Who was Hermione Lupin?
Orion Black sat in his study, a room adorned with dark, antique furniture that mirrored the solemnity of his thoughts.
Rumors circulated within the corridors of the Ministry and among the pureblood elite that Lyall Lupin's youngest daughter, Hermione, had allegedly associated with the likes of the son of Bartemius Crouch Sr, the heir of Henri Rosier, and, to his dismay, his own son, Regulus. Such connections would have been enough to stir disdain in any pureblood patriarch, but what truly piqued Orion's interest was the unsettling ease with which she navigated the intricate web of pureblood circles.
Orion, despite his ingrained disdain for those he considered beneath his standing, recognized the need to occasionally engage with individuals outside his preferred social circle to maintain and consolidate power. Her maneuvers were calculated and deliberate, resembling a masterful chess player moving pieces on the board, and she exhibited a level of intelligence that surpassed what he had expected from someone of her blood status.
The Black patriarch acknowledged, albeit grudgingly, that Hermione Lupin was neither naive nor ignorant. Her choice of companions—Barty Crouch Jr, Evan Rosier, and his son, Regulus—spoke volumes about her intentions. Walburga had informed him that Hermione shared dormitories with Alice Grengrass, Arabella Selwyn, and Lucy Macmillan, pureblood witches from respected families. It was clear that Hermione was making a deliberate political statement, positioning herself in the company of influential purebloods.
The girl was a threat, too smart for her own good. Her intellect was a weapon, and she wielded it with precision. Yet, he also saw an opportunity in her, an asset that, if properly manipulated, could serve his interests. Bribing her, however, wouldn't be a walk in the park. She was astute, and dealing with her would require more than the typical strategies employed with those in his circles.
With a decision made, Orion took the initiative to arrange a meeting with Hermione. He penned a letter, expressing his desire to meet and handed her the agency to choose the location. This gesture aimed to provide her with a sense of security, yet, beneath the veneer of politeness, lay a subtle warning of the consequences she might face if she proved unyielding to his offer.
The response arrived promptly. Hermione agreed to the meeting on the first day of the holidays, at a place called Pandemonium. Orion's brow furrowed in confusion. What game was she playing? Pandemonium had been closed for years. He couldn't deny the intrigue that coursed through him, but he also knew that the encounter could be a double-edged sword, allowing the meeting to occur without drawing unwanted attention to his dealings with a half-blood.
"You must be a very stupid girl coming her alone," Orion drawled, his voice laced with arrogance, as he crossed the doors of Pandemonium. The girl behind the bar counter regarded him with a cold smile. Surveying the room, Orion noted that the place seemed to be undergoing renovations, and a passing thought crossed his mind – had he known it was for sale, he would have bought it.
"Would you like a whiskey, Lord Black?" The girl's chocolate eyes reflected false kindness and innocence. Despite the apparent courtesy, her willingness to serve pleased him, and he nodded in response.
While the youngest Lupin prepared his whiskey, Orion extracted a cigar from his jacket, placing it between his lips. He then retrieved a lighter and ignited the end with a long, deliberate drag.
"Here you go," Hermione's voice interrupted his thoughts as she placed a napkin and the whiskey in front of him. Orion arched an eyebrow in surprise as she also provided an ashtray, but he quickly regained his composure.
"I expected to see my son here, considering you're friends," Orion remarked, taking a sip.
"And I expected you to thank me for serving you a whiskey, but beggars can't be choosers," Hermione retorted with a cocky smile.
"Insolent girl, how dare you talk to me like that?" Orion frowned, his imposing presence not seeming to intimidate her.
"You were the one who asked to meet with me, Lord Black," she replied in a mocking tone. Finishing his whiskey, he left the glass on the bar, and Orion scrutinized her carefully.
Hermione was no ordinary half-blood. She exuded an air of pureblood refinement, arrogant and calculating, carrying herself with a certain haughtiness. "Lyall must have had something to do with it," Orion mused. Despite her apparent status, she radiated a dark energy – the kind that something gives off when it is unattainable. However, he was a Black, and he considered himself closer to gods than men. There was nothing unattainable for him.
"I want to know how a half-blood of only eleven years old, coming out of nowhere, has managed to rub shoulders with the upper echelons of the pureblood elite. I want to know how she has managed to get close enough to my son for him to even consider her worthy of speaking to him," Orion hissed, his gaze piercing.
"I think the description you're looking for is, and I quote, a filthy half-blood social climber who thinks she's smarter than anyone else," Hermione replied with surprising self-deprecation, "but calm down, I'm not going to hurt a hair of his precious gelled head."
"Write down a figure, Miss Lupin. I'll pay it." Orion produced his checkbook and a quill, placing it in front of her.
"Black bows to no wizards, right?" Hermione took the check and tore it in half, "well then, I bow to no Black."
"So what is it that you want? Power? Influence?" Orion seethed, jaw clenched. Who did this girl think she was to treat him with such apathy?
"Protection and silence; your silence and maybe others. People sometimes just don't know when to shut up." Something changed in the youngest Lupin's gaze, her chocolate eyes turned coal black. They were darker, there was a sinister gleam to them that sent a shiver down Orion's spine.
"Why do you need my protection and my silence?" Orion inquired with genuine curiosity. "Bartemius Crouch Senior is the Head of the DMLE, and you're friends with his son."
"Bartemius is a powerful and power-hungry man, easily manipulated and sold to the highest bidder under the right circumstances," Hermione smirked, a calculating gleam in her eyes. Orion's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the information.
"You are a intriguing girl, Hermione Lupin."
"Some women have intellect; not all of us can depend on the straight, stiff stick we have stuck up our asses and our graceful manners inherited from generations of inbreeding." The room fell silent for a few moments, and then Orion burst into laughter, the sound resonating like thunder.
"I like you. I have the feeling that we will get along well, and you have my word that you will have my protection and my silence, although I have the feeling that more than my silence, you prefer the silence of others," Hermione nodded. "Tell me their names."
"You're not going to ask me for anything in return?" she asked, surprised by Orion's smile.
"I'm intrigued by your intellect and your way of seeing beyond people's intentions. Although maybe I do have something I want to receive in return." Orion extended an invitation that caught Hermione's attention, "My wife hosts a New Year's ball every year, and I would like you to attend as my personal guest. That's the only thing I'm asking."
"Are you going to force me to spend an afternoon surrounded by pompous, arrogant inbreds with lower IQs than a newborn child who will only look down on me and treat me like their trophy wives?" He laughed as he watched Hermione wrinkle her nose in disgust.
"You will be my protégé, although they won't know that, and they're all easy to handle." Orion gave her a crooked smile.
"To be honest, I expected you to be on the ground already begging for your life," Hermione crossed her arms, watching Orion adjust the collar of his shirt, "Do you feel uncomfortable? It's getting somewhat hot, isn't it?"
Orion's smile faded as he stumbled, "What...what have you given me?" he gasped for air.
Hermione walked around the bar, smiling cruelly, "What you're feeling in your body is a bit of fentanyl, a muggle drug, mind you. Don't ask where I got it from but let me tell you, you'd have to be awfully arrogant to think that I would come here without some kind of protection."She gave him a fake sad pout.
Orion glared at her while undoing the knot of his tie, trying to catch his breath but to no avail, "What is it... What do you want? I have already promised you my protection and my silence. What more do you want?"
Hermione mocked him, "I thought Blacks bowed to no wizard, and yet here you are, begging for your life to a mere eleven-year-old half-blood. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, Lord Black." Taking out a syringe, she added, "this is naloxone, it's what will save you from a slow and sad death, but first, you are going to have to take an unbreakable vow."
Orion growled, "Give me that, little girl," reaching desperately for her but stumbling.
"Wrong choice of words, Orion," she clicked her tongue, "you have approximately two minutes left; if I were you, I'd start by extending my arm."
The Black patriarch, sitting with difficulty in a chair, extended his left arm and his wand in his right hand, waiting for Hermione to grab his outstretched arm with her right arm.
"Do you, Orion Black, swear to extend the protection of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black to me, Hermione Lupin, be my safeguard in times of need, and the silence of your house and its members be at my disposal to whatever means I deem necessary?" Hermione spoke, and a thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from her wand, winding around their hands like a red-hot wire.
"I promise," he said breathlessly, "Do you, Hermione Lupin, swear to never reveal any information regarding your involvement with me, Orion Black, no matter the circumstances or consequences?" Despite his already unfocused gaze, he smiled sinisterly at Hermione, "Two can play this game, Hermione."
"I promise." As soon as the words left Hermione's mouth, Orion roared, "Now give me the fucking naloxone."
"You are such a whiny baby, Orion Black; you're not going to die. It's just a little bit of morphine, and it should be wearing off now. Cry about it." Clearing his throat slightly, Orion noticed how he gradually regained his breath and reluctantly accepted the glass of water she offered. "This doesn't have anything in it, does it?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and went behind the bar. A few minutes later, she returned with a bottle of water and a Pepper-Up Potion, handing them to him.
"I should be quite furious, but for some sick reason - don't you dare say inbreeding - I can't understand, but I am fascinated by you. You have to be very foolish or not afraid of death to do what you have done today," Orion smirked, his voice sounding a mix between surprise and honesty.
"You could say I'm not afraid of death," Hermione snapped back playfully.
"Will you accept my invitation then?" Orion adjusted his tie, once again showing off his impeccable appearance.
"I'll bring you a gift, Lord Black, which I'm sure you'll like." Hermione extended a hand to him, "It's been a pleasure doing business with you," she said, her voice saccharine sweet.
Orion smiled and kissed her knuckles, "It's been a pleasure meeting you, Hermione." Standing straight again, he asked, "You don't happen to know who bought this place, do you? I would like to talk to the new owner about the possibility of investing."
"We'll leave that conversation for another day, don't you think?" Hermione teased, her eyes shining mischievously.
"Are you the new owner? How is that possible?" Orion raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Who told you about this place?" He asked one question after another.
"Information is power, and who is it easiest to get information from?" Hermione laughed. "You purebloods with your airs of haughtiness and arrogance sing like a canary when you have several drinks on you. The price was a bargain; my mother is an insurance broker, and since nothing you negotiate in this world has an insurance policy, the former owner sold it to me quite cheap when we threatened to report him."
"Definitely, you and I are going to get along swimmingly. Tell me when you are going to open, and we will talk about a generous investment on my part." Saying this, Orion left, closing the door behind him.
"Miss Hermione Lupin, you are a sight for sore eyes," Alice Greengrass teased her friend. Hermione stood before them in a midnight blue dress, her wavy hair cascading down her back in elegant waves.
"Hermione, I didn't know you were coming. If we had known, we would have all met together to go to Twilfitt and Tatting's," Lucy MacMillan apologized, her gray eyes reflecting a tinge of sadness. Alice and Arabella Selwyn nodded in agreement.
"Girls, don't worry. Let's just say it was a last-minute decision," Hermione reassured them with a warm smile. Her chocolate eyes scanned the crowded room, searching for a particular pair of gray eyes in the midst of the dancing guests. When their gazes finally collided, she winked at him, and he raised his glass in acknowledgment, letting her know that he had seen her. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have to talk to someone. I'll be back soon."
"You clean up quite nicely, Lord Black," Hermione teased, a playful glint in her eyes as she approached the Black patriarch, who stood with a glass of whiskey in hand.
Orion chuckled, "You certainly know how to make an entrance, Miss Lupin. What brings you here tonight?"
"Oh, just fulfilling my end of the bargain," she replied, presenting a beautifully wrapped package to him. "A little token of appreciation for your hospitality."
Curiosity flickered in Orion's eyes as he accepted the gift, setting his drink on a nearby table. The elegant wrapping revealed a rare and ancient book – the Black Grimoire. Orion's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"How did you get your hands on this? It's been missing for ages," he exclaimed, examining the precious tome. "This is dark magic, Hermione. You're eleven."
Hermione put a playful finger on his lips, silencing his questions. "I thought we had an agreement on silence, Orion. You have your ways of getting things, I have mine."
Orion couldn't help but laugh at her audacity. "Touché, Hermione. Why aren't you with either of my sons? I'd expect at least one of them would be dancing with you."
"I'm trying not to attract attention, Orion. Otherwise, tomorrow I'd be on the front page of the Daily Prophet with the headline 'Is the Black Family Breaking Centuries of Inbreeding by Bowing to a Half-Blood?'" she replied, glancing at the waiters passing by with trays full of champagne glasses.
"It would be quite the scandal," Orion agreed, his eyes dancing with mischief as he surveyed the entire room. Turning his gaze back to his son's friend, he said, "Go have fun, we'll keep in touch."
James Potter didn't like being ignored. He was like Tinkerbell, Remus once said, living off people's applause – or at least that's how his friend explained who Tinkerbell was. So, for some inexplicable reason that James couldn't fathom, Hermione Lupin hadn't exchanged a single word with him since she had arrived to Hogwarts.
James was well aware of who she was; after all, Remus was her best friend and older brother. Remus spoke highly of his younger sister, conveying a deep affection and overprotectiveness for Hermione, even though she wasn't in the same House as them.
He had seen her around school, this elusive Lupin. Once, in the library, she was surrounded by the likes of Barty Crouch Jr, Arabella Selwyn, Alice Greengrass, and Lucy Macmillan, even Remus and Sirius sometimes tagged along. However, being the observant person he was, James noticed that she preferred to spend her free time near the Black Lake.
Rumors about Hermione's friendships circulated throughout the school. There were whispers that she was friends with Sirius's brother, Regulus, and Evan Rosier. The idea seemed preposterous to James; Remus's sister being friends with two Slytherins? A small voice eerily similar to his mother's reminded him, "Regulus is Sirius' brother, and they get along well." Shaking his head, James couldn't fathom Hermione associating with those Slytherins, not if he could help it.
What puzzled him even more was that neither Sirius nor Remus seemed bothered by the rumors circulating around Hermione. He could understand Sirius' nonchalant attitude, given that his brother belonged to Slytherin. But how could Remus rest easy, knowing that there was a hint of suspicion that his sister might be involved with two boys from pureblood families with questionable morals?
James had attempted numerous times to approach Hermione, to warn her about the potential dangers of her associations. However, she always managed to elude him, finding ways to avoid him despite his knowledge of all the secret passages in Hogwarts. But this time, he was determined not to let her slip away. With stealthy steps, he made a beeline to her, reaching out to touch her shoulder in an attempt to finally capture her attention.
"What does a guy like me have to do to get your attention?" Leaning against a nearby pillar, he flashed a charming smile and delivered his opening line.
Hermione opened her eyes in surprise, but her expression quickly shifted to annoyance as she regained her composure. "And you are?" she asked in a tone that matched her raised eyebrow.
"You don't know who I am? There's no way you don't know who I am; your brother is my best friend," James declared, a touch of wounded pride in his voice.
"Contrary to popular belief, my brother and I do not usually move in the same circles," Hermione responded, taking a sip of champagne. "We both know it would be a monumental catastrophe and an error in judgment if we did."
James couldn't help but feel a blow to his ego at her words. "You sound pretty arrogant. Are you sure you're Remus's sister? If I didn't know you were his sister, I'd say you were the daughter of some elitist in this room." He smirked, enjoying the sight of her blush.
"My arrogance is nothing like yours, Potter. Do you think you can come here and assume that since ninety percent of the student population knows you, I must too?" Hermione retorted, inadvertently admitting that she knew who he was.
"So you do know who I am, Lupin," James said, adjusting his glasses with a triumphant smile.
"You're annoying, that's what you are, Potter," Hermione rolled her eyes, and James blushed with a mix of frustration and amusement.
"Are you trying to be obnoxious, or is it just your personality?" he snapped, realizing that Hermione Lupin was nothing like her older brother.
"Have you had to look up that big word in the dictionary, Potter?" Hermione scoffed, pretending to pout.
"I've tried to be nice to you because you're Remus' sister, but it's impossible. You're a nightmare," James said, frustration thick in his voice.
"Am I supposed to cry or—" Hermione began, but James cut her off.
"Ughh, I hate you," he growled, clenching his fists.
"Great, Potter, the feeling is mutual," Hermione shot back, maintaining her composure despite the tension between them.
"Is everything okay?" Their verbal sparring was interrupted by a voice, and they both turned to find Evan Rosier, his platinum hair combed back and piercing sapphire eyes, glaring at James.
James walked away in frustration, heading towards his friends, and Sirius couldn't resist mocking him. "What's got your panties in a twist, Jamesy?"
"She's so annoying, I can't stand her. She has that know-it-all voice that I can't stand,and...and she thinks she's better than anyone. She's arrogant and haughty and not at all the innocent girl you say she is, Remus," James complained, his frustration pouring out.
Remus laughed, thoroughly entertained by the situation. "I never told said that Hermione was innocent," he said, watching as James turned redder with anger.
"With those stupid chocolate eyes of her and the bird's nest of hair she has. Have you seen her hair, Siri? That atrocity shouldn't even be called hair," James continued, venting his frustration.
"Careful, James, that girl you're complaining about is my little sister," Remus warned. "Besides, you're not the best person to talk about what should be considered hair."
"Ughh, I hate her," James concluded, his annoyance echoing through the elegant ballroom.
Evan observed Hermione's flushed face and fiery eyes with a mix of curiosity and amusement, "Are you going to tell me what that was all about?"
Hermione's eyes met Evan's, and for a moment, the frustration that lingered on her face softened into a hint of embarrassment. She took a deep breath before launching into her explanation. "He's so annoying, I can't stand him. He's arrogant and walks like he owns the place. Have you seen that thing on top of his head? That can't be called hair, and his stupid smile. Have you seen his self-sufficient smile? Makes you want to punch it away."
Evan couldn't help but chuckle at Hermione's animated description of James. "So, I take it you don't like him?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You know, mon coeur , you're usually more composed than this. I've never seen you so worked up about someone."
"Ughh, I hate him," Hermione exclaimed, her frustration evident in her voice. The memory of his voice seemed to linger in her mind, contributing to the intensity of her emotions. "I don't know how my brother puts up with him."