Chapter 29: The Wedding Encounters, Part 3


The official stage of the wedding concluded hours ago. The last of the summer daylight faded, and the floating lamps came to life casting the outdoor space in the mix of colorful lights and dark shadows. Guests danced, took part in games and activities or simply mingled.

Professional, familial and Hogwarts house divides were still visible in the formed groups. Though there was plenty of mixing and mingling too, thanks to the efforts of the hosts and the celebrated couples.


Hermione Granger stood in the shadows of a tall tree on the edge of the meadow.

Her bottomless 3rd glass of wine at the table turned into the bottomless 4th as she caught up with old acquaintances and met new people. It was getting late, and she was tired. She had just a couple people left to chat with before calling it a night. And she needed a clearer head for those interactions.

Hermione rolled the two small glass vials resting on the palm of her hand. A pepper-up potion, and an antidote to common poisons. Those weren't the true sober-ups; but, as a mix, the two acted as an extra strong cup of coffee with a lingering anti-hangover effect.

From her quiet spot, she observed the Weasley matriarch sitting on one of the benches under the flowery arches. Another, vaguely familiar, witch was there with her. The two talked for a short time, and then Mrs. Weasley hugged the other witch, and the other witch walked off towards the festivities.

Hermione opened and drank the two potions in quick succession. She then counted to one hundred, summoned a floating tray, rolled her eyes at the irony, but still grabbed two full glasses of wine, and headed towards Mrs. Weasley.


'Why is she alive, Mrs. Weasley?'

Hermione plopped on the bench next to the hostess. The red liquid splashed, dangerously close to spilling, at the abrupt move.

Mrs. Weasley visibly startled, glanced at the direction the other witch went, then puffed an irritated breath and leaned back with a pinched resigned look on her face.

Hermione wondered if the older witch would claim ignorance as she did before.

'Does she remember who she dueled last?'

Hermione nodded. The redhead sighed, and finally accepted the offered wine.

'Of course she does… By sparing her, you put not only yourself in danger, Hermione. I hope you understand that. Can live with what she wi-'

'I won't let her-'

The older witch puffed again and added a quiet hum of disbelief to it too.

'Seven years is a long time, Mrs. Weasley... I won't stay as I am. Won't stay scared. And she'd already seen where a bad decision could land her...'

As the heavy silence stretched, it started to seem like Hermione wouldn't learn any more than the healers had months ago.

'The only deadly curse I know I've learned on a dare...' Mrs. Weasley didn't look at Hermione when she finally broke the silence. 'At Hogwarts. Was rubbish at it then… still am, obviously. She could have guessed…'

Hermione's tipsy brain whirled. For Bellatrix to guess… to understand the workings of the curse… to know enough to defend against it while silent and under bind…

The older witch spoke again before Hermione had a chance to settle on any one question in a sudden waterfall of things she wanted to ask.

'So, I suppose she lives because of my pride.' Molly said thoughtfully. 'I keep replaying that moment. She almost killed Ginny. She mocked Fred's death. I wanted her dead. I wanted her to suffer. How was that not enough for the dark intent?.. Why did I not just use Diffindo?.. Beheading is quite final.'

Mrs. Weasley sighed, still staring in a distance, and gulped the last of her wine. Hermione fought to not gulp hers.

'I hoped she'd die if the healers stayed ignorant of the curse. The curse steals the body's life energy, leaving rotten flesh behind. Irreversible. It has no other purpose but to kill... If nothing happened to her yet, the spell surely failed.'

The two sat in silence for some time.

Mrs. Weasley stood to leave.

'The dare at Hogwarts, it was with Bellatrix, wasn't it?'

Mrs. Weasley sighed irritably, but set back down again.

'Yes. A silly competition between the older Sacred 28 students.' She summoned another drink for herself. 'What is it you want to know, Hermione?'

So many questions... but Mrs. Weasley's good will would probably allow for just a few...

'I- I don't know... What was she like? Was she violent even then? Mad? Hateful towards Muggleborns?'

Hermione often wondered what state the witch would revert to after full recovery, what state she was even capable of reverting to. Without Voldemort and outside the dementors torment perhaps there was a chance the dark witch would stay not-too-crazy... Unless she was always a crazed sadist…

'Certainly not the raving lunatic she is now.' Mrs. Weasley muttered. 'We weren't friends, but we knew each other even before school. You see, most of the well-off Sacred 28 families of my parents' generation interacted often. Children were occasionally included in the events and formals.'

The older witch fell quiet. It looked like the witch was collecting her thoughts. Hermione stayed quiet too.

'Bella Black was arrogant, spoiled, and too clever for anyone's good. Not violent, not openly… But there was this air about her… Like rules were optional. The rumor was she paid half-bloods to practice spells on them, and to duel her…'

'And of course, crossing any of the Black sisters always resulted in mysterious misfortunes for the offender. Not that that happened often. Everyone knew to be cautious.'

'And Muggleborns?'

Mrs. Weasley paused for a while again.

'I- I must say I didn't pay that much attention to her or to the few Muggleborns to say anything for certain…Ah but… Goodness, Hermione, I have not thought of that time in ages.'

Mrs. Weasley drifted off and contemplated her next words.

'Our 6th year Dumbledore made the mixed partner teams mandatory in all classes. Mixed as in mixed blood status, I mean. His first big change as a new Headmaster. We had only a couple classes in common by then, but I assume it was the case in all of her classes... Bellatrix refused to engage with Muggleborns. It was a spectacle to observe every time Professors tried to make her. Lower marks, detentions, house points… Not only the punishments didn't phase her, the attitude spread. By the year-end even Muggleborns balked at that policy… Slytherin finished the House Cup with points in negative hundreds, close to the winner's positive tally, that year. Then, they threw a party to celebrate their dead-end finish.'

'What happened next year?'

'There wasn't any announcement, we just went back to selecting our project partners.'

'And her housemates weren't angry about the loss?' Hermione couldn't imagine her classmates from any house being so casual about such situation.

The older witch just shrugged.

'Was she… did her parents… did they treat her badly?'

Mrs. Weasley looked at Hermione as if she wanted to say something sharp but then just snorted.

'Bella Black? Her father treated her as a proper heir. A male heir. She had more privileges and freedom than the older pureblood boys from similar families. Allowance, vault access, travel permissions, involvement in family business. And I only know that because my older brother had whined about her every summer and through all the holidays since my 3rd year...'

The older witch pursed her lips in frustration. Her good will suddenly depleted.

'Hermione, I am so very sorry for the situation you are in… But you are trying to find excuses or redeemable qualities where there are none. The only people she cared about were her sisters, and even that ran skin deep the way she turned on Andromeda then! And now, to kill her own niece… Andy's only child!'

Mrs. Weasley stood up, and after a moment of conflict leaned back down to give Hermione a hug.

'You are a good kind young witch, child, she doesn't deserve your care.'

She straightened up.

'I have to return to the guests. Just be careful Hermione, we all worry. Please don't disappear on us.'

With those parting words and another quick hug the older witch walked off.


Hermione stayed on the bench for a bit longer. One thing was clear, Bellatrix was not about to drop dead from Mrs. Weasley's curse if she didn't do so a month ago. And, if the older witch's recollections were true, Bellatrix Lestrange was at the same time more and less troubled than she thought. Not surprising, as very few of Hermione's theories and assumptions about the dark witch and her motivations turned true so far.

Hermione still mused about the trove of new information she gained from Mrs. Weasley as she slowly walked back towards the brighter lit space. She couldn't decide if the new information hinted at the good things or bad things coming in her interactions with Bellatrix.

Bellatrix went back to her difficult self as soon as Hermione's good will wasn't needed anymore.

Was she truly so disgusted by Hermione's blood-status…

The dark witch touched her on her own volition that night when Hermione ran away… Hermione thought about that encounter through the sudden pounding in her head. Bellatrix was careful, tentative, almost gentle… Unless... Bellatrix was wary, conflicted, testing her own tolerance for touching a mudblood

The next time, Bellatrix didn't touch her at all. If the witch didn't speak and blink she could have been a statue, she was so still… Hermione could attribute that to Bellatrix's promise not to do anything to startle her…

She didn't even touch her to push her off when Hermione passed out on top of her.

That last bit still puzzled Hermione.

Surely, if she was repulsed she should have tried to get awa-

'Oi Granger! If you are up for some more mingling, come join us?'

Hermione looked around for the owner of the booming voice. Bright eyes of one of Malfoy's old shadows looked straight at her.

'You want me to join you?'

There were just three wizards at the table under the canopy of a smaller and now practically empty tent. Blaise Zabini, Greg Goyle, Theo Nott.

'Sure. You are one of us now, aren't you?'

Huh?

'Slytherin?'

'Outcast.'

She narrowed her eyes at them, but after a short deliberation stepped inside the tent borders, and sat down in the offered chair.

The thin skinny boy pushed a shot towards her. Hermione eyed the glowing green liquid suspiciously.

'What's that?'

'Some new fire whiskey line.' Theo shrugged and nodded towards the bar area. OGDEN'S SPECIAL announced labels on the set of glowing bottles. All Slytherins got the green glow shots.

'We are testing them out. The navy blues are all gone. Must have been really good. And the red is vile, but you are welcome to test for yourself.'

Hermione shook her head. If she was going to drink with the Slytherins, then she'd stick to exactly what they were drinking. The green wasn't vile at least.

'The number of people I had to remind today that my Ministry-mandated sex life is not their bloody business is exhausting!' She glared preemptively at the young wizards who on good days were far from courteous towards her. 'It is off-limits!'

'Don't worry, Granger, we already know. You had it.' She narrowed her eyes at the grinning dark skinned Slytherin. 'Like every other adult under the age of 44 who is able to leave their residence.'

'Except for Theo,' rumbled Goyle, and Zabini grinned even wider.

'Lay off, you two!' the stringy boy flicked a piece of bread at his grinning friends. 'My Ministry-sanctioned sex life is also off-limits.'

'What life, mate?'

'Theo has a doctor's note'

'Saving himself for his lady love.'

'If she even exists.'

Hermione looked back and forth between the wizards at the rapid offerings of information. Personal and not entirely appropriate... But no less amusing. They didn't even look that drunk... One statement got her full attention.

'What?! They excuse you with a doctor's note? You could do that?!'

'Wouldn't have worked for you Granger,' The thin boy shook his head dismissively, and all three snorted. 'There is a difference between a poor impotent son of a Death Eater with questionable morals and the Golden Girl.'

'You are… uhm-'

'Only when necessary.'

Hermione blinked, not sure how to react to that. She certainly wasn't going to ask for details, or write to the Ministry.

Instead, she summoned another glowing bottle, and the four shared a glowing orange shot. A Taste of Sunshine said a smaller print under the OGDEN'S SPECIAL . And when she accidentally brushed over that smaller print a hidden message in even smaller writing became visible for several seconds, Happy Drunk. Hermione wondered whether the green, and the red, and the very popular navy labels said anything too.

'So what do you think about the Good-Job letter from the Ministry?'

'The what?'

'Ah you haven't seen it yet, have you?'

Hermione shook her head.

'Good-job is not a real name. They call it The Next Steps. Greg, do you still have it? You can look, most of it is very general.'

She skimmed the letter, most things she recalled from her initial research into the law. She imagined a similar letter would go to the Grotto coming Monday… Then her eye stopped at the new things which most certainly were not in the law:

Witches-only and wizards-only couples are encouraged to cooperate… The list of couples looking for a cooperation will be available by the end of the year. Please direct inquiries to the MIC…

Cooperate?!

Her hand reached for her empty shot glass, and Greg Goyle politely surrendered his newly full one to her.

Cooperate list!

She didn't even look at the color of the liquid.

'You can cooperate with us' Blaise grinned toothily at her when he noticed the part her eyes seemed to be frozen on. That brought her back; that, or the fire whiskey shot travelling through her system.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and smirked a bit dazedly.

'I just might... only... which one of you brave self-sacrificing wizards would be volunteering to proposition my wife?' she smiled sweetly even as her brain hiccupped; as if asking when she started calling Lestrange her wife in public...

Blaise wasn't stuck for long.

'Theo, he fancies older women!'

'Don't drag me into this.'

Hermione frowned. The third year when couples were expected to have their first child was seemingly far away. But then the 30-days deadline for consummation felt far away too at one point…

'Don't look so gloomy, Granger, with Lestrange power and yours…' Theo finally said as he poured everyone another green shot. 'You two might very possibly need no one else.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Would be a witch, of course; need a wizard for a wizard… does it matter to you?'

She really didn't care about having any kids any time soon… But if she had to… She liked the idea of having a mini-me, a tiny girl with brown hair and toothy smile and an ever present book in hand... That was not entirely objectionable. But what of Bellatrix… A tiny girl with black hair and moody grin and... a silver dagger... a tiny snake mark... a black smoke coming off her ears... She frowned. She had to find a way to repeal the bloody law.

'Having a wizard or a witch?.. not doesn't really matter… but what do you mean by family magic?'

'Isn't it just an old tale?'

'Ah Zabini, your house is new, you won't know.'

The boy rolled his eyes at his friend.

'And what do you know, oh ancient one?'

Theo Nott shrugged.

'Not much more actually… These are old familial magics from the times before we dirtied our customs with muggle's rites. If Blacks ever practiced stuff like that and didn't destroy the knowledge, Madame Lestrange would know. She was the Black's heir, the keeper of the house's histories.'

'How do you know?'

'Blaise, Theo is the Lord of his House, the history keeper for the Notts, like I am for the Goyles, not that my father or grandfather ever bothered with the history or ancient traditions.'

'Oh… so we can have a common kid together too?!'

'Ahhh I don't know, that sounds complicated… and your magic is young…'

'Granger's magic is a newborn then! No offense, Granger… And Theo said they could!'

'Theo said they might. And Granger has Madame Lestrange… from the Ancient and Most Noble-'

'Yeah yeah I know the song…'

'We could look into it. I thought you didn't want children.'

'I don't. And yet we have a bunch already! I'm mostly just curious about how ours would come out.'

'I have a bunch. You haven't even met them properly yet!'

'Well, I…'

Hermione waved Theo goodbye, and left the wizards to their argument. It sounded like it was going to be a long one. As she was stepping out of the tent, her foot caught on the fallen fire whiskey bottle. This one used to hold a red glow liquor, and still had some if it left on the bottom.

Sharing is Caring, said the label. Chatty Drunk said the hidden message.

Hermione laughed out loud. That explained a lot!


'Something on your mind, Miss Granger?'

Hermione didn't realize that she was staring at the small group a few feet away from her until the raspy drawl pulled her out of her thoughts.

'Commissioner Bagnold. Actually, yes.' She stepped closer. 'What does the close contact to facilitate marriage harmony really mean?'

Hermione wanted to giggle at the startled expressions on the faces.

'Looking for a way out, Miss Granger?'

Hermione could not explain what came over her and prompted the next several minutes of conversation. She wanted to talk to the Commissioner about that, but not so publicly. Possibly it had something to do with her lingering contriteness about the Law. Or possibly it was just a continuation of her less than sensible day… Or possibly it was her Gryffindor's courage amplified by multiple glasses of wine and shots of whiskey…

'Nothing of the sort, Commissioner. I will be attending Hogwarts. And I don't fancy being hauled in front of the Commission or have my wife being dragged into the Ministry dungeons, just because we didn't jump through all the invasive, idiotic, rights-violating hoops Wizengamot came up with.'

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Never mind her honest if possibly slightly harsh assessment of the Wizengamot activities. She just referred to Bellatrix as her wife.

In public.

Again.

Even if said public was limited to the former and current Ministers, Mr. Weasley, Percy Weasley, and the oddly familiar witch she saw before with Mrs. Weasley.

To think, when the day started, Hermione hoped for less attention, not more!

'Minister, perhaps Miss Granger can be an asset to your new endeavor? Seems she has plenty to say on government deficiencies.' Bagnold said.

'Ah that project has been fully staffed or is about to be…' Kingsley looked at the other witch.

'Really? Surely an apprentice of Miss Granger's skill and character would be appreciated by whoever you settled on?' Commissioner's sharp eyes set on Hermione, and the tone turned even more mocking then before. 'Or are you set on exclusively going to classes, Miss Granger?'

'It is not up to me, Millicent.' Kingsley narrowed his eyes at the former Minister.

There was a conversion within the conversation. Hermione's quick glance confirmed that both Weasleys were just as in the dark as she was. Even the unnamed witch looked a bit confused.

She cleared her throat.

'I am not, Commissioner. Though it has been harder than anticipated to secure the desired opportunities. You get married, against your will I might add, and suddenly everyone feels entitled to an opinion.' Awkward silence stretched. 'So.. what does that close contact rule mean?'

'The activities, or the contact if you will, should deepen the intellectual, emotional, and physical connection between the spouses. You can request a copy of the amendment from the MIC office. Though, it won't have anything different from the Prophet issue.'

Hermione brows rose. She trashed the paper. At the time, she didn't fancy looking at the Ron's Intent signing news all over the front page.

She remembered that the article took barely a third of the paper page and that was in a bigger print too. She assumed in its eternal unhelpfulness and desire for speculation and intrigue the Prophet simply omitted important points.

'You will enforce it somehow though, won't you? What is it that you will be investigating, enforcing and punishing?'

The older witch sighed.

'MIC investigates only the most egregious cases. For instance, staying away from a spouse who cannot claim to have visited you would be one of such cases. The interview at the 6-month mark covers all aspects of a marriage. Having only one type of connection or no connection at all with a spouse would be considered a red flag if not a full violation of the Law, and most definitely the valid reason for MIC involvement..'

The Commissioner looked at Hermione pointedly.

'I see. But as long as the spouses spend at least two weekends together you won't have a reason to investigate?'

'That's correct, Miss Granger.'

'And would you require photo evidence on each of the four occasions per month? Would one photo be enough, or should there be hourly reports for those days? Witness reports, by any chance?'

'Hermione! That's quite enough!'

'Oh, I'm sorry… to offend any sensibilities, Minister.'

'The testimony would be enough, Miss Granger.'

'Thank you, Commissioner, for clarifying.' Hermione smiled sweetly. 'I'll make sure to keep a thorough record of everything we do, just in case.'

The wizards made another strangled noise, but before anyone had a chance to say anything Hermione looked at the former auror.

'I suppose I should stop expecting replies to any of my applications, Minister?'

Kingsley had the decency to hesitate before answering. He clearly didn't expect Hermione to call the Ministry out so publicly.

'We are evaluating the options and required security measures, Hermione. The law created an unforeseen circumstance of our most trustworthy of people being paired closely with the companions from the least trustworthy of backgrounds.'

Surely he didn't think she spent her time at the event fawning over gowns and flowers... Of the non-Slytherin students from her year only two, looking for opportunities, were without a set plan. Her and Lavender Brown. Lavender at least had an excuse of being just recently off the medical ward and still under observation for signs of full lycanthropy.

'It is hardly unforeseen if the Law set out to do just that, Minister.'

Before the pause could become even more awkward, Hermione nodded to the group, and with a this was really educational bid them good night.

As she turned to leave, a floating tray with a glowing green bottle caught her attention. She stepped closer to read the labels. The Ankle-Deep Sea and the hidden clarification, Daring Drunk.

She was going to kill the Slytherins!


'Lay off it, mate! My wife was not even here during the war. You will behave or you will leave!'

In her hurry to make space between herself and other witnesses of her daring interaction with at least three high-level Ministry officials, Hermione didn't notice as she stumbled in the middle of something involving Ron, his wife, and a couple of their old, and very drunk, classmates.

All eyes turned to Hermione then.

'My wife is not even here now.'

Oh Merlin! Could she possibly stop referring to Lestrange as her wife?!

It was time to leave!

Hermione turned around sharply, and ran right into the same oddly familiar witch.

This close, and without interfering lantern glow, it was clear why she looked familiar.

'Miss Granger, I want to see my sister.'

Hermione gulped, hiccupped, and apparated away with a thunderous crack.


A paper smacked the sleeping face. A hissed come back, you blasted bird followed. Clouded brown eyes blinked open briefly then closed again.

'Go away, Harry,' Hermione mumbled sleepily at the retreating up the stairs shadow.

Time passed. The wisps of the interrupted dream mixed with reality in the half awake brain.

The dark brows frowned in confusion.

Was Harry real or was Bellatrix?..

The sleepy eyes blinked open once again.

The worn out leather of a couch appeared inches from the sleepy face. The aged fireplace mantle with familiar bright knick-knacks took form several feet away from the couch.

Grimmauld Place.

First floor.

She must have made it just that far before passing out after the wedding.

So, Harry was real.

Tired eyes closed again. What a strange dream. The reality where Bellatrix Lestrange would want to marry her, in public no less, such reality simply didn't exist. Still, it was an improvement on her more common dreams featuring Bellatrix.

Hermione blamed the wedding.

The last echoes of the dream faded, and the memories of the previous day came to the front of her mind.

Hermione felt for an extra pillow, pulled it from the floor, covered her face and groaned again. The last several minutes before she fell asleep last night came to mind. It was a miracle she didn't splinch!

Hermione closed her eyes and tried not to breath too deeply. Her head pounded, her eyes watered, and the contents of her stomach were still making decision on staying or going.

Her memory was the only thing immune to overindulging in alcohol. That felt like a curse at the moment.

Hermione spotted a glass of water on the nearby table and chanced a move to reach it.

She sighed as cool liquid washed away the sour aftertaste of wine and whiskey.

Hermione set the water glass down on the floor. She started to feel a bit more like a living person.

The sounds of awakening household sounded from the floor above. Harry and Ginny were starting their day. She sat up and rubbed her face. It was time to start her day too.

Her eyes dropped to the floor and the mail that woke her up in the first place.

The latest Prophet lay half opened on the floor near the couch. The headline, though thankfully not on the front page, announced I LOVE My Wife, shares Miss Granger .

Hermione felt nauseous all over again.


End of Chapter 29