towards muggleborns in their society and, ultimately, the rise of the Dark Lord.
"We have the chance to make this world a better place, and I'll not allow that girl to ruin this opportunity," Rodolphus said determinedly before standing up and retiring to his own chambers. He'd deal with Hermione later…
"Winny, please let me out. I won't go far, I promise." Hermione pleaded, but the tiny elf just wrought her spindly fingers and shook her head.
"Master ordered for Missy to be kept in her room. Winny is so, so sorry!" The elf wailed as big teardrops began to fall from its eyes.
Hermione felt terrible, but she had reached her limit. She needed to get out of this stuffy room before she actually lost her mind. She had been waiting to hear from Rodolphus for over two days. It took three more meals before she could eat without throwing her food up, and that's when she began to feel restless.
The shame after what happened to her clung to her bones like a vice. Someone who had never experienced being robbed of their control over their thoughts and emotions couldn't possibly understand how violated one felt afterwards.
Knowing that everything you had done wasn't of your own volition, that everything you'd felt towards a person resulted from a cursed potion. It stung. And to Hermione, it was more humiliating than anything else. But now that the last traces of the potion had been eradicated from her bloodstream, she could clearly distinguish between her own and the artificial emotions in her memories.
"Winny, please, I just need some fresh air." And get as far away from this house as possible. But her house-elf stood silent. Finally losing her last straw of patience, she shoved the wretched creature as hard as possible. "Fine, if you don't want to help, get out!"
She threw herself back onto her bed, hearing Winny whimper before snapping her fingers.
Hermione grabbed the nearest pillow, threw her face into it and screamed as loudly as she could. Once she felt like passing out from the lack of air, she threw the pillow away from her, rolled on her back and closed her eyes. Like every other time, she immediately thought back to her conversations with Rodolphus and how disgustingly proud she'd felt every time that foul man praised her. She scowled, now feeling ill at those memories. The fact that she had simply stopped caring about the wickedness of the older Lestrange's plans was sickening.
Hermione groaned again. She'd never be able to look Harry and Ron in the eyes again. Everything they had fought for, the cause she had literally died for, and she all threw it away to help the man who'd killed not only her but so many of her friends and their families that he probably didn't even remember half of their faces.
Hermione was aware that he'd only upped the dose of the potion once she'd returned home because, before that, she could clearly remember some instances where she didn't feel anything but admiration for the man but still. Those past two months, she had played happy family with that murderer, so much so that even Riddle had noticed her shifting behaviour. He'd asked one evening how she was suddenly such a perfect little pureblood daughter. And she had laughed. Laughed in his face.
"Disgusting." Her stomach rolled at the thought.
A loud knock on the door ripped Hermione away from her dark thoughts. "Go away, Winny. I don't want to see you right now," she called.
But it wasn't the house-elf her doors revealed with an audible bang. Hermione felt her heart drop as Rodolphus calmly strode into her room. Her bedroom. The one place she'd felt safe from that man, and now he was standing in the middle of it.
She hadn't known he could even pass through her personal wards.
"No, get out!" she hissed. "This is my safe space; you can't be here!"
Rodolphus just rolled his eyes at her statement.
"Says the one who regularly barks into my private chambers regardless of the time and me prohibiting you from doing so." He sat down in one of the armchairs next to the fireplace, folding his long legs in the process. "Come here."
Hermione vehemently shook her head. She was still in her nightgown, and her hair must've looked like a rat's nest after days of not brushing it, but she didn't care. She wanted him out of her room!
"Don't be a brat and come here."
She huffed at the man's jibe but got up nonetheless. She was still Hermione Granger. A proud Gryffindor. She plopped down on the other seat and crossed her arms expectantly. "May I go outside now?"
"First, we need to talk." her father spoke, his calloused hands idly playing with Hermione's wand. The memories of what he'd done to her previous one made her jump up and snatched the precious item from his fingers.
"I was going to give that back to you anyways," he stated.
"Sure," she answered curtly.
They stared at each other for a second before Rodolphus sighed and ran his hand through his dark locks.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, "What's there to talk about? You played me and my feelings like a damn fiddle for the past months, and I'll never forgive you for that."
"It was a mistake. I won't apologise for it, but I promise never to make any attempts to manipulate you in that way ever again."
Hermione scoffed. "I don't care. I'm done with this family."
The older Lestrange's eyes had widened at her declaration. He leaned towards her, holding the girl's unwavering gaze easily. "Really now? And where would you go? Not only are you a child, but there's also an actual war being fought outside our magical barriers."
Hermione bristled at the feeling of his knees brushing against her own and pressed herself further into her seat to get some distance between them again. "I'll find somewhere to stay. Everything's better than living here"- she shuddered, "with you."
"You're being irrational, Hermione. I thought you were the brains of your precious golden trio." Her father taunted, and Hermione felt the anger she had so carefully suppressed welling up in her chest again.
She sprang up from her seat, her nightgown brushing against Rodolphus' shins. "I have every right to do so! You tell me to act like an adult only to lock me up in my room for days as if I'm a petulant child!" She clutched her wand tightly to her chest. "You expect me to deal with this as if it were just a minor argument." Hermione stopped to take a deep breath, "I'm turning thirteen in two weeks for the second time in my life and believe it or not, this already messes me up enough without you wreaking havoc on my brain as well!"
Rodolphus tolerated her heated glare for a while before seemingly tired of it. "You Gryffindors always think you're carrying the world's weight on your shoulders. Have you ever thought about the possibility that Rabastan and I may have been more than evil death eaters at some point in our lives?"
Hermione came to an abrupt halt at his bitter words. "Don't even start with that, Rodolphus. You lost your chance of redemption the moment you took that mark on your forearm," she seethed. "You deserve every bad thing that happens to you, and I don't care about your sad childhood stories."
The slap that followed her words caught Hermione so off guard that she nearly stumbled to the floor, but the enraged man had already grabbed her shoulders, almost crushing them under his steel grip.
"You are a spoiled, entitled little girl, Hermione. So, shut your mouth about matters you can't even begin to understand!"
The young witch tried to shove the livid man off her, but it was to no avail. Defiantly lifting her chin, she attempted to get a hold of her wand on the table behind her. "I know you're a racist, a murderer, don't hesitate to torture or strike children, and are as mad as a hatter. I think that is enough for anyone to think that you're not a good person."
At her scalding words, he abruptly let go of the girl, pointing his wand at her instead. Hermione finally got hold of her own one and returned the gesture.
"How dare you accuse me of such things!"
Hermione did a double take at his contradicting words. "Are you actually delusional? You just struck me! You tortured me in the damn dining hall!"
"That's different, you're"- His words faltered for a minute.
Hermione threw her arms in the air. "I'm what?"
"You're my child, for Merlin's sake!" he finally yelled back, and the girl felt as if someone had punched her in the gut.
"I'm not your daughter, never was and never will be. Your ritual might change my blood, but it'll never change who I am inside." she spat and wasn't even surprised when she felt the familiar pain of the Cruciatus tearing through her body.
"You'll not speak to me in this way, daughter. I wanted us to talk eye to eye today. I really did." He lifted the curse again, and Hermione collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face. "I'll keep my promise, but seeing as you can't behave yourself, I have no choice but to punish you. Winny!"
"Why are you doing this? Please don't hurt her. She has nothing to do with this." she pleaded, but the after-effects of the curse prevented her from getting up.
"Because that's how children learn! That's how my father raised me and his father before."
Hermione desperately shook her head, watching the elf appear before the man, her big eyes fearful of what was to come.
"No, that's just cruel. If you want me to understand, show me you can do better." She watched Rodolphus' eyes glaze over for a second and took the chance to pull herself in front of Winny, encasing the shivering creature in her arms.
"Missy mustn't. Master will only hurt Miss Hermione more." The elf whimpered as she tried to pull away, but Hermione tightened her grip on her friend.
She watched Rodolphus return to his senses and immediately scowl at the display before him.
"Get away from that elf. I will not repeat myself."
Hermione just continued to stare at him defiantly.
"Very well, Avada Ke"- Hermione threw herself entirely in front of Winny.
"Please, father, please don't hurt her." After everything he had done, the title tasted like ash on her tongue, but she prayed that she could reach the man under all those layers of madness. And to her great shock, it seemed to work.
She watched Rodolphus halt his action, his wand slowly rolling from his hand. The sound of the wood hitting the floor startled him out of his stupor, and his eyes found Hermione's own again. The older Lestrange's lips moved in silence as if he wanted to speak but couldn't find the courage to do so. Finally dropping to his knees, he ran his hands through his already tousled hair.
"I-Winny, leave us." His voice sounded tired, and Hermione gave her elf an encouraging nod.
Winny gave her Mistress a final worried look before obeying her master's orders. With her elf finally out of harm's way, Hermione felt her shoulder sag in relief.
"I know you must think I'm a monster, but all I want is a better future for our people." Instead of getting up, Rodolphus shifted around a little so that he sat across from Hermione, his legs crossed and his hands tightly pressed together. Still wary of the man's explosive temper, she inched further away from him.
"Our Lord will bring the magical world back to its former glory. You've seen it for yourself, he was born a leader, and he's our greatest chance to change things."
Hermione chewed her dry lips. This was new territory for her. Never in her past three years in this era had she seen him break down like that. It was an unnerving sight. "Going after muggle-borns and supporting a man that spreads hatred isn't a better future, in my opinion."
Rodolphus frowned, "If you'd grown up in the magical world, you'd be appalled by how the Ministry is trampling over century-old traditions just because people like Dumbledore think they're dark or unsuitable for teaching our children about."
She disagreed with his point of view, "Me being a muggle-born doesn't mean that I'm blind. I know that many of the Ministries' policies aren't very well thought through, but"-
His eyes found hers again.
"As times change, people have to do as well. With the rising number of muggle-borns and half-bloods in our society, it's only fair to include their views and needs." she finished, knowing that the older Lestrange wouldn't understand. His views were so ingrained into his head that he'd still be in denial even if he saw all the good things those changes brought with them.
"I've lived with you long enough to know that you'd never change your mind, even if the truth were staring right into your face," Rodolphus spat.
"I can't continue living like this, I'm so afraid every time you lose your temper, and I can't do anything about it because you'll hurt my friends if I don't comply," Hermione spoke with an unwavering voice, determined to at least come to an understanding regarding this issue. She knew he had some severe problems, but Rabastan was a great example that people could change, at least to a certain extent, if they genuinely wanted to.
Even though she didn't like Loreen, the woman played an essential role in her uncle's life. She had been the one that had turned the young death eater into the tolerable human being who had saved Hermione from Rodolphus' wrath on several occasions in the past. He'd promised to move back to the manor with his new wife since Lestrange Manor was spacious enough to house ten people comfortably. Nonetheless, Hermione could still see that his younger brother's shift in priorities and the latest addition to their family was trying for Rodolphus.
Hermione had been surprised by her uncle's rapid change from a loyal brother to a doting husband. She could only imagine how the older Lestrange must've felt watching his brother build a life far beyond their original plans. She turned her attention back to the older man in front of her.
"It's easy to forget that you were a grown woman once." Rodolphus began, "I'm not used to being questioned. It's not done in our circles."
Hermione twisted her mouth at his statement, not impressed with his arguments. "I'm not a child."
"To me, you are. I am your guardian. Even if we returned to our own time, you'd still be a Lestrange."
Hermione recoiled at his words. Despite her heritage, the man seemed to have grown somewhat fond of the idea of her being his daughter, and on some level, she could even understand why.
Objectively speaking, he was someone who took pride in his family, and with him and his brother being the last heirs to the Lestrange line in their own time, she could see why he would want to have someone to continue their legacy. But that still didn't make him a good parent, or even a decent one for that matter. If Hermione hadn't been used to violence - the often-all-consuming trauma from an actual war - she wasn't sure if she would've survived her stay with them.
Rodolphus' answer to every issue was violence, and his stay in Azkaban seemed to have unhinged him to an extent where he didn't have complete control over his mind anymore. He could be pleasant, her memories of the past two months showing that as long as everything went according to his plan, he'd be nothing but calm and collected. But as today had shown, one step out of line and all reason was lost. The fact that Hermione just wasn't one to back down when she was feeling wronged wasn't helping either.
"Even if I'm your daughter now, I'm still my own person. I have every right to be treated fairly." Sitting up straight on her uncomfortable place on the floor, she continued. "If I'm helping you with your mission, let me have my own opinion. Let's agree to disagree on some things, but for Merlin's sake, you must stop cursing Winny or me just because you're angry."
He frowned at her pleading. "You dare to question me still?"
Hermione flinched, her limbs felt heavy, and she knew she couldn't keep herself up for much longer. After two days of barely eating and only a few hours of sleep, the curse gave her the rest. "Please"- she stumbled over her words, "-father. How about we give our wands to the house-elves?" Without it, she'd feel vulnerable, no doubt, but knowing that Rodolphus wouldn't be able to curse her either was reassuring enough.
"Forfeiting my wand in my own house? I'll have to think about it." Not giving her a chance to reply, Rodolphus got up from the floor and made his way towards her door.
Hermione felt as if they hadn't come to any agreement at all. She tried to pull herself up, but her vision began to swim, and she felt her legs tremble from the after-effects of the Cruciatus. Taking note of her struggle, the man turned around and carefully lifted her up, making Hermione, in turn, choke on her breath at the foreign touch.
"What the"- before she could finish, Rodolphus had already lowered her down on her messy bed again and proceeded to tuck the girl in. She watched, flabbergasted, as he patted her pillow before gently pushing it under her head.
She visibly flinched when his hands pulled away some of her locks from her tear-stained cheeks but felt too exhausted to defy the man. Why is he doing this? She thought tiredly, her mind already drifting into blissful unawareness. The last thing she saw was Rodolphus waving his hand, closing the heavy curtains in front of her tall windows…
Rodolphus watched Hermione's breath even out as soon as he had closed the curtains, slowly stepping back from her bed. His mind was still reeling from their conversation, but the harder he tried to see past her young face and view her as the grown witch she was, the more difficult it became to accept that she was not his real daughter but Potter's mudblood. Not only had she killed his allies, but she'd also been tortured by his mad wife at one point.
His eyes wandered over her petite form. All he could see was his and Rabastan's hair on her head. Her pale complexion looked so like their late mother's that if anyone would've told him that Hermione wasn't his, he would've laughed at them.
"Pathetic," he murmured to himself. He hurriedly left the sleeping girl's chambers. As he stormed down the corridors towards the fireplace in the entrance hall, he made a decision.
What he had done needed to be corrected. He could see that now. It had only alienated Hermione further, which was not what he wanted to achieve. He stopped in front of the fireplace and grabbed some floo powder.
She was his child now. His responsibility. Even though his primary goal still was to support his lord, there was something else now that he had to take care of, or rather someone—his daughter. Rabastan would have his brood in no time, no doubt, but he still wouldn't make any of his brother's sons his heirs if he had the brightest witch of her age and one of his Lord's most trusted at his disposal.
"Rosier Manor", he spoke clearly, feeling in dire need of a drink and someone his own age to talk to.
To his surprise, he liked the father of that Evan boy and enjoyed the other man's company tremendously. He hadn't been alive in the future, so he'd never met the man, but he distinctly remembered the day he saw his son hit by a stray curse during the first war. The Rosiers were a respected and influential family, and with the death of the last member of their house, their century-old legacy had practically been erased overnight. It was the first time he'd thought about his own house and how tragic it would've been if neither he nor his brother had produced any heirs. Now they had the chance to change the fate of their family. With their other relatives still living in France, they'd finally be able to continue their line for more than one generation.
It wasn't how he'd expected his life to turn out, but it didn't bother him nearly as much as it once had to have a former mudblood for a daughter…
October 1940
Hermione sat next to Charlus and Minerva, quietly enjoying her dinner. She listened to her best friend trying to explain the process of becoming an Animagus to Charlus, clearly frustrated with the dense boy.
"No, you can't decide what you want to be. It just happens," she lectured.
Hermione smiled at Charlus' disappointed pout.
"But what if you're something really boring like, I don't know- a cat?"
Hermione choked on her potato.
"What's wrong with a cat? Better than a rat if you ask me!" Minerva bristled.
Hermione found herself laughing at the intimidated boy.
She was glad to be back at Hogwarts after her falling out with Rodolphus, and even though the man had tried his best to act civil around her, she still didn't trust him. She'd celebrated her birthday at Minnie's house and had stayed there until their first day of school. Rabastan had returned with his blushing bride the day she'd left for Hogwarts and, as it was their tradition by now, had sent her off at the train station, clearly aware of what had transpired between herself and his brother. He'd apologised, and Hermione appreciated the gesture, although she was still cross with him for not helping her in the first place.
"All right, everybody done? I wanted to play some exploding snap before bed," Charlus interrupted Hermione's musings, and together they made their way back to the common room.
Just as they climbed the stairs below the Portrait of the fat lady, a voice stopped them.
"Lestrange, a word?"
Closing her eyes for a second before turning to face the boy, Hermione tried to hide her anxiousness behind a pleasant smile. "Riddle, good to see you again. Give me just one second to put my books away." She didn't want to carry her heavy bag around for Merlin knows how long, so she followed her chatting friends through the portrait and shoved her bag into Minerva's arms.
"Could you take care of that for me? I need to speak with Riddle for a moment."
Her friend regarded her sceptically.
"Sure thing Mione, but if you start hanging out even more with those Slytherin boys, people will start to talk, so be careful, all right?"
She knew Minny was referring to her weekly meetups with Riddle and Malfoy and her budding friendship with Evan. Rolling her eyes, she nonetheless agreed before hurrying back to Riddle.
"Thanks for waiting. So what is it?" she asked once she had reached the waiting Slytherin.
His warm smile dropped the second they were alone. Apparently, the polite and charming student persona he'd donned around other people wasn't necessary for her presence anymore. Does that mean he trusts me? I should get a medal for that alone.
"I didn't walk all the way from the dungeons for a little chinwag. Follow me," he responded with his authoritative voice that he'd seemingly perfected over the summer.
Just like Evan, he'd also grown like a weed, standing at least two inches taller than he had before the holidays.
Because his birthday was in December, he'd already turn fourteen this year, making him only one year younger than Evan and sweet Merlin, it showed. Compared to most of the other boys in their year, he looked decidedly more mature, the seemingly small age gap now much more apparent in his deeper voice and sharper features.
She followed Riddle down to the dungeons, where he led her through several corridors before stopping in front of one of the old classrooms that probably hadn't been used in decades due to the ever-shrinking number of children attending the school. She hesitantly entered the room after Riddle, a strong sense of foreboding overcoming her once she spotted the other people in the candle-lit room.
They'd pushed some of the old tables together, forming a square to sit around in the middle of the classroom, and Hermione tried to force her growing anxiety back down as she realised what all this was probably about. I need to calm down; I knew this would happen sometime around this year, and I've been preparing myself for three years. She looked over the familiar faces of Abraxas and Evan, the latter giving her a small wave before letting her eyes wander over the other occupants in the room. She recognised a few of them. Antonin Dolohov and Cygnus Black were already sitting at the table, whereas a few others were milling around in small groups. They were nine in total and except for Dolohov and herself, exclusively Slytherin. Oh, joy.
"Right, now that we're all here, let's begin the meeting." Riddle started.
Hermione sat down with the others, claiming the empty seat beside Evan's.
"So, he invited you as well. I should've known," her blonde seat neighbour whispered.
"You know it's always been my dream to be part of some pretentious posh boys club," she murmured sardonically as they waited for everybody to settle down.
Abraxas, who had heard their little exchange, chuckled at Hermione's comment, and she flashed the other boy a quick smile over Evan's shoulder.
"You all know why we've gathered here today. Unfortunately, our defence against the dark arts lessons are severely lacking, making us easy prey for ruthless wizards like Grindelwald and his followers, who won't wait for you to cast a disarming spell."
Hermione furrowed her brows at Riddle's words, surprised that this seemed to be some duelling club more than anything else. I've expected speeches about one's own superiority and anti-muggle-born propaganda, not this. She felt an odd sense of Déjà-vu as she listened to Riddle talking about the importance of being prepared for everything and that textbook spells wouldn't be enough to fight off a dark wizard. It felt a lot like the first meeting of the DA. Minus Riddle's fixation on restricted and illegal spells and the whole purebloods and preferably boys-only thing, obviously.
"From now on, we'll meet every Tuesday and Sunday at eight to train, understood?" Everyone nodded their heads. Riddle looked satisfied with that answer and began to get up when the boy sitting next to him cleared his throat.
"With all due respect Tom, but I don't understand what that Gryffindor chit is doing here. This is supposed to be a duelling club." The rude Slytherin boy spoke up, crinkling his nose as he looked her up and down.
Hermione drew a sharp breath before catching herself and shooting him her most intense glare. She'd never seen him in any of their classes, so she figured he must've been in Evan's year.
"Lestrange is probably stronger than most of you, so I'd be careful of my next words Avery." Riddle drawled, surprising Hermione by taking her side over his housemate's.
"As if that whimsy little witch would stand a chance against me." Avery drawled, his dark eyes once again scrutinising her appearance. He curled his lips as he took in her wild curls that looked so different from the neat hairdos of her female classmates, and Hermione found herself getting irritated with the older boy.
As she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she was thinking, Evan beat her to it, "Watch it, Avery, you insult her, you insult me."
At his dramatic choice of words, Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at her friend. She was capable enough to deal with that pompous git on her own.
Evan looked genuinely offended on her behalf, and it warmed her heart to see him taking her side, whereas the rest of the boys wisely stayed quiet.
"So that's how she got in. Is she your girlfriend or something, Rosier?"
Cursing at the other boy's assumptions, Evan abruptly stood up from his chair, pointing his wand at Avery, who drew his own. Before anyone else could react, Hermione took matters into her own hands, and the older Slytherin's wand flew from his grip.
Spluttering, the boy turned back to her, and Hermione decided to go a step further, swinging her wand again.
"Avis," she spoke calmly as she watched the boy from her seat.
Evan took a step back as countless chirping birds appeared around herself, and Hermione enjoyed the incredulous look on Avery's face for a second longer before raising her wand again.
"Oppugno." At her command, the birds charged at the Slytherin, who in turn let out a sharp yelp while throwing his arms over his face to protect himself from the sharp beaks tearing through his outer robes. Those teenage boys won't understand any other language. She thought as she watched the other room occupants scrambling to get out of the birds' path. While Abraxas was openly laughing at his housemate's demise, Evan beheld Hermione awestruck. The girl giggled at the speechless boy before growing tired of Avery's continuous shrieking.
"Finite." Another voice spoke before she could raise her wand.
She watched curiously as Riddle shot her an unreadable look before walking towards the cowering Slytherin and pulling him up by his collar. Avery shot her a baleful glare which Hermione easily reciprocated.
"You'll regret this, Lestrange," he seethed before Riddle shoved the boy towards the door.
"You can show us your skills on Sunday. Until then, you'll refrain from causing a scene outside this classroom. We don't want people like Dumbledore to notice anything." Riddle looked at the other boy sternly until he agreed, clenching his jaw at his order and clearly feeling humiliated by Hermione's actions.
Serves him right. After Avery had stormed out of the room with his friends, the others had also started to leave until only Riddle, Evan and herself left. Narrowing his piercing eyes at Hermione, the leader of their small group took a few steps forward until he was standing right in front of her.
"Interesting spell choice. Avery will not go easy on you."
Hermione scowled, "I've confidence in my skills, but thanks for worrying."
They looked at each other for a second before the other Slytherin answered.
"You know I don't. Here's a list of books I need 'till Sunday, so you better hurry." He passed her a small envelope before turning on his heels without another word, leaving Hermione and Evan to themselves.
"Thanks for your help, Hermione – of course, you're welcome, Riddle," Hermione muttered while sliding the list into her robe's pocket.
Evan chuckled at her little rant as he put his wand back into his sleeve before looking down at Hermione again. Tilting her head at the surprisingly solemn look on his face, she patiently waited for the boy to address what was bothering him.
"You could've at least given me a chance to hex him before you took matters into your own hands." His sparkling eyes betrayed his serious expression.
Hermione laughed at the sulking boy. "I don't need a knight in shining Armor to defend my honour, but thanks for caring, Evan."
Before Hermione could escape his annoyingly fast hands, the boy beside her ruffled through her hair. "I know, so good thing I'm a wizard and not a knight then, right?" he teased, and Hermione swatted his arm.
"Oh, shut up."
He threw his head back and chortled as Hermione tried to control her rapidly beating heart, feeling her cheeks grow hot at the boy's words…
Once she had returned to her room and put her nightgown on, she threw herself onto her bed with a groan, putting her hands over her flushed face.
"Not even thirteen for two weeks, and those stupid hormones are already ruining my life." She crawled under her heavy bedcovers and buried her face in her pillows. Puberty sucks. She thought as she slowly fell asleep, Evan's bright green eyes haunting her even in her dreams...
