Chapter Text

Part One

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Hermione stood on the balls of her feet and waved excitedly when she saw the Potters on Platform 9 ¾. She hadn’t seen them all summer, due to their trip to the Netherlands. They'd asked to take her, but it was hard to get around the rules set by the muggle orphanage she lived in. 

Hermione smiled brightly when Harry caught sight of her. He broke away from his family and they met in the middle of the bustling platform with Hermione flinging herself at him.

Harry laughed loudly as he caught her. “Merlin, I missed you!” he greeted happily.

Hermione couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she pulled back to see him. 

“You got taller!” she immediately accused her best friend. “I told you that wasn’t allowed.” She pouted as Harry laughed. “It’s not funny, Harry. I’m already short, now I’ll just disappear into the halls.”

Harry snorted in amusement. “I’ll clear the way for you,” he promised in a dry tone of voice. 

Hermione blew a raspberry at him. 

“You look good,” he stated as his emerald eyes trailed over her. 

Hermione desperately tried not to blush at the attention. She was already dressed in her school robes, the same as him. His Head Boy badge shone proudly on his chest. He wore it with just as much pride as she wore her Head Girl badge. 

“How was the Netherlands?” she asked as she tucked a curl behind her ear.

“Beautiful. I brought you back tulips. They're waiting in your room at Tetwell Estate.” 

"That’s lovely, Harry."

"I charmed them. They'll never wilt or get damaged."

Hermione looked up at him with a soft smile. "Thank you."

He grinned and leaned forward to confide, "Don't worry, I also got you half a dozen books on Van Gogh and a magnet from every major city as well."

Hermione’s smile widened. "I love magnets."

"I know you do." Harry nodded back toward his family. “Come on, mum and dad will want to say hello before we race off to do our jobs.” 

Harry took her trunk off her hands and Crookshanks’ carrier as they headed towards the Potters. 

Hermione was immediately greeted warmly by both James and Lily. The latter gave her a warm hug. 

“You look wonderful, Hermione. Congratulations on getting Head Girl.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Potter. It’s lovely to see you both.”

James pulled her into a side hug once Lily let her go. “We missed you, ‘Mione. Padfoot was heartbroken that he didn’t get to throw you in the lake like usual.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Knowing Professor Black, he’ll find a way to rectify that at Hogwarts.” 

James laughed loudly in agreement.

Lily nodded towards the train. “You two should probably head off. The platform is getting rather crowded with confused first years.” Before Hermione could ask about Harry’s younger sister and the first to attend Hogwarts since Harry, Lily said, “Deedee is already on the train. I’m sure you’ll see her.” 

James took Hermione’s things from Harry. “We’ll get these on the train in the Head Compartment with Harry’s stuff.” 

He shot them both a wink as he headed off. Lily kissed the side of Harry’s head as she followed after her husband. 

Hermione and Harry turned to one another with bright, excited smiles. “I can’t believe this is it,” Harry confided in a wondrous voice.

“I don’t want it to end. Nothing will be the same after this year.”

“We’ve still got a whole year to go.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s just enjoy it. Well, as much as we can with my little sister running around Hogwarts trying to embarrass me.”

Hermione laughed.

---

Hermione packed up her notes from their very first meeting as Heads while the prefects filed out of the compartment. Harry waited, tapping his wand against his thigh as people passed. He tensed beside her and Hermione’s movements immediately slowed. She spotted red hair out of the corner of her eye.

“Hey.” 

It was Ginny Weasley. Hermione hunched her shoulders and turned back to her task, taking far longer than it probably should have so she had an excuse to linger. 

“Hey.”

Silence followed. 

Hermione inwardly cringed. Harry wasn’t the most eloquent speaker in their year but this was just atrociously awkward. Then again, no one said breakups were easy. Hermione was still shocked Harry had dumped Ginny at the end of the last school year. They’d dated for a scant few weeks and had been the picture of perfection. Then it was over.

“How was your summer?” Ginny asked with forced casualness.

“Good. Yours?”

“Good.”

Hermione made a face with her back to them. God, this was horrible.

“I guess I’ll see you around then… Bye, Harry.”

Hermione straightened as the compartment door closed behind Ginny. 

She gave Harry a pained look. “That was painful.”

Harry’s eyes widened in agreement as he let out a long breath. “But of course, she’s a prefect.”

“She was one last year as well.” 

Hermione flicked her satchel closed and slipped it over her shoulder.

“I know,” he griped. “It’s just so awkward now. Ron’s still annoyed with me.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows but wisely didn’t comment on that . Ron had put up such a fit about Harry dating Ginny. By the time he’d finally been won over to the idea of it, Harry had ended it. She still didn’t get why. They’d matched together, after all. That was a good enough reason to get engaged for most people. Not Harry Potter though.

Harry turned to her when she remained silent. “You agree with him?” His voice conveyed every ounce of the betrayal that he felt.

Hermione sighed. “I understand him. There’s a difference. The Weasleys are very traditional and they believe in the Ministry Matchmaking. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t be together without it. Ron obviously feels very strongly about it.”

He let out a short breath. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, hard to deny the Ministry Matchmaking when you see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.”

“And your own parents,” she reminded him. 

James and Lily Potter were the most in-love couple she’d ever met. James went out of his way to woo his wife as if they hadn’t been married for nearly twenty years and Lily giggled like a schoolgirl about it. They were so hopelessly beautiful in their love for one another that it made Hermione’s chest ache. She couldn’t wait to feel that for herself. 

Harry shrugged. “They didn’t just match with each other. Mum had a few options and so did dad. Ginny’s not the only witch on my list.” 

Hermione shuffled her feet. This was probably the most in-depth they’d ever gone into the topic of matchmaking. By silent agreement, it was a subject they stayed away from. Hermione remembered her own first matching two years ago in vivid detail. She’d been given only one option and that had been that. 

“And the lists change!” Harry continued, working himself into a strop now. “Who knows what it’ll say this year? I just… I don’t want to settle.”

“God, I hope you didn’t tell Ginny that.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Could you imagine?”

“You’d be dead.”

They shared a look before they both chuckled. Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“Come on. Let’s go see where everyone’s hiding.” 

Hermione followed Harry down the hall and through the rumbling train cars as the Hogwarts Express sped toward Scotland. 

Harry made a sound of triumph when he finally found their friends. He nodded at Ron, Luna, and Hannah Abbott on one side of the cabin. Neville sat alone on the other and immediately perked up when he spotted the two of them.

“Hey!” he greeted excitedly. 

Hermione smiled at him. She sat down beside him with her satchel at her feet and he immediately took her hand. 

He shyly brushed a kiss against her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

Hermione ducked her head. “Thanks.”

“Hey, Har,” Neville greeted his godbrother.

Harry smiled tightly in response.

Neville returned his attention to his girlfriend. “How was the meeting?” 

He smiled and it was filled with a sweet sort of love that left Hermione feeling guilty. He was the kindest boyfriend, loving, and attentive too. But Hermione felt nothing for him. She wondered if magical matches took time. 

When she had sat before the toad-faced ministry official in her fifth year for her first Matchmaking Meeting, she had been a bundle of nerves. The idea of someone at Hogwarts being her future spouse was exhilarating. Her given list had been short, but she had also been expecting that. Few witches or wizards were given any more than three potential spouses. 

“Well,” she remembered the pink witch stating at length as she surveyed Hermione’s results, “there’s really no two ways about it. You’re certainly a match for Neville Longbottom, how fortunate for… you.” 

Madam Umbridge’s pinched expression displayed her obvious disapproval of the match.

 Hermione felt her heart sink into her stomach like a ball of cement. 

“Neville?” 

She’d never even glanced twice at the clumsy fellow Gryffindor. He was good at Herbology, she supposed. 

Umbridge hummed as her eyes scanned the parchment. “You’ve got the highest magical compatibility that I’ve ever seen.” She sniffed in distaste. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a true magical match.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. A true magical match? That was practically the equivalent of soulmates. The image of Neville’s round face and helpless expression in potions class ran through her head. 

Soulmates ? Really? 

She leaned forward. “There aren’t any other names?”

Umbridge’s expression turned pinched. “Is a pureblood wizard not good enough for you?”

Hermione blushed hotly in embarrassment. “Well… isn’t there usually more than one name?”

The old toad-looking woman narrowed her eyes before sniffing and looking down at the parchment again. 

“You have slight magical familiarity with Draco Malfoy.” 

Hermione blanched. That was not what she had been hoping to hear. 

“You also have magical compatibility with Harry Potter,” Hermione’s heart stuttered, “but it’s nothing in comparison to Mr. Longbottom.” 

She set the parchment down and glared at Hermione. 

“I doubt you’d even register in Mr. Potter’s list of potential candidates, let alone Mr. Malfoy.” 

A moment of silence passed before the witch raised her eyebrows. “Well? I don’t have all day scheduled for you. Out!”

Hermione turned her head, back in the present, and glanced at Harry beside her on the bench of their full compartment. He had his arms crossed and his brow furrowed as he listened to Ron relate the latest Chudley Cannons match. 

She wondered why he was resisting his match with Ginny so much. They’d been really good together. The same way she was good with Neville.

She turned her attention back to her boyfriend. So, maybe Neville didn’t make her giggle like a schoolgirl the way James did Lily. And maybe she didn’t smile the way Molly always did for Arthur. But those couples had been together for decades. Clearly, magical matches just took time.

*

“But I’m the prettiest Gryffindor, aren’t I?” Delilah Potter needled Hermione as she helped the first-year girls get organised for their first night in Gryffindor Tower.

Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. Delilah was a pretty little black-haired witch with bright green eyes and freckles across her nose. She was also a monster and she knew it. 

“Deedee,” Hermione warned, “go brush your teeth.” 

She waved her wand and neatly packed away one of the girl’s trunks that had exploded open with a prank from an older brother.

“I already did!” She stomped her foot.

Hermione put her hands on her hips, perfectly used to little Deedee’s temper and desire for everyone’s attention. 

“Then go downstairs and say goodnight to your brother. He’s likely still penning a letter to your mum and you can add something to it.” 

Delilah perked up at that and raced down the stairs. Hermione sighed in relief. She turned to Tabitha who needed help braiding her hair and called for the girls in the loo to hurry up. She huffed to herself, privately thinking that seven Gryffindor girls in one year was a disaster waiting to happen. 

Fiona climbed up onto the bed across from where Hermione was pulling Tabitha’s wild curls back. 

“Are you really matched with Neville Longbottom?” the little blonde inquired loudly. 

A few of the other girls looked over at her with wide eyes. The room quieted and Hermione glanced around, red in the face. 

She cleared her throat. “Yes. I am.” 

A few girls giggled. “When are you getting married?” Fiona asked, apparently deciding she was the de facto leader now that Deedee had disappeared to pester her brother. 

Hermione tied off the end of Tabitha’s braid. 

“That hasn’t been decided yet,” she hedged.

Tabitha turned around and pinned her with big brown eyes. “But you are going to marry him.”

Hermione tried not to wince. Technically, Mr. Longbottom had sent her a betrothal contract over the summer. Hermione had gone over it with a fine-tooth comb. She had a year to sign it. There was no rush. 

“It’s none of your business, is what it is. In bed, girls. Now.” 

She helped draw back the covers on the beds and made sure they were all tucked in. Deedee scooted into bed just as Hermione finished checking the loo to make sure it was clean and ready for tomorrow. 

“I’ve set the alarm charm on Tabitha’s wand,” she reminded them. “Make sure you’re up early enough to get to breakfast and bring your map with you or you will get lost.”

The girls murmured their understanding and Hermione flicked her wand. The candles fell into a low dim. 

“Goodnight, and welcome to Gryffindor,” she whispered before she slipped out. 

Hermione turned and headed down the stairs. She found Neville sitting by the fire and fell into an exhausted heap beside him.

“Are you alright?”

“I need to sleep.” 

She leaned her head back against the comfortable sofa, warmed by the flickering flames of the roaring fire before them.

Neville shot her a lopsided grin. “We didn’t even have classes today.”

Hermione wearily rubbed her eyes. “I’m just tired from the train ride, I’m sure.” She yawned loudly. “Where’s Harry gone?”

“Sending his letter home.” 

Hermione closed her eyes and nodded. 

“Merlin, you’re really knackered, aren’t you?”

She sighed and forced herself to sit up. “I’m going to turn in early.” She waved her hand dismissively and joked, “Scotland allergies.” 

Neville chuckled. It was an ongoing joke from first year. There was something about Hogwarts that drained Hermione. She got tired faster and was prone to colds and the flu. By the end of the year, she was all but begging to get the hell out of Scotland. 

Last year was the worst it had ever been. Harry had been worried Hermione wouldn’t recover – but Neville had gone on a trip directly after exams and he’d missed how bad she’d been. He likely wouldn’t laugh if he’d seen it. 

Hermione glanced towards the portrait hole. It was best that she be gone before Harry came back. He’d nearly made himself sick with panic last year when he’d seen her. He’d made her promise to go see a healer – a promise she’d not kept once she’d felt better.

“Night.”

“Hey,” Neville stopped her with a soft squeeze on her hand, “I missed you,” he confided quietly. 

Hermione smiled weakly. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” 

He leaned in and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. He pulled back and pressed his forehead intimately against her own. He closed his eyes and savoured the moment.

Hermione opened her eyes with an awkward feeling of uncomfortability.

She’d always thought she was a romantic until she started dating Neville. She still read romance novels and listened to beautiful love songs. She would watch endless marathons of romance movies over the summers. But whenever she was thrust into an actual romantic situation with her boyfriend, she acted like she didn’t understand the concept at all. 

Maybe there was something wrong with her? Neville clearly felt the romance but all Hermione felt was… tired. Really, really tired.

After a short time, Neville pulled back and smiled lovingly. He wished her sweet dreams and Hermione immediately made her escape. She felt her heart in her stomach, heavy as cement the way it always was after a romantic encounter with her boyfriend. 

At the very top of the girls’ side of the Tower was the Head Girl’s quarters. Hermione barely managed to undress and set her alarm charm before she fell into a deep sleep beneath the heavy down covers. It wasn’t even day one and Scotland was already sucking her dry. 

It was going to be a long year. 

*

Hermione yawned as she picked through her essay with a red-inked quill at a table in the library. It was from a deluxe set of Forever Inks that Harry had bought her for Christmas several years ago. He’d bought her the entire line with a dozen different ink colours and half a dozen quill-lighters.

Harry plopped down in the chair across from her and let out a deep sigh. Hermione didn’t respond and he did it again. She couldn’t hold back her amused smirk after his third obnoxious sigh. He stole her parchment with a scowl and Hermione sat back in vague amusement. 

“Stop ignoring me.”

She set down her quill and raised her hands in surrender. “What’s wrong?”

“Ginny’s in a strop at me.”

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. “Did you break up with her again?” 

He made a face and she nodded. 

“You didn’t get back together with her,” she said with absolute certainty. “It’s been three months, when did she think it would happen?”

He shrugged. “I guess she was waiting it out until after the Matchmaking Meetings finished up.” 

Hermione nodded in understanding. Most couples didn’t start up until after it was confirmed through the Ministry Matchmaking process. Couples often broke up at the end of the year as well, to open themselves up for another “semester of courting” as the ministry liked to call it. 

“That’s reasonable. Were you not matched up this time?” 

It was rare for matches to change from year to year. Usually, whoever someone was matched with was the one they were matched with. But each year, a new year of students was added to the pool with fresh fifth years and there was always the chance. It’d happened before. 

Harry let out a long sigh. He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. The Matching is all just bollocks anyways.”

Hermione’s eyes shot wide and she leaned forward to hiss a warning. “Harry! You’re Head Boy, watch your language.” 

Harry’s shoulders hunched as he ducked his head and murmured an apology. 

“You can’t honestly believe that, can you? Your parents prove it works.”

Harry scoffed. “My dad had his sights set on mum long before that. And mum was equally matched between two wizards.” He shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. 

Hermione’s eyebrows raised. She hadn’t known that. “Well, how did your dad know?” she asked since this was all clearly bothering him.

Harry looked up at her and pinned her with those bright emerald eyes of his. “Potters just know. It’s like a gift from our Ancestral House or something. Long before the ministry took this Matchmaking business up, Potters have had strong, solid magical marriages. A Potter always knows who they’re meant to be with.”

Hermione felt her heart leap in her chest. She swallowed thickly. “Ginny isn’t that person?”

He shook his head. 

Hermione glanced down at her table. She glanced back up at him from beneath long lashes. 

“Why did you date her then?”

He shrugged. “She kept pushing it and I… I dunno. I guess it was a moment of self-doubt. I thought I knew who the right person was but…” 

He looked out the window and across the Black Lake. Hermione leaned forward. But what , she thought frantically. 

He turned back to her. “Did you see the toad?”

Hermione made a face at the reference to Madam Umbridge. She was an awful woman and probably the only person Hermione didn’t chide people about being disrespectful towards. 

She shook her head.

Harry’s eyes went wide. “What? Why not?”

“I…” Hermione blushed. “Neville and his father sent me a betrothal contract this summer.” 

Harry sat back in shock. He looked a bit peaky and she eyed him warily. 

“I’ve been looking it over closely.”

“You haven’t signed it?” he asked in a strange tone of voice. 

It almost sounded hopeful, but perhaps Hermione was imagining it.

She shook her head. “We’ll probably do so over Christmas. I have to go back to the orphanage and handle some legal things surrounding my leaving… now that I’m eighteen. Then I’ll be going to Longbottom Lodge and we’ll make it official.” 

She smiled weakly.

Harry looked horrified. “Why?” 

He looked around to make sure no one was listening and leaned closer over the face of the table. 

“Seriously, Hermione. Why on earth would you marry Neville? Don’t get me wrong, he’s family and he’s great but… you don’t love him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we were matched together.”

Harry gestured with his hands. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Maybe not to you ,” she snapped, “but I’m not a Potter and I don’t have the luxury of knowing whether my match is wrong or not.” 

She collected her things in her bag without the use of her wand. She was too tired to try to get her magic to cooperate right then. Stupid Scotland allergies.

“Maybe there’s a better match out there!” he protested in a stage whisper.

Hermione scoffed as she shoved parchments into her satchel. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it’d be impossible.” 

Harry frowned in confusion. 

“Madam Umbridge informed both of us that our match was almost perfect. Magically speaking, we’re practically soulmates. We’re a true magical match.” She stuck her nose in the air as she said this, her shoulders thrown back.

Harry sat back in shock, eyes wide. “That’s- that’s not possible .”

“Well, apparently it is. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She swung her bag onto her shoulder and made to leave.

“Hermione, wait.” Harry grabbed her wrist. “I’m sorry.” 

She turned slightly so she could see him. 

“I’m just frustrated and I’m taking it out on you. You’re happy with him, right?”

Hermione forced a smile on her face. “Would I be with him if I weren’t?” 

The words tasted bitter in her mouth. 

It wasn’t untrue, was it? Neville was kind and caring and he loved her. She felt safe with him. She knew he’d care for her above anyone else. And in time, she would love him the way Lily loved James and Molly loved Arthur.

Harry eyed her. He seemed to accept her answer and nodded once. 

“I just want you to be happy,” he whispered.

Hermione’s smile turned genuine at his whispered confession. He raised his free hand and his thumb gently touched the dark circles under her eyes. They were only into November and Hermione knew she looked worn down. She’d be getting sick soon, if her pattern of Scotland allergies continued. 

“Are you off to the Hospital Wing?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to take a nap. I’ll be fine. The second I feel a tickle I’ll see Madam Pomfrey, promise.”

Harry let go of her wrist and stepped back. He nodded and Hermione left.

*

Hermione coughed into her arm. Her entire body shuddered in the chill of the castle as she slowly made her rounds that night. Madam Pomfrey had given her a few potions but they hadn’t worked – they never did. 

Neville had sat with her by the fire through dinner. A house-elf had brought them soup and sandwiches. Despite their cuddling by the flames, she felt rather like she was at death’s door. She’d never felt quite this sick so early in the year. It was almost Christmas though, and the reprieve from Hogwarts was something she was looking forward to.

Things were weird between her and Harry. Ever since their spat in the library, he’d been distant. He’d been tolerant of Neville at best and was mostly spending time with Ron and Luna. The only time she really spent with him was for Head duties. 

There was a chasm that was developing between them. Maybe it had always been there?

Whatever it was or whenever it had shown up, Hermione had only noticed it now and it left her feeling cold and broken. 

She hugged herself as she shivered violently. Turning the corner, she nearly jumped out of her skin when she ran into Professor Black.

A squeal escaped her and Sirius Black startled back as he swore. “Merlin’s bloody socks, witch.”

Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. “Sorry,” she replied in a nasal tone of voice, her nose completely blocked up. 

Her Head of House sighed and shook his head. “Are you on your rounds?” 

Hermione nodded and lowered her hands. Professor Black eyed her red nose and the heavy bags under her eyes. 

“Sick again?”

Hermione shrugged. “When aren’t I?”

Sirius barked out a laugh at that. “Well, come on. Let’s take you to see Madam Pomfrey.”

Hermione made a face. “I’ve already been.”

He raised a disbelieving brow. “And she let you out of her sight lookin’ like this?”

She shifted on her feet. “It wasn’t this bad.”

“Right.” Sirius nodded his head. “Come on.” 

Hermione sighed heavily and followed her professor back down to the third floor. 

“Honestly, what would the Headmistress think if she saw my Head Girl looking like this.”

“ Your Head Girl?” Hermione scoffed with no small amount of amusement.

“Yeah, my Head Girl. I placed bets on you at the sorting. Made myself a good amount of money.”

Hermione gasped. “Who bet against me?”

Professor Black laughed. “Take a joke, ‘Mione.” 

She wrinkled her nose at him. “We’re at school, Professor .”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “You say that like it means something.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. She leaned into the warmth of his body as they walked, despite her annoyance with him. Sirius had always been her favourite professor. Being in his presence had always made her feel protected. She already felt a little less sick with him at her side.

“Honestly, I should just adopt you. Then I can leave you the Black fortune and make my relatives keel over in shock.”

“Thanks,” she griped.

Sirius shrugged. “I’m just trying to figure out a way to keep you a part of the family after school ends. Though leaving you everything is a good idea. I should talk to Moony ‘bout that. He loves you as much as I do.”

Hermione’s entire face went red with more than just her fever. “Sirius…” 

As sweet of a sentiment as it was, it was also sad. Sirius and Remus couldn't adopt her -- they'd looked into it already. Remus' werewolf status barred him from being her guardian. Sirius could adopt her on his own, but his position as the Head of Black House meant that he'd be obligated to ritually adopt her, not just sign a few papers. Hermione and Sirius had both been resistant to the idea. Hermione didn't know where she came from or who her biological parents were and she wasn't willing to erase them from her life before answering those questions.

He squeezed her shoulder. “Relax. I’m only partly kidding.” 

They reached the Hospital Wing and Sirius released her. 

Hermione turned and shot him a grateful smile. Sirius’ presence always made her feel better. She’d never admit it, but of all of Harry’s relatives, she liked Sirius the most. 

“Thanks and… you know… I’ll always be a part of the family. Mrs. Potter put me in the will after I saved Harry from drowning in the lake our second year.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Too true.” He shrugged. “Well, you can never be a part of too many wills.” 

He winked and left her in the care of the resident Hogwarts healer. 

Hermione sighed, which turned into a heavy cough. Christmas could not come soon enough.

---

Something was up. She had known it the moment she’d seen Felicity. The woman had been assigned to pick her up from the train station for the break. Hermione didn’t normally go back to the muggle world except for summer hols, and even then, she often spent the majority of that time at the Potter’s home, Tetwell Estate. But this year she turned eighteen and was legally an adult in the muggle world. Never again would she stay at the orphanage, even if only for a short time.

Hermione glanced up at the old building where she had been raised. There were children playing on an old wooden swing set in the back, their laughter and calls echoing down the street. The building itself was dark and imposing despite the oddly warm and sunny winter day. Despite the gloom of the building, it had never really been a bad place for Hermione.

The caretakers at the orphanage, Felicity, Alice, and Mrs. Jones were all good people. Stern, certainly, but that had never been an issue for a rule follower like Hermione Granger.

Hermione headed inside the home with Felicity, shooting the older woman another curious glance as they headed inside. There were children playing in the parlour room and others chattering around tables in the study as they ignored their schoolwork. 

“Hermione,” Mrs. Jones greeted. A rare smile touched her plump cheeks. “Come, let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk?”

The dark-skinned woman gestured for her to follow.

Hermione blinked widely. She shouldered her beaded bag and rushed after the head of the orphanage. Mrs. Jones finished pulling on her jacket and gloves as Hermione arrived.

“Come on, dear.”

They headed back outside and Mrs. Jones took Hermione’s arm in her own as they walked together down the street. The little snow on the ground was melting in the unseasonable warmth of the day. 

Hermione glanced at the woman by her side, but Mrs. Jones’ face remained tranquil as they walked. The woman led them down the street until they reached the park. They turned off down a path that winded through the wilting grass and naked trees.

For as long as Hermione knew Mrs. Jones, they two had never gone for a walk together. They’d never even been alone together before.

“Is something wrong?” Hermione couldn’t help but ask.

Mrs. Jones’ gaze did not stray from the park. She was quiet for a long moment before she said, “You know, I always loved Greek myth. The stories are compelling. The idea of gods and worlds filled with magic.” She smiled and glanced at Hermione. “Magic that I would get to see too at least.”

Hermione frowned as they came to a stop by a series of dried bushes and empty patches of soil. In the spring and summer, the bushes were a vibrant green, filled with bright red berries. Under them, tulips would spring up each year in an array of colours.

“It’s why I chose the name Hermione for you, when I found you.”

Hermione’s head snapped up and her eyes widened. 

“Hermione was the daughter of Helen of Troy,” Mrs. Jones explained to her. “Her mother abandoned her to follow Paris to the city of Troy. She still had her father, but that didn’t mean the same thing then as it would today. In a sense, she was an orphan too.”

Hermione’s eyes teared. “I didn’t know you named me.”

Mrs. Jones smiled softly. “I didn’t want to show favourtism. I was always so worried about you. Your first three years with us were filled with so much pain and turmoil.”

Hermione pressed a hand to her chest, where her surgery scar marked her. “I got better. And I’ve never had to go back after the surgery.”

Mrs. Jones sighed. “I’m not sure who told you about that surgery, Hermione. Perhaps you saw the scar and came to the conclusion yourself, but it’s not true.”

Hermione frowned. “What?”

“You didn’t get that scar at Sick Kids, my dear. You were at Sick Kids because of the scar.”

“Wait- what ?”

Mrs. Jones pressed a comforting hand to Hermione’s arm. “I found you here, while I was on a walk. It was a terribly cold day. I was just about to walk by when I heard a sad little sniffle. I work with kids every day and have for decades, I know the sound of a child’s sniffle when I hear it. I thought it was one of mine. And when I found you.”

Mrs. Jones shook her head. “Your clothes were covered in blood. You were so cold and pale. I rushed you to the hospital. The scar was already there. It was angry and irritated. We thought perhaps you were suffering from some sort of infection. It took years, but eventually, you got better. The doctors still aren’t sure what happened or what was causing your illness.”

Hermione stared at the older woman with wide eyes. “Why- why was I never told this before?”

“Your records are sealed as a minor. But you’re not one anymore.”

Hermione blinked widely. 

“A police investigation took place. But where you came from or who hurt you has never been solved. It wasn’t until you got your Hogwarts letter and we both learned of magic that I thought perhaps…”

“Perhaps what?”

“Perhaps whoever hurt you was in the magical world.”

Hermione felt frozen. She didn’t know how to respond to this. She didn’t know what she was supposed to think or feel. She felt numb. 

One glaring thought came to her mind in bright, bold letters. “I’m not a muggle-born?”

Mrs. Jones tilted her head. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Hermione released a shuddering breath. She shook her head. “It’s fine. I just… I don’t know what to think. What does this mean?”

“It means,” Mrs. Jones responded, squeezing Hermione’s arm, “that perhaps there are people looking for you in the magical world.”

Hermione sucked in a sharp breath. “ Oh .”

Mrs. Jones stared at her kindly. “I hope you find them.”

The older woman turned and began to walk away. Hermione stared after her for a moment before her brain began working again.

“Wait!”

Mrs. Jones turned back to her, a single eyebrow raised politely in question.

Hermione turned to the flower bed. She drew her wand and ignored how utterly exhausted she felt. She could do this. She would do this. 

Hermione waved her wand and murmured under her breath. Slowly, a green plant sprouted out of the soil. The plant grew taller and taller until, finally, a pretty pink tulip bloomed to life. Hermione plucked the flower free from the ground. She cast another spell on the flower and turned to Mrs. Jones.

The woman was staring at her with absolute wonder. Hermione smiled weakly and gave her the tulip.

“It won’t ever wilt or die,” she explained. “A little magic for you to see every day.”

Mrs. Jones took the flower. “Thank you,” she responded with feeling. “Good luck, Hermione.”

The woman turned and headed away.

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered even though the muggle woman was too far to hear.

Tears burned her eyes. Her chest ached from casting magic while so weak. The scar on her chest hurt. It always hurt when she got this weak – this sick.

Hermione’s breath came to her fast and shaky. Oh, god, she thought. What the hell did this mean? What was she supposed to do? Did she have parents out there? Were they the ones who had hurt her?

Hermione’s tears fell and there was only one place she knew she wanted to go.

She turned and apparated away. 

Hermione released a cry of pain as she appeared at the edge of the property in Godric’s Hollow. She shouldn't have apparated. Her magic was a mess and she’d just done that magic for Mrs. Jones as a thank you. That was more than her body was able to handle.

Hermione fell to the ground. The world stopped spinning. Warning bells went off in her head. She pressed a hand to the outside of her thigh and felt something wet. She raised it and the sight of the bright red blood had her senses rushing back to her.

Hermione screamed as the pain crashed over her. She didn’t register the door of Godric’s Hollow opening or people arriving. One moment she was on the ground, screaming as she bled and the next thing she knew, she was being pushed down on the couch while James Potter treated her splinched leg.

“Sh…” Sirius soothed. “Easy does it, love. You’re alright.”

Tears streamed down Hermione’s face. Her leg burned like a thousand red ants were climbing across it. She could barely breathe. Her scarred chest hurt. Her eyes burned.

Hermione turned and buried her face into Sirius’ shoulder as she sobbed.

“Harry, stop it!” she heard James snap. “Peter, get him out of here.”

“No! I’m not bloody well going anywhere!” 

James didn’t respond and a moment later, the pain disappeared. Hermione gasped for breath. Her tears didn’t lessen.

“Give her this,” he ordered.

Sirius pressed a potion to her mouth and she drank it without complaint.

The lingering pain and stress from her accident slowly bled away. Hermione breathed in deeply. She coughed as her illness immediately reasserted itself.

“Anything for that, Prongs?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah, let me look in my kit.”

“Let’s sit you up, love.”

Sirius helped Hermione to lean back against the arm of the couch before retreating. Hermione looked down and saw her right leg, heavily bandaged thanks to James’ help. Hermione’s tears continued to silently fall down her cheeks as she stared at her leg.

“It’ll be fine,” James told her and she breathed a sigh of relief. He was a healer, he knew what he was talking about. “You need to take it easy for a few days, but then you’ll be right as rain.”

“Will it scar?”

She knew that it was common. Splinching was often a gory, uncomfortable process. Hermione was surprised she even had a leg left she’d be able to stand on. 

“Maybe,” James reluctantly admitted. “But it'd be minor and there are people who could remove it. You're lucky, you could have lost it entirely.”

Hermione swallowed and nodded. With the state her magic had been in coupled with her emotional state, she was surprised she had gotten so lucky. 

“You should have known better,” Sirius scolded lightly. “You know it's not smart to apparate when sick.”

“Sick?” Harry cut in. He was standing behind the couch, close enough that he could see and hear what was happening, but far enough that he was out of his annoyed father’s way.

Hermione cringed.

“You've been sick?” he pressed.

She shot him an annoyed look. “Yes, which you’d know if you hadn’t been avoiding me like the plague.”

Harry’s anger faltered. He looked down and shuffled his feet.

“You still should have told me you were sick,” he mumbled in defence. 

Hermione huffed and looked away. She wasn’t about to apologise for not informing him of things when he wouldn’t even look at her until now.

“They’re allergies,” she scoffed, still annoyed.

Harry snorted derisively. 

“Allergies?” James Potter asked. 

He was sitting on a footrest by Hermione’s bandaged leg. His healer kit sat open beside him. Peter and Remus were standing behind him, watching the events unfold.

“She tends to get sick easily,” Sirius told James from where he sat by her feet.

“No,” Harry snapped, “it’s not that simple. Her magic gets all fucked up and she can’t cast. She looked like she was on death’s door last year.”

Hermione shot Harry a glare and he glared right back at her. 

The adults shared a look of concern. 

“Does the orphanage know you’re here?” Peter asked.

Hermione winced and shook her head.

“What happened, love?” Sirius gently asked. “Did something go wrong? You’re supposed to be free of that place now.”

“They…” Her eyes teared and she looked down. “Mrs. Jones informed me that… that I might not be the muggle-born we’ve all thought.”

The room stilled. 

Sirius leaned forward. “ What ?”

She looked up at him with big brown eyes, filled with more tears. “Mrs. Jones runs the orphanage. I thought I was abandoned on their doorstep. But she told me- she said she found me. I was sick or abused or something. Left to die in a bush in the middle of winter.”

Sirius leaned forward and rested a comforting hand on her uninjured leg. Hermione sobbed into her hand for only a moment before Harry was around the couch and pulled her into his arms. A wave of relief swept through Hermione as she pressed her face into his sweater. She felt so much better just being in the presence of her friends – her family. 

James leaned in. Gently, he asked, “What makes them think you were abused?”

Hermione peeked out of Harry's embrace. She rubbed her nose and sniffled heavily.

“I have this,” she gestured to her torso, “scar. I thought I got it from surgery when I was little. I mean… I spent a lot of time at Sick Kids growing up, it made sense.”

“I didn’t know that,” Harry put in.

She looked up at him. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I think I was malnourished or sick. I couldn’t process food properly.” She shook her head. “The scar isn’t from Sick Kids, I had it before then. Mrs. Jones said I didn’t get the scar from surgery like I’d always thought. I was at Sick Kids because the scar was making me sick. They thought it was infected or something. Eventually, it just stopped.”

Remus hummed. “That sounds more like a curse than a sickness.”

James nodded. “What kind of scar?” he asked, his brows furrowed.

“It just looks like the leftover of a surgery. I’ve always had it.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at James. “Thoughts, Prongs?”

James made a face. “I’m not a specialist.”

“No, but you work in the Emergency Ward and you know your shit.”

James sighed. He turned to Remus and Peter. “Pete, can you go let Mrs. Jones know that Hermione is here and that she’s safe?”

“‘Course.” The door closed behind Peter as he left.

Hermione looked up at the others. “Could I possibly be from a magical family?”

Remus shook his head. “It’s unlikely,” he responded softly. “Family magic exists in most households which prevents abuse unless under… extenuating circumstances.” His hand rested on Sirius’ shoulder, who looked down at his lap.

James picked up the thread of conversation. “In other circumstances, there’s always a strong bond between a parent and their child. Unless someone is truly twisted, they couldn’t hurt their child. Even if they could, not to the point of near death . Their magic would protest so strongly, it would fracture their magical core.”

“Oh.”

“Hey,” he squeezed her knee, “it doesn’t matter where you come from.”

She smiled at that. “Thank you,” she whispered. 

“How about a cuppa?” 

“Yes, please.”

James nodded at his son. “Harry?” 

Harry immediately headed into the kitchen while James continued his magical exam. Sirius remained on the edge of the couch by her side, a comforting hand on her leg while James worked. He squeezed her knee and Hermione smiled across at him.

“Alright, how do you feel about me having a look at that scar?” James asked.

Hermione shifted in her seat. She glanced over the couch towards the kitchen.

“Remus, go make sure Harry stays in the kitchen until we’re done.”

Sirius moved to stand and leave as well when Hermione said, “You can stay.”

He glanced at James and when the healer nodded, sat down on the coffee table next to James. Hermione popped a few buttons on her blouse to reveal the scar. The skin was puckered and ran down the centre of her chest to the middle of her diaphragm. 

James touched it gently as he waved his wand in the other hand.

“Prongs,” Sirius whispered.

“I know.”

“What?” Hermione asked.

“It’s a- well,” James gestured. “It looks like a ritual scar.”

“Meaning?”

Sirius ran a hand over the bearded lower half of his face. “It means someone tried to sacrifice you.”

Hermione blinked widely. “ What ?”

“Harry!” Remus called.

Hermione closed her blouse just as Harry appeared again. He came around the couch with a scowl on his face.

“You’re upsetting her! Are you okay?”

"I'm fine."

Hermione sat up a little more and Harry immediately sat down behind her to support her. He took her hand and Hermione immediately felt better.

She turned back to James. “Are you sure? How would I even be alive?”

James shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s just a guess. And a really unlikely one, considering. And it doesn’t explain the illness.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

Hermione turned to him. “The scar looks like a ritual scar. Like I was sacrificed ?”

His eyes widened. “What the fuck?”

“Harry,” James sighed. He rubbed his face. “As I said, it’s highly unlikely. There are other, much more probable options.”

“Like?” Hermione pressed.

“Well, when did you start to feel sick?”

Hermione shrugged. “Months ago. I’m always sick.” 

Harry and Sirius both nodded at her assessment.

“For how long? What did the healers say?”

“It’s just when I’m at school. Madam Pomfrey thinks it's a very persistent and recurring flu. But the potions don’t do anything.”

“No,” James agreed, “they wouldn’t. You’ve never seen a healer about it?”

Hermione glanced at Harry before she admitted, “No.”

Harry frowned at her. “You promised you would!”

“I started to feel better. And I did see a doctor.”

James shook his head. He raised a hand to cut off Harry’s scathing response. “A muggle doctor wouldn’t be able to help you. This is reoccurring?” 

Hermione nodded. 

“It’s acting like a magical parasite or a blood curse of some kind. A magical parasite doesn’t make total sense though, since you’d have died within a few months of catching it. You also would have gotten progressively weaker and never have moments of recovery.”

Hermione frowned as she thought about that. “Would a blood curse leave a scar?”

“It would, actually. Something very similar to what you have.”

Sirius shook his head as he said, “But that would imply that she’s the first person to receive the curse. She’d pass it on to her descendants through her.”

James nodded and shrugged. “Hermione was born during the height of the war and we don’t know to what family -- if a magical family at all. But if she isn't a muggle-born, then she could have easily become the victim of some sort of blood feud or the mechanics of the war itself.”

“But what about it coming and going?” Harry asked. “It’s not always that bad.”

James raised his eyebrows at Hermione. “Does it only affect you at Hogwarts?” 

She nodded. 

“That’s the magical world. When you’re in the muggle world, you aren’t surrounded by magic and the curse likely can’t reach you. Blood curses are old and they are based in family magic. My guess is you’re from a wizarding family that was targeted during the war. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn this is the work of Death Eaters.”

Hermione’s lips twisted. It didn’t sound right to her. She glanced over at Harry who looked equally unhappy about the explanation. Their eyes met and Hermione knew he was thinking the same thing she was. If it only affected her in the magical world, why didn’t it affect her when she stayed at Tetwell Estate or the few times she’d visited Godric’s Hollow?

Sirius looked horrified and only half convinced. “Are you sure, mate?”

James shrugged. “Not entirely. I do know that we need to act fast. Your magical levels are very low. Dangerously low. The only things I know that could do that would be a blood curse or a magical parasite. But I doubt it’s the latter.”

Harry squeezed her hand comfortingly. “How do we treat it?”

James gestured with his hands. “ We can’t. Only her family can help her or the family that’s cursed her. We could purge your magic but-”

“-James,” Sirius snapped. 

The healer raised his hands. “I’m just saying.”

Hermione looked back and forth between them. “Wait, what’s wrong? Why is that bad?”

“The best way to purge your magic in this scenario would be to do a magical blood ritual. Your magical core is cleansed during it. Any dark magic on you would be washed away. It’s how blood curses were done away with in the past.”

“And the problem?” She turned to Sirius.

“We have to call on all the Sacred Twenty-Eight families. You would perform the ritual before them and it would reveal your blood connections to them – if any at all.” He gestured with his hand. “Which doesn’t sound all that bad, but if you end up a Malfoy, for example, he could waltz in and drag you out of the magical circle afterward – essentially claiming you as his family and property. You’d lose all your rights and he’d marry you off to the highest bidder.”

Hermione turned to James with wide, shocked eyes. “That could happen?”

He winced and nodded. “Unfortunately. We could try other rituals, but that is the only one that cleanses the whole magical core.”

“And that’s what you suggest?”

Despite the glare Sirius was giving James, he nodded. “I do.”

A small silence passed. “Okay.”

“Hermione-” Sirius began.

“-I don’t want to be sick anymore!” she protested. “I hate it. I hate this. I can barely cast any magic at all anymore. It’s terrible. I just want to be healthy.” 

Tears sprang to her eyes and Sirius sighed. Harry wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his chest.

Sirius turned to James. “We’ll do it on the solstice.”

Chapter Text

Part Two

---

“Alright,” Sirius said as he led her out to the middle of the field. It was sundown and most of the magical families had gathered already. “This is the altar.” 

It was a chest-high stone table with a pentagram etched into the flat top. Candles and herbs were already burning on it. A magical temperature charm had been cast around the whole field, melting away the snow for the ritual to come. 

“You’ll repeat the spell that we taught you, just like we taught you, and then the magical circle will take over. It’ll be a little overwhelming, but it’s okay. Just let the magic do its work.”

“Will it hurt?” she asked him.

Sirius sighed and shook his head. “It’s not supposed to, but I don’t know with the blood curse.”

“Okay.” She swallowed down her obvious terror.

Sirius pulled her into a tight hug. Hermione hugged him back just as fiercely. 

“I’ll be just outside the barrier. I won’t leave you for a second.”

“And if I belong to the Malfoys?”

“I’ll hex them until you can make it across the barrier yourself.” He pulled back and looked down at her seriously. “That’s imperative, Hermione. After the spell, no matter who you are related to, you need to walk through the barrier on your own. That will give you the option to choose whichever magical family you want to be a part of. Okay?”

Hermione nodded. She shot him a shy look. “Is it terrible of me to say I’m hoping we’re related?”

Sirius laughed. “I’d be honoured, kitten.” 

She scowled at him for his silly little pet name and he laughed. He patted her shoulder. 

“Good luck, ‘Mione. See you on the other side.” 

Hermione watched him walk thirty paces away and past the magical barrier. It shimmered with a tinge of black as he walked through. It had glittered gold earlier when James Potter had set it up and walked through. From what Hermione had read about the ritual, the colours signified ties to different old magical families. Different families had different magical signatures and the barrier expressed them through colour. 

During the ritual, Hermione’s magic was meant to expand outward and touch the magical barrier, flickering with the colours of magic that made up her own. Whichever families she had even a passing relation to would be present in the colourful explosion. Hermione was really just hoping for even a spot of black so Sirius could stop anyone awful from grabbing her.

Hermione turned to the altar and took a deep breath. Now or never, she thought.

“Oh, Goddess,” she began in a trembling voice, “I call on you to lend me your strength and your magic.”

Hermione’s eyes darted around the field. Nothing appeared to change. She swallowed and kept going.

“Oh, Goddess, I beseech you to turn your gaze and its all-knowing power on me.”

One of the candles flickered. Hermione focused on it. Was it working?

“Oh Goddess, purge me of darkness and deceit, fill me with your love and wisdom, reveal to me the truth of my past and the direction of my future.”

Hermione waited. Her eyes flickered around the open field. She could see Sirius, James, and Harry standing on the outskirts together. Other families of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and other old magical families had also shown up. She spotted some of her classmates with their parents. The Weasleys were standing together not far from the Longbottoms. Everyone was staring at her.

Her eyes met Harry’s and even across the distance, she could tell he was confused and worried. She shrugged helplessly-

-A boom sounded across the field. A bright, blinding light followed the sound. And finally, a massive wave of magic crashed over the group of assembled magical families.

Hermione cried out as the magic slammed down on her. She fell to her knees as light burst across the field. Hermione covered her face with her arms. Her scream was lost amongst the wind and magic that flooded the ritual space. 

Two hands touched her shoulders. Hermione’s head shot up with a gasp. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Triple Goddess before her. On one side was a young girl, on the other was a crone, and in the centre was a pregnant mother. The mother smiled softly at Hermione. Her hazel eyes stood out starkly against her dark skin and black curls. 

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. She was frozen. The Triple Goddess’ magic was powerful but kind. The blinding light from before had solidified into an opaque bubble. She couldn’t see the Sacred Twenty-Eight families beyond and she doubted that they would be able to see her or the Triple Goddess. 

Was this supposed to happen? Sirius hadn’t warned her of this. He should have at least mentioned -

“-Leta,” the mother greeted, her voice soothing. 

Hermione’s attention snapped back towards the goddess before. “This is the name your mother gave you. One that has been lost amidst your trials and tribulations.”

“Leta?” Hermione whispered.

“It is time for your magic to be returned home and for justice to be met.”

Hermione eyed the mother warily. Those words sounded a little too foreboding for Hermione’s taste.

“Justice upon whom? For what?”

“The one who sought to steal your magic. The spell’s reversal is not enough. I seek justice for the torture put upon you.”

Hermione had a bad feeling about this. Someone had tried to steal her magic? That didn't sound like the blood curse that James had thought it was.

“What are you going to do?” she whispered.

The mother’s hazel eyes pinned Hermione with a dark, serious stare. “I will syphon back all the magic Frank Longbottom has stolen from you since you were nothing more than a baby and then I will take from him what he once sought to take from your parents.”

Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest. Frank Longbottom ? 

“What does he have to do with-” her eyes widened in realisation, “-he cursed me? Mr. Longbottom? But why?”

The crone shifted and Hermione tensed as a pair of silver eyes fixed on her. The old, pale witch was shrouded in a dark cloak. Her gnarled fingers wrapped tightly around a walking staff.

“He sought to use your magic to heal his ailing son,” the crone whispered.

“Neville? Neville is sick?” 

Her eyes widened. No. Hermione was sick. Neville was supposed to be. Had she been feeling all of the effects of what Neville should have had? Was it an echo of what he would have gone through? 

She remembered, suddenly, what Umbridge had told her during her Magical Match Consultation. Neville and she had an almost perfect match. It wasn’t because they were soulmates – it was because he was stealing her magic.

Hermione turned back to the Triple Goddess, but all three figures had already turned away. They were leaving. They were going to punish Frank Longbottom – I will take from him what he sought to take from your parents .

“No!” she shouted as she stumbled to her feet. 

Her magic pulsated around them. She’d never felt so powerful and so tired all at once. Was this her true magical ability? Had she been working with a shadow of her magical potential all this time?

The Triple Goddess stopped. The mother turned to pin her with a steely gaze.

“You can’t hurt Neville.”

The mother said nothing in response, unmoved.

Hermione felt her desperation rise higher. “You’re going to punish the child for the sins of the father?” she demanded. “That’s not fair! That’s not justice!”

The mother didn’t move but the maiden child turned and tilted her head in consideration. The little girl’s almond eyes narrowed and her straight black hair shifted in the wind.

“Do you have any suggestions?” she asked in a sweet voice tinged with an almighty power.

Hermione stared at the little girl and felt her hope flare even as her mind whirled for an answer that would appease the goddess. What the hell was she supposed to say to sway a goddess ?

“Killing Neville or even Mr. Longbottom won’t prove anything. He’ll just die. It’ll be seen as some sort of magical accident or something. If you want real justice, you’ll allow Mr. Longbottom to be tried in the Wizengamot. He’ll go to prison.”

The crone scowled. “And if he escapes? Weasels his way out of his sentence? Mortals are imperfect.”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, I suppose you can… punish him yourself. But it wouldn’t make much of an example, would it?”

The mother tilted her head consideringly. “If we allow his fate to the hands of mortals, we expect a guarantee of another kind – from you.”

Hermione forced herself not to shift on her feet. “What sort of guarantee?”

“You weren’t just robbed of your life and magic,” the mother explained softly. “You were robbed of your magical equal .”

Hermione frowned. “My magical match, you mean? Neville having a part of my magic skewed the results. I don’t know who I’m actually compatible with and the testing phase is over.”

“You will go to the Ministry,” the crone told her. “You will enter the testing across Britain and you will marry your magical match under the next new moon.”

Hermione blinked widely. “ Marry ? What if he doesn’t want to marry me?”

The maiden child shrugged delicately. “Then we’ll take revenge instead of justice.”

---

“What’s happening?” Harry asked. 

The light at the centre of the altar hadn’t faded. It wasn't supposed to last this long, was it?

"Dad? Sirius? What's going on?"

James shook his head, eyes still on the glowing light by the altar. "I don't- I don't know, lad. It's nothing bad though. Nothing bad could get to Hermione in the circle. The Triple Goddess wouldn't allow it."

Sirius raised a hand to his mouth and said nothing. Harry felt his anxiety climb.

“Neville? Neville!”

Harry turned at the frantic calling coming from further down the circle. Frank Longbottom was kneeling over the prone body of his son.

"Nev? Dad!" Harry shouted.

His father was already racing across the grass. Harry sprinted after him, Sirius hot on his heels.

Neville was having a seizure, his eyes rolled back as his body shook and jerked uncontrollably.

"Neville? Neville, please!" Frank Longbottom shouted.

James dropped to his knees and helped ease Neville onto his side. "Sirius! Get his legs!"

"On it!" 

James' wand slid into his hand. He cast a few spells while Harry watched on, his heart in his throat.

Neville gasped suddenly. He coughed and choked on his saliva before regaining his breath. James cast a few spells on him to ease his pain before pulling back and gesturing for Sirius to do the same.

"We need to get you to the hospital," James stated. "Are you in any pain?"

Neville slowly shook his head as he took a few deep breaths. “No.” He shook his head. “I’m fine. I’m-”

“-Oh, Neville,” Frank sobbed. “My boy-”

-Neville flinched away from him. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed at his father.

“Neville?”

The teenager forced himself to his feet despite the protests around him. He stood at Harry’s side and glared viciously at his father. “Get him away from me,” he said, pointing at his father. “Away from here.”

Frank looked heartbroken at his son’s vitriol. “Neville-”

“-You’re a murderer!” Neville roared. “You tried to kill her! You were going to let her die!”

Frank paled dramatically. “Neville-”

“-I love her! Don’t you understand that? You were just going to let me watch her die? Live my life like I wasn’t the reason the love of my life is gone?”

“Frank,” James said slowly, “what is he talking about?”

“He’s talking about Hermione,” Sirius hissed, eyes sparking with fury. “Isn’t he, Longbottom? I think we’ve just figured out where this blood curse came from.”

Harry’s blood boiled. His fists curled so tightly, his nails bit into his skin. His vision blurred with a mixture of rage and tears. 

Frank didn’t look away from his son. “Neville, listen to me.”

Harry surged forward and punched Frank Longbottom clean across the face.

“Harry!” his father shouted. 

James grabbed Harry and pulled him back when the teenager went to punch the older man again. Sirius stepped between the Potters and Frank.

“Kings!” Sirius shouted. He pointed at Frank. “Take this man’s wand and badge.”

Kingsley was already at their side. Most of the families had come closer as the drama unfolded. “Look, I can’t take him nor can I leave myself until the ritual is over. No one’s pressing any charges yet-”

“-I will!” Neville and Sirius shouted at the same time. Sirius stepped forward. “Do your bloody job, Kings. I don’t care if he’s your boss, he’s been accused of fucking attempted murder right now.”

Kingsley glared at them both. He sighed and turned to his boss. “Frank, just give me your wand and badge.”

The man handed it over. His nose was bloody from Harry’s punch and the teenager struggled against his father’s grip, eager to give the arsehole a blackeye too. He’d hurt Hermione. The absolute gall of him.

The light at the centre of the circle finally faded and a burst of magic exploded outward. Everyone turned to watch as two colours manifested across the surrounding magical wall. The first was a burst of strong silver, followed closely after was a thick black colour.

Black.

Harry spun towards Sirius. “Go get her!” he shouted. “Before someone else does!”

Sirius nodded before sprinting for the magical wall.

“Sirius!” a desperate voice called.

Harry looked over and saw Narcissa Malfoy straining against the hand her husband had on her arm. She shared a long, painful look with her cousin and then Sirius pushed his way through the wall and over to the lone figure of Hermione Granger.

James finally released Harry and turned him around. “What the hell was that?”

“You heard him!” 

“You have no idea what’s going on right now. None of us do. You can’t go around punching the Head of the DMLE in the face, Harry. Christ.”

“It’s Hermione ,” Harry pressed. “You heard what Neville said. He tried to kill her!”

“Enough!” James shouted.

Harry stepped back. His father never shouted.

“Not another word of this, am I clear? If Frank has done anything wrong, he will answer for his crimes in a court of law, not at the hands of a teenager .” When Harry didn’t respond, James pressed on. “Am I clear? ”

“Yes,” he hissed back.

Harry whirled away from his father. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared into the ritual circle where Sirius was helping Hermione towards them now. He watched them with his heart in his throat. He felt like he was going to throw up. 

Neville said she could have died. Would have died. But there was no evidence of that. There wasn’t even the suggestion that whatever was happening involved the Longbottoms. They weren’t a family prone to blood feuds let alone blood curses. 

Harry had just reacted. The very thought that Frank Longbottom had planned to kill Hermione had sent him right over the edge. The same way he’d beat the shit out of Malfoy in fourth year when he’d called her a mudblood. He hadn’t even been there for it. But he’d found out through Ron that she’d been crying all day in the girl’s lavatory and he’d just gone red with rage. The fight had been so bad, he’d actually been sent home for a three day out of school suspension. 

It was then that Harry figured out what Hermione was to him. 

Neville joined him and Harry’s spine stiffened. He’d been unable to look his godbrother in the eye ever since he started dating Hermione.

They watched as Sirius and Hermione finally made it to the barrier. She looked simultaneously exhausted and better than she had in years. Sirius was practically holding her up but her skin glowed with how much magic was rolling off of her.

She was stunning.

“I can’t,” she cried when Sirius moved to step away.

“You can,” Sirius urged. “You can do this on your own love. You have to.”

Hermione looked up and Harry caught her gaze. She swallowed visibly before taking a shaky step towards the barrier. She pressed her hands against it and cried out as she pressed through the barrier.

“Come on,” he whispered encouragingly. “Come on.”

She stumbled out the other side and straight into Harry’s arms. He pulled her close as her knees gave out.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” James said.

“I’ll apparate her,” Neville offered.

“No,” Sirius and Harry said at the same time.

“I’m taking her,” Harry told his godfather.

“Harry-” his father began.

“-I’m taking her,” he snapped.

He lifted her into his arms and turned on the spot without another word of discussion.

---

"That can't be true," Hermione heard James Potter murmur somewhere to her right. "Can it? How would he even know all this?"

"He says he was shown images of it. The events as they transpired,” a different voice responded, male and unrecognisable.

"And he's certain it was the Lestrange family?" Sirius demanded, voice dark and angry.

"Positive."

"You know what this means?" Sirius asked.

"It might not be true," James weakly replied. He didn't sound too sure of that fact.

"It means ," Sirius continued, "that she was telling the truth. All those years ago, the Wizarding World labelled her crazy, a hysterical woman spouting off against the wonderful, heroic, privileged, Auror. And in reality, Frank fucking Longbottom is a fucking child killer."

Hermione shifted and felt pain flare up through her chest. She tensed and gasped lightly.

"Hermione!" Harry shouted. 

The call was quickly echoed by the others in the room.

Hermione pushed herself to open her eyes. They felt heavy. Her entire body felt exhausted. 

"Hermione?"

She blinked weakly before meeting Harry's bright emerald stare. She felt the magic in her chest stir and swirl in a way she'd never felt before. 

"Hi," she breathed. 

"Hi." Harry smiled brightly.

"Well, that's new," Sirius quipped.

The two teenagers turned to see the vase of flowers at Hermione’s bedside had bloomed, growing another foot in length as they did.

"How'd that happen?" Harry asked.

"Accidental magic," James explained. "Hermione’s finally being granted the ability to use all her magic for the first time, it's going to take some getting used to."

Hermione blinked widely at the flowers. She'd done that? That was her ? She bit her bottom lip to hold back her smile. That was her .

"Come on," James said and helped her sit up. He propped the pillows behind her as she got comfortable. "I'm going to give you a few potions and then you need to drink a nice tall glass of water. Alright?"

Hermione hummed in agreement. She drank down each potion he gave her without complaint and then took the goblet of water. She sipped at it, realised she was absolutely parched and drank it down in seconds. 

James poured her another cup. "Slower on this one."

She sipped it and found she didn't have the urge to chug it like the last cup. 

"How do you feel? Any pain?"

She shook her head. "Just tired."

"That's really good. If you're feeling up to it, I think Auror Shacklebolt would like to ask you a few questions."

Hermione turned to the tall, dark-skinned man. He was the only one in the room she didn’t recognise. Harry was at her left, leaning so far forward that he was practically in the bed with her. Sirius was leaning back against the wall behind his godson while James stood at her other side. 

Kingsley was wearing Auror robes and had a quill in hand with a pad of parchment. She nodded at him.

"Can you tell us what happened in the circle? The ritual lasted longer than we were expecting."

"Yes, the uh- the Triple Goddess appeared."

Sirius shot forward while the others visibly gaped at her. "Appeared? As in, corporeal form?"

Hermione nodded. "A mother, a maiden, and a crone. She wanted justice for what happened to me. She said that Frank Longbottom… he cast some sort of curse that took my magic? Neville was sick or-"

"-Oh my god," James sighed and dropped his head. "That fucking idiot."

Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes. "You know what happened?"

"No,” Auror Shacklebolt interrupted with a raised hand. “I'm sorry James but I need to know what Hermione knows. You can discuss it all after and if it's relevant, I'll also take your statements. Hermione?"

Hermione sipped her water. "Mr. Longbottom used my magic to cure Neville. Which means I was feeling all the effects of his illness, I think. The longer we were in proximity, the worse it got. He was… syphoning more magic off of me each year."

"Bloody hell," Sirius said into his hand.

Harry’s fingers curled into the blanket on the hospital bed. His knuckles were white. Hermione felt his magic contract around her, practically vibrating with magic. Her eyes widened. She’d never felt Harry’s magic like that before. It was all around her, curling around her aura like a soothing blanket. It was strong, and sturdy. She could almost imagine the bright golden glow it would have, filled with the Potter family magic as it was.

Tentatively, she pushed her magic back, smoothing it against his own. Harry jerked and his eyes shot to hers.

Her cheeks warmed at his look of surprise. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “I’m okay.”

“You almost died,” he whispered a tremor in his voice hiding just how close he was to tears.

Hermione didn’t have a good response to that, so she pushed her magic towards him and smiled when his glasses – still slightly twisted from his last Quidditch game where they’d fallen off – snapped back into shape. Harry’s nose twitched and his eyes crossed as he stared at the outline of his glasses.

“Blimey,” he said with a chuckle.

“Miss- uhm…” Auror Shacklebolt scratched his ear. “I’m not sure what to call you.”

“Well, I won’t say no to ‘Hermione,’” she responded with a wry grin. “But the Triple Goddess called me ‘Leta.’”

Sirius raised a hand to his face. The room was sombre.

“Do you know who that is?” she asked quietly. She glanced at Harry but he shrugged, also unsure.

“Leta Lestrange,” Sirius responded quietly. “Daughter to Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, famed dark wizards.”

“Dark?” Hermione responded, alarmed.

“Well,” James interrupted, “they never had a very positive reputation. A little along the lines of the Parkinsons and Malfoys.”

Hermione’s nose wrinkled. That did not sound like a family she’d get along with.

“Bellatrix Lestrange is your cousin,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder at Sirius. “That’s how you were able to get through the barrier.”

Sirius hummed and nodded. “Yes.” He gave Hermione a fond smile. “Apparently, we are related after all, kitten.”

Hermione returned his smile brightly. “Good.”

“Alright,” Auror Shacklebolt cut in again. “We’re getting sidetracked again. Miss Lestrange,” he paused and Hermione grimaced but nodded, “do you know what happened to Neville? He had a fit and then was perfectly fine. He’s claiming to have seen the events that transpired.”

“The events?” Hermione asked.

“That led to your displacement from your family and being cursed,” the Auror clarified.

Hermione frowned. “The Goddess wanted to make Neville pay,” she explained slowly. “But I… it's not his fault. He was just a baby. So I… I made a deal with her."

The room was dead silent. 

"With the Triple Goddess?" Auror Shacklebolt asked, voice hushed.

She nodded.

Sirius’ lips twitched despite how pale he looked. "A Gryffindor, through and through, aren't you?"

Hermione smiled. "I promised that Mr. Longbottom would go to trial. He'd pay for his crimes in a court of law just like anyone else who's broken the law."

Auror Shacklebolt grimaced. "You can't promise that. He'll have a trial but you can’t promise what’ll happen."

She nodded. "I know. But it was the only chance. She wanted to take revenge. To kill Neville. I couldn't just stand by and let that happen."

The Auror took a deep breath. "That's everything that happened?"

"Well, I… I had to promise something in return. I-"

“-Don't,” he cut in, hand raised. “Anything you promised is for you and you alone. If you share it or need to share it, I'd be honoured, but I'd also need to record it.”

Hermione hesitated before nodding. "I think I'll keep it to myself then."

He nodded. "I'm going to go check in, I might have more questions later, alright?"

"Of course."

"James, Sirius, I’ll be in contact to set up interviews soon, alright? I'm glad you're feeling better,” he finished, speaking to Hermione again.

"Thank you." She turned to Healer Potter the second the Auror was gone. "Tell me."

James sighed. "Neville was sick as a baby. He had a magical illness. Very rare and practically incurable. Frank told me when Neville got the diagnosis. A few months later, Neville was fine and Frank said it was a misdiagnosis."

"So my magic did cure him?"

James made a face like he was reluctant to say yes. "There's a dark ritual you can do. It's old and highly illegal. Basically, Frank syphoned your magic out into Neville to fight the curse. So technically, yes, it cured him. But because you survived, it created a negative link between you two. Neville continued to feed off your magic as you two spent time together. Eventually, you two would have left school and you'd have probably been fine."

"No," Harry cut in harshly. His voice was low and angrier than she'd ever heard him without shouting. "She wouldn't have made it to graduation."

Hermione's eyes teared. He was right.

"Hermione was going to sign a marriage contract with Neville during the break."

Marriage contracts in the wizarding world were magical. A magical contract binding Hermione and Neville together would have likely been all that was needed to finally kill her. Especially if it was signed when Hermione was already weak from spending so much time with Neville at school.

Sirius pushed off from the wall and began pacing. "I'm gonna kill him."

"Padfoot," James snapped.

"So... it's wasn't a blood curse," Hermione slowly said. "It was- a ritual?"

James sighed. "A very dark ritual. A ritual that requires a magical human sacrifice."

Hermione touched her chest. "The scar. That's what you said when you first saw it, that it looked liked I'd been sacrified." Hermione's eyes teared. "I was sacrified. He sacrificed me."

Harry's magic curled comfortingly around her. James and Sirius looked heartbroken as they stared at her, unable to find words of comfort.

"Why me?" Hermione asked in a small voice. "I mean, I'm not… wouldn't it have been easier to choose a muggle-born?"

"They're harder to find, especially that young. And they're heavily monitored after their first bout of accidental magic. It'd have actually been harder to hide. But a dark family?"

“How is that not dangerous?” Hermione asked the room at large. “Weren’t they scared that the family would fight back if they found out?”

An ominous silence filled the room. 

Hermione felt anxiety claw at her chest. “What happened?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

James and Sirius shared a long look. Finally, Sirius’ pacing came to a stop at the foot of her bed. 

“It was during the height of the war,” he told her. “Just before Dumbledore died defeating Voldemort. Things were awful and chaotic. Death Eaters were targeting civilians, members of the Order, anyone really.”

"I can't imagine."

"You shouldn't have to. War isn't anything I'd wish on anyone. Leta Lestrange – you- you were just a baby. Just about two years old – you disappeared and there were whispers that someone in the Order had done it."

"The Order of the Phoenix?" Harry confirmed, looking back and forth between his father and godfather.

James nodded. "Yes. We worked together to help take down Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Frank was an Auror at the time, not Head of the DMLE. He investigated it. Claimed it was looking like Bellatrix Lestrange had done it herself."

“But he was lying,” Harry responded, eyes narrowed. “And people just believed him?”

"He's a well-respected member of the British Wizarding World. And the Lestrange family has been known to be dark for decades."

"And Bellatrix is…” Sirius sighed. “She’s not exactly stable. No Black is, but her use of dark magic didn't help. And after you…"

Hermione’s brows drew together.

"There's a strong, very intrinsic link between a magical mother and their child,” James explained. “The reason Hogwarts begins at age eleven is because that's the age children are normally able to control magic without a mother or father helping them. If you break that bond too early, it can have detrimental effects."

"It turned her insane,” Sirius stated bluntly. “And the break of the bond alone should have killed you."

James nodded reluctantly. "He's right. The chances of you surviving such a ritual are… nearly impossible. But there must have been some sort of spec of magic still in you, keeping you alive."

Hermione stared down at the water glass in her hand, trembling between her fingers as she tried to keep her emotions in check. A spec of magic. A spark of something inside her that Mr. Longbottom’s ritual couldn’t steal away.

"... like a true magical match?" she asked quietly.

Harry's head shot up. "What?"

"The Triple Goddess said I have one. A magical connection like that is unbreakable. That could have saved my life, right?"

James raised his eyebrows. “It's certainly a theory.” His eyes flickered sideways to his son. “True magical matches are rare though,” he murmured. 

Hermione turned back to Sirius. “Where are they now? My parents? They weren’t at the ritual.”

“They’re in Azkaban,” Sirius explained gently. “Bella, shortly after the war ended, attacked Longbottom Manor. Only Alice Longbottom, Frank’s wife, was home at the time. Bellatrix permanently put Alice in St. Mungos. By the time the authorities arrived, the Lestrange brothers were also there – your father, Rodolphus, and your uncle, Rabastan. They were arrested under the assumption that they had been working with Bellatrix.”

“The official story," James continued for Sirius, "was that Bellatrix went mad, murdered her own child, and then went on a frenzy to attack Order members. The Lestrange brothers were charged as Accomplices to Attempted Murder.”

“She really tried to murder Neville’s mum?” Hermione asked, voice quiet.

“No,” Harry added quietly. “Alice was tortured into insanity. She’s still here, in the Janus Thickey Ward. Neville and his dad visit her frequently.”

“And now we know it’s a lie,” Sirius murmured. “Bellatrix attacked the Longbottoms looking for you. She was always smart. She’d probably figured it out but in her crazed state…”

James ran a hand down his face. “Christ. Frank, what the fuck.”

“Do you think it’s provable?” Hermione asked. “What actually happened?”

Sirius made a face as he thought about it. He nodded and shrugged. “I mean, probably. Why?”

“Mr. Longbottom needs to go to pay for his crimes. It’s a part of the deal.”

Harry eyed her warily. “What happens if he doesn’t?”

Hermione swallowed. “Mr. Longbottom has to go to Azkaban or the Goddess is going to kill Neville.”

---

Hermione was sitting in her hospital bed with a book on family magic in her lap. The door to her room had been nonstop opening and closing with visitors. Mrs. Weasley and Ron had been by no less than four separate times before finally departing for the evening. Lily had brought Harry's sisters, all three of which had brightened up the room considerably with their good Christmas cheer. DeeDee and Ivy had cuddled into Hermione while Harry read a few Christmas picture books. Lily had helped Hermione to the loo to freshen up and bathe before taking the girls back home.

Sirius and Harry were her most constant visitors. Both refused to leave her side.

Sirius had finally been persuaded to go home and shower only an hour earlier. The fact that he wasn't back led Hermione to believe that Remus had managed to convince him to sleep or had potioned him. Probably the latter.

Finally, she was alone and able to have a moment to herself. Well, as much as she could have with Harry sleeping in the chair to her left. He refused to leave and she hadn’t tried that hard to get him to do so. She felt better having him in the room. She always felt safer in the presence of her best friend.

The hospital room door clicked open. Hermione looked up from her book. 

Hermione’s eyes widened at the sight of Neville. He slipped inside her room and quietly closed the door behind him. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment.

“Hi,” Neville finally greeted softly.

“Hi,” Hermione returned, voice weak. Her eyes teared and she looked down at her book.

She heard Neville’s shoes squeak against the tile as he moved closer. He took the chair at her bedside, opposite Harry’s sleeping form. 

Her best friend was leaning forward, arms and head resting on the hospital bed. His glasses were on her bedside table and his hand had sneaked under the blanket, his fingers curled against her hip. Hermione’s skin burned where he touched her through the thin fabric of her hospital gown. She’d hardly noticed before, but now that her boyfriend – fiance? Ex? – was in the room, Harry’s fingers felt scalding.

“Are you okay?” Neville asked, his voice a whisper so he wouldn’t disturb his godbrother.

Hermione nodded. She glanced up at him briefly. “I’m leaving when Sirius gets back.”

“To the Potters?”

They hadn’t actually discussed it. “Probably. Or Sirius’ since he’s… we’re…”

“Right.”

Neville’s eyes teared. “I’m so sorry,” he sobbed.

Hermione immediately reached out to him and their hands found one another. His hands felt cold and clammy. Her hip burned. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she told him.

“I was going to kill you.”

“No, Neville-”

“-That’s what would have happened though. You can’t deny it.”

Hermione swallowed thickly. He wasn’t wrong, but she didn’t blame him.

Neville took her hand in both of his. “Would you ever be able to forgive me?”

“Neville, I don’t think there’s anything you’ve done that needs forgiveness. But if you want it from me, of course, I forgive you.”

His shoulders fell as if the weight of the world had been taken from them. His eyes teared as he stared at her hand in both of his. 

“I just wish everything could go back to the way it was,” he whispered. “We were going to get married and be happy.” He looked up at her. “Do you think we can still have that?”

Hermione desperately fought back her tears. She felt sick to her stomach. 

“I can’t,” she whispered. Her throat hurt from the tears that had yet to fall. 

Neville’s face crumpled. His head dropped as his shoulders shook.

“The Goddess,” Hermione continued despite the tightness of her throat. “She was there.”

Neville nodded. “She came to me,” he said as he rubbed away his tears. 

“Me too.”

His watery brown eyes met her own. “That must mean something,” he pleaded.

“She- she said that I have a magical match. That I have to find them.”

Neville’s brows drew together. “But we’re matched.”

“Yes, but-”

“-We’re already together.”

“Neville…” she said desperately. This was hard enough to get out without him interrupting her. “You were using my magic. The tests were… they weren’t accurate.”

He leaned forward. He grasped her hand again. “We’re in love . She didn’t say the tests were wrong, did she?” 

Hermione nodded. She had to look away at the utter distress on his face.

“I have to go to the ministry,” she explained, staring at the wall, “and register for a magical match. I have until the new moon.”

“To find him?”

“To marry him,” she whispered.

Neville tensed visibly. Hermione’s eyes darted to him wearily.

“The new moon is just after New Years!” he all but shouted as he jumped to his feet. 

Hermione angrily shushed him as she glanced at Harry's sleeping form. 

“We haven’t even graduated yet,” he whispered harshly. “You’re just going to marry some random bloke?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course, you do. Marry me !”

She gestured and shushed him again.

“Hermione.” Neville dropped to his knees as he took her hand. “Marry me and then you can’t be held accountable for not finding this other person. They can’t ask you to walk away like this. We have to fight.”

“They’ll kill you,” she choked out.

Neville stared at her with wide eyes. “W- what?”

“If I don’t… they’ll kill you. It was a part of the deal I made.”

“Deal?”

“To save you.”

Neville’s tears fell. His head dropped. “That’s not fair. That’s not- Hermione I don’t want you to spare your happiness for my life. That’s not what I want.”

Hermione looked up. She felt like her heart was being torn from her chest. She knew she had to say it. She couldn’t let him live with this guilt.

“Neville,” Hermione said, swallowing thickly.

A single tear escaped, despite her best efforts to keep them at bay. He looked up at her and she raised her hand to his cheek. He immediately leaned into the gesture and Hermione couldn’t hold back her sob.

“I do love you,” she told him. “I just- I don’t think it’s the same way that you love me.”

Neville froze. He reared back and his eyes widened. Hermione pressed her fingers to her mouth as her tears continued to fall.

“What?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her voice was gone. There wasn’t anything left to say after that.

“Well, that’s… good, isn’t it?” Neville said. He refused to meet her gaze. “Since you’re going to go run off and marry someone else. Which, I can’t even be mad about because you’re doing it to save my fucking life .”

He stood and Hermione choked on all the words she wanted to say. She didn’t think he’d appreciate her apology now.

He turned and raced from the room. The door slammed shut behind him. Harry jumped at the sound and Hermione burst into tears. 

“Hey, hey.” 

She immediately reached out for him. Harry pulled her from the bed and into his lap. Hermione curled her arms around his neck as she sobbed into his chest.

“Sh…” he soothed. “It’s alright. I’ve got you.”

His magic surrounded her, weaving around her like a blanket until there wasn’t a pocket of air where the negativity could get her. She pressed her face into his chest, completely cocooned by his magic as she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Text

Part Three

---

Sirius stepped into the offensively bright room. It was overly sterile and completely devoid of warmth. Azkaban had gone through many changes over the years, but the new, sterile cleanliness was a new one. The well-behaved prisoners were allowed better care on the sterile levels of the prison, while the crazy and truly disturbed remained several floors above with the dementors to keep watch.

In the centre of the white, sterile room were a wooden table and two chairs. A prisoner sat shackled to the table. He made no sign of interest when Sirius stepped into the greeting room alone. 

The door closed behind Sirius and he took a seat across from Rodolphus Lestrange. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment. Rodolphus had aged from his nearly two decades in Azkaban. His dark hair was heavily greyed and the lines around his face were prominent. He’d been older than Bellatrix by at least a decade when they’d wed, Sirius recalled. It had been arranged and completely unwanted on both sides.

Sirius almost got up to leave. This man was a Death Eater. A murderer. A pure-blood bigot. He was everything that Sirius hated about the magical world. Sirius had cheered when the bastard had gone to Azkaban. Before Bellatrix attacked the Longbottoms, it had looked like the Lestrange family would get away with their crimes the same as the Malfoys, Notts, and so many others.

But then Sirius saw the deep brown of the man’s eyes. Hermione’s eyes. He knew he couldn’t leave.

“She’s alive.”

Rodolphus didn’t move. He didn’t so much as react beyond a slight tensing of his body.

“She’s healthy. She’s happy. And she’s incredibly magical.”

Rodolphus burst into tears. The great, hulking wizard raised a hand to his mouth as tears streamed down his cheeks. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs.

“She was raised in the muggle world,” Sirius continued, voice strained. 

He hadn’t known what to expect from Rodolphus, but this wasn’t it. He almost regretted not bringing Hermione with him. But her magic was too sensitive for Azkaban. It would have only hurt her. 

“We just found out two days ago. We did a magical blood ritual.”

Rodolphus rubbed his tears away as he collected himself. “You have her?” he asked, his voice rough from disuse.

Sirius nodded. “She’s with the Potters now.”

Rodolphus frowned. “Not Cissa?”

Sirius shifted in his seat. “Cissa wanted to take her, but Hermione is of age. She can make her own choices.”

“Narcissa is her aunt,” Rodolphus pressed, clearly confused.

“Yes, and Hermione was raised as a muggle-born. The Malfoys aren’t exactly her favourite people.”

Rodolphus’ brow remained furrowed, clearly displeased. “Hermione?”

“It was the name she was given in the muggle world. Obviously, she’s more comfortable with it. But she hasn’t put up a fuss while the Aurors all call her Leta.”

Rodolphus’ eyes flickered as he nodded. “It was Longbottom?”

Sirius nodded. “He’s in custody. There will be a trial soon. My family’s solicitor will be representing the three of you. It’s undecided yet if you’ll be tried separately or together.”

“Is there even proof we’re innocent?”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Hermione. Hermione is proof. Longbottom’s heir was ill. He sacrificed- he took Leta to steal her magic.”

The older wizard nodded slowly. “How did she survive?”

Sirius hesitated before slowly revealing, “We suspect it has to do with her having a true magical match.”

Rodolphus raised his eyebrows. “Who?”

Sirius shook his head. “I don’t know. But knowing your daughter, she’ll figure it out right quick.”

“She’s smart?” he asked, a smile in his voice.

“She’s the smartest witch I’ve ever met. Compassionate, selfless, and a little bit ruthless.”

“She only got one of those traits from either of our families.”

Sirius laughed. “Nurture over nature? She was a good kid right from her start at Hogwarts.”

“You were there?”

Sirius nodded as he pulled a stack of photographs from his pocket. “I teach Transfiguration. Her best friend happens to be my godson. We’ve seen a lot of each other inside and out of Hogwarts.” 

Sirius stared at the top photo. Hermione was sitting in her favourite bay window at Tetwell Estate, the Potter’s main home. She had a book in her lap and the snow fell softly outside. She looked up and smiled brightly at the camera before turning back to her book again.

“I’ve always felt paternal towards her. Rarely even felt that for Harry,” Sirius confided. “I think perhaps her Black family magic was reaching out to me.”

He slid the photo across the table to Rodolphus.

The man’s hands were shaking so much, he couldn’t lift the photo. He slid it closer as his tears fell once more.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered. His eyes flickered across the picture, staring with the intensity of a dying man before his salvation.

“Yes, she is.”

“I never dreamed…” Rodolphus rubbed his tears away. “I have mourned her for sixteen years. I can’t remember what she looked like as a baby. The dementors took it.”

Sirius clenched his jaw. “I’ll go with Hermione and see if we can find photos in your manor.”

“No,” the other man immediately said. “It’s dangerous. Leave it. This will-” he nodded at the photo, having finally managed to pick it up, “-this is perfect.”

“I have more,” Sirius told him softly.

Rodolphus looked up. “Please.”

---

Hermione peered outside the library doors and up and down the hall. No Harry in sight. He’d said he was going to fly his broom around, and give her some space, but she hadn’t been entirely sure if it was a lie. 

Hermione headed down the main hall of Tetwell Estate, an absolute monster of a home. Hermione had always called it a castle when she was younger, after first visiting it over Yule Break. The Potters all thought it was funny, but Remus had eyed her seriously and nodded once in agreement.

She made it to the front parlour room and spotted Sirius sitting on the couch. Her anxiety crawled up her throat. Hermione tentatively made her way closer.

“You’re back.”

Sirius looked over and smiled weakly. “Hey, love.”

“How was it?”

Sirius held out a hand and Hermione took it as she sat down beside him. She could feel their shared family magic. It was faint, but comforting. Hermione had always felt comfortable around Sirius, but any doubts about how much he cared about her had fallen away after the ritual. She could feel his paternal love for her in the whisper of family magic that connected them.

She looked up at him as he stretched his arm along the back of the couch behind her. “Sirius?”

“I’ve never seen a grown man cry like that,” Sirius quietly informed her.

Hermione didn’t know how to respond to that. 

Sirius turned to her. “It was obvious how much he has and always will love you. I’m sure he’ll never forget today. The day he learned his daughter, who he has mourned every day for sixteen years, is alive and well.”

Hermione’s eyes teared. “I wish I could have gone.”

“He’ll be happier to see you when he’s free and able to hold you.”

“And his- my uncle?”

Sirius nodded. “Their reactions were the same.”

Hermione’s eyes teared and her lips trembled. “Did you speak with my mother?”

He sighed and wasn’t able to meet her eyes. “I tried. Azkaban hasn’t done her any favours.”

She studied him for a long moment. “You don’t want me to see her,” she guessed.

“No, love. I don’t think it’d do anything but upset you.”

“But when she’s free…” Hermione pressed.

“She’ll likely go to St. Mungos.”

Hermione looked down at her lap and nodded sadly.

Sirius pushed her curls behind her ear. “It’s for the best, love. She’ll get the help she needs.”

Hermione looked back up, more tears in her eyes than before. “But she won’t ever be better, will she?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Hermione leaned forward and Sirius immediately pulled her close. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He held her while she fought down her tears. She was upset and relieved, and upset that she was relieved. Her mother sounded like a terrifying person. Her father and uncle were as well, but not to the same extent. She wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to look the woman in the eye who had tortured another witch into insanity -- no matter the circumstances that had led Bellatrix there.

After a while, Hermione sat back and wiped her tears away. “I need your help.”

“No,” he responded without hesitation.

“Sirius! You haven’t even heard me out.”

“You always go to Harry when you want to break a rule. If you’re coming to me, it’s because Harry would disapprove and he only disapproves if it’s dangerous for you. So, no.”

She scowled. “It’s not dangerous, I just can’t tell Harry.”

He raised his eyebrows at her as if she were only proving his point.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. “He’ll throw a fit. The last time we talked about the magical match stuff… he got so angry with me. I don’t want to discuss it with him.”

Sirius frowned at her. “This is about your magical match?”

Hermione nodded. “I- I promised the Triple Goddess that I would find who my match is.” She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

“ Now ?”

“I’m running out of time.”

“For what?”

She shifted on the couch. “I have to marry him.”

Sirius shot to his feet. “ What ?”

“Sirius, please,” she sighed with a roll of her eyes.

“No. Hell, no! You’re seventeen.”

“Eighteen, and I don’t really have a choice, do I? I can’t break a promise to the Triple Goddess!”

“Why would you even make that deal?”

“To save Neville’s life!” She jumped to her feet as well. “Now, are you going to help me or am I going to sneak out of here alone and possibly get hurt because my magic is still unmanageable?”

Sirius released a harsh breath through his nose. He stuck a finger under her nose. “One of these days, those puppy dog eyes won’t work on me.”

Hermione smirked and she looked so strikingly like his memories of a young Bella that it stunned him silent.

“You say that, but I hadn’t even used the puppy dog eyes yet.”

She turned and headed towards the floo. 

“You’re evil,” he called after her.

She shot him another smirk over her shoulder. “Of course, I am. I’m a Black.”

Sirius smiled. He laughed despite himself. “God help me, you might be the best and worst of us.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose as she grabbed a handful of floo powder. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.”

“Neither can I.” 

He nudged her and she cast the floo powder into the fireplace. She disappeared in a flash of green flames and a shout for the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione stumbled out the other side and quickly stepped aside for Sirius’ own arrival. He waved his wand and the soot from the floo disappeared. He pressed a hand to her back and guided her to the line for the lift.

The Magical Matches Department was on the fourth floor of the ministry. Hermione fiddled with her fingers as they made their way up the lift. Sirius’ hand at her back was a small comfort. There was a modest waiting room in the Magical Matches Department manned by a witch at the front desk. Sirius signed Hermione in with the administrator before taking a seat beside her. He rested his arm along the back of her chair, providing her with his wordless comfort.

“What if he’s a monster?”

Sirius shrugged. “I married a monster, but he’s more like a puppy, really.”

Hermione smiled despite herself. She looked up at her cousin – it was hard to think of him like that – and he winked at her.

“What if he’s cruel?”

“He won’t be. He’s not just some random magical match. He’s your true magical match. He’s your soulmate. Your perfect other half. I don’t think I need to tell you how incredibly uncommon that is?”

She shook her head. True magical matches came around very rarely. Maybe once a century. It was a blessing – coupled with the way she almost died, it was almost like a miracle.

“What if he’s a Slytherin?” she pressed.

Sirius made a face. “I’ll help you bury the body.”

She laughed and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Sirius?”

He hummed.

“I’m glad you’re my family.”

Sirius pulled her close. “Me too, kitten.”

“Number 13?” the administrator called.

Sirius looked up. He handed her a little parchment with their number scrawled on it. “Now or never, love.”

“Never’s not an option. Not this time.”

She took the parchment and followed the administrator's instructions through to an office at the end of the hall.

Inside, Hermione found herself faced with that awful toad lady that would come to the school each year – Umbridge. The terrible witch was sitting at her desk in pink robes and a ghastly bow in her hair. Hermione bit her tongue on a scowl as she entered the office. Dozens of cats meowed from various pictures around the room. It was loud and annoying.

Madam Umbridge raised an eyebrow imperiously at Hermione. She nodded at the chair across the desk from herself.

“Sit, please.”

Hermione sat down on the edge of the chair.

“You’re here to register with the Magical Matches Unit?” the witch presumed as she raised her quill. “And what reasoning do you have for not being included in our unit already?”

“I am, but there were extenuating circumstances.”

Madam Umbridge raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m requesting to be registered in the department again.”

“Registering at the ministry means you will be tested against a much wider pool of magicals.”

“I understand.”

“But your choices will likely remain the same.” Umbridge eyed her like she thought Hermione likely had few choices at all.

Hermione’s fingers curled into fists. “I understand .”

Madam Umbridge sniffed. “Documents?”

Hermione handed over the same paperwork she’d had to fill in the first two times she’d applied to see her magical matches in school.

“Your name is missing. What is it?”

Hermione hesitated. What name was she supposed to use? Hermione Granger or Leta Lestrange? It was the reason she’d left it blank on the form.

Madam Umbridge raised an eyebrow. “You do know your name, don’t you, dear?”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Hermione Leta Lestrange.”

The older witch stilled. She stared up at Hermione with wide eyes.

“Do you need help spelling that?” Hermione asked sweetly when the woman still hadn’t moved.

Madam Umbridge blinked widely. She shook her head and cleared her throat. A simpering smile fell across her face. “Not at all, Miss Lestrange. I will fill these out for you right away.”

Hermione watched as the woman wrote out Hermione’s information. Just the sound of the quill’s scratching filled the room. Finally, the woman produced a small metal instrument, not unlike a needle. It was longer and thicker, specifically designed to prick one’s finger.

“A drop of blood is needed on the parchment.”

Hermione held out her hand. She tensed as the instrument pricked her. Her blood welled and dropped to the parchment. Hermione’s finger healed with a wave of uncontrolled magic. She swallowed, ignoring the wide-eyed stare of the older witch.

Hermione waited patiently. Her fingers curled into fists in her lap. This was it. This was everything. She closed her eyes and hoped that whoever was on her parchment would really be everything a True Magical Match was meant to be.

“Oh my.”

Hermione’s eyes sprang open. She looked up at Madam Umbridge. The older witch met her stare with a wide-eyed one of her own.

“There’s only one name? That’s not… it’s a perfect match. A- a true-”

“-May I have the parchment, please?”

Madam Umbridge handed it over wordlessly. She looked like she’d swallowed a chocolate frog whole.

Hermione took the parchment, her hand shaking as she did so. There, written elaborately with her own blood, was the name Harry James Potter . Hermione felt her heart flip in her chest. Her magic fluttered around her, causing the kitten pictures around the room to shake and books to fall to the ground.

“Oh, my!” Madam Umbridge exclaimed as cats yeowled in protest.

Hermione looked around. “Sorry. Thank you.” 

She jumped to her feet and fled the room. Sirius was pacing in the waiting room for her. He came to a stop when she burst out of Madam Umbridge’s office.

“Well? Who is it?” He took the parchment from her stunned hands. “Oh. I suddenly feel much better about this.”

Hermione looked up at him with distress. “What am I going to tell him?”

Sirius shot her an amused, albeit sympathetic smile. “Oh, kitten. He already knows.”

Her eyes widened and she gasped. “Oh, my god. He does!”

Sirius laughed. “Come on.”

---

Harry was waiting for her in her room when she got back. He was sitting by the bay window that James Potter had installed in her room for her fifteenth birthday. It was an exact replica of her favourite bay window in the library. 

Harry looked up when she entered the room. Their eyes met across the distance.

Hermione closed the door behind her, her eyes never left Harry’s.

“You knew,” she whispered. “All this time. Since you met me?”

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t know what it was or what it meant. I just knew how special you were to me. It wasn’t romantic in our first year, at least I don’t think. Maybe a little crush or something.”

Hermione’s face burned. It was silly. He was her true magical match. They were predetermined by the Triple Goddess herself. And here he was, admitting to having a crush on her and she wanted to bury her face in her hands and burst into excited squeals.

Harry stood and Hermione’s feet became frozen to the floor as he made his way toward her. 

“When I received my magical matches and you weren’t on them…” 

Harry’s face twisted. Hermione reached out and curled her fingers into his shirt.

“I was so upset,” he whispered. “I knew at that point. But I couldn’t understand why you weren’t on it. And then I heard you two talking.”

Hermione’s brows drew together in confusion.

“After the ritual. You and Neville. I heard what you told him. I knew then why my list was all wrong. And that… what you promised.”

Hermione sucked in a shallow breath as she tried to keep herself from crying. He knew. He knew about her promise. About her deal with the goddess. She was too scared to ask if he was willing to go through with it for her – for Neville. She’d hurt him so terribly. She hadn’t meant to but it wasn’t as if she ever meant to hurt anyone.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione sobbed, her tears finally falling.

He shook his head. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I was going to marry him!”

Harry cupped her face. “You thought you loved him.”

Hermione’s eyes teared. “I wanted to love him. I wanted to b e loved.”

“You are loved," he whispered, his voice filled with meaning. "You are so loved, Hermione. By so many people and in so many ways. Your mother, who went to Azkaban for you. Your father and uncle, who probably can’t wait to see you again. Sirius and… my whole family. And me.”

He leaned closer and Hermione’s lashes fluttered shut as his nose brushed along her own. She could feel his magic wrapping around her. He was always so safe and warm. How had she not seen it? She’d always felt better in his presence, before and after the ritual connection was severed. 

He’d kept her alive. Their magical connection had kept her safe since before they’d even met. Maybe it was a miracle, maybe it was fate. Hermione found as Harry’s lips brushed against her own that she didn’t care what it was, she was just happy that it was .

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “I have always loved you. I always will.”

When Harry kissed her, Hermione fell into his embrace. The world around them washed away. She was consumed by the moment, by the feeling of love that filled every fibre of her being. Hermione allowed herself to get lost in the feeling of Harry’s magic surrounding her, the smell of wind and sage around him, and the pleasing hum of her own power as it burrowed deep into his embrace.

When they pulled apart, Hermione stared up at him with warm eyes. “I think I love you too.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think?” he asked, a laugh touching his voice.

Hermione grinned teasingly. “Well, I don’t want you to think it’s that simple.”

“What about this has been simple?”

“I want dates,” she persisted, ignoring his teasing question, “and flowers, and chocolates, and romance. I want it all.”

He smiled. “I’ll give you everything I am capable of giving you. Every single day.”

Harry pulled her into his chest and hugged her close. Hermione melted into his embrace. 

After a long moment, she whispered, “I was upset too. When I was told it was Neville and no one else. She said you and I had only a brief compatibility and I felt… wrongfooted.”

Harry’s hand cupped the back of her head. His nose pressed into her curls. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going to fix this – fix everything.”

She pulled back just enough so that she could look up at him. “You’re going to marry me? To save Neville?”

“I doubt he’ll thank me for it, but yes. We’re going to do this. Don’t know how we’ll explain it to my parents, but yes.”

There was the sound of loud footsteps and then suddenly the bedroom door burst open. Hermione and Harry turned to see James standing in the entranceway, out of breath. 

He pointed at them. “Open door policy from now on. You hear me?”

Hermione grinned up at Harry. “I think Sirius covered that for us.”

Chapter Text

Epilogue

---

Hermione smoothed down the front of her skirt as she exited the ensuite. She looked up, flowers in her hair and pretty opal earrings dangling from her ears, to meet her father’s dark stare.

“Well? Do I look like a bride?”

Rodolphus’ eyes teared. He ran a hand down his mouth. “You look like the most beautiful witch I have ever had the honour to see.”

Hermione smiled and she laughed past the tears she felt coming on. “You say that every time you see me.”

“And it remains true every time. More and more true with every day.”

“ Dad ,” Hermione cried. 

“Sh…” He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. “Come here, darling girl.”

Hermione sank into her father’s warm embrace. The cool, constant feeling of their family magic hummed contently between them. He pressed a loving kiss to the top of her head. It had been six months since the Lestranges were released from Azkaban. A long, terrible court trial had preceded the release. It had been a wonderful and tragic day when the Lestranges were released and Frank Longbottom was sentenced to life in Azkaban. 

Bellatrix Lestrange, as Sirius has guessed, was being kept in a private ward at St. Mungos. Hermione had yet to see her and if her father had any say, she likely never would. Rodolphus and Rabastan were still adjusting to being free wizards again. The Malfoys and Potters were working together in an odd combination of support for both men.

And now, a year and a half after Hermione and Harry had a quick handfasting ceremony over Christmas hols, they were having their real wedding.

“You don’t need to be so nervous, you’re already wed.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But it’s different. There are so many people here. And it’s not as if we acted like a married couple after the handfasting.”

“I should hope not,” her father growled.

Hermione pulled away with a laugh. “You have to stop. Harry honestly thinks you don’t like him.”

Rodolphus rolled his eyes.

She bit her lip. “You don’t actually, do you? I mean… I feel bad. We finally met and I wasn’t even… I was a Potter by the time you were released.”

Rodolphus cupped her cheek. “You will always be my daughter. Our magic is shared and it always will be.”

“So, you don’t blame him?”

He looked away. He never made faces or showed his emotions. He was an incredibly stoic man. Hermione remembered the tears that streamed down Rodolphus’ face when they’d met in person for the first time after his trial. She hadn’t seen him cry since. Sometimes, it felt like she’d dreamt it.

“I can’t say that I would have chosen him myself.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t have chosen anyone for me. I’d have run away with him instead.”

Her father met her gaze. There was a slight tightening of his eyes and the lines surrounding them deepened in what she’d come to know as fondness.

“I don’t doubt it,” he returned softly.

Hermione smiled. “Honestly, you ought to thank him. He’s the reason I’m alive. He’s the reason that either of us can even stand together in this room today. He was vehemently against me marrying Neville.”

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose he does have a few redeeming qualities after all.”

Hermione huffed and turned away. She checked her makeup in the mirror, pleased to see the charms had held up despite her tears. Her hands fluttered around her hair and along her long white gown. She looked up and met her father’s gaze in the mirror, finding a rare smile on his face.

“You know, you have nothing to worry about.”

“We’re young. What if it all goes tits up?”

Rodolphus’ blinked widely at her turn of phrase. Hermione bit her tongue on her amusement. He hated it when she said things like that. She’d taken to doing it more and more just to tease him. Sirius had given her a list of ones she’d never even heard of to try out on her father. 

Rodolphus pinched the bridge of his nose. “As you said yourself, he’s your magical match.”

“That doesn’t mean there won’t be issues.”

“And you’ll work through them. Follow the example of your in-laws. I’ve never seen a couple so in love as those two.”

Hermione smiled fondly. She shifted before she turned and looked up at her father. “Not even you and mum?”

Rodolphus took Hermione’s hands in both of his own.

“I will forever be grateful for the gift Bella brought me, by giving me you. But darling, I have never loved anyone or anything as much as I have always loved you.” He raised her hands to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “The second you were put in my hands, I knew I would do anything for you. Even stand by and watch as you marry a Potter .”

Hermione’s smile widened. She shook her head. “Everyone thinks you're big and mean, but I’ve seen the way you melt when Harry’s little sisters ask for you to have a tea party with them. You’re just a big softy.”

He looked away. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

She laughed. “Right. Okay.” Hermione took a deep breath. 

Rodolphus’ led her out of the bedroom she’d called her own in Tetwell Estate for years. Down the stairs and out to the conservatory, Hermione could see the entire wedding party and guests waiting in the gardens beyond. There was a large arch of white and pink flowers. Harry’s form, slightly distorted by the glass of the conservatory windows, stood tall next to his father under the arch.

Hermione hesitated just before the doors. She could already feel Harry’s magic, stretching down the aisle and teasing the edge of hers. She reached back to him, as if grasping his hand. There were awed gasps from the guests and Hermione knew it was from flowers that were likely blooming all around them. Her magic had never really settled the way it was supposed to after all that it had been through.

The music started up outside. It was time.

Hermione squeezed her father’s hand. She looked up and met his dark eyes, the same dark eyes she had herself.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she whispered.

His eyes softened on her, sad and loving. “I’m glad you’re here too.”

The doors opened and Hermione and her father stepped out into the afternoon sun. Harry’s eyes immediately met her own across the distance. His magic filled her with all the love and happiness he felt the moment saw her. Only Hermione’s father’s magic, and the faint tingle of Sirius’ magic where he stood next to James Potter, kept her from stumbling over her feet.

With her father’s hand in her own, Hermione walked towards her magical match, her family, and a life already filled with health, happiness, and love.

THE END