Happy Saturday! I hope this finds all of you lovely darlings happy, healthy, and doing well. Thanks for reading! I don't say that enough.
Chapter 27 Yule Tidings
Eventually, Remus and Sirius went over to talk to the newly infected werewolf. The twins and Ginny went to let Bill, Charlie, and Percy know how their father was doing. Ron, Harry, and Hermione headed to small cafe to give Mr. and Mrs. Weasley some privacy to talk. In the lobby near the lifts they encountered Neville and his gran. The trio ended up accompanied them to visit Neville's parents in the Janus Thickery Ward. Mrs. Longbottom greeted a middle age couple. The man looked like an older Neville with gray around his temples. The woman with graying pin straight brown hair hummed and handed Neville a shiny candy wrapper.
"What happened?" asked Ron being his usual tactless self.
"The Lestranges and Barty Crouch, Jr. tortured them after You-Know-Who's disappearance," said Neville quietly.
"Call him Voldemort or Riddle," said Harry. "Fear of the name only increases fear of the person."
"And we are not afraid of him," stated Hermione fiercely. "His reign of terror stole too much from us already. No more."
Neville nodded solemnly, "Okay." The visit continued. The boys spoke about quidditch with Frank, or rather near Frank. Mrs. Longbottom brushed Alice's hair until it gleamed. Hermione sat quietly contemplating the issue of their condition. Was it the damaged pathways causing it or the prolonged need to dissociate from the pain? Tentatively, she brushed the neural pathways of Frank's brain. She felt the loop his thoughts ran in. Outwardly he was calm, content even. Inwards he struggled to break through the barrier his mind created. As if his brain could not conceive the idea the threat had passed.
Sadness and compassion coursed through the young druid. As a young man his desire to protect his little family drove his mind to betray him. 'Come back,' she mentally pleaded. 'It's safe,' she promised. She looked at Alice, 'Be with your son, here and now. It's safe. They're gone. Come back.'
"Um, Mione?" said Ron, breaking into her thoughts, "you're, uh, glowing."
"Bollocks. Did not mean to do that," she muttered.
"Do what?" asked Neville.
"Anything," she responded.
An older male voice grabbed their attention, "Mum? What the hell is on your head?"
"Frank?" Mrs. Longbottom's hand flew to her mouth.
"Neville? Is that you, baby?" asked a female voice.
He stared at her. "Mum?" he asked, his voice thick with confusion.
"We're going to let you all figure this out," said Harry.
"You have a lot to work out," agreed Ron. The trio fled.
"Think they'll keep your involvement quiet?" Harry asked her.
"My name anyway, they may not be able to deny the druid's touch. Augusta Longbottom is a shrewd woman. She strongly suspects, if not knows. She is also respectful, so she'll say nothing publicly or privately. This is rapidly become the worst kept secret."
"Huh?" said Ron.
"Everyone knows, but no one talks about it," explained Hermione. "But I'm being pushed closer and closer to having to declare myself."
Hermione greeted the Solstice sun from the roof of Grimmauld Place. She requested blessings for the house and all who sheltered within the walls. Arthur discharged from the hospital in time for Christmas, increasing the celebratory mood. Hermione sent Theo a box of Weasley pranks. She got one for Felix and Jasper, as well. She traded consultation promises for an assortment of the products for witches to give to Dahlia. She wrote asking to visit the Bramble on Christmas Eve to deliver the gifts. Marcus assured her they would be home and she was always welcome.
She slipped off after breakfast while most were busy with their own pursuits. She did tell Sirius where she was going so he wouldn't worry and could run interference if needed. Linus and Gwendolyn welcomed her when she knocked on the kitchen door. "You don't need to knock, sweetie. Just come on in," Gwendolyn told her.
"Thank you. Joyous Yule, Happy Christmas."
"And to you," replied Linus.
"I have a gift for you."
"You didn't have to," said Gwendolyn.
"I wanted to. It isn't much, but Amira helped me trace the original druids who created your grove. Like I said, it isn't much." She handed them the scroll she crafted.
"It is an amazing connection to this land's history. Thank you," said Linus. He perused the list of names through the centuries. "Simply amazing."
"You're welcome. I'll put everyone's but Marcus's under the tree."
"Marcus is up in his and Jasper's room," Gwendolyn told her.
Hermione headed upstairs and knocked on the door. "Come in," she heard him call. She opened the door. "Can you stop being a git, Jas? It was one time."
"What was one time?" she asked.
"Hermione!" Marcus shot upright on the bed.
"What was one time?" she repeated.
He turned pink, "N-nothing. Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas. I brought your present."
"You didn't have to get me anything," he said.
"So, you didn't get me anything?"
"Yes, no, I mean, I did."
"See? You did, so I did." She laughed and held out a small brightly wrapped present.
He grabbed a smaller box and handed it to her, "I hope you like it."
"Same." She watched him open his present. A small fingernail sized disk hung from a platinum chain. "That is an emergency portkey to either my grove or the attic at Sirius's house. You rub the side you want with your thumb and say 'Portus' to activate it."
He examined the disk. On one side had trees etched on it, the other the outline of a house. "Thank you."
"Promise me you'll use it if you're in danger."
"I will. Open yours."
She tore open the wrapping paper to reveal a small white box. Inside nestled on a bed of cotton swapping lay a silver ring. Green enamel gleamed on the crest as the background. A silver serpent coiled around a tree. "Is this?"
"The Flint family crest from a time when we had more money and prestige."
"Wow. I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll wear it. Please."
She smiled at him, "That part goes without saying. Aren't you afraid someone will recognize it?"
"The only people who would recognize it already know about us."
"Okay then." Hermione sat on the edge of his bed next to him. She slipped the ring on her finger and felt it magically resize.
Marcus put his chain around his neck. "Just so we're clear, I will not be using this if it means leaving you behind," he informed her.
"I understand. I promised if you want to stand with me, I will let you. I would hate if you took that choice from me."
He brushed his lips against hers, "As if I could. You would teleport right back and kick my arse after you finished dealing with the danger."
She caught his mouth with hers, kissing him, "You could always try."
"Never." Giving into his baser thoughts, he surged forward, pushing her back onto the bed and under him. He hovered over her, his weight braced on his elbows. He lowered his face and resumed snogging her. She wrapped her arms around him, running her hands up and down his back as they kissed. Instinctively she moved against him seeking friction. He responded by pressing down against her. She moaned appreciatively. Marcus kissed the shell of her ear and down the side of her neck. After a few minutes he slowly slid his hand past the waistband of her jeans and knickers. She wiggled encouragingly. He ran his fingers along the tender skin between her legs. Hermione moaned and shifted to allow better access. Slowly, he slipped his finger in and out, eventually adding another. Hermione moved her hips back and forth meeting his movement. Her breathing quickened as the pleasant pressure built. She whined back in her throat. "That's it, little witch, come for me."
"Oh, fucking hell. Sweet Merlin," she swore as everything in her tightened. Her walls clamped on his fingers as she tensed every muscle. The resulting crescendo resulted in a loud cry.
Marcus smirked at her as she smirked, "You're welcome."
"Don't get cocky." She groaned when he laughed at her choice of words.
"I'm just feeling a little proud of myself. Foolish, I know, but there you go." She rolled her eyes but said nothing. Instead she reached between them, pulling his trousers open. She reached into his pants. He rolled off of her and onto his back next to her. She wrapped her fist around the velvety steel inside and began moving her hand up and down, adding a twist on the upstroke. She felt him twitch under her touch. He began thrusting up into her hand. He exploded into her hand, cum covering her fingers. She sat up. Curious, she licked them clean.
Marcus groaned, "Oh Merlin, that's hot." He pulled her back to him. His hands roamed over her, pausing to massage her breasts.
"MARCUS! Grandmother and Grandfather are here!" Dahlia yelled through the door.
He pulled away with a groan of displeasure. "You should go." He pressed his lips to hers. "It's Mum's parents. They are more pro Dark Lord than neutral, which is a touch better than Dad's parents. They are mostly in."
"I understand. Thank you for my present."
"Thanks for mine."
Hermione straightened her hair and adjusted her clothes. She blew Marcus a kiss and returned to her room in Grimmauld Place.
Despite student protests to their parents, Umbridge's class did not improve. They continued to spend class time copying the book and she refused to answer questions. At Hermione's suggestion they formed a study group. She helped Harry prepare the lessons and he taught they others. Ginny named it Dumbledore's Army, since that seemed to be what the ministry feared most. The students worked diligently mastering even the difficult patronus spell. Harry lost his temper in class and landed himself in detention. Ron and Hermione waited for him in the common room. He returned late, holding his left hand in his right. "Oh, hey guys. You didn't have to wait up."
"Yes, we did," replied Ron. "How bad was it?"
"She had me write lines. 'I will not tell lies,'" he shrugged.
"Why are you holding your left hand?" asked Hermione.
"Her quill didn't use ink and it cut my hand," explained Harry.
"You used a blood quill?" she demanded her voice high and shrill.
"Hermione, it's fine," he tried to soothe.
"It absolutely is not. Give me your hand."
"I'll be okay," he said.
"Harry James Potter," snapped Hermione, "we have two options. One, you give me your hand to heal and I don't kill Umbitch tonight. Or, two, you can keep lying about being fine and I extract justice the old way." With a sigh, Harry held out his hand. "Wise decision." She began singing softly as her skin glowed.
"I would like to point out Hermione did not promise not to kill her, only that she wouldn't do it tonight," said Ron.
"Correct. I don't make promises I can't keep." She finished healing Harry's hand. "I left the scar because she'd notice if it healed completely. Wear a bandage for a few days."
"Thanks, Hermione."
She began examining the hands of those most likely to earn the woman's ire and land in detention. The next evening she stormed up to the Weasley twins. "Let me see your hands," she demanded.
"Why hello, Hermione," smiled Fred.
"So lovely to see you," remarked George.
They both twinkled at her, "If you fancy a lover's tryst you only have to ask."
"We'd be happy to oblige," winked George.
"Show me your hands, please. You've both had numerous detentions with that toad. I want to assess the damage."
"How do you know what occurs in her detentions?" asked Fred sharply. His eyes flashed first concern then annoyance.
"Harry had one. Hands, now." Both boys held out their left hands. 'I must not make trouble' scrawled on the backs. The lacerations looked raw and fresh, deeper than Harry's had been. "Meet me at the top of the boys' tower." She spun on her heels, fighting to keep her temper. Inside she seethed. She wanted to flay Umbridge alive before dumping her in a vat of rubbing alcohol. The twins followed her discretely.
Hermione greeted Anne Boleyn when she saw the queen in her portrait. "Your suggestion of John Dee was most helpful, your majesty."
"Splendid. I often wished my darling Elizabeth had the spark of magic. But, alas, the blood of royalty seems to be suppress those abilities."
"Perhaps that is for the best," Hermione said pondering the implications otherwise.
"You may be correct," Anne agreed.
The twins stared at the painting when they entered. "Hello," said George, "that painting is usually empty."
"Not surprising," said Hermione, "Why would a queen want to hang around the boys' dorm?" She pointed at the couch. "Sit." They both obeyed. "Like I told Harry. I have to leave a scar. She'd likely notice. But I can removed the pain and risk of infection." She took George's hand in both of hers. Eyes closed she sang in an ancient language. A language old when Amira had been young. She taught it and the Celtic language spoken when she had been alive to Hermione. Learning to read the Celtic language was an ongoing process, one best facilitated by Remus and the internet. Once she felt the rawness of the cuts ease she stopped. She opened her eyes and let go.
Both jovial jokers sat in stunned silence, eyes wide in awe. "You glow," Fred said finally.
"I do. Not as often as I used to, but some magics produce that affect."
"What does the whole get up look like?" asked George eagerly.
"A druid."
They both bounced in their seats, "Can we see, please?"
She rolled her eyes but summoned her armor. She let the markings show on her face. She took Fred's hand and repeated the healing song. Once finished she dismissed the effects. "Happy?"
"Extremely," Fred grinned cheekily. "Thanks for this. Should we come see you when we end up in detention again?"
She sighed, "Yes."
"Thanks, we're trying to protect the younglings, you know?" George told her.
"I know. Thanks for that."
The delivery owl gracefully dropped Hermione's copy of the Daily Prophet in front of her. Several deranged looking inmates from Azkaban twisted and screamed in their mugshots. The headlines declared a mass breakout. The article declared it unrelated to rumors of You-Know-Who's return, possibly masterminded by foreign wizards as more than just former Death Eaters were released. No one had any idea where they were hiding. "It's almost like they think if they keep denying it the deranged despot will simply give up and go away," Harry sighed.
"Yes, let's stick out head in the sand until the monster disappear," Hermione said dryly. "That'll stop them."
Umbridge's reign of terror intensified, as did the student rebellions. Hermione began consulting with the twins on pranks and once transported them out of danger of being caught by Filch. She observed Peeves trying to unscrew a chandelier near Umbridge's classroom. Professor McGonagall passed underneath and remarked, "They unscrew the other way." The poltergeist gleefully changed directions. Then came Umbridge's Inquisition Squad after Dumbledore fled from the ministry. She felt the prefects did not properly respect her authority. She was right, they didn't. One particularly trying afternoon, Parkinson entertained herself taking points for the dumbest things. Hermione felt her control slipping as the other Slytherins laughed at her abuse of power. She realized her markings were starting to show when Parkinson said, "And twenty-five points for the ink on your face, Granger. What are you five?" It took numerous deep breaths to regain her composure. Some day soon she intended to pop that bint in the mouth.
A month before OWLs Professor McGonagall conducted career advisement interviews. Umbridge sat in on them. "Do you have any thoughts on a profession, Miss Granger?"
Unwilling to openly discuss her heritage in front of the ministry toad, she stayed vague, "Perhaps research somewhere, ma'am."
"You would excel at that. You will want to continue with Ancient Runes and Arithmacy along with Potions. Professor Snape requires an OWL outstanding for his NEWT level classes, so focus on that OWL. You could drop Transfiguration, Charms, and possibly Defense, but I feel I speak for Professor Flitwick when I say I would hate to lose a student of your caliber." McGonagall began giving her pamphlets.
"Hem, hem."
"My own experience with Miss Granger as a student leaves something to be desired."
"I'm sure a competent instructor will find your knowledge more than proficient." Comparing notes later Hermione found very few people received positive reports from Umbridge. Few of them seemed interested in working for the ministry.