Chapter 10: Kairos

"What's life without a little risk?"

~ Sirius Black

The wind was shrill and haunting. It bellowed viciously, while the limbs of the trees trembled and broke. The animals sought shelter. It was not a quiet, peaceful night. The sounds of crickets or owls could not be heard. Earth was in its primordial form. Mother nature was not pleased. Rain was pattering against the window. Thunder boomed. Lightning struck.

Andromeda was reminded of nights she would have rather not remembered. Like the animals, she too had sought shelter: she sat on a sofa before the hearth in her home, where the fire danced and twirled. In her hands, she held a book, but she could not bring herself to read (truth be told, she had never had an appetite for books... it was her younger sister, Narcissa, who had been the bibliophile; nevertheless, at such an ungodly hour in the night, there was not much to do).

There was an odd, peculiar feeling in her heart. The feeling was almost inexorable to describe. It was the sort of feeling one got when they were on the edge of of a cliff, or on the edge of a mountain. It was that feeling one got when something great and unexpected was about to happen. Andromeda recalled how the Ancient Greeks had a name for it: they called it kairos.

Suddenly, she heard a knock. Andromeda seized her wand and rose from her seat. Wars had made her oversuspicious. "Who's there?" she asked. The knocking continued. As she ventured forth, towards the front door, she heard a woman's voice ushering from behind it.

"'Meda," it said.

It had sounded familiar. Andromeda unlocked the door and when it opened, she saw a trembling Hermione soaked from the rain. Her arms were enfolded and held tightly against her chest. Her teeth were chattering. "Hermione?" she said in disbelief. "Merlin! Why — you could have just Apparated! "

She was interrupted by Hermione's sniffles. She could not tell whether she was sniffling from the cold or whether she was crying. The droplets of water trickling down her cheeks could have been tears or rain drops. Andromeda quickly pointed her wand at the younger woman, and dried her with a charm. "Come!" she ordered. She pulled her towards the fireplace, and made sure she was sitting near it before bringing a blanket and wrapping it around her.

"Hermione?" she then whispered in a tone that pleaded for Hermione to disclose whatever had made her terribly distraught. She sat by her side and held her cold hand, waiting patiently for her to speak.

A few moments passed by in this manner. Finally, Hermione found the courage to speak. "I think—" began Hermione before she was interrupted by her own hiccup, "—I think..." she paused. Her face blanched. Her lips were slightly moving, trembling, and unsure of themselves; it was as though they were attempting to say words that seemed foreign.

"I think I left Ron," she finally blurted.

"Oh dear," murmured Andromeda, whilst patting the younger witch's hand. "We'll need some wine."

The day before, Hermione could not feel her hand. Ginny had tightly wounded her sweat-laden hand around Hermione's, constricting all blood flow. The room was heavy with nervous excitement, and the eagerness to meet the new life that was to soon enchant them. On Ginny's other side, stood Harry, whose hand was grasped just as firmly. Near Ginny's feet, Mrs. Weasley sat on a chair, while the Mediwizard stood before her. They were inside 12 Grimmauld Place, as Ginny had felt she would be more comfortable giving birth at home than in a cold, clinical setting.

"One more push, love," said Mrs. Weasley, impatient to meet her grandchild.

Hermione winced as the hold Ginny had on her hand tightened.

And then Ginny growled. Hermione feared she would pass out from the exertion when suddenly the cry of an infant filled the room. Ginny's hand fell away from hers, while Hermione stared at the infant writhing in the Mediwizard's arms. Mrs. Weasley was crying tears of joy, while Harry and Ginny were completely taken aback by the life they had formed together, by this miracle that was still somehow a miracle despite occurring all the time.

Hermione took in a shaky breath. The child was beautiful. The crying infant was laid upon his mother's chest, and his cries softened while being held in her arms. Hermione was utterly entranced by the bond between the mother and child. She hadn't known the miracle of birth was this extraordinary, this bizarre and full of wonder.

Harry was crouched beside his wife; he pulled back her hair and wiped her clammy forehead with a tissue. A proud smile has spread across his face. "I love you," he whispered to his wife and child. His emerald eyes were twinkling, their green has become greener. And as for Ginny, although utterly exhausted, her eyes were luminous and wet. She was in awe of the life she had made with Harry.

The Mediwizard came again, this time with a small blanket. He took the child, and Ginny's gaze suddenly turned fearful. "He'll be okay," he told the new, anxious mother. "I'm merely testing his blood for any deficiencies. It won't hurt too much. The little one won't remember it."

Hermione smiled shyly at the couple before her. "He's beautiful," she whispered to Ginny and Harry, while they all waited impatiently for the Mediwizard to return the child to them.

When the child was given back to Ginny, he was wrapped in a soft, blue blanket. "The potion remained clear. Everything seems perfect," said the Mediwizard. At this, Ginny and Harry let out a relieved sigh.

The infant was inspecting everyone with astonished eyes. He seemed just as startled as everyone in the room. They were all mesmerized by him. He was passed around from arm to arm, and soon Hermione found herself holding the little bundle. He was soft and so small, so vulnerable, so in need of being loved. She held him tightly. "Hello there," she murmured. "I'm your aunt, Hermione." And then she thought of another child, of a little girl who was waiting to be born... Will she have Narcissa's perfect nose? she wondered. Her perfectly shaped lips? she thought. Will her eyes be Narcissa's pale blue?

That night, Hermione dreamt of holding to her chest a little baby with flaxen hair, Narcissa's perfect nose and lips, and pale blue eyes. And suddenly, she knew she had wanted to hold her ever since a certain day in St. Mungo's.

When Hermione woke from her dream the next morning, she thought it was like any other morning. Outside, the birds were singing their songs. It was relatively warm for early winter. The sun was bright and its rays were flowing in through the windows, illuminating the small kitchen that was separated from the living room by a half wall. Hermione and Ron were seated here by a dinner table.

As always, like every morning, Ron had been reading the sports section in The Daily Prophet. After breakfast, they would usually leave together for work at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Once, he would kiss her before she would go to her office, but now a kiss was seldom given. And if she received one, it often left her rather unmoved (Hermione questioned if they would ever leave together for anywhere again; if he would ever kiss her again. And would she miss him ... if he were to go?).

"Ron, I ... I have to tell you something," whispered Hermione tentatively. She was sitting on the other side of the dinner table (when had they stopped sitting together? she wondered).

His blue eyes wandered away lazily from his newspaper to her. They were always the same tint of blue— an unexpressive, unchanging blue. They were a great deal unlike Narcissa's eyes, thought Hermione: the blonde's penetrative, bedroom eyes were sometimes still and cold, shimmering like silvery frost; but, they could also be ferociously blue, suddenly impassioned like the raging sea; and then, there were those rare moments where her daggers turned into the soft, cerulean blue of the heavens.

"What is it, 'Mione?" slurred Ron, as he gulped down his coffee.

She told him.

As she spoke, his cheeks began to redden, he started to lower his head and rub his forehead. He made long, heavy huffs. His fingers were soon curled into tight fists that were placed against the dinner table. Her words had been like a red rag to a bull. Time had slowed. Ron's eyes were dilated and his face was livid from anger. Hermione could hear her pulse, could feel her heart beating against her ribcage. When would she be out of this ... nowhere? When would she be surer of where she was and where she was headed?

Was the future ever perceptible?

Hermione hated time. Hated change. Merlin knew how she—that is, Hermione, the neurotic—had been sorted into Gryffindor, she thought to herself. When she had read about Hogwarts the summer before her sorting (oh, how long ago that seemed now…), she had been absolutely positive she was a Ravenclaw, and not a Gryffindor, for she had never viewed herself as needlessly daring; and she had thought she was certainly not a Hufflepuff, for she was far too ambitious and competitive, but... if she had been a pureblood, she had then supposed, she could have been a Slytherin, for not only was she ambitious, but self-preservation had always been one of her elemental drives (it was, after all, the reason as to why she would caution Ron and Harry against impending danger when they had been children).

Childhood seemed so entrenched in the past, so long ago that its memories now felt strange. Now, they were all married. Harry even had a child.

"A child?" hissed Ron, "with Narcissa fucking Malfoy! Are you bloody kidding me?"

Leave it for Ron to state the obvious most inelegantly. Hermione was not astonished by his petulant response.

"Yes, a child," she whispered.

"What the hell, Hermione!" he shrieked. "I'm your bloody husband— you couldn't tell me earlier?!"

"Yes, you are my husband, Ron," said Hermione with a sigh. "It's why I thought I should tell you." She sighed again, utterly exhausted by his crudeness. "And I did… It just took me some time."

"Well, you didn't take my bloody feelings into consideration!" he cried. Hermione could almost see his jugular vein throbbing. He raised his fist and slammed it against the table. Hermione blinked. "You've already made your feckin' decision without me," he said in dark tones. "You want to be in this child's life. And you expect me to be in it too."

His feelings. She had always worried for his well-being; she had known since he had come from a household with many siblings, he adored children and had wanted his own immensely, so she had felt guilt-ridden and broken for not bearing a child for Ron. Every night, before sleep would take her, Hermione had wondered if she had been a good wife. But had Ron ever wondered if he was a good spouse? When was the last time he had ever asked her about her feelings? Hermione couldn't remember. It was always about him—him and his bloody feelings.

Fuck him.

Without looking back, Hermione rose from her chair and charged towards the front door that was located in the nearby living room. She would have Disapparated with a loud pop, which would have perchance been a more vigorous display of her ire, but a certain incident had damaged her magic.

"Where are you going?!" cried Ron, suddenly realizing that perhaps his conduct hadn't been received well by Hermione.

The front door banged shut.

The wine was rich and acidic. Hermione basked in how it softly burned her throat until she was interrupted by her own burp. Her cheeks reddened at her uncouth display. "Sorry," she whispered.

Andromeda chuckled. "No need to apologize," she said. "And you'll be sleeping here tonight," she ordered (it wasn't an offer). Her voice was rich and soft, a trademark of the Blacks (Hermione thought of Narcissa).

They were still sitting by the hearth. An hour had passed by since her arrival. She had cried and wept and had been held tightly by Andromeda intermittently. Now, her chest felt less heavy. Her shoulders were less tense. A cloud of calmness had descended on her. "Thank you," she said with sincerity to Andromeda.

"What are friends for?" said the older witch. Hermione could see the flames of the fire dancing in her black eyes. Her hair was wild and curly, untamable. But, in its anarchist tendencies lay its beauty. She thought of Bellatrix, the elder sister. To the superficial observer, they appeared worlds apart: one was a gentle soul, whilst the other was made of the fires of Sheol. However, Hermione was not one with eyes that could only see the outward. Like any person with some sense, Hermione knew people were not vases. What had made Andromeda so different than Bellatrix? They were made of the same elements: both were tremendously passionate people with a certain vivaciousness that was seldom found. Though purebloods and of the aristocracy, they had a penchant for breaking decorum. Bellatrix had become a lieutenant, a profession most unsuitable for a lady, and Andromeda had eloped. They were two sides of the same coin. Perhaps, if Bellatrix had found a Ted, and if Andromeda had not found one, they would have had the other's life (And yet, thought Hermione, the character is often blamed and not the circumstances… when a mortal's life and destiny is not entirely in their control...)

And then there was Narcissa. Narcissa, who was as fair as her namesake.

Who did she take after? Andromeda and Sirius were often said to be the black sheep in their household, but Hermione wondered if it had been Narcissa all along. How lonesome must she have felt, being a quiet and sensitive soul in a gregarious family. It must have been terribly hard for her to feel included. Hermione felt empathy brimming in her heart, for she too had had her fair share of experience with being different: she was a Muggle in a magical world; magical in a Muggle world; a bookworm and an introvert in the loudest house at Hogwarts. Her world was an awful much like Narcissa's, thought Hermione, and yet… they had once been from opposing sides in a war.

And now, they were having a child, a girl who would be half her and half Narcissa. Half pureblood, half muggleborn.

A pariah.

Hermione's jaws clenched. She would never let her little girl go through what she had. She would teach her child her value; she would show her how her differences made her more beautiful.

And fuck Narcissa for not allowing her that privilege.

Hermione suddenly rose from her seat. Adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her gaze had become hard and resolute. The older witch beside her had a small smirk on her face, as if she already knew the objective Hermione had in mind. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm going to see an impossible woman," answered Hermione.

The sides of Andromeda's lips upturned. "Ah, impossible, you say? A Black, I presume?"

Hermione realized that one thing Narcissa had in common with all of her siblings was her bloody bullheadedness. "Yes, a Black," she snarled. "I don't give a rat's arse if her imbecilic husband tries to kill me. I'm going to go to Malfoy Manor. Right. Now. And I am going to have a talk with your maddening sister… "

"Well, you're in luck, dear," said Andromeda. "My sister left her 'imbecilic husband' a trifle day ago. You shouldn't worry for your death at his hand... not that he would have been able to kill you, anyhow. "

It took a moment for Hermione to understand the news Andromeda had imparted. "She left her husband..." she whispered. She looked down at Andromeda. The woman was rubbing a slender finger against the rim of her presently empty glass. A smirk danced on her face, a smirk most similar to the one Narcissa often wore when she wished for you to see that she knew more secrets than you.

"Yes, she did, love," Andromeda replied. Her black eyes were glimmering playfully. "Anyhow, you should be more worried at dying by my sister's hand than her husband's... particularly right now. Cissy is not only in a sour, unforgiving mood... but she is also pregnant..." she paused for effect. Her finger stopped gliding slowly against the rim of her glass. "... And that Hermione is a deadly concoction," she warned.

"You know what else can make a 'deadly concoction'?" answered Hermione.

Andromeda raised a brow.

"When you make a mother believe she doesn't want to be in her own child's life with your bloody devious, cunning, sly—"

"Deceitful," added Andromeda, who realized Hermione wanted to say every synonym of the word devious in the dictionary.

"Clever," continued Hermione, whose face had reddened, whose brows had furrowed, and whose hands had turned into fists.

"Mischievous," added Andromeda again (she was letting Hermione have her outburst).

"Slytherin ways!" growled Hermione, at last finishing.

(Well, I suppose Slytherin could be a synonym for devious, thought Andromeda).

Hermione's fists slackened; her fingers uncurled, while she took in a large, shaky breath. "I can't believe it," she whispered to herself. Her mind did not play heed to her body's inebriated state. The wheels in her had had been moving swiftly all day, and they were not inclined to slow down. "She knew I wanted to be in my daughter's life... " she said, "because she's Narcissa," (Hermione said Narcissa's name as though it were a curse), "and she knows everything. And then she made me believe I was a coward." She looked at Andromeda with enlarged, livid brown eyes. "Because I'm a foolish Gryffindor and that's the last thing I want to hear. Can you believe that, Andromeda? Me?" she pointed a finger at her chest. "A coward?"

Andromeda shook her head. "Sounds like something Cissy would do."

"Me?" she asked again, this time rhetorically. "Hermione Granger, who was once one of the most wanted citizens in the Wizarding World..."

"I'm pleased to see you've found yourself, love," said Andromeda. She rose and patted Hermione's shoulder. "You're Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger who helped kill He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named... that is, Voldemort."

"Yes, I helped kill Voldemort," said Hermione to herself. It was almost as though she had to verbalize her achievement in order to believe she had actually accomplished it.

"Yes, you did," said Andromeda. She then pointed towards the green powder situated in a bowl above the fireplace with her long index finger. "The floo is there, dear. She's at Black Manor."

Hermione nodded briskly. "Thank you, 'Meda." She then hugged her fiercely and turned towards the fireplace.

Andromeda didn't want to tell the poor woman that Narcissa could be more terrifying than Voldemort; she was after all the witch who had lied before him, despite knowing fully well how he was said to be the most powerful Legilimens in the Wizarding World (Andromeda had never believed the hype; she had always known her sister was a far better Legilimens). And furthermore, her Slytherin sister was ironically just as fearless as the Gryffindor who was on her way to see her (the truth was, Slytherins were not cowards. How could a house that valued ambition be cowardly? Ambition warranted bravery. Slytherins could be as fearless as Gryffindors in their pursuit for a certain outcome... )

Hermione, the greatest witch of her generation (and greatness is a thing wanted most by Slytherins) would have been a splendid Slytherin, thought Andromeda to herself.

Suddenly, she shivered.

What sort of child could be fashioned out of two women who were said to be the greatest witches amongst their peers? She pondered. Surely, when impossible and extraordinary temperaments such as theirs fused, it would create the most impossible and ingenious person; perhaps, even an individual who would wish for nothing more than world domination... just to see if they could do it.

"I must have word with Minerva when the time comes," said the witch gravely to herself as she poured herself more wine, "to ensure the girl is sorted into Hufflepuff..."

No tyrant had ever come out of that house.

She sighed.

Then again, perhaps her niece would be the first.

Author's Note:

Hey!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I decided some humour was needed and Andromeda was a great help in brightening up the mood. I wonder how Narcissa will react to Hermione's sudden presence in her house? She certainly won't be pleased!

As always, your feedback is much appreciated! Do tell me if I'm going in the right direction... if you're enjoying it so far, and if you would like to see something. I'm open to suggestions!

Hope you're all enjoying your summer! :)