November 1940
"Absolutely not."
"Avery is useful, so swallow your false pride and let him win tonight."
Feeling her face heat up at Riddle's offhand comment, Hermione shot him her most impressive glare and made her way towards the door of the secluded classroom they were arguing in. "I'd rather eat a flobberworm than lose to that prick," she reached for the door handle, "until then"- and was suddenly overcome by a searing pain, causing her to pull away abruptly.
"Ouch!" Rubbing the burning limb, she turned around and watched as the other Slytherin leant back in his chair, the same cold expression on his handsome face he'd worn when they'd first met. I didn't even know he could do wandless and wordless magic already. Furrowing her brows at the boy's silence, she gestured for him to explain himself.
"You seem to be under the impression that since I haven't done anything to you yet, you can just go around and do whatever you want, Lestrange."
Hermione's body grew cold and the knot in her stomach tightened. It was easy to forget who that boy would become when you looked at him now. Just a few days shy of turning fourteen, he seemed so young. To think that he'd commit patricide one day soon was unfathomable at times.
"Are you threatening me?" she asked, her face rigid with tension. She was aware that she was walking a fine line right now.
"Aren't we friends, Hermione? Do I really have to treat you like one of those dim-witted boys?" He had stood up during his question and took Hermione's clammy hands in his. They felt rough against her soft skin, and as she tried to free herself from his bruising hold, Hermione realised that this boy wouldn't bat an eyelash even if Avery cursed her to Azkaban and back. It was depressing, really.
"If you think of me as your friend, you'll not allow Avery to hurt me."
"I didn't say he could hurt you; I just told you to let him win the duel tonight."
Hermione had finally managed to tear her hands away. "If he can't handle a little witch like myself, why would you even need him?" she spat, quoting Avery's words from a few nights ago.
Rolling his pale eyes at her stubbornness, Riddle pushed back a few curls that had escaped from his neatly coiffed hairdo. "His family belongs to the sacred twenty-eight. They hold much power in the ministry," he spoke calmly, as if to a child.
She knew she'd lost their argument the moment she'd followed him into the abandoned classroom, but that didn't mean she would let him allow Avery to hex her to hell and back. Sighing, she folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. "If I let him beat me, I want another favour. No questions asked when I come to you." She'd need many for the day he'd take over the Ministry. She doubted that she'd get much support from his cronies.
"You want to go into politics after school, right? I don't see any other reasons why you'd care about his opinion so much," she questioned the boy in front of her as if she didn't already know his answer.
"I thought about becoming a teacher at Hogwarts first, but our meetings with Abraxas have made me realise that the wizarding world is in dire need of some changes." He began, and Hermione tried to keep herself from openly frowning at his condescending tone.
As of now, he wasn't even old enough to vote, let alone know anything substantial about politics. Having experienced both sides of the Ministry's bigoted practices as the mudblood friend of the great Harry Potter and now as the heiress to one of the oldest wizarding families in Britain, she was pretty familiar with how the magical community worked. For every step Muggles take towards a prosperous future for everyone, the magical world takes two back. Changing the mindset of a society where people tended to live well into their one-hundreds was a challenge few people were willing to face. Adding to that the influence of the old families with seats in the Wizengamot, it was damn near impossible to pass any law that introduced modern values.
When Hermione had first read up on the laws regarding muggleborn rights in the future, she had been appalled. In this time, she'd nearly set the book on fire. Muggleborns were still treated as second-class citizens that had to get the ministry's permission for every little thing, and the bill for equal rights would only be introduced in the early 1980s, as far as she knew. And if this wasn't already awful enough, witches weren't even allowed to hold seats in the Wizengamot or vote until the end of the sixties. From a legal perspective, Hermione literally belonged to her family until she was married. After that, she'd have to get her husband's approval for things like opening a Gringotts account or, funnily enough, getting a divorce. When she'd read that passage, she had wondered if whoever had written that bill a few hundred years ago did so because his own wife had wanted to leave him. Hermione could only think of a handful of other things more laughable than this particular law.
"Lestrange, are you listening to me?" Riddle's voice pulled Hermione from her silent fuming.
"I'll grant you another favour but remember your place. Magical prowess or not, you'll never stand eye to eye with a wizard."
Hermione swallowed at the bitter reminder that she wouldn't find any support from his ranks. Riddle had expressed his irritation at the Ministry's archaic laws on multiple occasions, but he was clearly aware of how much they were still benefitting him in some ways.
Clearing her throat Hermione locked her eyes with his and leaned forward. "Once you take over the Ministry, you could change that."
Something akin to a smirk played over the boy's lips, and Hermione nearly did a double take at the foreign expression. "Well, for me to do that, I need Avery's support first, so you decide what's more important to you; your freedom or that irritating Gryffindor pride of yours."
He knew he had her. Hermione could see it in how his face lit up triumphantly at her sour expression. It was impressive how he always managed to push all the right buttons, even though she knew of his manipulative nature. He did it so casually that she wasn't even that incensed about losing against the other Slytherin anymore. He'll have the Ministry under his thumb before they even realise what happened. Taking a deep breath, Hermione offered him her hand. "I'll do it. Just don't forget your promises in the future."
He nodded, and together they made their way back towards the great hall for dinner. Hermione squeezed between Minny and Charlus, who shot her questioning looks at her tardiness but waved them off. "I forgot my quill set back at the astronomy tower," she spoke between filling up her plate and sipping her pumpkin juice. To her relief, her friends believed her...
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione allowed the boy's spell to hit her, silently watching her wand roll over the ground.
Avery barked out a triumphant laugh.
Scoffing at the irritating boy, she bowed before picking up her wand while shooting Riddle a subtle glower. Pretending not to notice her scowl, he turned to Avery, who was still smirking victoriously at her.
"Told you I wouldn't lose against a little witch," he boasted, and the other boys in the room snickered.
She waited for Riddle to congratulate the boy, and after he did so, Hermione narrowed her eyes, "you won fair and square. I'm sorry for attacking you a few days ago."
Humiliation churned in her stomach. Hermione wanted nothing more than to get away from the group and cry into her pillow at the unfairness of it all.
Avery left his small circle and took a few steps towards her. "If you weren't a Lestrange, I would've hexed you green and blue. Be grateful that you have Malfoy and Rosier backing you," he hissed into her ear, and Hermione recoiled at his spiteful words.
She wasn't sure what he had meant with his last words, but it was clear that she would've ended up in the hospital wing that night if it weren't for her friends.
Before she could reply, she was suddenly pulled back and found herself stumbling behind Abraxas. "That's enough. You proved your point, so leave her be."
Irritated at the blonde boy's interruption, she tried to speak up, but Abraxas shot her a warning look and taken aback by this uncharacteristic move, she pressed her lips firmly together. Avery scoffed at her but didn't say anything else and instead returned to his little group of cronies.
Abraxas' shoulders seemed to relax as the other boy turned around, and again Hermione wondered why he'd interrupted them. She listened absentmindedly as Riddle declared the meeting to be over and watched as the other boys slowly left for their dorms until only Abraxas, Rosier and herself were left.
"You let him win. Why?" Abraxas finally asked after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, causing Hermione to jump at the sudden noise.
Turning towards the two boys, Hermione tried to find the right words, but her thoughts were still clouded by anger. To ground herself, she bit the insides of her cheeks until she could taste blood while nervously twirling her wand in her numb hands. She didn't dare to look at them, fearing that she'd start crying if she had to explain her pathetic reasonings. Yes, she had done it on her own accord, but she still was a sore loser.
"It's Riddle. He's the only one you'd listen to." Evan snarled.
Hermione gulped. He hadn't used that voice with her in years.
Abraxas turned to look at her with wide eyes. Before answering them, Hermione quickly turned around and closed the door of the dimly lit room. Sitting at one of the tables, the two Slytherins followed suit and waited patiently for Hermione to collect her thoughts. "I don't know how much Abraxas has told you, Evan, but I first met Riddle at an orphanage in London. After my father discovered Riddle's ancestry, he ordered me to keep close to him."
Evan's green eyes seemed to glow in the flickering lights of the chandeliers above their heads, but before Hermione could lose herself in them, she hastily cleared her throat. Telling herself repeatedly that he'd only turn fifteen next month and that she was a grown woman. "Siding with the heir Slytherin can be very beneficial later on, as you said yourself."
Scoffing at Hermione's last words, the other boy sat straighter. "Does he want you to marry that mud"-
"Evan!" Hermione hissed.
"-That half-blood?" he corrected himself, looking positively revolted.
Bewildered at his sudden turn of thoughts, she vehemently shook her head.
"What? No, why would you think that?"
"Because otherwise, you wouldn't have to listen to his every whim. Heir of Slytherin or not, he's still just that and not entitled to your obedience." Abraxas, who had kept quiet until now, spoke calmly.
Hermione was at a loss for words.
"Merlin, his blood status is by far the least worrisome thing about Riddle!" she finally replied. "He's more powerful and ambitious than your entire house combined, and he won't take a no from anyone. Not you or me. Nobody will stop him; crossing him will only end with you at the bottom of the Astronomy tower." Hermione explicated, her cheeks stained red.
She needed them to understand that Riddle was way out of their leagues. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if they got hurt for speaking up to protect her. Hermione had promised herself all those years ago that she'd make sure that Abraxas wouldn't end up on the dark side, and now she was actively telling him to listen to Riddle. It was tearing her apart inside.
"Calm down, Hermione. Riddle is just a third-year with an aptitude for the dark arts, not a second Grindelwald." Evan tried to reassure her, clearly taken aback by her apparent distress.
Hermione rubbed her eyes to soothe her growing headache before regarding the two boys with a severe look on her face. "You don't know what he's capable of. You just have to believe me when I tell you that he's more dangerous than you think, please." Her words had grown into a whisper, and she had felt the tears burning behind her eyes before they rolled down her cheeks, leaving a salty trail behind them.
Faced with the horrors of a crying witch, Abraxas cursed before hastily conjuring a simple handkerchief that he offered to the sobbing girl.
Evan looked ready to punch someone, it was the second time he had seen Hermione cry, and she thought it was somewhat ironic that the future death eater had seen her fall apart more often than Ron had in seven years. Was she really that pathetic?
"I could've beaten him with one spell if Riddle hadn't told me not to," she spoke between sobs and suddenly felt someone lightly swatting her on the back of her head.
"Are you seriously bawling your eyes out over losing to that prat? And here I thought it was a serious problem, Gryffindors." Evan took the forgotten handkerchief from her and continued to clean her tear-streaked face carefully.
Leaning uncomfortably close to the suddenly flustered girl, Hermione tried to pull away from him, but Evan reached for her shoulder, "Keep still, dear."
Hermione breathlessly watched his lips move silently against each other to control his anger. She nearly let out an embarrassing sigh when his warm hand trailed over her jaw. Merlin, save me.
"Don't worry your pretty little head, I'll protect you from Riddle's evil clutches."
At his teasing words, Hermione spluttered, abruptly slapping his hand away from her face. Laughing at her crimson-stained cheeks, the older boy discreetly put the handkerchief into his pocket. He turned towards Abraxas, who had quietly watched their exchange with an unreadable expression on his aristocratic face.
"I don't think Hermione appreciates your advances particularly much," he drawled.
"He does that every time. Calling me all sorts of names in public, it's embarrassing!" she complained, her previous grief all but forgotten. Evan continued to chuckle at her expense, causing her to roll her eyes at her friend.
The three of them joked for a few more minutes before leaving for their respective dorms to avoid being caught outside after curfew. Hermione felt like she could breathe again after their conversation, and as she threw herself onto her soft bed, she couldn't help but smile at the thought of her two Slytherin boys...
December 1940
"I'll see you in January, guys, don't forget the Potion's assignment!" Hermione called after her waving friends as they left with the Potters.
Minerva was staying with Charlus over the Holidays, and she felt a pang of jealousy for the other witch before quickly schooling her features again. Turning around, she looked up to Rabastan, who, to her surprise, had come alone this time to pick her up and grabbed the older man's arm before he apparated them away.
Back at Lestrange Manor, Hermione immediately felt that something was off. When she spotted Loreen in the sitting room at the front of the house, clad in emerald robes that had probably cost more than what Arthur Weasley had earned in a year, her heart plummeted.
"Hermione, I'm terribly sorry that I wasn't at the station, but as you can see, I'm a little indisposed at the moment."
Hermione's gaze stopped at the woman's carefully concealed midsection. She had endured enough pureblood lessons to know what maternity robes looked like. She felt like she might be sick.
"We just passed the first trimester, and naturally, we wanted you and Rodolphus to be the first to know." Loreen's smile was so overwhelmingly joyful that Hermione wanted to do nothing more than take the woman's teacup and throw it in her face.
She could only imagine how her father must have reacted to the news, knowing fully well that he was also somewhat envious of the picture-perfect life his younger brother had built over the past years.
She felt awful at her thoughts, but at the same time, she was furious that he was allowed to enjoy his new life while she struggled daily to keep her head over water. She flashed the other woman a strained smile, not bothering to walk up to her even when Rabastan subtly nudged her in his wife's direction.
"Congratulations, Aunt Loreen. I'm so happy for you two," she forced herself to say before quickly turning around, disregarding the woman's upset words to her husband.
"Just like her father, the two can't stand me, can they, Ra"-
Hermione hurried up the stairs towards her rooms. When the doors silently closed behind her, she let out a tense breath and ripped the pillows from her bed, throwing them across the room with an angry yell. It was so unfair. He was a convicted mass murderer, and he still got not a slice but the whole damn cake with more money than one could spend in three lifetimes on top of it. He had been rewarded for his misdeeds with a pretty wife and now even a damn child. That cursed man had thrown her down at his brother's feet, and now he was playing house with his perfect pureblood bride instead of rotting in a cell in Azkaban as he should have.
"They don't deserve to be happy!" she seethed, kicking one of her bedposts only to regret it when her toes collided with the hardwood. Cursing, she grabbed her throbbing foot, massaging it in an attempt to soothe the pain.
"They really don't."
"What the"- Hermione whirled around towards the armchairs in front of her crackling fireplace. There, with a glass of fire whiskey in one hand, her father sat with a dark look, not turning his gaze away from the flickering flames that lit up his unshaven face.
Dumbstruck, the girl hobbled towards the man who had broken into her room again, pointing an accusing finger at him. "What in Morgana's name are you doing here, Rodolphus? You can't just break into my room and foster your drinking habits!"
At her incredulous voice, said man finally turned around and let his eyes wander over Hermione's dark robes. "You look more and more like Bella the older you get. It's quite unnerving," he drawled over the brim of his glass before throwing his head back and downing the entire drink in one go.
Hermione tutted when she realised how smashed the man already was and hurriedly took the empty glass from him before he could throw it at her again. She had given Winny her wand the moment she'd set foot into the house after the elf had happily told her that Rodolphus had done the same, but she still felt more than a little uncomfortable around the intoxicated man, wandless or not.
"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" If this were going to become a habit of his, she'd have to move to another room and hire an Auror to set up more potent wards that would keep the older Lestrange out.
Rodolphus just raised his hands at her question. "Things are going to change around here very soon. We can't even fight properly with the two downstairs permanently moving in anymore."
What the actual hell? Hermione thought quietly as she watched the former death eater slowly fall apart in her bedroom. What had happened to reduce the ruthless man to this warped version of himself in a matter of a few months? Hermione slowly sank into the seat across from him, careful not to do anything that could cause the man to snap. "I think we should move this conversation to your study."
At her suggestion, the man grimaced. "I knew this would happen sooner or later, but it was still a shock when they came to me yesterday." He began, unsure of how to approach this subject. "Feels like a cruel joke. His privilege to enjoy this life while I'm doing my damn hardest to ensure that his offspring will even have a future!" he spat.
Hermione failed to keep herself from frowning, but Rodolphus laughed mirthlessly at her sour expression instead of lashing out.
"I reclaimed the Lestrange seats in the Wizengamot two months ago, brought our family back into the upper circles of society, and we're on the best way to prevent another war, and what do I get in return?"
The clock in her room struck eight at that moment.
Rodolphus waited for the low sound to stop before continuing his rant. "My brother thinks he can bury his past. My daughter refuses to call me father, and our Lord has to live with those filthy muggles."
Hermione listened silently as the man raged on, unsure how to act. Rodolphus sank back into his chair, his hands tightly grabbing the two armrests. A house elf appeared next to them with a silver tray hovering behind him and served first Rodolphus, then Hermione some tea and biscuits before quietly excusing himself again.
"I have done many awful things in the past, but why is it that only I have to repent for them?"
Hermione flinched when he threw his cup into the flames, watching as it shattered against the back of the fireplace. Does he expect me to console him?
"Wanna know a secret, dear daughter of mine?" Rodolphus pulled himself up and leaned towards the tense girl. „I named you primary heir to all my titles. Once I abdicate, you'll take over all of our seats."
Hermione's breath hitched, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. Trying to sort her racing thoughts, she balled her hands into fists. "How? Witches aren't allowed to own seats," she eventually managed to say, causing Rodolphus to smirk wickedly at her.
"I took advantage of one of those many laws from the dark ages. Suppose a family hadn't had any sons. In that case, they could name one of their daughters' primary heiress if she left all of her womanly duties behind," he explained gleefully, making Hermione wonder why exactly he would go to such lengths to make a mudblood his successor.
"Womanly duties, seriously?" she questioned.
Rodolphus barked out a laugh. "They didn't even describe the meaning of it anywhere, so we can just interpret it however we like."
"But what about Rabastan's child? Won't the baby inherit all the titles automatically if it's a boy?"
Rodolphus shook his head. "No, once they are off age, they may challenge the current primary heir over a duel, but that is something you won't have to worry about for a while, if at all."
Hermione was still reeling from the implications of Rodolphus' decision and tried to think of a reason for his actions. "Why?" she finally asked, and her father tilted his head in deep thought.
"It will be you that our Lord trusts when he takes over the Ministry, not Rabastan or me." Clearing his throat, he turned his gaze back to the fire, "and also because, as my child, it's your right to claim those seats, you're a capable witch and more than qualified to inherit my titles."
Speechless at his praise Hermione felt a lump forming in her throat. He had spoken with so much conviction. As a father praising his daughter. She'd never anticipated the man would one day come to see her as his own; and in return, she hadn't expected to see him as anything but a death eater. Now, sitting across from him in his- their ancestral home, she felt lost.
"Rabastan doesn't know?" she asked, confused that he would make such a big decision over his brother's head.
"Merlin, no. They will hear about it when I make it official next year. He deserves at least some punishment for abandoning his duties towards this family." Rodolphus growled under his breath, and Hermione realised that his brother's shifting priorities had affected Rodolphus much harder than he had let on.
She wondered how her uncle would react when he found out but couldn't bring herself to feel bad for him. He already had gotten so much more joy from this life than the other two time travellers. It was only fair that Hermione also got a slice of the cake.
The two of them sat together for a while longer in silence, caught up in their own thoughts before Hermione remembered that she was not okay with Rodolphus staying in her room and determinedly shoved the man out...
On the 31st, Hermione wrapped the presents she had gotten for Riddle's birthday in the most hideous wrapping paper she could find and sent Winny to deliver them discreetly. She had gotten him two sets of robes that would continue to grow with him, knowing that he despised the hand-me-downs from the orphanage. She had also ordered a new school uniform for the same reason and purchased the entire book list up until seventh year so that he wouldn't have to use the old schoolbooks Hogwarts provided for poor students.
Rodolphus wanted her to send even more, but Hermione had argued that it would only make Riddle feel like he was a charity case, which he wouldn't appreciate. She waited until Winny returned, telling her Mistress that Riddle had received his presents before turning in for the night, feeling anxious about what the new year would bring...
March 1941
The past three months had gone by in the blink of an eye, and without any warning, Hermione had suddenly found herself in an empty corridor evading another one of Avery's hexes.
"You're the reason why the Rosiers aren't backing my father's policies anymore. You'll see what happens to little witches who can't keep their mouths shut."
Another spell hit Hermione's wavering shield, the red sparks dancing dangerously close around the edges of her translucent barrier.
Scoffing at the boy's words, she fired her own round of nonverbal spells, her veteran mind forgetting that she wasn't supposed to be able to do those yet, watching satisfied as the hexes found their target.
Avery let go of his wand with a yelp as it grew hot in his hands and threw Hermione a nasty glare. "Been training, have we? Scared that Tom will drop you like hot coals the moment you're not useful anymore?"
Baring her teeth at her opponent Hermione didn't notice the Slytherin reaching for his wand.
"Diffindo!" he shouted, and Hermione felt the spell slicing through her robes and into her left shoulder.
Much to Avery's surprise, the girl didn't even blink as the spell tore through her flesh. Blood began to drench her white blouse, and he watched, gaping as the young witch shot him a baleful glare before turning on her heels, probably making her way to the hospital wing.
"What in Merlin's name is wrong with you, Lestrange?" he called after her retreating form, but the girl didn't even falter in her steps...
In the hospital wing, Hermione explained to the worried matron that she had been hit by a stray hex when she had walked into a disagreement in her common room, and the gullible witch had only nodded before treating her still-bleeding wound. Fuming on the inside that Avery had managed to hit her again, the girl quietly waited for the matron to finish.
"One moment, dear. For your tonic, I need to pick up some herbs from Professor Slughorn."
Hermione nodded, watching the older witch leave before leaning back on the hospital bed, determined to rest up a little.
"Lestrange, I heard that my housemate accidentally hit you with a charm and brought him here to apologise to you."
Opening her eyes at the cold voice beside her bed, Hermione found Riddle and a fidgeting Avery at his side. The older boy looked suspiciously pale, and one didn't have to be a genius to see that he'd been tortured somehow. His sudden change in complexion, bruised circles under his dark eyes and trembling hands were a dead giveaway, and Hermione knew that Riddle had wanted her to see that Avery had been dealt with.
She pursed her lips against her better judgement, feeling bad for the older boy. "How nice of him. I'll forgive him this once," she spoke graciously, subtly checking the boy over for any clues about what curses Riddle might have used on his housemate.
After ensuring that no one else was in the hospital wing, Riddle's charming smile fell from his lips and was replaced by an angry scowl.
"How could the two of you be so reckless? If one of the professors had found out about our club, we could've been expelled. I expected better from you two."
Irked that he was blaming both of them, even though Avery had attacked her first, Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself when Riddle silenced her with the lift of his finger.
"Quiet. If I ever catch you two engaging in such plebian behaviours again, there will be dire consequences."
Tightly pressing her lips together, Hermione lowered her head, humiliation burning through her every vein. She couldn't oppose Riddle. Didn't want to lose the progress she'd made so far in their relationship. So, she kept quiet, donning a rueful expression. She could see Avery trembling from the corners of her eyes, clearly not being used to the after-effects of torture.
"Despite what some people might think in our little group, there are no favourites, so don't test my patience, understood?
The two of them nodded silently, Avery nervously averting his eyes, whereas Hermione reached for Riddle's hand.
"Tom, I'm sorry, please"-
The boy glowered down at her, "You disappoint me, Lestrange." Regarding them both with a final glare, Riddle put his wand back into his sleeve and left.
Hermione felt like she'd been sucker-punched at his cold dismissal. This was all Avery's fault.
Once their leader was out of earshot, Avery whirled around, his head between his hands and his breathing laboured. He clearly had a mild panic attack, but Hermione just couldn't be bothered at that moment. She was furious at the boy for attacking her, and it took all her willpower not to storm after the Riddle and plead for his forgiveness. It went against her every Gryffindor instinct.
"Shit, I didn't know Riddle was such a psycho. Merlin, how can you just stand there?" Avery asked incredulously while Hermione was still staring at the spot where Riddle had stood with a scowl on her pallid face.
"What do you want me to do, have a little crying session with you?" she hissed before the boy could say anything else, watching him jump at her question.
He fell silent for a second, contemplating her words when it seemed to have finally hit him. "You knew!" He pointed at her. "You knew he was like that from the beginning. That's why you're in the club because he's threatening you!"
Hermione threw her hands up in defence at his accusing tone, wondering why so many people made assumptions about her and Riddle this year. First Abraxas and Evan, and now Avery as well.
"Think what you want, Avery. I don't have to explain myself to you." Not in the mood to wait any longer for the matron to return, Hermione grabbed her robes, pushed past Avery, who was still standing uncomfortably close to her and made her way towards the exit.
"You're a real bitch, you know that?" he called after her.
Hermione let out a hollow chuckle at his insult. "Love you too, until thursaday!"
April 1941
A week after her encounter with Avery, Hermione managed to avoid Riddle, Evan, and Abraxas by leaving right after their classes and meals had ended. Minerva and Charlus had noticed that something had happened between the Slytherins and her but hadn't pressed her for answers because they were actually good friends and Hermione enjoyed her time away from the toxic Slytherin crowd tremendously. With all the madness going on at home and in the club, Hermione had nearly forgotten that the rest of her friends were enjoying a beautifully average school life.
"So, when you get home, the baby will already have been born?" Minny asked.
Hermione nodded while taking another bite of her scone.
"You must be so excited not to be the youngest in the manor anymore," her friend gushed. "Maybe you can finally sneak away and come to visit me."
Hermione listened to her best friend's ramblings, quite content with just occasionally shaking her head or nodding. The topic of her future cousin was still not her favourite thing to discuss. Still, she had decided to make the best out of the situation instead of letting the resentment toward the prospective parents poison her mind any further. It wasn't the baby's fault that his or her father was a proper bastard, and she would not hold his actions against her unborn relative. She was above such pettiness.
"What do you want it to be, a boy or girl?" Charlus asked from across the table.
"I don't really care. As long as it's healthy, I'm happy."
Her friends nodded in agreement even though Minny looked like she wanted to say something else. Noticing Charlus throwing her a silent look Hermione grew suspicious of their secretive behaviour, drumming her nails expectantly on the table, quietly telling them she was expecting an answer.
After a few tense seconds Charlus finally carved in. "If it's a boy, he'll inherit everything, and Minny here thinks that this is somehow awful, even though you'd still be entitled to not only your dowry but everything your father puts down under your name except for the titles."
Minny rolled her eyes at Charlus' poor explanation.
"It's a stupid rule. Hermione shouldn't have to lose her titles to someone else just because he was born a wizard," Minerva argued, and Hermione couldn't agree more.
She caught Charlus' eyes with hers, pointing her butter knife at the boy. "If your parents told you that you're no longer the heir to the title of Lord Potter because your aunt had another daughter, how would you feel?" she asked, causing Charlus, in turn, to look at her like she was the mad one on the table.
"Why would they do that? I'm the heir. The other child wouldn't have any rights to a title that's been mine since the day I was born." Regarding the boy with equally deadpanned expressions, the girls waited until he understood what he'd just said.
"I mean...oh." It had finally clicked, and Charlus at least had the decency to look ashamed for his previous words.
Satisfied, Hermione nodded before turning her attention back to her dinner...
June 1941
"Hermione, meet Edwin."
Hermione stared at her new baby cousin's wrinkly face, trying to keep the little bundle Loreen had pushed into her arms from slipping through her awkward hold. She'd never been a big fan of babies, preferring children that could already communicate through more than head-splitting wails.
"He looks just like you, Loreen. Congratulations."
She carefully handed Edwin back to his glowing mother before slowly stepping towards the doors, hoping to find a way to escape from the room without anyone noticing. Rabastan was standing beside his wife, his eyes sparkling every time his son made a sound. It was just as sweet as it was sickening to watch.
"Your father said the same. I think he looks more like Rabastan."
He looks like an overgrown raisin wrapped in a blanket. Hermione thought but smiled at the other woman, nonetheless.
"I'm very happy for the two of you. If you need anything, tell me."
Loreen nodded, smiling, but Hermione could sense that she was disappointed with the reception of their new family member. Even if she hadn't expected Rodolphus to be over the moon, she'd probably thought that as a girl, Hermione would have fawned over the baby just as much as Loreen did. Having been a spoiled only child in the future, Hermione was not used to sharing her position, some deeply buried part of her subconsciousness telling her from the moment she had set eyes on the baby to despise the new addition to their family.
She gave them another tight-lipped smile before leaving the enormous nursery of the new Lestrange scion. On her way towards her room, she decided she needed some time away from the manor and turned towards Rodolphus' study.
"May I visit Abraxas or Evan?" she asked Rodolphus, who was looking just as excited about their new family as she did and waited.
"Under one condition," he answered.
Hermione scowled. "What do you want?"
"You'll call me father from now on, not only in public but private as well."
Hermione drew in a sharp breath at this unexpected request and hesitated.
"It's either that or staying with the baby for the entire summer and assisting Loreen with everything she might need," he threatened.
Hermione found herself nodding before her brain had even registered the movement. "Deal, I'll see you later, father."
And with that, she left his study in search of Winny. After she'd found her elf, she asked her to inquire if the Malfoys would welcome her at their house, and after twenty minutes, her elf had returned with a small sealed envelope with the Malfoy crest on its back.
She tore the letter open and quickly scanned over the contents of the message from Mrs Malfoy, delighted that they had accepted her request. Winny prepared her small bag while Hermione changed into one of her more formal dress robes, determined to make an excellent first impression at her meeting with the Malfoy Matriarch. Much to her demise, she still didn't own a single non-black robe, even though Loreen had promised to buy her some new clothes. Guess the baby took priority over my dreadful wardrobe, figures. Brushing her hair back into a simple updo Hermione was satisfied with her looks and made her way towards the fireplace in the entrance hall.
"Malfoy Manor." Without saying her goodbyes to the other occupants of the house, Hermione vanished in the green flames, eager to escape the wailing sounds echoing through the halls...
"So, you're the young lady my husband told me about. It's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione. My name is Camilla Malfoy." The elegant woman standing before her was, without a doubt, the reason for the good looks of her descendants.
Hermione was startled by how much the woman resembled Draco. She had the same high cheekbones and pale eyes as her great-grandson, but her smile struck her the most. If she'd just looked at her mouth, it was as if she was seeing at her former classmate.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mrs Malfoy. You have a lovely house," Hermione replied, not recognising anything from her unpleasant stays at the manor in the future.
The entrance hall was filled with soft colours and exotic plants from around the world, making it hard to fathom that the manor would turn into the dark place from her memories in just a few decades.
"Oh, call me Camilla, dear. I'm not my mother-in-law." Mrs Malfoy led her through the seemingly endless corridors of the manor towards the sitting room, where she ordered Hermione to make herself comfortable while the house elves served them a small array of snacks.
Sitting down on one of the crème coloured récamières below the tall windows, Hermione helped herself to a sweet sandwich from the tray in front of her.
"My husband will return later tonight, and Abraxas will be home the day after tomorrow, so, for now, we can enjoy the silence."
Hermione nearly spluttered at the woman's words, suddenly feeling awkward about her presence without Abraxas here with her. She wondered why the woman had even invited her over if her son wasn't home, and sensing Hermione's sudden discomfort, the woman chuckled.
"It can be hard adjusting to another child in the house, especially when it's always been just the three of you." The woman seemed to be a natural at reading situations as well as people.
Impressed by her deduction, Hermione flashed her a shy smile.
"Thank you for understanding, I know I should feel bad about it, but to be honest, I just needed some time away from the house after meeting him."
She didn't know why she was telling the woman anything, but whenever Mrs Malfoy looked her in the eyes, Hermione felt like spilling her deepest and darkest thoughts. It was pretty disturbing. Instead of scolding Hermione for her words, the Malfoy matriarch inclined her head, her familiar eyes full of compassion.
"No need to get upset, dear, you will find yourself enchanted with the boy soon enough, and until then, you're welcome to stay with us."
Maybe it was a pureblood thing to let their children stay with other families for a prolonged time, or the Malfoys had ulterior motives. Still, Hermione wasn't one to look a gifted horse in the mouth and gracefully accepted the woman's offer. After their tea, Hermione was shown to her room in the guest wing of the manor, and Mrs Malfoy told her to be ready for dinner at eight before leaving Hermione to her device. Nothing more fun than having dinner with my friend's parents...
The silence at the table was deafening, and Hermione could not think of a more uncomfortable situation than dinner with Lucius Malfoy's grandparents. Septimus Malfoy looked just as intimidating as he had when she'd first met him in Diagon Alley, and the man seemed to feel completely fine with the lack of conversation around the table. Eventually, Mrs Malfoy seemed fed up with the awkward atmosphere and set her cutlery down on the plate with an audible sound. Sighing at his wife's not-so-subtle hint, Mr Malfoy turned towards Hermione, regarding her with a calculating gaze.
"Has your father already discussed your share of the Lestrange estates with you?" he asked, probably assuming that with Edwin's birth, Rodolphus had dealt with her parts of the inheritance swiftly, adding another reason for Hermione to feel bitter about the situation at home.
Her father had told her that he'd make the big announcement on her fourteenth birthday in September, so she decided to wipe that patronising sneer from the older Malfoy's face by telling him the good news a little earlier.
"Everything," she answered curtly.
The Malfoys nearly choked on their dinner. Mr Malfoy had stopped chewing on his steak while his wife had managed to keep up her pleasant façade. Taking a generous sip from his wine glass, the Malfoy patriarch watched the girl across from him with a raised brow.
"Everything as in?"
Smirking into her glass, Hermione answered, "everything as in all of it. The vaults, the estates, the titles and our family's seats."
She could practically see the gears turning in Mr Malfoy's head, probably regretting whatever betrothal contract he'd written for his son. With her being named primary heir, she had just gone from an excellent match to a jackpot. Her husband would not only gain control over one of the most enormous fortunes on the isles, currently only matched by the Malfoys and Blacks. He'd also gain two additional seats in the Wizengamot, giving whatever family took them more power than any other House in the court.
"I guess Rodolphus took advantage of one of the old laws that, without a doubt, will be abolished after your case to keep the Wizengamot a democratic institution?" he drawled.
Hermione nodded.
Mrs Malfoy began to chuckle as they realised that Rodolphus had meant every word back when her son had visited the girl for the first time. Septimus had to give it to the man. It was a daring move.
After that revelation, Hermione continued to answer every question the Malfoys were firing at her, their dinner long forgotten. For the first time since her arrival in this time, Hermione had felt like she was being taken seriously, and words couldn't describe how awesome that had felt...
She ended up staying at Malfoy Manor until her birthday. Her hosts had organised a small get-together in their extensive gardens, and it had been her best birthday in this era. She had even been allowed to invite Charlus and Minerva. The two girls having spent most of their time during the party catching up on each other's lives. When her friend heard of her nomination as primary heiress, she had tears in her eyes.
"I'm so happy for you, Hermione. Now you can do whatever you want. You could travel around the globe, and no one could stop you." Minny said excitedly, and Hermione laughed at her friend's enthusiasm.
"I know, Minny, trust me, I know."...
19. 09. 41
UPROAR IN THE WIZENGAMOT, HERMIONE LESTRANGE NAMED PRIMARY HEIR INSTEAD OF HER COUSIN EDWIN LESTRANGE!
The current Head of House, Lestrange, has caused a proper scandal in the rows of our highly esteemed court. His only daughter Hermione Lestrange (14), born to her two unwed parents in France, has been named his successor. Making her the first witch since Morgause Bagshot in 1708 to own two seats in the Wizengamot. For more information, turn to page 3...
Xoxo.
