The Replenishment Decree

“That was the most delicious Toad-in-the-hole I have ever eaten in my entire life. Where did you learn to make that?”

“Filly,” Narcissa called, “could you tell Miss Hopkirk where you learned to make that wonderful dinner? It tasted perfect, as always.”

Filly bowed deeply and turned to their guests before answering, “House Elves learn through the traditions passed down by our families. Some wizard houses prefer their elves use magic to cook and some prefer they cook traditionally. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black prefered we do everything by magic...except cooking. One can always taste the difference in magically prepared meals.”

“Do you really think so?” Hermione asked.

“I do,” Filly nodded. “I shall prepare this exact meal for you tomorrow for lunch Miss Granger but I’ll use magic. You can taste the difference for yourself.”

“Filly, you are so kind to me. I appreciate that very much and I look forward to the experiment,” Hermione smiled at the wise, old elf.

“Hmm,” Mafalda hummed, “I wonder if that’s why wizarding restaurants are never quite as good as their muggle counterparts. Are there any wizarding pubs preparing food traditionally?”

“Rosmerta definitely insists some of her plates are prepared sans magic but not all of them. I guarantee the Shepherd’s Pie is prepared from scratch and I would bet the Yorkshire Pudding is as well.”

“Mmm, they are delicious there, aren’t they,” Hermione grinned and leaned into Narcissa a bit.

“Mistress Black,” Filly spoke up, “would you like to retire to the sitting room for coffee and dessert? I have prepared a sticky toffee pudding for you and your guests.”

“Absolutely, Filly, thank you,” Narcissa gently pushed her chair back from the table and gestured for the others to do the same.

The small group made themselves comfortable in front of the fireplace, Hermione and Narcissa side by side on the love seat again.

“I’m sorry for bringing this up again but, really, what do you think people are going to do about the latest development? Do you think the Weasleys are going to have three more children? What’s the word around the Ministry about that clause?”

“I can’t imagine Mr. and Mrs. Wesley having another child let alone three,” Harry answered one of Hermione’s questions. “But they won’t be able to stand alone against the Ministry, they’re just not that kind of people.”

“No one is talking about it at work. You can’t be sure who’s in support and who isn’t so, to be safe, we mostly just talk work. There are still plenty of Death Eaters at large who need to be tracked down so that does take a lot of our time.”

Hermione stared pointedly at Narcissa, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, fine,” Narcissa said, understanding Hermione’s silent expectation. “Mafalda, I’m just wondering, is Vincenzius Crabbe not on the list of at large Death Eaters?”

Mafalda and Harry caught one another’s eyes, scowling. “He was,” she answered darkly, “until just a few weeks ago. Names have been slowly disappearing from the list of people to be detained. If I hadn’t handwritten my own copy with non-magical pen and paper, I wouldn’t even have noticed.”

“Goodness! And you’ve no idea who’s doing that?” Andy exclaimed.

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable pointing fingers at the wizards I think are responsible for it without clear evidence.”

“We’re working on it, Andy, don’t worry,” Harry said.

“That explains why he’s willing to walk himself into the Ministry to change his marriage assignment. He knows he’s not wanted any longer,” Narcissa spoke.

“Hmm,” Harry looked away, lost in thought. “I wonder when he’ll be there.”

“Probably tomorrow morning. He made plans today with Dorothy Travers to ask the wizard who’s assigning partners to re-assign him from Rita Skeeter to Dorothy. He won’t want to wait because he now thinks that Rita is the product of two muggle parents.”

“Technically she is,” Mafalda answered matter-of-factly.

“What?” Hermione smirked.

“Oh, I grew up with Rita, we went to Hogwarts at about the same time. She was two years ahead of me. Her mother’s a muggle and her father was a squib. He was, at some point, a janitor at the Ministry. That’s why she changed her name. If you look back at issues of the Hogwarts Weekly from our time there her byline was Marguerite S. Kettleton, when she graduated, she disappeared for a year and came back writing under the name Rita Skeeter.”

“Hogwarts had a weekly student paper?”

“The name change makes sense.”

“That’s when she broke the story about the Croatian Veela!”

“You know,” Harry spoke after the other three all finished, “that story just makes her worse in my eyes. Her father was a squib so she changed her name to avoid being associated with him? Terrible.”

Mafalda chuckled at the cacophony before turning towards Harry to answer his serious question, “I believe that’s why she changed it, yes. I actually have never seen Rita with her father and I’m fairly certain he passed on at some point. He was a kind, quiet gentleman, very gracious about working at the Ministry. He became friends with Albus Dumbledore and that’s who got him the job according to rumour, of course.”

Hermione and Harry looked at one another sharing a silent, heavy moment of thanks for their former Headmaster. “It’s a shame then that Rita wrote that dirty hit piece of a book on him if Dumbledore’s the one who got her father a Ministry job,” Harry said rather darkly.

“Ah, but, Harry,” Narcissa interrupted, “Dumbledore didn’t get Mr. Kettleton a Ministry job. He got Mr. Kettleton a janitorial job. I’m sure that distinction was quite important to Rita especially at that time.”

“What time was that, if you don’t mind my asking?” Hermione inquired, glancing at Mafalda but asking Narcissa.

“Well, Rita is older than Bella by a fair few years but I’m pretty sure when she graduated from Hogwarts, Riddle and his followers were already gaining a strong foothold in Great Britain.”

“They were, I think, but Riddle was still experimenting with many forms of Dark Arts at the time,” Mafalda concurred. “Tom Riddle spent nearly thirty years amassing his army before the First Wizarding War really got started in 1970. When we were in school together, there were whispers about things changing. A new regime taking over. Muggle-born students were suddenly being graded more harshly by some professors and fouled a little tougher in Quidditch games - if they made the team at all. Marguerite was two years ahead of me and quickly went from being an outspoken, funny leader to a quiet wallflower. Then she graduated and basically disappeared. When she reappeared a year later with a different name I doubt many people even noticed.”

“And her first move was to break a huge story,” Narcissa revealed. “Rita’s first story was the one about Veela in Croatia. She basically stopped an entire race from being killed in eastern Europe. I’m certain she made quite a lot of money with that one.”

“Yes...and immediately used it to retire her parents out of the public eye?”

“Mmm,” Narcissa leaned into Hermione’s side, “quite likely, my dear. Made a name for herself and hid away her biggest weakness.”

“Honestly, though,” Harry commented, “Rita probably saved their lives if that’s what she did. A muggle and a squib who produced a witch who was reporting honestly on the current state of British Wizarding politics? They’d have been killed for sure.”

“Or tortured and left alive,” Narcissa whispered, a shiver running down her spine. “Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange were using that time period to perfect their techniques of torturing people.”

“Weren’t they in school then?”

“Rodolphus and I were in school together, actually,” Mafalda answered Hermione, “and our last year was Bellatrix’s second year I think? Rabastan was a bit younger than her, maybe a year or two.”

“And they were already torturing people?” Harry asked, aghast at the evil that sunk it’s claws in when they were just children.

“So was Tom Riddle, Harry, remember?” Hermione glanced around. She was about to share something that probably no one outside the Golden Trio and Minerva McGonagall knew. “Before Riddle found out he was a proper wizard and was going to be attending Hogwarts, before he was visited by Dumbledore, he was torturing other children. He told Dumbledore as much, you saw it in the Pensieve. He could make bad things happen to people who annoyed him. He could make them hurt if he wanted to. I would imagine most of the early followers he attracted were the same.”

“Yes. And their victims.”

“What? What do you mean, Narcissa?”

Narcissa and Andromeda were staring at one another, Narcissa holding her tears back through years of practice, Andy not even trying. Hermione instinctively wrapped her arm around Narcissa’s shoulder and pulled her fiancée tightly to her side.

“Bellatrix was…” Andromeda started.

“A true daughter of the House of Black. She absolutely believed that pureblood wizarding families ought to have been treated like royalty and should have avoided marrying muggle-born or half-blood witches and wizards. She looked like Mother, she thought like Mother, and she spoke like Mother but she was not actually cruel. As a child and a teenager, Bellatrix wasn’t mean or evil or psychotic.”

“Honestly, she was just a product of her environment and it was my fault. When we were little we had all sorts of friends and it never mattered what their blood status was. Before Bella went to Hogwarts we would laugh at our parents silly pureblood meetings. Then, when I joined Bella at school and became much more active in speaking out against blood supremacy, Bella went the other way,” Andy explained gravely.

“Every battle at home between Andromeda and our parents made Bellatrix agree with them more strongly,” Narcissa agreed.

“But why? I mean, if she didn’t agree as a child, why did she change?” Hermione didn’t understand.

“I don’t know,” Andy said, exasperated, “I’ll never understand it.”

“Darling,” Narcissa said to Hermione, leaning closer and speaking so Harry and Mafalda, who were listening to the conversation quite intently could hear, “look at Andromeda. What do you see?”

Everyone in the room turned to look at the now blushing woman.

“I don’t...I don’t know what you mean. I see Andy?”

“Yes, Andromeda Cygnae Black, now Tonks. A beautiful, brilliant witch with every single physical feature the Black family is known for...down to the birthmark. She has porcelain skin. Her hair is gorgeously thick, straight and so black it nearly shines blue in the right light. Her body is perfectly proportioned. The shape of her face matches the portraits lining the halls of every Black Manor throughout Europe. Her eyes are the exact same shade of blue as my father’s and without wearing a single drop of makeup, Andromeda was always the most beautiful woman in the room. Add to that her absolute brilliance and her line up of E’s on nearly every single assignment she ever had and Bellatrix could barely contain her jealousy. The very moment Andromeda had conflict with our parents, Bellatrix lined herself up to agree with Mother and Father and hopefully be seen as the perfect daughter that Andromeda no longer was.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that but I agree that Bella capitalized on my arguments with our parents.”

“I just…” Hermione trailed off.

“What, Hermione?” Andy prodded.

“I just don’t understand how Bellatrix,” she couldn’t even get the name out with a tremor running through her frame “went from trying to please your parents to torturing the Longbottoms into a complete mental break.”

“Hmm, perhaps we should save the detailed family history lessons for another evening and enjoy the dessert Filly has so carefully crafted for us,” Narcissa said, changing the subject and gesturing to the elf who was floating dishes carefully into the sitting room.

“Sticky toffee pudding, tea, and coffee service. Please enjoy,” Filly said with a bow before exiting.

“Thank you, Filly,” Narcissa said just before he disappeared around the corner.

The small group quietly dug into the amazing food Filly had prepared, everyone regrouping in their own way.

“Did you know they’re using the Muggle-Born Registration Commission Office to make the pairing for the Replenishment Decree? And they haven’t even bothered to scrape that all the way off the walls yet?” Hermione broke into the silence.

As the silence lingered into discomfort, Andy spoke up, “Maybe they just needed an office and that one was unused?”

“It felt purposeful to me,” Narcissa stood to lay her dessert plate on the tray and went to stand by the fireplace, one hand upon the mantle. Hermione recognized it as a sign that Narcissa was anxious.

“It is purposeful,” Mafalda agreed, “I just don’t know to what end. This has been a very enlightening evening for me, though. Can we perhaps do this again? Maybe all seek out a bit more information and compare thoughts?”

“Of course,” Hermione stated emphatically, moving next to Narcissa and fitting herself against her fiancée’s side, “we’ll owl you. We do have quite a bit going on with the wedding but this is quite important to the both of us.”

Narcissa nodded in agreement with the other woman.

“On that note, I have to head home. I left Teddy with Bill and Fleur and it’s been quite long enough,” Andy stood and moved to hug Narcissa and Hermione goodbye. Stepping back, she grasped their hands in her own, “Friday. Next week. We’re going shopping for wedding gowns and robes for the two of you. Got it?”

“Got it,” the couple said together, both grinning.

“Good. I’m sure we’ll talk before then, though. Ta!” With that, Andy turned and said her goodbyes to Mafalda and Harry who were both standing to also take their leave.

With their guests finally gone a few minutes later and Black Manor quiet, Narcissa took Hermione’s hands in her own, “are you leaving now, too?”

“I’d like to spend a little while in your arms before I go. Can we do that?”

Narcissa smiled, the small, secret smile that Hermione had not yet seen directed at anyone but herself. “Comfy clothes?”

Nodding, Hermione agreed, “comfy clothes.”

“Let’s go upstairs and change and I’ll show you the reading nook in the library. It’s perfect for a moment like this,” Narcissa sounded genuinely excited.

“A reading nook? Sounds perfect for every moment,” Hermione laughed.

After quickly changing into their preferred plaid, flannel pajama pants and jumpers, Narcissa once again took Hermione by the hand.

“Come see my secret favorite spot in Black Manor.” Her ice blue eyes were alight with happiness and Hermione’s heart skipped a beat looking into them.

The two made their way through Black Manor into the library and headed for the windows along the far wall. Nothing back there looked particularly special to Hermione but she knew she was missing something as Narcissa was practically buzzing with excitement. Stopping next to the last window on the left, Narcissa pointed to the bookshelf next to the window. “See the handle?”

“Now I do! I didn’t notice that last time I was in here!”

“Watch,” Narcissa whispered. She firmly grasped the wrought iron handle and gave it a sharp tug. The bookshelf slid forward, revealing a spiral staircase leading up.

“You have a turret? Your reading nook is a turret?”

“Sort of. Come along, darling!”

The two made their way swiftly up the magically lit staircase. When they arrived at the landing at the top, Hermione let out a gasp.

“I can see the whole property! Look how many stars you can see from here! Narcissa, this is brilliant!”

“That’s not all,” Narcissa was beaming. “Come here, Hermione. Pull this lever.”

Hermione listened and pulled a lever sticking up from the floor. When the lever clicked into place, the stairwell was covered over and an oversized hammock lowered from the ceiling.

“I think this may be a very close second to the bathtub as my favorite places in this Manor. A hammock? At the top of a tower? WIth a three hundred sixty degree view of the grounds and the sky? Please tell me we’re getting in that hammock together right now?”

In response, Narcissa pressed her lips enthusiastically to Hermione’s then, laughing, climbed into the hammock.

“Well, darling, what’s taking so long? I thought you wanted to get in this hammock together right now?”

Within moments they were comfortably wrapped up in one another, covered by a blanket Narcissa had thoughtfully sent up earlier in the day. The women murmured to one another about the week behind them and the weekend ahead. Narcissa asked about Hermione’s studying. Hermione asked about Narcissa’s meetings. They occasionally fell silent for a few minutes, simply enjoying the feel of one another.

“Narcissa?” Hermione asked sleepily.

“Yes?” Narcissa answered, opening her eyes.

“Will you teach me how to Apparate tomorrow?”

“We can definitely start tomorrow, darling,” Narcissa agreed, pressing a kiss to Hermione’s temple.

“Thank you,” Hermione mumbled, stretching up to meet Narcissa’s lips with her own.

“Narcissa?” Hermione asked through a yawn this time.

“Yes?” Narcissa answered, not opening her eyes.

“Can we sleep here tonight? In each other’s arms?”

“I would deeply love that, Hermione,” Narcissa turned Hermione’s head to kiss her fiancée once more. “Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight. This is perfect,” Hermione said.

And immediately fell sound asleep.