Beta love to CarbConnoisseur.
Charlus led Kingsley into the biggest sitting room and found Hermione perched on a sofa, the dragon nest placed carefully beside her. She was surrounded by five elves in the strangest clothing he had ever seen.
"Ah… Hermione, darling. I ah... Didn't realise your father employed free elves." He faltered when an elf he quite clearly recognised as Lolly, wearing an elaborate sparkly red tutu and sequined silver top, turned to glare at him.
"We is not free!" she growled. "We is stylish."
Behind him, Kingsley choked on a laugh. "Of course you are, Lolly," Hermione soothed, looking far too amused. "Uncle Charlus just isn't used to such stylish elves."
The little elf harrumphed as the rest nodded sagely. "Of course they's not being, little Mistress. It's very sad."
"It is indeed, Fern," Hermione agreed, making the elf, wearing what Charlus thought might be miniaturised mediaeval dress in a surprisingly nice shade of purple, beam back at her.
"Right," Charlus muttered weakly, knowing he was missing something vital. "Did Hermione explain why we wanted you here?" The elves shook their heads. "Right, right. The night that Hermione disappeared, did anyone breach the wards?"
All of the elves froze before a wizened one wearing a powder blue suit stepped forward. "Rowan has been serving the House of Moody for many generations," he began slowly, in a croaky voice. "The night the little Mistress left us, three elves breached the wards bringing bad men."
Hermione's breath caught as she watched the elf avidly. Across from her, Charlus could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Why the fuck had no one asked the elves before now? It seemed like such a giant oversight. How the fuck had he forgotten?
"Do you know who they were, Rowan?" Kingsley asked gently.
Rowan shook his head. "They's be wearing masks. They's called themselves knights."
"The Knights of the Walpurgis," Hermione murmured, ignoring the sharp looks both Charlus and Kingsley shot at her.
"Yes, Little Mistress," Rowan agreed. "One be's blonde, another be's dark and the last not be's British."
Charlus blinked. "Not British?"
The elf shook his head, frowning. "Rowan not be knowing where he be from, but he speaks differently to the other two. The dark one be's calling him Tony."
Hermione sucked in a sharp breath as a horrible feeling of foreboding shot through her. Charlus's head shot to hers, but she refused to look at him, instead focusing on Rowan.
"Do you remember anything else?" Kingsley checked.
"They be's saying their master would be pleased," the elf muttered. "That the Master was a filthy blood traitor and the Mistress and the little Mistress be's nothing but worthless half-bloods. They said the magic would take once they were dead. The blonde one said that he was looking forward to Master suffering for every time he'd tried to find something to send him to Azkaban. The dark one laughed and said their master would never let them go there."
"Thank you, Rowan," Charlus sighed. "Does anyone else remember anything?"
"I be's Spot," an elf in a yellow floral dress announced. "They be's calling one of the elves Dobby."
"Thank you," Kingsley murmured, catching the way Hermione froze. "Is that everything?"
The elves shared looks before nodding. "Thank you for your time," Charlus dismissed. He waited until they had left before turning to Hermione. "Tony meant something to you."
"It might be nothing," Hermione hedged. "But… the man who cursed me was a Russian wizard named Antonin Dolohov. It's just… it seems like a strange coincidence."
"Cursed you when Miss Moody?" Kingsley asked sharply.
Hermione's eyes widened as she realised her mistake. "Classified, Shaklebolt," Charlus barked.
"Croaker level classified, Sir?" Kingsley checked stiffly.
"Yes," Charlus agreed before he sighed. "Don't take it personally son. There's only a handful of people he's approved to know. Alex is only one of them because he's a stubborn sod when it comes to Hermione."
Kingsley snorted. "Isn't that the truth," he muttered before turning back to look at Hermione. "It doesn't impact the information we were given today?"
"I don't think so," Hermione murmured before frowning. Dolohov had targeted her specifically. Had he suspected who she was then or was it because she looked like Alastor Moody's late wife and she triggered memories? It didn't really bear thinking about either way, but his obsession with her after the battle at the Ministry was well known. Was it just one of those strange coincidences? She had survived a curse he'd meant to kill her and he hadn't been entirely sane. Not knowing made her head ache slightly.
"Hermione?" Charlus checked. Her eyes darted to Kingsley. "Excuse us," Charlus smiled stiffly. "Head back and write this up… do not leave the file unattended. You'll find the original investigation at the back of the third drawer in my filing cabinet. Do not leave my office."
Kingsley nodded, looking warily between them before heading back towards the floo. "Well?" Charlus prompted.
Hermione shook her head. "It's not relevant now, but… Dolohov targeted me in the Ministry and after… he didn't hide his obsession with me. I just wondered if he had any idea who I was."
Charlus hummed. "How could he?"
"I don't know!" she exclaimed. "I don't know what's common in family grimoires amongst older families. Perhaps time travel isn't unique to ours. Perhaps I just looked so much like my mother that he decided I was the best person to hunt! Maybe it was all just one big coincidence and the fact that I was the only muggleborn there was enough."
Charlus froze as he considered that. "Perhaps," he murmured. "I'll look into this Dolohov."
She hummed. "You know the blonde had to be Abraxas Malfoy."
"What?" Charlus barked.
"Dobby is a Malfoy elf. He originally belonged to Abraxas before being passed to Lucius. Harry freed him in our second year. The other original Knights were thought to be Thaddeus Nott, Simon Mucliber, Jonas Avery, Carmen Rosier, and Rene Lestrange. I have no idea what any of them look like, but if Malfoy and Dolohov were here, it would make sense for the third to be one of them."
"Mother of Morganna," he muttered. "Old families. Any insights on what they meant about the magic not taking?"
Hermione tilted her head, seeming to consider that. "There were rumours that murder was part of the induction process before someone took the Mark."
"But… but in 1961… surely they didn't need to be inducted?" Charlus asked helplessly.
Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea when they changed from the Knights of Walpurgis to Death Eaters. And none of us truly understand what's going through their heads. Maybe they wanted to prove themselves? Maybe the Mark was new at the time? Maybe it literally needs murder to take? Who knows."
Charlus stared at her in horror for several minutes. "How are you so calm?" he demanded.
"I… I think you just sort of… become immune to the bullshit," she admitted slowly. "I don't know that I'll be so calm if we get actual answers," she shrugged. "But accepting that Death Eaters have attempted to murder me again? It's hardly a new experience. Shall I send Alex a Patronus and release him from his house arrest?"
Numbly, Charlus nodded, utterly unable to formulate a response in the face of her calm acceptance.
"Oh, my Mya! You came!" Pandora beamed at her from the path in front of the Burrow.
"You thought I wouldn't?" Hermione arched a brow, wondering if Pandora would ever drop the endearment Luna had used.
"Of course not, my Mya, but I do like to be right."
Hermione snorted. "Of course," she murmured.
"Now, hold my hand. Molly's expecting us, but the wards won't recognise you until I take you through."
"Both of us?" Hermione checked sharply, realising belatedly that she'd never asked.
"Of course," Pandora replied airily, "I didn't think it would end well for anyone if we just showed up unannounced. The boys are very excited to have someone new to play with."
"Oh my god," Hermione moaned. "This is going to be brutal isn't it?"
"They're… very lively," Pandora confirmed tactfully.
Walking up towards the front door of the Burrow was an exercise in self-inflicted torture. Everywhere she looked there were memories with just enough differences to be jarring. "I don't know if I can do this," she gasped, just before Pandora knocked on the door.
"Of course you can," Pandora dismissed. "You're the strongest witch I know. And don't you want to see Percy with chubby cheeks and a smile? He really is an adorable baby, and perhaps this time you can help him bridge the gap?"
Hermione let out a long slow breath. The image of uptight Percy Weasely at odds with his brothers filtered through her head just before the image of the last time she saw him, lying still beside Fred in the Great Hall, almost took her knees out from under her. Silently she nodded, unable to trust her voice, just knowing that she missed them all desperately and hoping that having them in her life this way would be enough to take away some of the hurt, even if they wouldn't really be hers.
Pandora just smiled, raising her hand to knock. A flustered Molly Weasley opened the door. "Pandora! There you are, dear. The boys have been… particularly rambunctious today. Bill stole my wand and gave Percy a tail earlier. A dragon's tail because that's what Charlie wanted. I swear the next two had better be easier or I'm giving them to Aunt Muriel."
Hermione blinked at the rush of information as Pandora just smiled back serenely. "Don't worry about it, Molly. Perhaps a tail would help with Percy's balance when he's running?"
Molly froze before a reluctant smile pulled at her lips. "Perhaps," she agreed, her head finally turning to Hermione. "Oh, Miss Moody. I forgot Pandora said you were joining her."
"Hermione please, Mrs Weasley," Hermione replied softly, still not sure what to make of this younger witch, especially when it was abundantly clear that she didn't particularly like her. Instead of focusing on the confusing feelings, she chanced looking around. The inside of the Burrow looked so different from the last time she'd seen it. It had fewer rooms, the staircase was only half the size, more had clearly been added as the children arrived. It wasn't quiet, but it wasn't anywhere near as loud as she was used to. The boots piled at the door were tiny and the two boys staring at her were in miniature, only hints of the men they would become evident on their faces.
"Molly then," Molly offered, looking unsure. "Come and meet the boys. Bill, Charlie, this is Miss Moody. You'll behave for her or she'll show you what your Uncle Fabian has been teaching her in duelling."
Hermione bit back a snort as Bill's eyes went wide. "You know Uncle Fab?"
"Yes, he works with my father."
Charlie frowned. "Who's your dad?"
"Alastor Moody," Hermione smiled down at him. He was utterly adorable, all chubby cheeks and red curls.
"Uncle Fab's boss Charlie!" Bill breathed. "Uncle Gid says he's a bada…"
"William Arthur Weasely!" Molly cut him off. Hermione had to hide her smile behind her hand at the flush that tinged his cheeks.
"He is rather fearsome," she allowed with a smirk.
"That's not the word Uncle Gid used," Bill muttered petulantly.
"Yes, I'll be having words with your Uncle Gideon," Molly muttered, before lifting a tiny, chubby toddler into her arms. "This is Percy."
Percy surveyed them before burying his face in his mother's neck. "Oh! Oh, he's adorable." Hermione breathed, not noticing the way Molly softened.
"He's a baby," Bill replied scathingly.
"So were you once," Hermione shot back before Molly could intervene. "Isn't Percy lucky that he has two such wonderful big brothers to look out for him and teach him all the things little boys need to know."
Bill and Charlie shared a look. She could almost see the cogs turning. "That is our job," Bill replied thoughtfully. "And I'll go to Hogwarts before the twins are really old enough to learn. But Percy will still be here… so we should really train him like an… an…"
"Apprentice?" Pandora suggested with a grin.
"Exactly!" Bill crowed.
"Merlin save us," Molly muttered. "I wanted one sensible child." She looked faintly amused though, watching as Bill dragged Charlie off to make plans. "They've had a hard time with Percy, given the age gap," she explained, looking at Hermione properly for the first time. "So while I'm sure you've just made my life infinitely more challenging, thank you. Perhaps they'll be more patient with him now."
Hermione hummed, holding her arms out to Percy. He watched her warily for several minutes before reaching for her. "Hello you," she murmured, attempting not to think about how strange this was as she bounced him on her hip, eliciting giggles.
Molly watched her with something nearing a smile on her face. She didn't want to like this witch. Truth be told, she'd already been pretty vocal in her disapproval. Her dress at the ball had been scandalous, not that there was a hint of it today. The hand of Dorea Potter in her outfit was undeniable with the witch was dressed in exceptionally proper day robes in a delightful shade of purple even she couldn't find fault with. And Percy… he wasn't overly fond of people, especially not at first, and yet there he was giggling at this strange witch her brothers also appeared to be fond of. It was enough to give her a headache.
"Right, well… I'll be off Pandora. We shouldn't be out more than two hours, but if I'm not back for lunch there are some things in the kitchen. Boys!" Two heads popped up from their scheming. "Be good," Molly warned.
"Yes Mum," they chorused, their faces deceptively angelic. Hermione snorted. It would appear the twins had learned their trademark look from these two.
"I'm sure we'll have a wonderful time, Molly," Pandora shooed her out the door. "Don't feel like you have to rush back." She turned to the boys once the door was shut. "Now then, I feel like cake if anyone would like to help me make it?"
"Cake!" Charlie shouted. "I want cake!"
"Then let's do that," Pandora agreed. "You'll be fine with Percy, won't you my Mya?"
"I'm sure we'll cope," Hermione agreed, pulling faces at the small boy to make him laugh.
"I don't want to make cake," Bill muttered petulantly, his arms crossed over his chest. "I want to fly."
Hermione's eyebrow rose. "And are you allowed to fly without your dad?" she asked, having heard Bill and Charlie grumble about the freedoms their younger siblings had been allowed when their rules had been much stricter.
"Yes?" he smiled winningly, making her laugh.
"Nice try."
Bill slumped, sighing. "I can't believe Dora told."
Hermione snorted. "What makes you think it was Pandora? What if it was one of your Uncles?"
"They wouldn't!" Bill exclaimed, clearly horrified by the very idea.
Hermione hummed, biting back a smile. "If you say so. Now, cake or something else?"
Bill looked at her consideringly. "Something else," he pronounced.
Arching an eyebrow, Hermione briefly wondered what she had just set herself up for. "Oh?"
Fluttering his eyelashes at her, a look of forced innocence on his face, Bill smiled sweetly. "We haven't seen Uncle Fab and Uncle Gid in ages, Miss Moody, and I miss them."
"Is that so?" Hermione asked blandly, desperately wanting to laugh at the look on his face.
"Yes, I'd really like to see them," he continued earnestly.
"And don't you think your Mum might have something to say?"
"No. Dora's taken us out before," he smiled winningly.
"You are trouble," she muttered. "Merlin help your mother." She turned to Percy. "What do you think, little man? Should we go and see your Uncles?"
Percy looked at her in confusion before mirroring her smile. "You're actually going to take us?" Bill gasped, looking at her as if he couldn't believe it had worked. It was enough to make her laugh.
"After I speak to Pandora to see if it's allowed," Hermione nodded. "And only if you go and help with that cake. We can take them some once it's baked."
"Yes!" Bill shouted, racing to the kitchen.
Half an hour and a change of clothes for the boys later, Hermione found herself carrying a miniature Percy Weasley through the Ministry, with Charlie's hand grasped in hers as he told her everything he knew about dragons. It was an impressive amount, given that he was only five.
"Wow, this place is huge," he breathed, his eyes scanning the atrium.
"You've never been?" Hermione frowned.
"Mum doesn't come here," Bill shrugged.
"How much trouble are we in?" Hermione checked in a low whisper to Pandora.
Pandora laughed. "It'll be fine," she dismissed.
"Right," Hermione muttered disbelievingly as they headed for the lift.
"Hermione!" Charlus grinned. "And tiny redheads! You must be Weasleys!"
"Yes, Sir," Charlie beamed. "Who are you"
"I am Director Potter." Charlus puffed out his chest as he put on an exaggerated air of importance.
"Director Potter as in Uncle Fab and Uncle Gid's Bosses Boss?" Bill breathed, looking at him in wonder.
"That would be me. Just don't tell Auror Moody. He doesn't like to be reminded that he's not the real boss," Charlus grinned.
Bill shot a shocked look at a sniggering Hermione. "Don't corrupt them Uncle Charlus!" she chided.
"Why are you here?" Charlus asked, ushering them into the middle of the DMLE.
"The boys haven't seen their uncles in ages," Hermione grinned. "So they made them cake."
Charlus grinned indulgently. "Well luckily for you, I know exactly where they are, but… I have a price."
Bill's eyes narrowed. "What price?"
"A slice of cake?" Charlus smiled winningly at him.
"Can we have cake too?" Charlie checked. "Miss Moody and Dora said we couldn't eat any before we left."
"Oh, I think we could manage that," Charlus agreed. "With pumpkin juice?"
"Yes please!" Charlie bounced on his toes.
Hermione groaned. "Molly is never going to let me back."
"My office then, troops. Hermione knows the way," Charus commanded.
"And then you'll take us to our Uncles"? Bill checked.
"I'll do one better. If you go and wait there, I'll see if they've finished what they were doing and see if Auror Moody will let them have a break."
"You're going to be an absolute pushover with grandchildren aren't you?" Hermione huffed as Charlus stole Percy from her and proceeded to make the boy giggle.
"Unrepentantly," he agreed. "I'll take this one with me."
"Of course, you will," Hermione shook her head in amusement.
Charlus just grinned as he turned to leave, before turning back to her and frowning. "Aren't you missing something?"
"I don't think so," Hermione replied.
"Where's the dragon?"
"You have a dragon?" Charlie screeched.
Hermione grimaced. "I left it with Lolly. I'm not entirely happy about it, but it's manageable. I didn't think fire and small boys were a good combination."
"Miss Moody! You have an actual dragon?" Charlie screeched again, tugging on her robe as Charlus pulled an apologetic face.
"You can use the floo to retrieve it," he offered.
Hermione groaned, turning so she could look down at Charlie's hopeful little face. "Yes," she agreed. "But it's not hatched yet."
"Can I see it?" he breathed.
"Ugh, yes. But we need to go into Director Potter's office and you have to promise to listen to everything I say, alright?"
"Yes!" he squealed, grabbing his brother's arm in his excitement. "Bill, a real dragon!"
Five minutes later, feeling slightly giddy with relief at being reunited with her charge, Hermione focused on commanding the fire surrounding the nest not to burn before helping an awestruck Charlie reach through the flames to stroke the egg.
"You cannot do that with any other fire, nor this one without me here. Do you understand me?" she warned sternly.
"Yes, Miss Moody," he agreed, still gazing reverently at the egg, clearly distracted.
"I mean it, Charlie. Fire normally burns."
"Why doesn't this one then?" Bill asked, looking desperate to follow his brother's example.
"Because I asked it not to," Hermione grinned, ignoring his flabbergasted look as she took his hand and guided it into the flames.
"You asked it not to?" he checked incredulously, looking at Pandora for confirmation.
"Quite," she agreed, as Pandora nodded.
"Miss Moody, can you do it with all fire?" Charlie asked idly, still very much focused on the egg.
"Please just call me Hermione. Miss Moody makes me think of school. And just this one as far as I know," she admitted. "I haven't checked any others." As she reached out to touch the tiny egg, it emitted a happy little note.
"Aww!" Charlie cooed. "It's happy, Hermione!"
"Is that… what the fuck are you doing?" Fabaian demanded, his eyes watching his nephews in horror.
"We're stroking a real dragon's egg!" Charlie beamed up at his uncle. "It's happy!"
"Never a dull moment, Miss Moody," Gideon spoke wryly, ruffling Charlie's hair.
"You have my nephews' hands in flames!" Fabian shouted, ignoring the way everyone in the room turned to look at him.
"Are they burning?" Hermione asked archly. "Do they look like they're in pain?"
"No," he groaned. "But Merlin's saggy left…" Charlus coughed pointedly, making in flush. "I mean. It ah… was a bit of a surprise to see their hands in flames. They are flames aren't they?"
"Yes," Hermione admitted.
"Non-burning flames?" Gideon checked, looking intrigued as he squatted down next to Bill's chair.
"Um. Currently. They can burn," she admitted.
"Hermione asked them not to Uncle Gid," Charlie interjected excitedly.
"You asked?" Gideon repealed faintly.
"Ah, yes," she flushed.
"Of course you did," Fabian muttered, moving Charlie onto his knee. "Does it need an individual invitation?"
"Oh, um. I don't know. Perhaps better safe?" The twins blinked at her.
"Right," Fabian muttered, watching as she seemed to stroke the fire encircling the egg.
"Try now," she commanded.
Hesitantly, Fabian reached forward, not quite sure what to make of it when it didn't burn him at all.
"Is that truly a real dragon egg?" Gideon asked, stroking a finger down it reverently.
"Yes. Hopefully a small one, but we're not sure," Hermione replied distractedly as she watched Charlus sneak Percy a mouthful of cake, tickling the boy until he giggled.
"Why don't you know, Hermione?" Charlie asked curiously, squinting up at her.
"Oh, because it's a brand new hybrid. We're not sure what will happen."
"Hybrid like the one they tried to make with the welsh green and the horntail?" Charlie breathed.
"Yes, exactly like that," she agreed, of course that particular child would be aware of that experiment, "But these dragons were shrunk first."
"Wow!" he exclaimed before he frowned. "That one didn't work though."
"No, it didn't," Hermione agreed, vividly remembering an older version of the boy telling her about the failed experiment and how his reserve had been discussing trying with different species. She realised then that it meant that Sauls experiment had likely failed the first time around."But this one seems to be going better. This egg is one of four."
Charlus snorted. "Should you be telling them any of this?"
Hermione shrugged. "The egg has to come with me when I go anywhere. Someone is going to notice and Saul didn't appear to care either way. I did ask."
"Fair point," he agreed, pulling faces at Percy. "Now who wants cake?"
"Why exactly are you here?" Fabian murmured as a chorus of "Me!" went up around them.
"Bill put on a spectacular performance," she laughed. "Said he hadn't seen you both for ages."
"We saw them two days ago," Fabian muttered. "You've been had, Miss Moody".
She snorted. "Ah, well. I get cake out of it, so I'm not going to complain."
"Boys! I'm home!"
"Mum! Mum! Hermione has a dragon and we saw Uncle Fab and Uncle Gid and we got to meet their big boss! He liked our cake!" Charlie barreled into the room and straight into Molly's legs.
"Oh my goodness," she muttered. "That… that sounds like a lot."
Pandora smiled serenely from the doorway. "Mya's just putting Percy down for a nap. The Director wore him out."
"You… you actually took them to meet the Director?" Molly replied faintly.
"Oh yes. We took cake. All the Aurors there were most impressed, weren't they?"
"Yes!" Charlie shouted, throwing his hands up as he jumped, clearly still overexcited.
Pandora smiled indulgently at him before looking back at Molly. "Bill's just reading Percy a story. He'll be down soon."
"Bill's… what?" Molly gaped.
"Reading Percy his story," Pandora repeated. "It was part of the deal Director Potter made with him when he got to spend half an hour being the Boss of the DMLE."
"It was…." Molly trailed off, looking helplessly at the other witch.
"Can Hermione come all the time, Mummy?" Charlie asked guilelessly. "Maybe next time the dragon will have hatched."
"There's an actual dragon?" Molly checked.
"Oh yes. Mya has it. It's an Unspeakable experiment she's helping with."
"She's an Unspeakable?" Molly asked, sounding bewildered by the turn the conversation had taken.
"Not yet," Pandora admitted. "But I gather that Professor Croaker and Director Potter intend to offer her a job share, so she will be soon."
"Right," Molly sat down heavily. "I ah… don't dragon eggs need to be kept in fire?"
"Oh yes, "Pandora agreed cheerfully. "Mya just asked this fire not to burn."
"She really did Mum!" Bill agreed, running into the room. "One of the Aurors didn't listen when she told him to wait and it burnt him, but we touched it and it didn't burn us!"
Hermione sighed, noticing the bewildered look on Molly's face as she cradled her nest. "Can I touch it before you leave, Hermione?" Charlie smiled up at her, "I think it likes me!"
"I'm sure it does," Hermione agreed, handing over the nest before Molly could object. She watched with horrified fascination as her middle son put his hand right through the flames and stroked the tiny egg in the middle of them.
"That's… that's not possible," she stammered, never taking her eyes off her son.
"It's a little unusual," Hermione agreed apologetically.
"I…" Molly let out a long breath, clearly deciding not to finish that sentence. "Right. I ah… how were you Uncles?"
"Cool!" Bill grinned. "I got to tell them what to do!"
Hermione and Pandora both stifled their giggles. Watching Bill boss around the Aurors with Charlus' backing had been hilarious. Molly smiled indulgently at her eldest. "Did you now?"
"Yes! I think I want to be Director Potter when I grow up! His job is amazing."
Molly smiled slightly. "I see. Well then boys, what do you say to Pandora and Miss Moody?"
"Thank you!" they chorused.
"You will come again, Miss Moody?" Charlie asked as he reluctantly handed back the nest.
"I'm sure I can manage that," Hermione smiled down at him, unable to resist running a hand over his curls, "As long as your mum says it's ok."
"I don't imagine I'm going to be allowed to say no," Molly admitted wryly.
"I hear you have a new admirer," Caradoc teased when he spotted Hermione stepping out of the floo. "Redheaded, fierce…" Hermione frowned when Caradoc suddenly gestured around his knees. "About yay high and utterly obsessed with dragons."
Catching on, Hermione grinned, sitting down across from him. "He is one of the more adorable redheads I'm acquainted with," she agreed. "Perhaps I should wait on him growing up."
"Miss Moody, you would me!" he gasped dramatically before he smirked. "Fabian went for a visit after your little trip to the Ministry yesterday. He says you're all Charlie could talk about. I'm sorry to have to tell you though, but Bill was more impressed with Charlus Potter than you."
Laughing, Hermione nodded at him. "I'm not surprised. I think he might be Uncle Charlus' new favourite person."
"Yes, I heard he got to make the rules for a bit."
"That he did," Hermione agreed. "Watching several adults scurrying around at the behest of a seven year old was definitely one of yesterday's highlights."
"I'm almost sorry I missed it. About this dragon though… it can't be an actual dragon?" he checked.
"Oh, it is," she grinned. "Want to see it?"
"Yes!" he exclaimed, looking torn between excitement and disbelief.
"Hold my bag open," she instructed, ignoring his confusion as she opened the clasp and stuck her arm into it up to the elbow.
"That's… you cant…" he stuttered, eyes wide.
"I have permission, calm down!" she laughed.
"You do?" he checked. "Are you sure?"
"Well if I didn't, I would hardly be making it obvious what it was in the middle of the Leaky now would I?" she retorted.
Caradoc flushed. "Fair point," he muttered, his eyes going even wider as she gently pulled out a flaming nest. "How the fuck did it not set your bag on fire!" he demanded.
"Oh, because I asked it not to," she grinned. "Give me my bag. You can touch it."
"I can?" he breathed. "Fab mentioned… but I thought he was taking the piss."
He missed Hermione rolling her eyes as he stroked the egg with the same reverent expression that Charlie had had the day before. It would have made her laugh if it wasn't so bloody adorable. Joining him, she ran a finger over the egg, making it sing.
"How did you make it do that?" Caradoc demanded instantly, staring at her with an awestruck look.
She shrugged. "It just… does. Little sod uses it to ensure I stay with it."
"What?" he gaped.
"It… sends me feelings, almost. Often accompanied by those notes, so everyone else can feel what it's feeling. It's why I struggle to leave it. It makes me feel sad and panicky."
"Wow," he muttered. "That's… that's absolutely insane."
"I know," she whined. "I don't really understand how it happened!"
"Only you," he shook his head, reluctantly removing his hand from the fire. "When does it hatch?"
"I have no idea," she admitted. "It was an experiment, so no one's really sure of the results."
He hummed, before he grinned at her. "I cannot wait until you have a fully grown dragon toting about after you."
"It should be little," Hermione muttered.
"It's still a dragon!"
"Ugh, I know! Is it wrong to hope Saul was serious when he said I could keep itt?"
Caradoc shook his head at her, noting the slightly wistful way she was stroking the egg. "If the egg won't let you leave it, what makes you think Saul will have a choice?"
Hermione brightened. "Oh! Oh, I hadn't thought about it like that!" she exclaimed.
"I'm sure you would have eventually. Now, not that I want to hurry you, but didn't you promise to take me somewhere?"
Hermione carefully placed the nest back inside her back, nodding. "Yes. Come along Mr. Dearborn."
Caradoc stumbled out of the cinema over two hours later looking at her in horror. "What the fuck was that?" he demanded. His face had gotten progressively more confused the longer the film had gone on and she was more than a little impressed that he had waited until they'd left before saying anything. "No Hermione!" he continued when she didn't reply, "Really! What the fuck was that!"
"Saturday night fever," she replied blandly.
"Hermione… that white suit… and that… dancing he was doing… just… just what the fuck?"
"That's what you're taking from that film?" she checked.
"No!" he exclaimed. "It was… fucking hell Hermione. It seemed like the safest damn thing to complain about! Did you know what that was before we went?"
"No," she admitted with a grimace. "I truly thought it was fluffy and about disco dancing."
"Fucking hell," he muttered. "Muggles watch that for fun?"
"Apparently," she agreed.
"Gods, can we get a drink now?" he whined, "I wasn't prepared for that tonight."
"Me either," she agreed with a wince.
"Dad! Dad!" Hermione shouted, panic clear in her voice. With his heart racing, Alastor barreled into the living room, his wand extended to find Hermione on her knees, tears tracking down her face.
"What is it?" he demanded.
Slowly, moving with great care, Hermione swivelled, her hands cupped around a tiny pearly blue dragonet. "Oh!" he breathed, moving carefully so as not to startle it. "Oh Hermione, look at it!"
"I know," she whispered. "Gods, I finally understand Hagrid's fascination."
Alastor snorted softly, reaching out a hesitant finger to stroke its head. It felt fragile under his hand as it rubbed against him like a cat, crooning slightly."Have you told Saul?"
Hermione shook her head, placing the creature gently onto her knee, petting it absentmindedly as Crooks came to investigate. "Be gentle," she admonished the kitten when he bopped the dragon on the head. Crookshanks glowered until the tiny dragonet walked unsteadily to the edge of Hermione's knee and batted its head against his leg. He seemed to sigh, dropping onto his stomach, taking the creature into his mouth before Hermione could stop him before dropping it between his paws and beginning to groom it thoroughly. The tiny dragonet let out a song-like noise, a feeling of contentment washing through Hermione. "Oh," she whispered. Running a hand down Crookshanks back.
"Poor thing isn't going to know what it is," Alastors snorted.
"Hush," she scolded, her voice never rising about a whisper. "It's happy."
Alastor smiled indulgently back at her. "I didn't think my first grandchild would be a dragon, but here we are. You need to tell Saul. And Charlie Weasley."
Hermione snorted. "True enough," she agreed, sending a Patronus to Saul.
Forty minutes later, he came barreling through the floo. "Where is it?" he demanded excitedly when he ran into Alastor.
"On Hermione's knee," Alastor replied wryly. "It cries when she leaves the room."
Saul bounced. "Oh! Oh! It's so exciting! It's the first one to hatch!" He bolted into the living room, finding Hermione exactly as Alastor had indicated, curled on the sofa, her kitten and the dragonet curled together on her lap.
"Hermione!" he exclaimed softly, drawing her attention to him.
She smiled slightly. "Come to see the newest addition?"
He grinned. "I gather you're keeping it?"
"Am I allowed?" she checked incredulously
"Your father says it cries?"
"Ugh yes!" she groaned "It makes me feel so guilty!"
"So. Keeping the baby dragon? You'll need to register it of course, and consent to some testing. It's… Merlin Hermione, it looks like an entirely new species."
"Well, it is," Hermione pointed out exasperatedly. "You cross-bred two dragons! It seems to have the mane spikes the fireballs have, but I have to admit that's the only thing I recognise."
"It's the same colour as the flames it favoured, with maybe a bit more opaleye colouring," Saul mused. "Can I take pictures?"
She nodded, lifting the sleepy dragonet carefully. It huffed at her to indicate its displeasure, but curled back around itself in the palms of her hands.
"Have you tried food?" he asked quietly once he stowed the camera away.
"The elves brought various types of meat for it to try. It seems to prefer lamb and mutton."
"Like the Opaleye," Saul murmured, stroking a finger down the dragon's spine. It seemed to hum happily at him. "Still makes music then," he mused. "I've never heard of a singing dragon before. I wonder if it'll still do it as an adult. Have you checked to see what it is?"
Hermione looked at him incredulously. "What do you think?" she demanded. "I haven't the first damn clue how to tell what sex a dragon is!"
He snorted. "Right then, let's see."
"Wake it at your own risk," she muttered. "I have no idea how young they learn to shoot fire."
Saul paused momentarily. "Gods," he muttered. "Try not to let your new baby cook me, please. Although it seems absurdly tame. I wonder if that's your influence or if the others will be the same."
Hermione made a noise of acknowledgement, but didn't comment. The dragonet opened one unimpressed eye when Saul lifted it gently but didn't seem unduly distressed, allowing Saul to manoeuvre it and shine a lumos at the base of its tail. "Congratulations! It's a girl," Saul announced, deciding to test his luck, cuddling the dragon to him. It really was absurdly cute. "What are you naming her?"
"I don't know," Hermione murmured thoughtfully. "I'll need to think about it."
"Let me know when you decide and bring her in next week? When are you at Hogwarts?"
"Monday and Tuesday," Hermione replied, barely concealing her amusement as Saul continued to talk down at the dragon rather than her, "I'm with Uncle Charlus on Wednesday, so I could bring her in then?"
"I think we might need more than a few hours. What about Thursday?" Saul mumbled, repeatedly stroking down the dragons spine as it snoozed on his chest, a small contented smile on his face.
"I'm meeting Marlene McKinnon for lunch, but that's all."
"Right. We'll start on Wednesday for a couple of hours and then continue on Thursday?" At her hum of agreement, he continued. "When is it you're meeting Perenelle?"
"Oh, Monday night at Gran's."
"I'll come if you don't mind. What time?"
"Five, I think," Hermione replied softly. "Although I warn you, she's insisting on dinner."
Saul smiled, absentmindedly still stroking his hand over the dragonet as one would a cat. "It's probably polite to ask…"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll owl, but assume it's ok. I can't see Gran disagreeing."
"Wonderful," he beamed, handing the dragon back with obvious reluctance. "Do write everything down. Foods, habits. Does it still need fire?"
"Oh. I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It doesn't seem to, but I'll monitor it. From what I've seen so far it seems more cat than dragon."
Saul snorted as he watched the tiny creature snuggle back into Crookshanks' belly, letting out a happy little note. "So I see."
"No tiny Weasleys yet?" Alastor smirked, popping his head around the door.
"Not yet. I didn't know how Molly would take a Patronus."
"Shall I stick my head through the floo?" Alastor offered. "The boy will never forgive you otherwise."
Hermione laughed, knowing it was true. "Fine, but if you complain I'll be forced to remind you that you offered!"
Hiding his amusement, Saul stood. "Right, I'll go and inform everyone that the first one is here. Expect some owls, Hermione. And ah… good luck with your visitors. I heard they had Charlus wrapped around their tiny fingers."
"That might be the biggest understatement I've ever heard," she admitted. "Bill Weasley is now determined to be just like Director Potter and I barely managed to get Percy back."
Saul snorted. "Yes, I don't imagine you're Alex Potter's favourite person. Baby fever has well and truly hit."
Hermione grimaced, silently vowing to apologise to Alex shortly. "Wonderful. I'll be sure not to approach without a peace offering."
Saul laughed, casting one last longing look at the tiny sleeping dragon before waving goodbye as he headed back to the Ministry.
"Saul's gone?" Alastor checked, coming back into the room.
"Yup," Hermione replied, burying her fingers in Crookshanks' fur, "He's not entirely happy. I think he'd have taken her with him if he could."
"She is rather cute," Alastor agreed. "Which I'm not sure I ever thought I'd even think, let alone say out loud."
Hermione snorted, shaking her head at the disgruntled look on his face. "Do you have any name books?"
"Name books?" he frowned.
"Well… muggles have them. Will have them? I have no idea if they're a thing yet. It lists baby names to help parents narrow it down. I've got to give her a name, but I've no idea what."
"Oh!" Alastor brightened. "We have something like that. I'll go and find it in a moment, but also… young Charlie will be here in about half an hour. I asked Molly not to tell him."
"Oh gods," she groaned. "He's going to be as high as a kite!"
Laughing, Alastor heaved himself to his feet. "It should be where we left it," he mumbled as if to himself as he wandered out the room, returning fifteen minutes later holding a battered-looking book triumphantly.
"What in the name of Merlin is that?" Hermione frowned.
"Name book!" he crowed. "It was written by a Sayre years ago. You can check a name, or ask for suggestions."
"It's sentient?"
"Oh no. It… I'm not entirely sure about the magic, but every pureblood house has one. It's a bit like a cross between a revealing and a summoning spell. It can tell you how many people have the name and what families they're from, and it self updates. See?" He opened the book. Hermione briefly noted the blank pages with something close to shock before he spoke. "Hermione."
The pages flicked before Hermione appeared at the top of the page, followed by a list:
1. Hermione Emmeline Travers 1671
2. Hermione Regina Shacklebolt 1856
3. Hermione Ailsa Isobel Moody 1958 previously Catriona Ailsa Isobel Moody
"Bloody hell," she murmured. "There aren't many, are there?"
"Apparently not," Alastor mused. "I expected more."
"So how does it give suggestions?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Oh, you ask it for something. Ah…" Alastor surveyed the book. "Names meaning fire."
Hermione's eyes widened when the names seemed to go on forever. "Jesus, it's going to take hours!"
Alastor snorted. "You can narrow it down. Give me a letter."
"Oh… ah… D?"
He nodded. "Limit to the letter D."
"Oh. There's not many of those," she murmured while scanning the list. "Limit to names with an H."
Frowning, she skimmed the next list. "Nope," she muttered several minutes later, ignoring Alastor's indulgent amusement. "Limit to names with an N."
"You should have started at A if you were going to be this fussy," Alastor muttered as her frown grew more pronounced while she scanned the new list that appeared.
"Oh!" She nudged the tiny reptile until it blinked sleepily at her. "How do you feel about Nuri?" The dragon seemed to contemplate it before it yawned. "Nuri," Hermione crooned, stroking its head. "I sort of like it." The dragon let out a happy little note before closing its eyes again. "Good enough," she laughed, settling her back down into the warmth of Crookshanks' fur.
"Looks like we have a name then," Alastor murmured, taking the book back as he heard the floo chime. "Ah, just in time for young Master Weasely. I think I'll put this somewhere safe."
Shaking her head at his hasty retreat, Hermione listened to the telltale sign of running feet, bracing herself for their arrival.
"Hermione!" Charlie burst into the room. "Mum said we were coming to visit and Uncle Fab volunteered and Bill said he was coming too and… OH MY GODRIC! IT HATCHED!"
"It hatched!" came Bill's voice seconds behind him, slightly less loudly but enough that both Nuri and Crooks flinched at the volume for a second time.
"Shhh!" Hermione instructed gently. "You have to be quiet. She's sleepy.
"Oh!" Charlie whispered. "Oh, oh Hermione! It's an actual dragon!"
"Yes, she is. Her name's Nuri and if you're very very careful and very quiet, you might be able to have a cuddle."
Charlie's eyes lit up as he made his way cautiously towards her. "Me too?" Bill checked.
"Of course, but very quiet and very gentle. She's super small."
"Yes, Hermione," Bill agreed quickly.
"And me, Miss Moody?" Fabian grinned.
"I don't think I trust you to behave," Hermione shot back teasingly.
He snorted quietly, making his way over to the sofa. "Gods, it really is tiny isn't it?"
"Yes, she is. Whether she'll stay that way remains to be seen."
"How long until you return it to the DOM?" he asked idly, not taking his eyes off the dragon.
"I'm getting to keep her," Hermione shrugged. "She cries every time I leave the room. It's horrible." Ignoring the stunned look on Fabian's face, she turned to Charlie. "Right, sit right back on the sofa. I'll put her on your tummy so you can stroke her but if she gets grumpy I'll need to take her back. And remember, Bill gets a cuddle too."
Charlie nodded quickly, eyeing the dragon covetously. Gently, Hermione scooped Nuri up, stroking a hand down her back, marvelling slightly at the way the dragonet fit between her palms. "Alright lovely, Charlie just wants a cuddle," she cooed. "You can go right back to sleep." The dragon gave a happy little warble, curling up like a cat in her palm, barely stirring when she gently transferred her onto the top of Charlie's stomach. His eyes lit up as he stroked the dragon.
"Wow," he breathed. Hermione smiled, noticing Fabian produce a camera from somewhere, taking pictures as Bill leaned over his brother, following Charlie's hand with his finger along the length of the dragonet's body. Pausing slightly, Hermione transfigured a cushion into a blanket, casting a warming charm over it.
"Bill, could you lift her up gently?"
With wide eyes, Bill slowly scooped her up, allowing Hermione to place the folded blanket on top of Charlie. "You can put her back. She seems to like snuggling into Crookshanks' fur, and we don't want her to get cold."
Silently, both boys nodded, neither actually looking at her.
"Molly's going to murder you when Charlie starts asking for a pet dragon and can refute her arguments that it's not possible," Fabian murmured, sitting down next to her.
"I know," Hermione groaned. "But look at them!"
He snorted quietly, watching his nephews fawn over the sleeping dragon. "Let's hope the photos save you. You're far too interesting to kill off quite yet."
Hermione rolled her eyes, idly stroking Crookshansk fur, settling into this bizarre new normal where Bill and Charlie were just two excited little boys and she was now the owner of the world's tiniest dragon. She wondered briefly what her boys would have made of this, before deciding that the dragon would have had three parents and eventually one of them would have smothered the other two in their sleep after they fought over parenting techniques. Perhaps it was best that Nortbertta had been as viscous as she had been.