A/N: I can't believe it's over! This story has been so much fun to work on, it will be hard to say goodbye. Thank you so much to everyone who left comments, kudos, and bookmarks! The biggest thank you to lanamarymack for alpha/beta reading this story and just being a sounding board for my craziest ideas! You can find me on tumblr (nauticalparamour) where I post sneak peeks, story updates and answer questions. Next up, I'm working on a Dramione football AU lol (huge 180 I know), but you can see what other work I have coming up on my tumblr. I definitely want to write more Black family centric works in the future.
Please let me know what you thought of the story! Thank you!
Ten Years Later
For at least an hour now, the only sound from the little office, tucked back away in the corner of the Time Room at the Department of Mysteries, had been Hermione's quill scratching back and forth with her most recent calculations. Since she had joined the Ministry nearly seven years prior, Hermione had been working on a theory to determine the theoretical limits of time travel and she was certain that she was close to a breakthrough.
While the rest of the world thought that she was merely a Charms Mistress, Hermione had been hired to work in the secretive Department of Mysteries once her personal experience with time travel had become clearer to the Minister of Magic. Previously, it had been thought that a person could only go back a couple of hours using a Time Turner, because of the disastrous experiment performed by Eloise Mintumble that led to her death.
Hermione had been the first to confront them with the truth — longer time travel was possible, seeing as she had actually gone back and forward decades and lived to tell the tale. She theorized that the limit was not with the time sand itself, but the time turner as a vehicle for storing it. Once the Ministry had verified her claims, they were only too happy to let her research to her heart's content.
After all, she'd received her Charms Mastery from renowned Master Augustus Dassault and she'd followed that up with a second Mastery in Arithmancy from the secretive scholar Georgi Iliev. She could have any job that she wanted, as far at the Ministry was concerned.
She'd gotten right to work with Sirius's advanced notes from when he decided to send her forward, using them as a springboard to calculate the limits and after many years and experiments, she was beginning to think that no limit actually existed.
"Oh, Unspeakable Lestrange," a soft voice said from the doorway. Hermione wasn't sure when that title had lost its surprising quality to her. "I didn't know that you'd still be here."
Hermione looked up at Unspeakable Muir, a talented young wizard, just a year or two out of Hogwarts. Hermione leaned back and looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh, is that really the time?" she asked, knowing that she'd gotten caught up again. "Something that you needed?"
"I was just going to drop off the results of today's experiment with sand density for you," he said, a hint of a blush on his cheeks.
She took the paper from him and stood up, stretching. "Thank you, Astor," she said, her eyes sweeping over the paper briefly. "It will have to wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid. I am due to meet Rabastan soon."
"Right," he said, looking a bit crestfallen that she was leaving so early. "I look forward to discussing the details with you tomorrow."
Hermione nodded at him, locking her office behind her with a bit of warding of her own invention. She was quite certain that no one would be able to get into her office if she didn't want to — not even noisy little Unspeakables who thought they could confuse her by pretending to have a crush. She was Orion Black's child after all and she wasn't above using some dark Blood magic to protect her research.
With Astor handled, Hermione made her way up from the lowest levels of the Department of Mysteries to the Wizengamot chambers. It appeared that their session was already done for the day, so she rerouted to the family offices where she knew Rabastan would be waiting.
She found him leaning back in his chair, his feet up on the edge of his desk while he read through a giant packet — some new law that was being argued, she was certain. Despite it being ten years on, Rabastan was just as handsome as the day that she'd met him, if not more so. His hair might have darkened a bit, though she could still see the auburn in the right light, and his green eyes still flashed with mischief or darkened with desire when he saw her. But mostly, she loved the teasing angle of his mouth, lips pulled in a crooked grin when he saw her.
Hermione cleared her throat to gain his attention. "Come to save me from this absolute drivel that Rowle calls an import law?" Rabastan asked, tossing the paper to his desk. He leaned back further, his hands interlocking behind his head casually.
She walked around the table and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips, pulling back when he finally reached for her. "I thought that we might liberate our children from their tutor," Hermione said, smirking at him. "After all, we do have dinner to attend with your father."
Rabastan groaned, being reminded of the fact. He and his father worked closely together for the betterment of the Lestrange family, but there were some discussions that never seemed to end. The first being the fact that Edmond's firstborn was still in Azkaban prison and the second being that the Lestranges still lived at their townhome instead of the big family manor.
"I suppose there is no putting it off," Rabastan conceded, standing up and shuffling her out of the office, locking the door behind him. They walked idly through the Wizengamot, making their way to the atrium where they would Floo to the Black Family estate, talking about anything but work. While Hermione might pick his brain in the security of their own home, she kept her oath as an Unspeakable seriously and didn't want anyone to catch on to what she really did at the Ministry.
The couple, who had recently celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary, stepped through the Floo and into the home that was now Sirius and Adela's. There had been some discussion on which Black brother would take which property, but Sirius never really liked Grimmauld Place and didn't see it as a home, while Regulus did, so that solved that. It had taken a bit of repair and cleaning after being unused for so long, but it was ready to move in when Sirius and Adela were married, not even six months after Hermione and Rabastan.
They entered the parlor, where the real Black family tapestry was. If Hermione had thought that one at Grimmauld Place was impressive, then the one at the Black family estate was downright magical. It spanned as far back as it could literally fit on the wall, the branches stretching up all the way to the ceiling. In some ways, it almost made her sad to see the once mighty house reduced to just a few branches.
But there she was, beneath Orion and Walburga, while a tendril of ivy connected her to Marius as well. Rabastan appeared beside her as her husband, while her children connected below them, clustered near their cousins.
A loud crash from the library caught their attention. Hermione and Rabastan shared a look before stalking off in the direction, throwing open the door and revealing the chaos inside. A whole gaggle of children was piling on top of Sirius — in his animagus form — wrestling him down, while their tutor was arguing away with Regulus in the corner.
Oh, how they thought one tutor would be able to corral all of their high spirited and magical children was beyond her. Even now, she could hear him worrying away about adding Scorpius (Draco's addition to the family) in a few years when he turned five. Draco had taken very well to being under the guidance of his new Head of House, and was keen to see his child educated alongside his cousins as well.
"But, in three years, three of the children will be at Hogwarts," Regulus was explaining, firmly, but oozing with charm. "So, adding Scorpius should be no problem at all."
It was true. In two years, Alphard, Sirius's oldest son, would be headed off to Hogwarts. Hermione still couldn't believe that Sirius was the first of them to reproduce, but she had been insistent not to get pregnant until she had completed her Mastery in Charms. And, it was a good thing she didn't, because when they finally decided to try for a baby, Hermione and Rabastan had been blessed with twins — double the work and double the responsibility right out of the gate. Now that the twins were eight years old, though, Hermione knew that they were double the joy and love, too.
She found her twins easily enough. Orion, the elder of the pair, was still tugging on Padfoot's ears, his arm thrown around his neck, while Ara had immediately noticed her parents arrival and was now trying to act like she hadn't just been part of the fun, twirling a dark brown curl around her finger.
The next youngest child belonged to Regulus. Arcturus, now seven years old, was bossing around his younger brother, named Sirius, much to his uncle's chagrin. At four years old, little Sirius seemed to think that his Uncle was the best person in the whole wide world, and endlessly asked for stories about his time as an Auror before he'd become Head of House. Hermione knew that her brother secretly loved the attention and would drop anything to share the stories with him.
Seeing as his siblings had kept the constellation names going, Sirius and Adela had named their other two children in kind. Their youngest, a daughter who had just turned three, was called Carina, while their middle child had been bestowed the name Leo in a slight honor for Sirius's Gryffindor nature. How Adela was convinced, Hermione would never know.
Only she and Rabastan had broken the trend. Two years after the twins were born, they welcomed a second son, and Hermione thought that her husband should select the name, seeing as she'd basically named Orion without consulting him. With the blessing of her brothers, she couldn't imagine a better way to honor the man who'd sacrificed so much for her and she was pleased that Rabastan had agreed.
Still, their second son bore a Lestrange name rather than a constellation name. Ranulf was now six years old and he was basically Rabastan in miniature form at this point, the only one of their children to inherit his green eyes.
Green eyes that were full of laughter when he launched himself onto the back of the giant Black dog.
Deciding that things had gotten suitably out of hand, Hermione cleared her throat. "Orion, Ara, Ranulf, leave your Uncle alone," she ordered, bossy hands pressed to her hips.
The children groaned as Sirius shifted back into his usual form, a barking laugh on his lips. He ruffled Sirius and Ranulf's hair affectionately. "Don't worry, I'll still be here tomorrow," he promised.
"Do we have to leave so soon?" Orion asked, looking at her with his big brown eyes.
Hermione gave him a look. "We have dinner with Grandfather," she reminded them.
That got Ara's attention. She smoothed down the front of her robes, hoping that she looked presentable. "Come on, boys," she said, a reflection of her mother's attitude. "We don't want to keep Grandpa waiting."
"Still on for Quidditch at the weekend?" Regulus asked, ignoring the blustering tutor for a few moments.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Hermione smiled back. Quidditch was one of the few things that everyone could agree on (besides her), but if it meant getting her family together with Draco, Remus, Harry and Ron's family, she could put up with it for a few hours. She so loved getting to see James, Albus (Hermione still wasn't sure what Harry was thinking about that one), Rose and Scorpius playing with the others.
"See you tomorrow, Rabastan," Regulus added. "Let's get lunch tomorrow to talk about the atrocity Rowle put forward today."
Rabastan agreed happily, before picking up Ranulf to give him a piggyback towards the parlor, while Hermione pushed Orion and Ara forward, trying her best to settle Orion's curls. Once they were in the calm of the parlor, the walked through the fireplace and into the Lestrange manor.
Edmond was waiting for them, arms wide open for the twins who'd run in for a big hug. It was strange to see the normally dour man so transformed, but if there was anyone who could soften someone, it was children. He happily herded the trio of grandchildren into the dining room where their food was already waiting for them, listening to each of them fight for a chance to explain what they had learned that day.
It was nice to see Edmond taking such an interest in their children, but then again, Hermione knew that family was extremely important to the other man, just as it had been to her father. And it was no secret that the children loved their grandfather as well.
When dinner was done, Edmond told the children to take advantage of the summer warmth and play off in the back garden and the trio were only too happy to do so, leaving the adults alone so they could talk about business.
"I know that you want an update on Rodolphus's probationary hearing, but I've told you I've already done everything I can on that end," Rabastan started, hoping to cut off an argument before it started.
Edmond raised his hand, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. "That's not why I called you here," he said. "I want you to move back here —"
"Father, we like—"
"You don't have to sell your townhouse. I know that you like your privacy and you could always go there if you needed to," Edmond said. "But, this is our family estate. The children should be raised here, in their birthright, where they will have room to run around and play Quidditch, like you did."
Hermione looked out one of the big windows and watched as the children frolicked around, their muted laughing still audible from the other side of the glass.
"I don't want you to give up your privacy," he continued. "I'll move out into the guest house, so you can have the whole place to yourselves. But... well, I'm not getting any younger. I want to see my grandchildren more — I want to see them grow, before they are off at Hogwarts nine months out of the year."
"And?" Rabastan prompted.
"And I want to begin instructing them on being the Head of House," Edmond added, sounding surly that Rabastan had pieced it together so easily.
"Orion doesn't need to start worrying about that yet," Rabstan countered. "I'm going to be around for a long time."
His father was silent for a few seconds. "Not just Orion," Edmond said finally. "All three of them should know what it entails. Who knows which one of them will have the right disposition for it. Besides, I've seen how well things work with the Blacks. It's less stress for everyone if the work can be spread out between capable family members."
Rabastan looked like he was going to choke on his firewhiskey. "You want to teach all three of them? Even Ara?" he asked, considering it was such a departure from how he'd been raised.
"Heh," Edmond laughed. "I don't see why not. I want our great house to be restored. Instead, I let it dwindle down. Each of those three will be a treasure and help the family grow. I can learn from my mistakes, Rabastan."
Her husband looked dumbfounded for a few moments, before the shock wore off. "Okay," he said, chancing a glance at Hermione. "We will talk about moving back here and let you know."
They spent the rest of the night talking about Rabastan's work at the Wizengamot and Hermione and Edmond spent some time talking about the warding on the manor home. When the sun was low in the sky, the couple collected their children and they returned home to their townhouse. Hermione sent the children up to their rooms to get ready for bed.
"Your father has become so progressive," Hermione said with a grin on her face. "Can you imagine Ara being Head of House?"
"There is nothing that says it has to be the eldest male," Rabastan said with a shrug of his shoulders.
She grinned. "For what it's worth, I don't think he will have any trouble getting Orion to play the responsible Heir," she said, stepping forward to wrap her hands around his waist. "He takes after his father like that."
"And his namesake," Rabastan answered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before cradling her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "What do you think of the whole suggestion of moving?"
Hermione sighed and looked around. "This has been home for a long time," she said, thinking of how they had built the townhouse together and filled it with love and affection. "But, maybe we have been outgrowing it. I think it could be nice to move back to the manor. And, we would always have this place to come back to, if we needed."
Rabastan softened, pressing his lips to hers in the barest hint of a kiss. "I actually think we might have more privacy there," he said, with a crooked grin. "We can put the children in their own wing."
"Mmm, that's very tempting, husband," she said, pressing herself against him more firmly. "Honestly, I would live anywhere, so long as it is with you."
"I can't believe that you are still in love with me," he quipped. "I thought you would have gotten annoyed by now."
"Mm, you must not be trying very hard, because if anything I've only fallen harder for you, darling," she answered. "I fought too hard for you to ever give you up."
"I'm just glad you saw something in me worth fighting for," he said.
"And I'm the luckiest witch alive that you waited for me," she countered, grabbing his hand in hers, twining her fingers through his. They'd gone through so much hardship with each other at the start of their relationship, that Hermione was certain it would be nothing but smooth sailing for the rest of their lives. And, if not, they had their love to help them weather the storm.
Forever.