A/N: Thank you so much for your reviews, favorites and follows after last chapter! Huge thank you to lanamarymack and Angela 007 for alpha/beta reading this chapter, too! You can follow me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions.

Please let me know what you thought of chapter twenty-nine and be on the lookout for chapter thirty next week!


Hermione found herself looking forward to the Spring Equinox with more anticipation than she expected. Upon some reflection, she decided that it was because these little old magic rituals had been the initial topic that had drawn her and Tom together initially and recently, she hadn't felt as close to him as she ought to. Really, they were newlyweds. Surely they should be so wrapped up in one another that they could hardly be separated.

Only, there was an Abraxas Malfoy shaped obstacle in the middle of their relationship now and Hermione found herself growing to resent the blond more and more every day. It was him who insisted on keeping everything about the campaign so secretive. Yes, Tom had shared with her the broad strokes of his platform and plan, but when she pushed for more details he begged off the discussion, saying he was absolutely sick of talking politics and just wanted to be with her.

Mostly, he wanted to talk about the baby with her, now that her pregnancy was more outwardly obvious. Just the week before, he'd finally been able to feel their daughter kick against his hand, though Hermione had felt her quickening for weeks at this point. Seeing just how devoted he already was to their little girl did make her soften.

For a while at least.

Then she went back to distrusting Abraxas, wondering what sort of terrible things he must be up to. Perhaps the most terrible inconvenience had been how he had saddled Aurelia on her once again. Hermione groaned thinking of all the muggle styled clothing she'd had banished to her attic, hopefully never to be seen again. In their place were all sorts of respectable witch's robes that Hermione never would have picked in a million years. She had pushed back against the dowdier garments, reminding Aurelia that she was meant to show off a bit as the Minister's wife. They were selling a fantasy life and it was obvious that a wizard as handsome as Tom wouldn't select a plain looking wife.

Once she'd satisfied all of Aurelia's whims, though, Hermione had thrown herself into organizing her library. She and Tom didn't have as much overlap in books as she would have imagined, so it was a delightful treat to get to parse through all the titles that they had accumulated. He'd kept a lot of his notebooks from school and it was a nice insight into the student her husband had been.

She'd even found a book detailing the very pompous sounding Knights of Walpurgis's first attempts at the old magic rituals, as well as Tom's very bitter disappointment that he wouldn't be able to join the other's for Midsommar and Lughnasdah while he was hidden away at the orphanage over the summers.

Their first attempt at Ostara their fifth year had been very clumsy by all accounts. They hadn't planned for how they would sneak out of the castle before day break, but what more could you expect from a bunch of fifteen year old boys? Hermione had laughed, imagining them trying to set up a brunch feast on the Hogwarts lawn undetected.

Still, it reminded her of Oster's Compendium and she happily pulled the book from its place on the shelf and soaked up whatever she could about the coming ritual. She was happy to find many details about the most ancient traditions that had formed Ostara, seeing as it mostly came from Germanic tradition. Compared to Imbolc, she felt as though she was going into the ritual with a great amount of knowledge.

Knowledge that she was only too happy to use given the chance.

So, the evening before the equinox, Hermione happily joined Tom in their foyer so they could floo over to Dolohov's, for once feeling fully confident about her attire. She'd selected a thin white gown that clung to her swelling bust and cascaded to her bare feet. She'd worn her wild, brown hair loose, with a wreath of fresh violets in her hair.

When she glided down the stairs, the corners of Tom's lips turned up, as though he were fighting a smile. "Don't you look a picture of the goddess herself," he complimented in that smooth voice of his. He pressed a kiss to her lips, the skin behind her ear and the junction of her neck, his hands straying from her waist to her firm behind.

She pulled away. "No time for that, I'm afraid," she quipped with an equal smirk. "Don't want to keep the peasants waiting, do we?"

He laughed at that and let himself be pulled towards the fireplace, before calling through to Dolohov's home.

Hermione had been surprised to learn that Ostara would be held at Dolohov's estate. He was a recent transplant to this country, when compared to the others, so it wasn't as if he had some ancient homestead like the others. Still, it sounded as though he had found a suitably magical locale and built to suit his needs, though Hermione didn't care to know what his needs were.

The rest of the men were gathered already by the time that the Riddles arrived, but Hermione forced herself not to care. Good, she thought, they should all be waiting on us anyway.

Antonin was the first to greet them, with a massive violet wreath in his hands. When he saw Hermione's hair, he scowled at her. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with this, then?" he asked, waving it in her direction.

Hermione laughed at him. "That was so thoughtful, Antonin," she complimented him. "I would hate for all of your hard work to go to waste. I'm sure it would look great on Emeric."

A fair number of the Knights chuckled at the thought, though Emeric looked flustered and annoyed at the suggestion that he should wear something associated with witches at the ritual.

Hermione bit her lower lip, trying to stop her grin. "I'm sure it would make a lovely centerpiece on the feasting table," she consoled the Russian, taking the wreath from his hands and striding over to the table before placing it around the center candles.

The ritual was to be held outside once again, to welcome the sun as it rose over the horizon. She enjoyed the feel of the dewey, wet grass on her feet, feeling connected to nature in a way that she hadn't felt in a long while.

"I see that it didn't take you two seconds to turn your back on the careful advice my wife gave you about your wardrobe, Hermione," Abraxas said, loudly, in an attempt to scold her.

She turned on her heel to stare at him, a smirk on her face. Abraxas might have some control over her while she was supporting Tom on the campaign trail, she was not going to let him exert any control over her here. "I'm not ashamed of my body, Abraxas," she said coolly. "Besides, everyone here already knows the circumstances of my pregnancy. It's not as if any of them would betray Tom by sharing those private details. Right?"

"Of course not," Evan agreed heartily, coming to join her at the table. "Tom knows we are loyal."

"Furthermore, I'm surprised that you don't recognize that I am wearing the traditional garb associated with this ritual," she said, matter of factly. "I'm respecting the old magic that we are all here to celebrate."

"I thought you might," Alfie said enthusiastically, sitting in the open seat next to her at the table. "Did you read about it in Oster's Compendium?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, always happy to have a chat with Alfie about obscure, academic topics. "I devoured everything that I could on the topic. It's so rare to have details of these rituals written down."

"I have a few texts that I can lend you," Alfie answered, eagerly. "Though, I think that Oster has the most complete picture in Ostara's case. I think he claims to be descended from the goddess himself or some other tripe."

"You better watch out, Tom, or Alfie might swoop in and steal your wife right from under your nose," Abraxas said, a smile on his face belying his true intent.

Hermione wasn't at all worried about the suggestion, knowing that her and Tom were solid in their relationship. There was no way that he would think that he would think that she had eyes for anyone but him. She smiled back sweetly at Abraxas. "Or perhaps it is I who had better watch out," she teased. "Are you trying to steal my husband out from under my nose, Abraxas? All those afternoons that you insist I leave him to you and you alone."

Her barb got a chuckle out of a few of the Knights - Alfie, Evan, Antonin and Rafe. Even Edmond had trouble hiding a smile from his own face. Tom gave her a look that suggested she was pushing Abraxas too hard, but he did seem amused nonetheless.

"Well, shouldn't we get started on selecting a pine tree to make the altar?" Hermione asked, knowing that fashioning it by hand would take a long while, maybe even until sun up.

With everyone in reluctant agreement, a small group went about selecting a suitable tree that was large enough to make a good offering, but not so large that it was unwieldy. After it was felled, the group of four wizards brought it back to the clearing so that they could begin removing the excess branches and bark.

"You seem to be running the show," Tom whispered to her, standing next to where she was overseeing the work. "I think that you are enjoying it, too."

She looked up at him, unable to deny the accusation. For once, she let herself relish the feeling of bossing around a bunch of rude, pureblood wizards who thought they were better than her. She was going to remind them just what kind of witch they were dealing with. "Well, someone had to make sure that we didn't miss the sunrise," she said in her defense. "Isn't it a bit odd that these magical rituals require quite so much manual labor?"

"I think that a lot of them came from before the time of wands, so it would have been more difficult to use magic for some of these tasks," Tom mused. "Though, every ritual demands some sort of sacrifice. There is no reason why a bit of sweat shouldn't be required."

"I hadn't thought about it that way," Hermione said, thinking about all the rituals she'd been in so far. She could see his point.

"Speaking of sacrifice, I don't know how much you've read about Ostara in detail," he said casually. "But this is one ritual that does demand a blood sacrifice."

"Oh, I've read all about it," Hermione said coolly. "I know that most people probably use hare's blood as the sacrifice, but Oster posits that magical blood is far more powerful...more effective. Have you all ever tried it?"

Tom turned to give her a crooked smile that told her everything she needed to know. Of course they wouldn't use anything less than the most powerful option. "Silly question," he teasingly scolded her.

"How do you pick who will provide the sacrifice every year?" she wondered.

"Someone usually offers eventually," Tom explained. "But, there aren't usually many clamoring for the honor. Once we even had to draw lots to pick the person."

Standing up a bit taller, Hermione knew that her mind was made up before the words even left her mouth. "I would love the honor of being the blood sacrifice this Ostara," she said sweetly, hoping that her voice carried enough in the clearing so that the rest of the wizards would hear her.

Merlin, she knew that it was a bit twisted to think of something like this, but the thought of all these pedigreed pureblood wizards having to accept her tainted muggle blood filled her with a perverse sense of joy. And now that she offered first, there was hardly a way that they could not accept her role in the ritual. She couldn't wait to see the look on Malfoy's face when he realized what she'd done.