Chapter Nine

Sirius could count on very few things in life. He could, however, count on his wife to smile that reminiscent smile of hers on Christmas day when he began belting out God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs as he did every year once he got a few glasses of eggnog in him. He did it mostly for the smile, but honestly, he liked to remember, too. He liked to remember what had been their first Christmas together, so long ago, even if it had been years and years before they were a couple, and even if generally speaking it had been a miserable fucking Christmas. Arthur had nearly died, he was stuck inside Grimmauld indefinitely, and Harry was struggling so much and it tore Sirius to pieces that there was so little he could do to help his Godson.

Even now, he liked to take a walk once a day, just because he could, so he could get out of Grimmauld Place at least that much. All these years later and the pain of being so isolated remained bitter.

Still, when Christmas came, Harry was there, Arthur was recovering and celebrating with his family, and Grimmauld was seeing more life and celebration than Sirius could ever remember having seen. Since coming to the past, Grimmauld Place had seen more than a little laughter and celebration, wiping away Sirius' unhappy childhood bit by bit, and for that he was forever thankful, but nothing would ever erase that first Christmas with Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. It had been special, and unforgettable, even if at the time Sirius had no idea how lasting an impression it was going to make.

He had no idea, then, it would be the only Christmas he'd get with his Godson, and he had no idea, then, it would be his first Christmas with his future wife. Funny how life worked out, he mused.

"You ridiculous man," Hermione whispered, sliding up beside him and pressing a kiss to his lips as his chorus came to a close. "Happy Christmas, Sirius."

"Oh, you know me," he replied, kissing her back. "Happy Christmas, love."

She held his hand as they stood against one wall, looking out over the ballroom of Black Manor, observing the large crowd that was their family. "Look," she said, "Orion and Walburga are bickering again. Considering you're meant to be conceived soon, I have to assume they have great make-up sex with as often as that happens."

He groaned. "Must you?" he asked. "Don't get me wrong, I do want to be born and all. I just really don't want to think about my parents doing the deed required for it to happen."

"Sirius, you don't like to think about anyone having sex unless it's in the context of having sex with you," she pointed out. "Don't be such a child. I'm sure Septimus and Cedrella have sex quite often, and you know full well that Helen and James have that on and off again thing. Aberforth isn't a monk, even if he doesn't get involved with anything resembling committed…"

"I doubt Melok's gotten any since Genia died," he commented.

She stiffened a bit. "Not to my knowledge."

Sirius looked at his wife curiously. "What? Something up with Melok?"

"Filius and Caelum will be staying with us at Grimmauld for a while," she said softly. "I'd hoped to talk Melok out of it, but he's not budging. He means to do some traveling to the other Gringotts branches around the world in search of information that may be helpful to the cause. He can't take the boys with him."

"That could take months!" Sirius exclaimed.

"I'm well aware," Hermione replied coolly. "Jeanette will just transfer her service from Melok to me, so I won't be responsible for the boys entirely on my own. She'll have Anna with her, of course, but that's not an issue. It's not as though we don't have the room. I'm just not looking forward to the boys missing their father. I don't expect the transition to be anything resembling smooth. They'll likely feel abandoned."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" he inquired gently, knowing full well she'd likely refuse, but wanting to offer anyhow. He and Melok got on well enough, but end of the day Melok was her friend and she didn't generally like him interfering in her relationship with him.

"If I couldn't get through to him, I don't expect you'd be able to," his wife replied with a sigh. "I convinced him to wait until after Christmas to leave, so that's something. I think he intends to depart on the New Year. The Goblins do a census of artifacts in the older vaults at the start of the year world wide, so it would be a good time to start his search in any case. Anything odd would be fresh in their minds. He'll likely start at the Gringotts here in London, but that won't take more than a day or two since he's already got privileges there, and he'll move on directly without pause. If I know him as well as I think I do, he'll move on to Paris from here."

Before conversation could continue, Lycoris came and dragged Hermione away to chat with some of the women, and Sirius was dragged off to talk to some of the men. Sirius was drowning out the conversation for the most part, until something Charlus said grabbed his attention. "The potion seems promising," he said, "and Dorea and I think we're going to give it a go."

"Potion?" he asked, shaking his head.

"Yes," he said, nodding sagely. "Mungo's has been developing a fertility potion, and all the research suggests that it should work for situations like Dorea's, where it's not the eggs that are the problem so much as the uterus. While it might not be a pleasant pregnancy for her, as long as she stays on the potion for the duration, her uterus should be able to support a healthy pregnancy."

He felt like he'd been kicked in the gut. Sirius had known James was an only child, and he'd known his parents were older when he'd been born. He'd never bothered to stop and ask why the Potters had waited to have a child, or not had more children after him. It hadn't crossed his mind that Dorea Potter might have struggled with infertility. Knowing full well that James would be born just a few months after he would be, he had to assume that the potion would work, even if it took them some months to conceive. "It sounds like a good plan," he said with a wide smile. "I can't imagine a world without a Potter running around, in any case, and Merlin knows Dorea is tough enough to handle any difficulties the pregnancy could present."

Charlus grinned. "Any time I fuss about her ability to handle it, she just reminds me she's a Black, as if that explains it all."

"It does," Arcturus said firmly. "Merlin knows I never could convince Lycoris there was a bloody thing she couldn't handle."

"Well that's Cor," Sirius mused. "I've a sneaking suspicion she's got some Gryffindor deep inside her, although I'll deny saying that to my dying breath."

Pollux jumped in. "Might explain why she and my eldest daughter don't get on."

Sirius snorted in amusement. "Yes, what is it with Walburga and her innate hatred for all things not Slytherin? It's not even that she doesn't like Gryffindors; she doesn't like Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws, either."

"I'm fairly confident it boils down to the fact that she just likes getting her way," Pollux sighed. "I was so young when she was born, and so determined not to fail as a father. I think I just spoiled her too much. Her mother was no different."

"So if we dropped her off on an island with no resources," Arcturus mused, "do you think it would teach her some humility? Perhaps undo some of the bratty tendencies?"

Pollux laughed. "I very much doubt it. At this point, I'm afraid the damage is done. Best course of action is to give her a wide berth, and supply Orion with plenty of liquor to steel himself for her fits."

"Is that why you always gift him a case of good Firewhiskey for Christmas?" Sirius asked, looking amused.

Orion's father-in-law nodded sagely. "Why else?"

"I'm leaving on the New Year," Melok said, sliding up beside Cedrella.

Her gaze flickered downward to the Goblin, taking the glass of nog he was offering her, and raising an eyebrow. "You're doing what?"

"Leaving," he said. "Hermione is going to keep Filius and Caelum for the next little while, and I'm going to go do some research at the Goblin Libraries, hopefully turning up some information that will help us against Voldemort. More to the point, the time away will hopefully allow her to remember her priorities are with her husband."

Cedrella pursed her lips. "How long is a little while, Melok?"

"Likely a few months," he frowned. "Two or three at least. Perhaps longer. It will depend on how much information I'm able to turn up at each of the Libraries."

She groaned. "Honestly! When I suggested that you draw healthy boundaries, I didn't mean you should scuttle off for months and avoid the Witch entirely! Are you honestly going to abandon your sons like that?"

"I'm not abandoning them, Cedrella," he said coolly. "I'm entrusting them in the care of their Godmother while I conduct research that could very well be essential to the downfall of a Dark Lord who, should he come to full power, would call into question their futures. If I could ask this of another, I would, but only a Goblin has access to these Libraries, and last I checked, I was the only among our core group who is a Goblin."

Personally, Cedrella thought he was being a bit dramatic, and taking an action that was very much jumping the gun, looking for information that while perhaps might turn out to be of great value, was not something they were seeking with any urgency at present. It was a lively excuse, all said and done, for him to leave, although she'd dueled Melok enough during Resistance meetings to be wary of irritating him once his mind was set, and she could tell by his stern expression that his mind was very much set at present.

She pitied Filius and Caelum. They didn't deserve to be caught up in the drama between their Father and their Godmother.

"The Libraries are in the Catacombs, are they not?" she asked. "Will you be safe?"

He nodded. "As I told Hermione, I will be perfectly safe. I will be there in an official capacity, not breaking and entering as Hermione, my counterpart, and Beta Minerva and Albus did. I'll likely be given an escort of Goblin security to both see to my safety while I'm there, and to ensure I'm not doing anything I'm not supposed to be doing."

"I trust you won't be doing anything you're not supposed to be doing," she replied sternly. "Hermione would never forgive you if…"

"For the love of the Gods!" he huffed. "I'll be fine! Just because you lot are twice my height doesn't mean I can't out duel most of you without breaking a sweat. Even if I ended up in a sticky spot, which is unlikely, I can take care of myself, Cedrella!"

"Forgive us for worrying," Cedrella grumbled. "We care for you, you know."

Melok scowled. "Caring is what got me into this bloody mess. A decade ago I was a single Goblin, surrounded by my own kind, with no real attachments to Wizards and Witches. Then I had to go fall in love with a human woman, marry her, and things just went downhill from there. By the Goblin Kings of old, my life would be so much simpler if I'd never met any of you."

She sighed, and leaned over a bit, pressing a kiss to his cheek, like she'd seen Aunt Hermione do so often. She didn't love the Goblin like her aunt did, no, but she did care for him, in her way. Melok had become a dear friend and she didn't want anything to happen to him. "Tough," she muttered. "You're stuck with us now, you arse."

He gave her a tender look. "You know, Cedrella, for a woman you share no blood with, it's amazing how you grow more and more like your Aunt Hermione every day. I say that in a completely platonic manner."

"Then I take it as a compliment," she said with a smile. "She may be younger than me in the technical sense, but that doesn't change the fact that she's been a mentor to me. Who needs gifts in wrappings and bows when the greatest gift I'll ever receive is the one I'm blessed to call my aunt?"

He nodded. "She drives me crazy, but I know what you mean. That said, I best spend some time with my sons before I no longer have the chance to. Happy Christmas to you, Cedrella."

"Same to you, Melok," she returned.

Then, the Goblin was off, and Cedrella was only half surprised when not a minute later Aunt Hermione approached her position. "Hello," the brunette greeted. "I saw you talking to Melok. Did he tell you he's getting ready to bugger off for a few months?"

"He mentioned it," Cedrella sighed, realizing that like it or not, she was caught in the middle of their spat. That her aunt was unaware she was even cognizant of what feelings were between them made this both frustrating and amusing.

"The boys will be staying with me," Hermione reported lowly. "Your uncle is, at least, not throwing a fit over that."

"Where else would they go?" Cedrella asked. "They're your Godsons. Uncle Sirius is well aware of that, and had to have assumed that Filius and Caelum would, now and then, spend time in your care if Melok was unable to be there for them. It isn't as though he didn't know you were their Godmother or anything, Aunt Hermione."

"I don't imagine he expected the first time they were with me for more than a night or two, it would be for months," she retorted. "I suppose I was expecting more of an argument."

"You know he wants children," Cedrella shrugged, "and he knows you aren't interested in having children of your own. Having Filius and Caelum around for a few months is likely the closest he's going to get to being a father. No wonder he's embracing the idea. I'd be willing to bet he's even hoping the experience will change your mind about the notion of having children with him."

"He's in for a surprise if he's thinking along those lines," her aunt sighed. "I love my Godsons, don't get me wrong, but I haven't the time for getting pregnant and having babies. For Merlin's sake, Cedrella, his younger counterpart will be born soon, along with James, Remus, Peter, Severus, and Lily. We're going to have to spend a great deal of time tracking those children, and making certain they're alright. When would I have time for children of my own?"

"We could always consider expanding our core group," she suggested. "That way you wouldn't be spread so thin. Honestly, Aunt Hermione, if you genuinely wanted children of your own, you'd find a way to make it happen. You're making excuses, and you know it."

"Perhaps," the other Witch allowed. "I do have reasons for not wanting my own children. I have reservations. Some of them have to do with the time I'd have available for any child of mine, and some of them have to do with priorities. Hell, that's not even getting into the question of temporal paradox. It's anyone's guess if I'm living in a completely alternate reality, or if I'm taking part in a time loop which has yet to come full circle. I don't have enough information for that yet. It's simply too early to tell. If it's a loop, then having a child could be devastating to the timeline because they aren't meant to be born."

"If it's a loop, then none of our efforts will mean a damn thing," Cedrella realized. "Albus will establish his Order congruent to our Resistance, and it will be his Order that is remembered, as we're wiped out. Voldemort will survive for years longer than you hope, my sons…"

"I am doing everything I can," her aunt promised, "everything I can, to ensure this is an alternate reality and not a loop."

"When will you know for sure?" Cedrella asked seriously. "What events are you certain of, that if avoided will prove we're on an altered course?"

"Bella's Hogwarts sorting is the first thing that comes to mind," Hermione replied. "If she still goes to Slytherin, it's not hopeless, but I can't rule out a loop. If she sorts to Hufflepuff, however, or somewhere else entirely, then we are definitely in an alternate reality. That said, something could happen soon that I've just not considered as a variable. Petunia, for example - I did attempt to alter her genome to make her magical, but it remains to be seen if that worked or not. If I cross paths with her before Bella's sorting and she's displaying accidental magic, we're in an alternate reality."

"Doesn't Caelum's birth confirm an alternate reality?" Cedrella asked, thoughtful.

Hermione shook her head. "I considered that, but the truth of the matter is that while in Beta, I do know for certain that Genia lived into Filius' adulthood and that Filius never had a brother, I also know that was an alternate reality. However, in Alpha, I know absolutely nothing about Genia's fate, nor do I know if Filius was an only child. All I know for certain is that Filius didn't speak of his family. For all I know, Genia did have Caelum there, my older counterpart was around to be their Godmother, and so on and so forth, but that Filius specifically never mentioned them around me because he knew it would be a temporal paradox if I knew before I began my journey through time. Filius, being a Charms Master, could very easily have disguised his fully human heritage if necessary. I just don't know."

"Temporal theory gives me a headache," the redhead admitted. "Wibbly wobbly timey wimey."

Hermione smirked knowingly. "That's what makes it interesting, my dear. Beta Filius was a pretty dab hand at temporal theory. Knowing Melok now, I think he picked that up from his father. Biology completely aside, he's very much his father's son in that regard."

Ah, Cedrella mused, they'd circled back to Melok. "I can't believe the prat is really going to leave, for months," she admitted.

Hermione flinched. "Me neither, but I know he has his reasons, and I have to respect that. Even if I don't like it. Even if it hurts me. Merlin knows this is probably just going to concrete the boys thinking of me as a bloody mother. Did you know they've taken to calling me Mernte? Nothing me or Melok has said or done has been swaying them on the subject."

"Mernte?" she asked. "What does that mean?"

"It's Goblin," Hermione explained. "Technically speaking it means female parent. In shorthand, it's the Goblin equivalent of Mum. I keep trying to dissuade them, but…"

"Why?" Cedrella asked, cutting her aunt off.

"Why, what?" came a startled question.

"Why ask them not to address you that way?" she inquired. "It's not like Melok and Genia are divorced and you're taking something away from her. Genia's dead, Aunt Hermione. You are the closest thing to a mother those boys have, and Merlin knows Melok isn't likely to remarry anytime soon, if ever. You're likely to be the closest thing to a mother they'll ever have. So why not allow them to use the appropriate honorific?"

"Because I'm not their mother, Cedrella!" Hermione shot back. "I feel like I'm dishonoring Genia's memory to make that sort of claim! To allow the boys to call me that… it feels to me like I'd be spitting on her bloody grave!"

Cedrella shook her head. "Maybe that's what it feels like to you. I'm not disregarding your feelings, nor would I disregard Melok's feelings on the subject if he felt similarly. However, this isn't about what you or he feels. It's about Filius and Caelum and how they feel. Would you rather they go through life with a daily reminder they don't have a Mum? That they are set apart from their peers in that way because of a horrible tragedy? Or would you prefer to offer them the option of having someone they trust and love to address in that manner, allowing them the choice to confide to friends - or not - that you aren't their biological mother, when it gets down to it?"

Hermione let out a groan. "Merlin, I'm a bloody idiot. I didn't even consider their feelings. You may be absolutely right, Cedrella. I will give that perspective serious thought. Maybe it is their choice to make, and maybe I do need to let them make it. If they want this and as they get older that they opt to stop using the honorific, I can choose not to be offended. It's about their feelings, not mine. On the other hand, I do need to consider Melok's feelings in this as well, although perhaps his matter even less than theirs. It's their needs to meet, not our tender sensibilities. You may just be one hundred percent right."

"I am well aware," Cedrella said smugly. "I'm a Slytherin and a woman, and…"

"Yes, yes," Hermione grumbled, "nothing much gets by you. Got it. Happy Christmas, see you later!"

And with that, Aunt Hermione was off, moving into the crowd with practiced ease, Cedrella sure that she had a mental list of who she'd not yet spoken with this evening. Her aunt always made certain she took at least a few minutes to speak with every member of the family during these large family gatherings, a fact that had earned her a great deal of respect among the Blacks over the years. That she was currently being so distracted by this mess with Melok was not something Cedrella was pleased by, but she was confident that a bit of nudging could remedy the issue. Of course, it would likely involve the both of them making horrifically grand gestures.

"They're both idiots," Cedrella mused to nobody in particular, thinking of how alike Aunt Hermione and Melok were in this manner. "They deserve each other. It's a shame this isn't the time or place."

Aberforth Dumbledore found it deeply ironic, considering the woman's general distaste for all things involving his brother, how much attention Hermione Black gave to encouraging others to nourish their relationships with Albus. She was all sorts of encouraging toward Minerva to that end, citing some sort of great partnership the pair would one day have, and in the last few months, she'd been something of a bloody nag toward him in regard to improving his relationship with his elder brother.

Trying to put her off with hints about their sister's death and how not above board that whole mess had been all those years ago hadn't deterred her in the slightest. No, it seemed at some point along the way, Albus had seen fit to fill Hermione in about all that in an oddly honest way, giving Aberforth no real ammunition to work with in his arguments. The chit had just told him that allowing that wound to fester would do neither of them any good, and that whose fault Ariana's death really was didn't matter as much as the reality of how the grief had impacted them both.

He hated to admit that she was right.

All three of them - Albus, Gellert, and himself - had been dueling that day. Ariana had gotten in the middle, and the evidence suggested she'd been hit with multiple spells, any of which could have been fatal. They'd all been furious. Any one of them, or all of them, could have been responsible for her death, and while bloody Gellert hadn't cared about the youngest of the Dumbledores, for all that made Aberforth and Albus different, they'd both loved Ariana dearly, and both still grieved for her to this day. Poppy, in honor of her late aunt, had taken the name Ariana for her middle name when she'd transitioned. That had made both he and Albus smile.

Aberforth looked up as the Floo in the Hog's Head came to life, and both Albus and Poppy stepped through, having been invited for lunch for Christmas day. "Welcome," he greeted. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, Father," Poppy greeted, coming up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you for inviting me to join you two," Albus said, almost awkwardly, "Happy Christmas, brother."

The barkeep forced himself not to chuckle at Albus' unease, mentally appreciating the fact that if he was going to go along with Hermione's mad plans, then at least he could get off on the fact that it threw his brother off balance with the unexpected attitude. "Yes, well," he said gruffly, "I've been told recently that I should be less of a curmudgeon."

Poppy smiled knowingly. "Ah. Hermione?"

He sighed. "Threatened to start calling me Scrooge."

His daughter chuckled. "Makes you appreciate the nickname you've got, doesn't it now, Father?"

Albus raised an eyebrow. "What does Lady Black normally call you?"

"When she's in a mood to," Poppy answered for him, "she calls him Jiminy."

"As in Jiminy Cricket?" his brother asked, looking amused.

The Healer nodded. "Father gives decent advice when he wants to. Hermione has been known to bring that side out of him, and thus came about the nickname."

"How did you two end up gaining such a close friendship with Lady Black?" Albus inquired. "I've only had a few occasions to meet her, and she's always seemed so… reserved. I didn't think she was particularly friendly."

Aberforth snorted. She was, he mused. Just not to him. "We do business with a lot of the same people," he said carefully. Not unlike his friend, he didn't care to lie if it could be avoided, but he wasn't about to tell Albus the truth of things either. He and Hermione did do business with a lot of the same people. That they were effectively in business together was entirely beside the point.

"I see her once a month at least," Poppy admitted. "She brews the Potions for the Hospital Wing, and has done for years. She started doing it for Olivia not long after she got her Potions Mastery, because Horace wasn't particularly dependable in that regard and the Potions coming out of Mungos are frankly subpar."

"How did I not know this?" Albus asked, looking shocked.

"You're not Headmaster yet, brother," Aberforth smirked. "Armando is well aware, I assure you. It's not exactly a secret."

"I'd heard she'd gotten a Potions Mastery," his brother admitted, stroking his beard. "Rare that a woman goes for Mastery studies, and rarer still for a married woman."

How the bloody hell it wasn't crossing Albus' mind that Hermione might very well have gotten her Mastery under him was frankly beyond Aberforth, but he knew Hermione would prefer he not figure that out yet so he opted to steer conversation away from the topic. "All that said, enough about the Blacks. You two want to do food first, or gifts?"

"Oh, presents!" Albus said, eyes glittering.

Aberforth sighed. What a bloody child.

All merriment came to a halt when the door to the Hog's Head swung open, and in stumbled a young woman Aberforth hadn't seen in several years, since her graduation from Hogwarts. "Svetlana," he said, standing at once as he realized she was injured. "What the bloody hell happened?"

"Abe," she whispered weakly, falling into his waiting arms. "Rodion, Jill, and Father. Not that Mother was exactly defending me."

"Oh Merlin," he grumbled, giving an appreciative glance to his brother and daughter, both who had come forward to assist. Poppy was running diagnostic spells and Albus was making for his Potions stocks. His elder brother might not be able to brew to save his life, but he could read a bloody label.

"Blood replenisher first," Poppy called to her uncle. "Grab the Skele-Gro too, though. She'll need to wait an hour before she can take that one though, since the…"

"... doxie marrow in the replenisher reacts to the crushed dragonhorn in the Skele-Gro," Aberforth finished. "I know."

"New Hogwarts Healer?" their unexpected guest asked, peering curiously at Poppy.

"Yes," the barkeep said, easing her onto the comfortable, elegant looking settee that Albus had just kindly Transfigured for her to rest on. Leave it to his bent brother to make a work of usable art when a simple bed would have sufficed. "Also, point of interest, my daughter."

Svetlana reached up and batted his shoulder. "You never told me you had a daughter!" she chastised.

"Did you ever ask?" he smirked.

"I might have guessed with how much you tried to father me," their guest said, rolling her eyes. "Fair point though. I assumed you were a crusty old bachelor with no family of your own to speak of. Barring the estranged brother, of course."

"Formerly estranged," Poppy remarked, on board with Hermione's plan for her father and uncle to get over their issues.

"Yes, I see that," Svetlana mused. "Trying to decide if that makes you more or less useful to me."

"Likely more, given I've taken to surrounding myself with Gryffindors these days, and more than a few of them are bleeding hearts," he bantered.

"Slytherins," Albus grumbled. "I don't suppose you could just ask for help, Miss Lestrange? You obviously need it. What in Merlin's name would have caused your father and brother to turn on you so viciously?"

Their guest met her former Professor's gaze. "Arithmancy. My father and brother, not to mention my sister-in-law, have their sights set on supporting the political advancement of a certain individual and I suggested to them that the Arithmancy dictated that any support for this person would ultimately lead to our family's downfall. You can't argue the bloody math! I don't know why they were taking it out on me."

Aberforth could read between the lines. It wasn't as if Hermione hadn't told him the Lestranges had sided with Voldemort in both Alpha and Beta. He could kick himself for not touching base with Svetlana sooner. It wasn't that she was some potions prodigy - no, Arithmancy was where her talent was - or that he had anything in particular at all to gain from associating with the girl. It was just that there was something about her which drew him in. It wasn't sexual or anything of the sort. She had been right to suggest he'd fathered her, in his way. He looked at her like…

He let out a long sigh, actually smacking his own forehead as he realized what had been staring him in the face all along. He looked at her like kin. She'd been in danger and sought him for safety for the same reason. They had a bloody Kinship bond. "What is it, Abe?" she asked softly.

"Later," he said, smiling a bit. "As soon as Poppy has you stable I'm going to move you to a safehouse. Your idiot brothers saw you hanging around here often enough that it won't take long before they think to check here for you."

"Somewhere secure?" she asked.

"And in the care of someone I trust," he assured her.

Poppy handed him the bottle of Skele-Gro. "I'd pass along directions, but she won't need them."

"Someone familiar with the brew because of personal experience?" Albus asked, clearly trying to figure out where he'd be taking Svetlana.

"Someone with the ability to brew it, and well within purview to administer it," he told his brother. "I'm going to get Lana to safety…"

"Merlin, you haven't called me that in years," the young woman said, looking amused.

"... but you two should probably gather up everything we had planned for the evening and head back to Hogwarts. I'll meet you back there when I've got her settled," he continued, ignoring the jab. "If the Lestranges come looking for her, I don't want you two in the line of fire. I also don't want my bar to be the site of a duel."

"Fair enough," Albus said agreeably. "We'll meet in my quarters then, alright?"

He nodded, then turned back to Svetlana. "Can you stand?" he asked gently.

"Just help me up, old man," she requested, teasing him. Her willowy frame easily leaned into his sturdy form, and he felt her sigh. "Merlin, it's good to see you, Aberforth. I don't think I realized how much I've missed you until this moment."

"You and me both," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder as Poppy and Albus Floo'd out. "Come on, let's get you somewhere safe."

"So where is safe these days?" she asked.

Aberforth tossed some powder into the Fireplace, activating it again. "Grimmauld Place," he called out.

"The Blacks?" she asked, looking uneasy. "Father does business with Lord Black, Abe, I can't…"

"The only business Sirius Black is doing with your father is regarding Wizengamot matters, and I assure you that these days they're not getting on," he said gently. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you're going to like the Lady of the House."

"I heard Lord Black up and married a Muggleborn," she admitted with a frown. "That was a few years ago. Surely that's gone tits up by now. Unions like that don't last."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" he inquired, amused at the shock his young friend - his sister, he was coming to realize - had coming. "Come on, let's get you over there. I'm sure Hermione will have some dastardly plan to keep you safe that just might dazzle you."

"I'm not easily dazzled, Abe," Svetlana reminded him.

He rolled his eyes and tugged her along, the pair of them stepping through and into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. "Hermione!" he called out, as soon as they were through. "Where are you at, woman?"

He heard the clack of her heels before she came around the corner, raising her eyebrow in clear interest at the fact that he had a guest. In fact, by her expression, it almost seemed like she recognized the girl. "So, this is Svetlana Lestrange…" Aberforth began.

Hermione's eyes got wider for a moment, but she recovered quickly. "Welcome to Grimmauld Place, Miss Lestrange. I'd ask what brings you by, but I'm guessing by your injuries and the fact that you were recently in a duel with… two, no, three opponents, that you are fleeing someone and Aberforth is a friend of yours to whom you've come for aid."

"How the bloody hell could you possibly know how many people I was dueling?" Svetlana exclaimed. "That's… that's impossible!"

Aberforth looked to Hermione for permission to share, and she gave the briefest of nods. He appreciated that she trusted his judgment where it came to such a great secret of hers. "Not so impossible for a Mage," he remarked, guiding her to a seat at the kitchen table.

The young woman blinked in surprise, and then she began to grin. She turned back to the barkeep. "So does that mean she could…?"

"Oh, so you bloody figured it out already?" he sulked, annoyed she hadn't said anything if she'd worked out they had a Kinship bond previously. Mages, after all, were known for very specific things in the Wizarding world. Sealing natural Kinship bonds was one of those things.

"Oh, ages ago, you dolt!" Svetlana said sweetly. "Was I to lead you to the answer? I rather thought you'd appreciate being left to work out the puzzle yourself, brother."

"Ah," Hermione said, taking a seat opposite them. "Kinship bond?"

"I just figured it out, Hermione," Aberforth grumbled. "Ten minutes ago. Maybe."

The Mage patted his hand. "It's fine, my friend. You can't solve every puzzle. If it makes you feel any better, you brought me a puzzle as well as a house guest. This whole thing is quite curious."

"Alpha sort of curious?" he asked, getting a sinking feeling.

"Oh, very much so," Hermione grinned. Then, she turned back to Svetlana. "Tell me, Miss Lestrange, have you ever considered a career as an educator?"

Aberforth blinked. A Lestrange teaching at Hogwarts? That would be the day.

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