Work Text:
21 Sept 1982
12 Grimmauld Place
The preliminary wards around 12 Grimmauld Place alerted him, rousing him from his seat in the library. A quick glance at the clock on the fireplace made him realize he’d lost track of time. He quickly stood up and brushed the creases out of his corduroy pants and adjusted the hem of the deep blue jumper he wore, setting down his book and exiting the library and walking to the front door. When he opened the door, he met the gaze of Minerva McGonagall, strangely garbed in conservative muggle clothes but her signature ‘reserved curiosity’ look upon her face.
“Minerva” Remus Lupin smiled, “It’s so nice to see you, do come in.”
He moved to allow her to enter, and they walked together to the formal dining room.
“I know my visit is quite abrupt, I apologize” she said with a small smile. She seemed apprehensive, a foreign look on the 47 year old witch. When their fellow Order members died alongside them, or Death Eaters fired killing curses, she never displayed anything less that determination and fury. Her apprehension made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Wolfsbane significantly dulled his talented nose but she smelled like hospital disinfectant, Lemon Sherbets and, faintly, blood.
“No apologies needed, I know you’d only call this quickly if it was important. Sirius and Harry are napping upstairs but I can wake him if this requires both of us-“ he went on to say.
Honestly, her formal attitude was making him nervous. They were long time friends, formally student and teacher and eventual comrades in the Order of The Phoenix in the first wizarding war. She hadn’t even sipped the tea Kreacher had prepared.
“I’d like to preface this, for context. After the attack on the Potters and the Longbottoms..-“
She trailed off but the implication was known.
In the year since the attempted murder of their friends, there had been a tension in the air despite the capture and permanent stasis of not-quite-death of so-called Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle. The end of Riddle had ended the first wizarding war, as his followers called Death Eaters disbanded and hid away but did not disappear. The whispering was there, the beliefs in the destruction of muggles and values of blood supremacy remained. The pause in her statement could fill a book.
“- I began a pet project” she continued, tracing the saucer with her finger, “Call it coping or whathaveyou, but I started working on monitoring the enchanted roster of future Hogwarts students. While we don’t sent the letter until age eleven, their names appear soon as they experience their first burst of natural, accidental magic. I wove some protective measurements into the list, charming it similarly to a ward. So, if a magical child was in mortal danger, I would know.”
“That’s brilliant” Remus Lupin replied, intrigued, he’d always believed eleven was much too late for children to begin their magical education, especially for muggleborn children with no magical culture. His own mother was a muggle, and though he was a powerful wizard, having a non magical mother had lowered his social legitimacy to many older magical folk who believed wizarding society should be closed, for protection, from the non magical world. That reduced status was decimated when he contracted lycanthropy as a child, legally reducing his citizen rights, despite his intelligence and extremely high magical aptitude. That was neither here nor there.
“Ah, Minnie” called down Sirius Black suddenly from the stairs, a rosy cheeked, raven haired toddler on his hip, “I thought I heard your melodious voice.” Sirius kissed her cheek and then his partner before setting Harry down by their feet and plopping himself in a chair.
“Hello Sirius” she nodded formally, never a fan of his flirtations “And hello precious young Harry— As I was saying, I charmed the list of magical children and I received an alert yesterday evening. Under the guise of a muggle social worker, I went to a St. Vincent’s hospital in Sydney, Australia. There I learned of a Salisbury couple, 46 year old Dr. Helen Jean Granger and Mr. Edmund Granger, perished in a horrific car accident while on holiday in Australia. They were survived by their barely three year old daughter, Hermione. It wasn’t her first accidental magic event but during the accident, she produced a protection spell around her car seat so strong, I had to obliviate the emergency technicians on the scene. A literal pink bubble saved her from being crushed by that semi truck with her parents.”
“Oh, fuck” Sirius blanched.
“Fuck” Harry chirped cheerfully from the floor.
“Sorry, sorry” Remus apologized, blushing, and shot Sirius a scathing look.
“Yes, indeed— Hermione is an only child, as were her parents. Her closest relatives are her mother’s second cousins in France, also muggles” Minerva exhaled and looked at the men sincerely, “I know this is an absolutely mad situation. You both are only 21 but Lily just started her potions mastery and James is working long hours in the DMLE, Augusta is already strained with Neville as Alice and Frank recover. I’m not one to ..possess maternal affection, Molly and Arthur have a full house as it is.. You two seem so good with Harry, caring for him during the day while his parents work. Of course, Harry and Hermione are a year apart but would attend the same first year at Hogwarts, due to her September 19th birthday. I just thought-“
“They could be playmates, cousins” Sirius finished softly, looking at his godson with a small smile.
“And adoption would allow her to grow up magical- protected, educated in the culture” Remus added, nodding.
“And we have a big enough house, and plenty in the vaults, we don’t have day jobs aside from caring for Harry” Sirius shrugged.
“I know it’s so much to consider” Minerva quickly elaborated, “A child is such a major responsibility-“
“We’ve always-.. well, I always thought we might be parents one day” Remus mused reluctantly, glancing at Sirius, who agreed silently.
“Perhaps you’d like to meet her” Minerva offered “She’s outside with Albus.”
-
Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore went out to the corner cafe to give the foursome a chance to meet properly.
The little girl, with wide brown eyes and a halo of dark curls, was adorable. She was more well spoken than Harry, saying full sentences and clearly reading already. She played well with Harry, and within minutes was protective of him, catching him from bumping his head in a corner and stopping him from pulling a teacup off the table on his own head.
“This is a lie-berry?” She asked, looking up at Remus, which made him smile. He was the only bibliophile in his house.
“Yes, would you like to look around?” He asked, the girl scrambled in the room, gaping at the floor to feeling shelves.
“I love it” she said quietly, already clutching a book about unicorns.
“She kind of looks like you” Sirius grinned, bumping his hip to Remus’, “But with curls like Andromeda.”
Sirius gave Remus a look and it was done, they wanted to adopt the girl after two hours of knowing her. Sirius had always been the impulsive sort, thus his myriad of ill-planned tattoos, but Remus was the level-headed sort. He made pro-con lists and mapped out scenarios in nearly all major choices. In this, he had no doubts. The girl needed a loving, magical home. They wouldn’t have expected adopting a child, especially so quickly, but if the previous October had taught them anything it was that nothing was guaranteed especially time. And when he met her, held her in his arms, it seemed like it was meant to be.
When Minerva and Albus came back, they informed them of their decision. Hermione was asleep, her chubby arms wrapped around Sirius’ neck. They performed an ancient binding ritual, different than the guardianship binding they’d entered in with Harry’s parents. This specific spell altered the little girl’s magical signature. With the unfortunate reality that Sirius had more privilege and rights as a pureblood wizard from an ancient line, he acted as the primary bond to the girl.
Albus said the ancient spell, binding Sirius and Hermione first, painlessly pricking the girl’s finger tip for a drop of blood, mixing it with Sirius’ blood. It magically, officially made her of the ancient pureblooded Black lineage. Her illustrated portrait materialized on the Black tapestry. Then Albus bonded the trio together in an familial adoption spell, different but still powerful magic. It was like shimmering, unbreakable threads wove into all four of them. Later, there would be a time for a celebratory party, that weekend maybe, a public acknowledgment of the newest Black.
That night, Hermione slept in the toddler bed they’d set up for Harry’s visits, Remus and Sirus sleeping the hallway just in case. It didn’t last long, when she woke for the loo a few hours later, Sirius carried her back to their bed, where they all slept soundly through the night.