Chapter 20
...
August 10, 1995
Hermione had gotten some of those glow in the dark stars and had muggle star maps and her Astronomy book open on her bed. She stood on tip toe carefully attaching each to the ceiling in order to precisely lay out Draco's constellation. She was going to add the Big Dipper and Little Dipper on either side so it wasn't so obvious, but who was she kidding? Her parents hadn't been the least bit interested in the stars.
Her letters from Theo and Draco were sitting on her bedside table, tied together in the ribbon she'd stolen on Draco's birthday. While her parents had spent the days working at their practice, Hermione had read and reread the boys' letters.
Theo missed her. He was rereading his collection of Sherlock Holmes. His letter contained quotes and thoughts and quite the thorough analysis of the characters and the stories. She was amazed at the depth of Theo's obsession with classic muggle literature. She couldn't help but imagine him as a grown man with a tweed jacket and glasses low on his nose lecturing at Oxford or Cambridge. The fantasy of it definitely did something to her. Her knickers were damp from her imaginings.
It was hard to imagine that the Pureblood Theodore Nott rebelled by reading Shakespeare and Victorian fiction. If anyone had told her such a thing before knowing him, she would have laughed in their face. She was pretty sure that was how he got away with it. No one would ever believe that he was so obsessed.
She recalled his last letter…
"My mind," he said, "rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can then dispense with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen my own particular profession or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world." – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes and the Curse of the Four. Did you know, my love, that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle believed in fairies? Do you think that someone violated the Statute of Secrecy and told him about them? He also believed in ghosts. I would conjecture the man was a squib; however if he was, it is so well obscured by time and design that I will never uncover it short of using a time turner. I inherited my mother's muggle book collection upon her passing and while many of them are in Greek, her selection of Victorian fiction in English is very enjoyable. Did you know they considered puns to be the height of humour? For myself, I quite agree.
He had asked that she write down a list of any stories that she enjoyed over the summer so that he could read them later and they could talk about them. She was halfway tempted to go to the library and pick up a couple of the Sherlock Holmes books so that she could feel a little closer to him. She'd mostly been reading ahead, having begged a fifth year Gryffindor for her textbooks when the girl had stated that she was going to toss them on her Lammas bonfire. The very idea had Hermione up in arms, but with some flattery and a few galleons she'd managed to part the girl from the books that she had planned to destroy. The books were likely to be the same when she received her supply list; in the event that they were different editions though, she wouldn't complain. Galleons spent on books were never wasted. Her mother had picked her up a box set of the Enchanted Forest Chronicles, which Hermione loved. Perhaps, she thought, she could pull herself away from textbooks for an afternoon and lose herself in a fantasy book. She wondered what Theo would think of a Princess that ran away to live with dragons. He would probably find some metaphor there.
A pressed rose in the most vibrant colour of blue that Hermione had ever seen was framed above her bed, despite her mother making several comments about who exactly it had come from, why was the rose blue, and why was Hermione being so unusually secretive about where the gifts and letters were coming from.
In the same frame, a poem in French was partially obscured by the flower. Hermione had been surprised to discover that the last few lines were Draco's own composition rather than part of the famous poem that he had written out in his beautiful calligraphy.
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Les mains dans les mains restons face à face
Tandis que sous
Le pont de nos bras passe
Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante
L'amour s'en va
Comme la vie est lente
Et comme l'Espérance est violente
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Passent les jours et passent les semaines
Ni temps passé
Ni les amours reviennent
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure
Les jours s'en vont je demeure
Je pourrais me noyer dans le miel de tes yeux.
La douceur de tes boucles me transperce.
Je rêve de t'embrasser.
I drown in the honey of your eyes. The softness of your hair transfixes me. I dream of kissing you.
Who could ever have imagined that Draco Malfoy was such a romantic? It was like she had fallen into some strange parallel universe. Theo Nott sending her muggle book reviews, Draco Malfoy writing her poetry in French. She knew she had to keep her relationship with them a secret; honestly, she thought, no one would ever believe her regardless, short of her swallowing a vial of Veritaserum in front of them before she told her tale.
Flopping down on her bed and staring at the little stars on the ceiling, Hermione had to admit to herself that she really wasn't enjoying anything this summer. The truth of the matter was that she was missing them both desperately.
How could two boys like them really be in love with bookish plain Hermione? They were so wealthy and ridiculously handsome; both of them with Pureblood lineages that could be traced back centuries, the heirs to their Noble Houses. They were wizarding aristocracy and Hermione had no lineage, no magical pedigree, no Manor house or childhood etiquette lessons; at best, she would always be seen as a Muggleborn, the unexpected witch born of dentists. She couldn't imagine a more unlikely set of soulmates than the three of them. The soulbond was there though, flickering in her chest like a candle flame in a breeze. She missed them being near enough at hand that she could feel their emotions. Summer break was dragging on forever, and she couldn't wait to be back at Hogwarts.
...
August 18, 1995
Hermione slammed her suitcase down next to the door, not even trying to be quiet about it. Her parents wanted to take a trip - just the two of them - to Greece. Hermione felt so rejected; she was hardly home, with most of her year spent in the Scottish Highlands, for Merlin's sake! Why couldn't they take holidays like this when she was away at Hogwarts?
Her mother had just assumed that she'd love to go to visit her friends. Hermione was having a hard time dealing with Ron and Harry's constant comments about Draco. It made her so angry and borderline jealous if she was honest with herself. She was pretty sure that Harry had a crush on her boyfriend; it was the only thing that made his obsession make sense. The thought of being around Ron for the next two weeks and having to watch him shovel food in his mouth for three meals a day was just more than she could stomach.
Crookshanks was in his carrier and he mewled loudly, as unhappy about the situation as she was.
She went back upstairs and grabbed her bookbag. Her letters tied in their ribbon were tucked safely inside it. Looking up at her framed rose, she hopped up on the bed and grabbed it, tucking it into her bag.
The doorbell rang downstairs.
"Hello, Professor Lupin," she heard her mother saying, "We're so grateful that Hermione could stay with you while we went on holiday. She said she doesn't want to go visit the Weasleys. We aren't quite sure what's going on."
"Well, my partner and I are happy to have her come visit us. Whatever it is, I'm certain the children will work it out, they probably just need a bit of space from each other. Boarding school can be a bit oppressive at times. You know my partner and I both attended Hogwarts back in our day."
"Well, you know, Richard and I are quite supportive of equal rights for gay couples." Hermione nearly snorted as she came down the stairs; sometimes, she thought her mother would be supportive of cannibals if it meant they would watch her so her parents could work or go on some child-free outing.
"Yes, Jean, thank you. We appreciate that." Remus looked up, "Is this all young lady?" He gestured to her school trunk, her small suitcase, and Crookshanks' carrier.
"Yes, Professor," Hermione smiled.
"I'll just help you put it in the boot, shall I Remus?" Richard Granger asked.
"Oh, that would be good, thank you Richard."
Hermione was shocked to discover that there was in fact an older Land Rover out in front of the Granger home.
"Surprised?" Remus whispered in Hermione's ear. She just nodded and followed, loading up herself and Crookshanks. She waved goodbye to her parents, not bothering to give them a hug or a kiss. She let her anger simmer inside her and wondered if her boys could feel it too.
...
August 21, 1995
Hermione and Crookshanks had quickly settled into life at Grimmauld Place. She'd even caught Padfoot and Crookshanks curled up on the couch together, sound asleep on more than one occasion. Remus would just walk by, shaking his head at the two furry friends.
Hermione found herself wishing that Sirius and Remus were her parents instead of the Grangers and then the guilt would tie her up in knots. It was just that they were happy that she was there. They loved to talk with her about her reading. She never felt like a burden or an inconvenience to Sirius and Remus.
She was drinking tea in the sitting room, reading yet another genealogy on the Dagworth-Grangers along with a copy of her father's family tree that she had borrowed, well nicked, from her father's office drawer. She nearly thought she had the connection figured out, when a small cough behind her had her turning to see Sirius looking down at her.
"What have you got there, kitten?"
Instead of answering him, Hermione asked, "Have you heard the theory that there is no such thing as a muggleborn, Sirius?"
Sirius came around the couch and sat down, looking at her reading and the family tree in surprise. "If there is no such thing as a muggleborn, then how do we explain you, hmmm?" The older man goodnaturedly pulled one of her ringlets.
"I'm descended from a squib." She pointed to the matching name in both places: Albert Gaius Dagworth-Granger (squib - death unknown) in the genealogy, Albert G. Granger on her father's family tree. Tthey had the same birth year (1897). "He's my great-great paternal grandfather."
"Well, I'll be damned. Moony! Come look at this!" Sirius called. Remus, wearing an apron with a tea towel in his wet hands, came to the doorway.
"Yes?"
"Come here and look at what our Hermione has uncovered," Sirius laughed, "it looks like we have an heiress on our hands."
"What?" Hermione and Remus said simultaneously.
Sirius laughed, one hand fiddling with his watch fob, "I forget that you both didn't get the genealogy tutelage I got as a boy. The last Dagworth-Granger died in 1972 or so. Dragon Pox, I believe. He had a bit of a potions empire. Hermione's found a link between her family and a Dagworth-Granger squib. You'll have to take her to Gringotts, Remus. They'll be able to confirm if she's correct or not."
"Gringotts?" Hermione choked.
"Certainly," Sirius laughed, "There's no living heir that anyone has been able to find. If you are right, then those vaults would rightfully belong to you. And while money isn't everything Hermione, it can make some things much easier. Like being on the run from the Ministry."
"And since Hermione is the first magical person in the Dagworth-Granger line, she's the only one who could claim the vaults," Remus untied the apron, "Let me change into a suit and we'll head over there, Hermione. It's still mid-morning."
Shocked, Hermione looked back and forth between the two of them. "Really?"
"No reason to wait, is there?"
"No, I suppose not."
...
Hermione felt so awkward going into Gringotts with Remus. She'd only been in there a handful of times to exchange pounds into galleons for school shopping. She'd never been taken by one of the goblins into a private office before. She'd never seen the goblins bring a giant tome which in Runes said, Unclaimed Family lines.
Remus brought forth her family tree and the Dagworth-Granger Genealogy. The goblins looked over both still sceptical. Another goblin entered carrying a wicked looking knife, followed by another Goblin with a giant magical lock that didn't have a keyhole, but instead was covered in a pattern of intricate grooves. Hermione wasn't sure what any of this was for, until it was placed in front of her. Remus looked concerned as one of the Goblins grabbed her hand, forcing her palm out, while another sliced into her palm, watching as the blood welled up
"Here, now!" Remus said, starting to stand up.
"Now, now, wolf. How are we to verify her claims without blood? Calm yourself," one of the Goblins looking on commanded.
The Goblin held Hermione's hand in an iron grip, while she tried to control her breathing and her magic. She could feel her hair start to spark with magic. It hurt!
Suddenly, the Goblin turned her hand so that her blood dripped onto the lock, flowing through the intricate pattern of grooves until several runes illuminated on the lock. With a shuddering noise, the mechanism popped open.
"Congratulations, Miss Granger," the Goblin that had ordered Remus to calm down said, "you have been confirmed as the heiress to the Dagworth-Granger fortune. As you are under age, you need a magical guardian. Your muggle parents can not serve as such."
"Can Remus erve as my magical guardian? I'd prefer as few people to know as possible."
"Understandable. It will be quite the status change for you," the Goblin said. "Normally someone of your lineage would not choose a wolf for such a role, but the horde will permit it."
Hermione bit back the urge to say that she didn't give a damn what the horde permitted and instead bit out, "I'd like the key to my vault and to go inspect it."
"Vaults," the Goblin corrected, sending the others out with everything except the book, which he flipped open and next to "Dagworth-Granger" wrote "Claimed. Verified by Blood and Seal."
Another Goblin entered carrying a single key the size of Hermione's head and handed it to the Goblin who closed the book and handed it over in exchange for the key.
"Here is your key, Miss Granger. Do not lose it. If you didn't like the amount of blood that we needed for the lock, then you will not like how much you have to bleed in order to replace the key."
Hermione cradled the key in her hands. "Thank you, I'll take good care of it. May I please see my vaults now?"
"Such pretty manners," the Goblin sneered, standing up. "Come this way."
...
Hermione tried not to show her excitement as she and Remus emerged into the light of Diagon Alley. She had several rare books and some other beautiful family heirlooms. She was wearing a discrete simple ring that Remus told her had a protection spell on it. Other than that she wasn't wearing any of her new treasures, but she had a few that she was considering wearing (under her clothes of course and disillusioned). She was most thrilled about two lapel pins set with emeralds and the matching cufflinks that she had found in the vaults. She was going to be able to give her boyfriends real Christmas gifts this year. She wasn't anywhere near as wealthy as either the Malfoys or the Notts, but Hermione enjoyed knowing that she would never again need to ask her parents for school supply money. All the Dagworth-Granger properties had been sold decades ago and while she was a little sad about that, the additional galleons from their sales more than made up for it. She could have spent hours in her new vaults, but Remus promised they could come back at least once more before her back to Hogwarts shopping began.
...
August 23, 1995
One of the best things about Sirius and Remus was that they didn't treat her any differently after the discovery that she was an heiress. She supposed that Sirius being raised in wealth himself had a bit to do with it, but in the end, they just saw Hermione as herself rather than her vaults.
She was drinking tea and reading a book from her vault on potion ingredient substitution that her cousin had written. She honestly wasn't sure what cousin he had been; she thought that maybe it was her third cousin. Regardless, it was a very brilliant book and she wondered if Professor Snape had ever read it. She could hardly ask him though, her hand tracing the lettering on the binding. This was hardly the kind of book that a muggleborn like her would ever have access to. They certainly didn't have a copy at Hogwarts unless it was in the Restricted Section.
"Excuse me," came a voice from behind her.
She looked up, "Hello Sirius."
"I have a little something I have been wanting to give you since your last visit. And please don't get upset with me." He came around the couch and sat next to her.
She looked at him in confusion until he handed her a book Magia Anima Comitum.
"It's in Latin, but Remus knows a good translation charm if you haven't learned one yet," Sirius sighed, nervously. "I saw what you were reading last time you visited and I thought that this was one that you had missed. You don't have to talk to me about whatever is going on with you, but I would love it if you would."
Hermione wanted to talk to him about everything that was going on with her and the boys, she really did, but she was afraid. Trusting someone, even Sirius, was such a risk. What if he told Remus? What if Remus told Dumbledore? Hermione had been slowly becoming more and more aware of how prejudiced the Hogwarts administration was against the Slytherins. She did not want to be asked to spy on her soulmates. She just wouldn't do it. It would be better if no one knew or even suspected about the three of them.
"I want to tell you," Hermione said, "but it's just not safe to do so." She took Sirius' hand and squeezed. His tattooed fingers squeezed hers back.
"I'm here, kitten, if you change your mind."
...
August 25, 1995
There was a quick rap of a beak against one of the windows, which surprised Hermione; she thought owls couldn't find Grimmauld Place. That was odd.
"Hermione," Remus called from the kitchen, "Why is a Malfoy owl delivering you a personal letter?"
Hermione ran to the kitchen and snatched the letter from Remus' hand.
"Hermione?" Remus looked at her, one eyebrow raised.
Hermione stammered, clutching the letter to her chest and ran up the stairs to her room, Walburga's portrait screaming "filthy little Mudblood" at her as she went.
...
August 26, 1995
"Hermione, why is a Nott owl delivering you a personal letter," Sirius asked.
"For fucks' sake, how can you tell?" Hermione cried.
"The bands on their legs. Each of the Noble and Ancient Houses has their own colour. Do you have something you want to tell us, kitten?"
Hermione was on the verge of hysterics as she shook her head frantically. "No, no I have to keep it a secret."
Remus and Sirius shared a look, "What if we swore a wizard's oath to keep your confidence, Hermione?"
Hermione chewed on her fingernails as she looked up at them "You'd do that?"
"Of course."
Nodding, Hermione accepted their offer. Her eyes widened as they swore on their magic and their lives to keep her secrets and to never tell another living soul without her consent. Finally, with a sigh of relief at being able to tell someone what was going on, Hermione told them everything. It was in fits and starts at first; she knew she had gotten the order of some events confused but in the end, she was fairly confident that she had explained it all well.
"Oh, kitten," Sirius whispered, "you are in a lot of danger."
"I know," she whispered back, "and they know too."
"Don't tell anyone else," Sirius commanded, "Lucius Malfoy will kill you without a second thought if he finds out. And Thoros Nott will likely torture you first. This has to be the most tightly guarded secret in your life. You can't trust anyone." Hermione nodded.
"Come on Hermione," Remus said, taking her hand, "I cleared out the old ballroom. We can do some Defence against the Dark Arts practise there. You are going to need to know as much as you can until protecting yourself becomes second nature."
Sirius met Remus' eyes over the top of Hermione's head; his fear for her was written in his steely grey eyes. Remus' brow indicated the same worry for this girl, who the two of them had come to think of like a daughter.
...
September 1, 1995
When Remus returned from taking Hermione to catch the Hogwarts Express back to school, he found Sirius lingering in the hallway staring at the Black family tree tapestry.
Sirius was gazing right at Draco's portrait, a young blond boy with a sneer that reminded Sirius of his vicious father, whom Sirius had never liked.
"I just hope he is worthy of her, Moony."
"Me too, Pads, me too."
...