December 1943

Hermione and the other Slytherins were huddled closely together, seeking warmth from the roaring fire that crackled in the stone fireplace. Outside, the world was blanketed in a thick layer of snow, the cold winds howling through the corridors of the ancient castle. Thank Merlin, they were spared the worst of it in their unused classroom slash lair tucked away in one of the less-frequented corners of Hogwarts.

The room was dimly lit, with the flickering light of the flames casting a warm orange glow over everything. The walls were lined with crooked bookshelves, spilling over with old tomes and dusty volumes. The furniture was old, but comfortable, with several armchairs and a well-worn couch arranged in a semicircle around the fireplace.

Hermione was wrapped in thick blankets, her face illuminated by the firelight as she leaned forward in her seat.

"And I tell you that you're wrong!" Avery exclaimed with red-stained cheeks, making him look much more appealing than his usual pale, sneering self. "Mudbloods are in no position to demand anything from us. They're intruding on us, not the other way around." His awful character quickly destroying that notion again.

"Magic is magic, no matter where it comes from. Without muggle-borns, there wouldn't be enough people left to sustain the population." Hermione was beyond frustrated at this point.

"Says the one whose family tree looks like a circle." Avery sneered, his Irish accent becoming more pronounced with his growing irritation at the younger witch.

Throwing him a nasty glare, Hermione sat up straighter. "A bit rich coming from you, don't you think?"

Avery scoffed in return before getting up to add another log to the fire. "At least I don't spit on hundreds of years of tradition every time I open my mouth."

Once again, Hermione was stunned by how off the rockers some of her peers were. If not for their close-knit community, they couldn't have differentiated between those groups if their lives depended on it.

"They're dangerous," he began. "Their kind is the reason we were hunted for centuries. Muggle families burning their children at the stake, can you imagine?"

This misplaced fear that had been ingrained into their heads over generations was still rearing its ugly head every time another muggleborn was admitted to Hogwarts.

"Muggles have come so far since then. There is this thing called electricity which powers their cars, radios- You wouldn't believe it if you saw it."

The blank faces of her classmates were enough to make Hermione question how the wizarding world had ever succeeded in remaining hidden for so many centuries.

"How come you're so familiar with muggle inventions?" It was Riddle's turn to address her after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "Since you're not even taking Muggle Studies, how do you know what electricity is?"

"Tom's right. Where did you learn all that?" Avery chimed in.

"I like to read," she spat back.

"Where would you read about muggle technology?" Avery scoffed.

"Muggle newspapers. Minerva gets the latest issue two times a week."

"Merlin, how am I friends with you?"

Hermione smirked at his remark. "We're friends?"

The seventh-year Slytherin grimaced, "The amount of time I have to spend in your presence certainly makes it seem that way."

"I'm great company."

Abraxas, who sat next to her, snorted at her comment.

"You're a menace with a knack for curses, and that's about the only thing that makes you at least tolerable." Avery leaned back in his chair.

"As enlightening as this all is, Slughorn's gathering is starting soon." Tom interrupted their silent staring contest.

Taking a glance at the expensive watch on his wrist, Avery nodded and stood up. "You're coming, Lestrange?"

Hermione shook her head, "I've already spent enough time with you for the remainder of the week. I'll see you all on Sunday." Before she could reach the door, Riddle's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Stay. You should feel honoured to have been invited in the first place."

Slughorn's recent invitation to join his prestigious little club – again, still vexed her. She'd hoped to be spared this time, but of course, her cursed luck threw that dream right back into her face.

"Will Walburga be joining us?" The memory of the haughty girl made her skin crawl.

Tom had stayed true to his words and had made it his mission to woo the oldest Black daughter. It was a disturbing development as far as Hermione was concerned.

"Creeps me out that one. I tell you, it's that awful smile of hers. Too many teeth." Avery added and Hermione tilted her lips.

"She's useful," Tom stated, not bothered the least by the group's shared animosity towards the older witch.

"I still can't believe the Blacks accepted your request to court her." Abraxas had caught up to Hermione and was now walking between her and Avery, the two towering over the petite girl to their right considerably.

"He is a Gaunt, after all, boys." Interrupted Slughorn, who was already waiting at his door. Dressed to impress considering he was wearing a maroon overcoat better suited for a soiree than a casual dinner with his favourite pupils.

"Right on time, come in, come in." He ushered the group inside before leading them to the table at the centre of the room. Two Ravenclaws Hermione had never spoken to outside of their weekly gatherings were already sipping on what looked suspiciously like Firewhisky. Mentally scoffing, she took a seat next to one of the boys.

Evan quickly claimed the chair next to hers and continued to fill her glass with her favourite plum juice. It was endearing how well he knew her.

"Tom, my boy, where is that lovely witch of yours? I was expecting her to join us as well tonight."

Hermione was still in disbelief that Tom's plan had worked. After the summer, she had returned to a literal avalanche of dramatic daily prophet articles concerning the mysterious young Gaunt heir that had suddenly appeared at Gringotts, demanding entrance to the Vaults of Slytherin himself.

"Walburga will arrive shortly; she has ordered a new set of robes just for tonight."

Slughorn nodded enthusiastically at Tom's words, whereas Hermione felt like he was subtly insulting her own state of dress. His eyes did flicker towards her for a second. She was sure of it.

Eying her plain school uniform, she furrowed her brows. I'll most certainly not dress up for any of the people in this room. Tom's weird fixation on appearance be damned. Just as one of the Hogwarts elves began to serve their food, the doors opened again and in stepped Walburga Black. At her entrance, the men at the table stood, leaving Hermione to sit by herself awkwardly.

"Miss Black, just as we were talking about you. Make yourself comfortable, my dear." Slughorn gestured towards the empty chair next to Tom, who immediately made room for the girl to sit down. Walburga's velvet robes cascaded down her willowy body, swishing audibly with every step she took. Hermione had to admit that the girl looked stunning.

"I hope only good things, Professor." The diamonds around her neck and dangling tantalisingly from her ears sparkled beautifully in the warm candlelight.

"Of course, my dear. You're in good company, after all."

Scoffing silently into her drink Hermione watched the other witch sit down gracefully next to Tom, who moved to fill her plate with a selection of sweet treats. It was disconcerting to watch him around Walburga. To her, his smile had more in common with a creature baring its teeth than anything else.

"Watching them is always a good show," Evan murmured next to her, making her giggle.

Quickly covering her amused reaction up with a cough, she turned just in time to see Avery and Dolohov shooting them questioning looks. No one in their group knew how to act around Tom when his girlfriend was around. It felt like they were walking on eggshells.

They knew how to deal with Riddle, the ambitious heir of Slytherin. Even the slowest amongst them had realised that their leader had a darker side they'd rather not explore too deeply, but none of them had dealt with the doting boyfriend of Walburga Black.

During their first official gathering, after he claimed his titles, Tom had ordered them to continue addressing him as Riddle. Hermione had wondered why, but his only explanation had been that it was better for his public image, given the Gaunt's tarnished reputation throughout the wizarding world. And since he could only claim his Slytherin name after coming of age, Tom thought it was better to go with his Muggle name for now.

He had also informed them of his intentions to court Black, but instead of giving them directions, he'd just told everyone to keep it together around her. Whatever that meant precisely was free to interpretation. In the end, they had come to a silent understanding to interact as little as possible with the witch.

"That necklace of yours is stunning, Miss Black. Family heirloom?"

At Slughorn's question, Hermione's eyes wandered over the other girl's bejewelled neck. The intricately woven strings of gold were most likely goblin-made. She hadn't been poor in her previous life, but what Black wore was easily worth more than her old house.

"It was my great-great-grandmother's. Every Black daughter receives an heirloom on her seventeenth birthday." Her pale fingers wandered over the necklace before resting at one of the countless runes perfectly blending in with the Celtic patterns. "They are meant to protect the child from harm. This one also detects muggles and mudbloods."

She smiled proudly, and against her better judgement, Hermione felt her heart constrict.

"Fascinating. How exactly does it work?" Even though Slughorn was by no means against muggleborns, it was still apparent that he preferred purebloods. Even in the future, his club only counted a few members from non-magical backgrounds.

"Well, you see, if someone with impure blood touches it, the stones change colour. The more diluted the blood, the darker the stones."

Swallowing down the bitter taste in her mouth Hermione listened to Black's explanation.

"It can detect even the faintest trace of filth. It's a testament to my family's diligence that they are so clear right now."

Ahh, the joys of inbreeding.

"How curious. May I try?"

Since it was highly inappropriate for a wizard to touch a young witch, Walburga indulged the man and carefully unclasped the precious item from her neck. Laying it down in his outstretched hand, the group watched the stones turn to a light grey.

"Muggle grandparents, I presume?"

Slughorn gulped audibly. "Correct, my grandmother was muggle-born." He examined the necklace closer. "Truly, fascinating. Anyone else wants to give it a try?"

Avery immediately raised his hand and eagerly took the necklace from his professor's hands. "Let me show you what a great lineage looks like." The stones immediately cleared up, nearly matching Walburga's shade. It was sickening to watch.

It made her stomach drop how much these people depended on their blood status to measure their worth.

"Let's see if your mother was as pure as she claimed to be, Lestrange."

Hermione paled at the sight of the sparkling gems, but she knew she couldn't refuse. Finally, I'll see if Rodolphus' words are true. Unsure what she'd rather want to see, Hermione quickly grabbed the thing before she could change her mind.

"Won't you let us see it as well?" Walburga asked sweetly, gesturing at Hermione's clenched fist.

It was obvious that the girl expected her stone to be opaquer. Attempting to calm her pounding heart, Hermione opened her hand, crystal-clear diamonds sparkling mockingly in her sweaty palm. Feeling bile rising in her throat Hermione hastily dropped the precious necklace back into Walburga's waiting hands.

"What a pleasant surprise."

There's not a single drop of filth left in your body. Her father's words from all those years ago echoed loudly in her mind.

"I expected nothing less. The Lestranges can trace their lineage back to Morgana herself." She heard herself say as she attempted to collect herself.

Walburga curled her lips at the open provocation. It was common knowledge that the Blacks had only started tracing their bloodline over a hundred years after Merlin's death.

"How exciting to have so many prestigious houses sitting at my table tonight. But enough of such serious topics, let us return to dinner..."


"Have you seen her face? Merlin, you just made my day!" Avery's dark eyes sparkled as he regarded her with a, dare she say, proud look.

They were on their way back to their common rooms after Slughorn had finally ended the gathering. Hermione was eager to return to her soft bed, her patience for the people around her hanging by a thread.

"The great Walburga Black, out trumped by a Gryffindor." The older boy was still cackling at the witch's sour expression.

"Glad to have made your evening enjoyable," she spoke, her mind constantly replaying Tom's reaction to her not-so-subtle insult. His warning glare could've frozen hell over. It was in her best interest to make him forget about this whole ordeal as fast as possible.

"I'm forever grateful. Still can't believe it's already Rosier's and my last year." Avery turned towards his housemate, who'd been unusually quiet for the past few days.

"Oy Rosier, you also taking an apprenticeship under your father?"

Pursing his lips, Evan inclined his head. "Yeah, since the situation on the continent is worsening, my family is moving most of our business back to the isles. It's a ridiculous amount of paperwork," he explained, already looking exhausted by the mere thought of it.

Hermione wasn't sure what exactly the Rosiers did since they hadn't been around in her original time, but at this point, it would be awkward for her to ask.

"Thank Merlin we stayed in good old Ireland. I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my days at some wizards club, sipping a glass of fire whisky and getting myself a nice witch." Avery looked genuinely excited about this prospect, proving once again why their government never seemed to get anything done with people just like Avery pulling the ropes.

"I guess I never picked you for the ambitious type anyways," Hermione commented, earning herself a surprisingly hard shove from the boy next to her.

"Eat a flobberworm Lestrange. At least I don't have to spend the rest of my days cooped up in some country estate, running after my spoiled spawn."

Now it was her turn to shove him into poor, unsuspecting Evan, who was walking next to him.

"So, who's the lucky man? Evan? Since Orion's free again; you might also try your luck with the Blacks. You'd fit right in with them."

"Leave her be. How do you two manage to go from laughing to pulling at each other's hair in a matter of seconds- it's ridiculous."

Successfully pulling the bickering pair away from each other, Evan gently steered the fuming girl towards the great stairs.

Since Tom had left with Walburga after dinner, there was nothing stopping his two friends from being at each other's throats. They subconsciously seemed to notice after a few minutes of peace.

Hermione stopped dead in her tracks at Evan's surprisingly firm grip, suddenly reminded of another pair of hands around her shoulders. A vicious green flash flashed through her mind.

"See you later, Avery."

Too close.

Evan tucked her to his side, caging her in. Her chest constricted painfully, and before her mind could process what was happening, she was already pushing the startled boy off her.

"Don't touch me!" Her vision was spinning. An overwhelming sense of dread settled in her stomach, making her nauseous. Flinching away from her confused friend, she tried to calm her breath.

Oh god.

Her house-elf's lifeless form flashed before her unseeing eyes.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" His soothing voice did nothing to calm her frantic mind.

Breathing hurt. Everything hurt. She had to get away, but her feet were stuck.

"Hermione, talk to me." Suddenly he was in front of her. His face mere inches away from her own, his prying hands closing in on her.

"Rosier, don't." Avery cautioned, but it was too late. Hermione's mind sprang into action when his fingers closed around her arms. Her wand moved, and suddenly Evan was gone again. She heard the boy curse as he was thrown back, his body crashing into Avery, who stopped his friend from hitting the floor.

"Damn it! Get a grip, would ya?" Avery shouted while helping Evan stand.

"Don't yell at her. Can't you see she's scared?" Evan pulled away from the other Slytherin, making his way over to Hermione again.

"Scared my arse. She's clearly hysteric." Avery grabbed Evan's arm. "Don't touch her. It'll just make it worse."

"What are you talking about? We need to help her!"

Hermione couldn't breathe. Her heart hammered loudly in her chest, desperately trying to keep her blood flowing with the dwindling amounts of oxygen in her system. Her head was pounding, and her vision was blurry as if she was underwater.

She's dead.

"She needs to work this out on her own. We"-

The world around her tipped sideways.

"Shite, Rosier!"

Both boys watched in horror as the girl swayed dangerously for a second before her legs gave out under her. Moving faster than he ever had, Evan scrambled to catch her before she hit the cold tiles.

"Hermione!"

Despite Avery's advice, he pulled the girl into his chest, slowly lowering them to the hard ground.

Hermione was barely able to formulate a thought. Evan's heart was hammering against her back, his sudden proximity thankfully no longer causing her mind to come to a standstill. She felt herself calm down enough to draw another much-needed breath finally.

"'S she okay?" Avery crouched next to the pair, reaching towards her but quickly pulling his pale hands back when he heard her breath hitch.

"Merlin, you really have that damsel in distress act down."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his weak attempt to lighten up the mood.

The tears came suddenly and unexpectedly, but once the dam broke, she couldn't stop herself.

Her barely contained sobs caused Evan to hug her even closer to his chest, proper decorum long forgotten. "Talk to us, love. What is happening right now?" The concern in his voice made her only cry harder.

"He- he killed her." She was so tired of having to deal with everything alone. "It's my fault, but I just had to get away."

"Who- what are you talking about, love? Who's dead? That Warren girl?" At Evan's question, the heaviness in her heart threatened to crush what was left of it. She hadn't thought about the poor child in months. Just like everyone else, she'd forgotten the young Ravenclaw who'd soon return to haunt that dreadful bathroom she'd been murdered in. I'm despicable.

"Hermione, you need to calm down. Everything is going to be all right."

She wanted to believe Evan so badly. She untangled herself from the boy with trembling hands and tried to stand.

"Careful!" It was Avery who steadied her. Fresh salty tears spilt from her eyes, leaving burning trails in their wake.

Digging her nails into her wrist, Hermione tried to ground herself, but now another lifeless body was flashing in front of her inner eye, proving her failings further. "I should've just died back then."

It was barely a whisper, but Avery had been close enough to hear what she'd said. Grabbing the girl tightly by her shoulders, he shook her until her bloodshot eyes found his own.

"Pull yourself together, Lestrange."

Evan watched the two, his hands aimlessly fidgeting with his wand. Avery's harsh words only made her cry harder, his tone too similar to her father's angry shouting.

Burrowing her hands in her face, the sobbing girl allowed the two boys to guide her into one of the empty classrooms on the floor, absentmindedly grabbing the tissue Evan had conjured after closing the door.

"What in Merlin's name is going on? Who's dead?" Avery was clearly losing his patience with her, but just like Evan, his pureblood upbringing prevented him from leaving a distraught witch to herself.

If she hadn't been so upset, she'd laughed at the fidgeting boy.

"Don't yell at her." Evan crouched down in front of her seat. "Hermione, love, please talk to us." He carefully pulled the tearstained cloth from her hand, and just as he'd done after she lost the duel against Avery, he gently wiped her wet cheeks.

"He killed my house-elf after I tried to l-leave," she stuttered, tired of keeping everything to herself. It had gotten to the point where even the most potent sleeping draught wouldn't chase the nightmares away. Merlin, she had a full-on breakdown because Evan… sweet Evan touched her. She couldn't continue like this.

"Who? Your father?" Evan asked slowly, probably afraid that she might start crying again.

"Who else do you think?" she snapped, guilt washing over her as she watched the boy's movements falter for a second. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you."

"It's all right, you're upset"- he hesitated for a second. "Why did you try to leave, and where to, for that matter?"

Hermione suddenly realised what a mess her life truly was. What was she supposed to tell them? That she'd died and woken up in a child's body fifty years in the past? That her father literally killed her before using an archaic ritual to make her his own?

A bitter laugh escaped her dry lips. She'd rather jump off the astronomy tower than tell anyone their secret. Rodolphus would probably shove her down himself if she ever confessed their plans.

"We argued as usual. Seems like this time I overstepped." She didn't even believe herself. And apparently, neither did the two boys.

"Bullshit," Avery exclaimed, pointing his finger at the trembling girl. "I don't know about your family life, but murdering house-elves is not normal."

"Hermione, please. You can be honest with us. We won't tell anyone."

Narrowing her eyes at Evan's desperate plea, Hermione had finally calmed down enough to realise her foolishness. What possessed her to think it'd be a good idea to tell them or anyone about Winny? Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut for once? "Please, Evan, I can't talk about this."

"Can't or won't?" Avery drawled.

"None of your damn business."

She needed to get away from these two. No matter how upset she was, she couldn't risk spilling even more secrets. They were already suspicious enough; she knew that killing an elf had some dire legal repercussions. The fact that Rodolphus had done so just to teach her a lesson gave them more insights into her home life than she was comfortable with.

"Are you serious? You nearly split your head open just now. If Rosier hadn't caught you, you could've explained yourself to the mediwitch." Avery wasn't having any of her flimsy excuses as it seemed, and she found herself panicking again. She just wanted to be left alone already.

"A dead house-elf is nothing compared to the other things he did. Please, I don't want any more trouble." Wide eyes and a trembling bottom lip seemed to do the trick as she watched Avery flinch.

"Whatever. Don't come crying to me later, though. We did offer to help you." The older boy regarded her with a final glare before leaving her and Evan behind in the classroom.

"You could come to live with me after this semester ends. It's my final year, and I'm old enough to"-

"No." Hermione interrupted Evan's rambling, knowing where this conversation was going. "I won't marry you. Especially not just to get away from my father."

Evan's shoulders sagged at her blatant rejection, but thankfully he dropped the argument.

"Promise that you'll come to me when you feel sad again. I'll keep you company, nothing else."

Hermione couldn't even begin to fathom how she'd managed to make the future death eater care for her. In her mind, Voldemort's followers were nothing but pure evil. Stripped of their humanity the moment they had sided with the homicidal dark wizard. But now?

Wasn't she the same as the people she'd feared and despised so much before? She'd be, no, she was one of his first - she didn't want to put it into words – followers. She belonged to that original cursed circle of his that would one day set the premise for the first wizarding war. They were the reason thousands of witches and wizards would lose their lives in the future. No, don't think like that.

"Hermione?"

It won't happen again. He'll become Minister of Magic, and I'll protect the muggleborns from him and his cronies. Everything will work out.

"Hermione! Are you listening to me?" Evan's worried voice pulled her from her whirling thoughts.

"I'm fine. I just needed a moment." She was so tired of lying, but what else was she supposed to do?

Telling anyone about her secret would only complicate things. She wanted to trust Evan, but she had seen how he acted around Minny and other muggleborn students. The sneers, the underhand hexes. Being kind to her didn't make him a good person. Her eyes wandered over his face. The deep creases around his lips and on his forehead made him look much older than he was. He'd be disgusted by me.

If he knew he was in love with a mudblood- She didn't want to entertain the thought any further. I'm not a mud- muggleborn anymore. I'm a Lestrange. A faint feeling of relief washed over her, clashing with the revulsion that was bubbling up her chest. She was safe from people like Evan and the Blacks. She wouldn't be hunted just because her parents weren't magical. For the first time in her life, she wasn't discriminated against because of her blood.

Her inner Gryffindor was raging at the unfairness of this society, but it was so easy, so damn tempting just to close her eyes to the wrongdoings of these people.

The grass really is greener on the other side. Even as a daughter, she had privileges she didn't even know existed in her previous life—wealth beyond measure, and respect. One word to Rodolphus, and she could ruin entire families if they offended her in some manner.

"We should get you back to your rooms. It's late." Evan had gotten up from his knees in front of her and held out his hands.

Without another thought, she allowed him to help her stand and followed him to the door.

"I know you don't believe me, but you can trust me. If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you." With one warm hand on her back, he guided her through the deserted corridors back to the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione just wanted to forget this day ever happened. She didn't want to think about Winny or murderous dark lords. At sixteen years old, all Hermione Lestrange wanted was to be left alone.

"Good night Mione, and remember, if it ever gets too much"-

"I'll come to you; I know. Thanks." She felt numb. It would be so easy to become like them. Like Walburga or even Charlus. Ignorant of the injustice happening around them.

No. I owe it to everyone who lost their lives to make this world a better place. No matter what Rodolphus did to her, she had to endure. She was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. Only one more year. Like most of the other boys in their group, Tom would take an apprenticeship under her father at the Ministry to establish himself, and Hermione would be free for the first time in eight years.

Rodolphus had insisted she should come, but witches were banned from training for higher Ministry positions. She hadn't minded at all. The thought of having to spend even more time after school with most of Tom's circle made her queasy. They'd decided that she'd take over the family's finances, much to Loreen's horror, and represent the house Lestrange in official hearings. It was a figurative slap in the faces of the rest of the gamot after Rodolphus had succeeded in securing her position as his heir…


January 1944:

After her return home, Hermione was overcome with a strange sense of deja-vu as she looked down at the tiny human in her arms. Alivia Lestrange. She didn't look anything like her father. Bright eyes, so unlike Rabastan's own, watched her curiously as she was overcome by the memories of holding the girl's older brother seemingly not too long ago.

"Isn't she precious?" Next to her, Loreen stood with a warm smile on her face. Her robes were as pristine as ever and her hair was styled to perfection, but even the glamour on her face couldn't hide the deep circles beneath her eyes.

After Rabastan had practically dragged her back to the manor all those months ago, she'd become withdrawn. The birth of his daughter seemed to have done nothing to calm her husband's rage at her for leaving him. His previous infuriation with the young witch seemed to have cooled down considerably, and more than once since her return, she'd heard the pair fight.

A tug on her skirt caused the girl to look down at the mop of dark curls currently trying to get her attention.

"Mione up!" Chubby arms stretched out as high as he could.

Edwin regarded her with an expectant look.

Whereas his sister clearly took after their mother, her other cousin was the spitting image of her uncle.

"Here, let me take Alivia. You go play with Edwin. He missed you." Out of the three of them, Loreen seemed to trust Hermione the most with her children.

She hadn't forgotten what Hermione had done to their unwelcome guests a while ago, but it seemed she trusted her from woman to woman to keep the children out of harm's way. It was as flattering as it was annoying since she found herself entertaining her two cousins more and more often. She was fond of them, no doubt, but she didn't know what to do with them most of the time. And no matter what people might say, talking to a toddler became mind-numbingly dull after a while.

"Up! Up!"

Bowing down, she picked the babbling child up.

"Yes, I heard you. Wanna go to the library?"

As usual, his tiny fingers found a loose curl to pull on. Hissing at the sudden sting, Hermione readjusted the troublesome boy on her hips.

"Dinner is at 6, don't be late!" Loreen called after her, and Hermione waved her hand.

"I know, I know. It won't happen again." She wished she could hide in her favourite room forever. Turning around another corner, she nearly ran into her uncle, narrowly avoiding his broad chest by stumbling sideways.

"Wha"-

"Papa!" Edwin squealed, reaching for the older man.

Rabastan glanced at his son for a second with an unreadable expression.

"You've grown up, Hermione. A child suits you." He turned to her, a mocking smirk on his lips.

No matter his relationship with his wife, he still acted the same around her as he always had.

Hermione scoffed, "Maybe if you and the rest of your merry band of death eaters hadn't started a war, I might've had my own little family by now instead of carrying your spawn around."

She'd have turned 24 this year in the future.

"And taint our magic even further with your impure blood? I think this is a much better outcome." He pointed at her and his son, who was still trying to catch his attention.

"Go to hell, Rabastan."

"Why don't you take a long walk off the end of a short pier, Hermione?" he bit back.

The two continued to glower at each for a second before Edwin interrupted their silent staring contest with a fierce tuck on her hair. "Down, down!"

Nearly dropping the struggling boy, Hermione let go of him and watched Edwin hug his father's leg with shining eyes.

"Don't do that." He removed his son's hands from his person and pushed him back towards Hermione. "Don't make any more trouble, and listen to your cousin."

The child looked heartbroken.

"You're doing a great job, uncle, just a little more apathy, and he can check another box on his troubled childhood bingo." Hermione took Edwin's hand and pushed herself past Rabastan, purposefully hitting the older wizard with her shoulder.

"Wicked girl," he hissed after her.

"See you at dinner!" she chirped, silently fuming at the man. Loreen's accusation of them ruining her innocent children echoing in her mind. She didn't want her cousins to grow up the same way so many of her friends had. Distant parents, fighting- Loreen was a kind-hearted woman, but deep down Hermione knew, it wasn't enough...