heart to heart

Following her visit with Sirius in Hogsmeade, Hermione traveled to the Hogwarts library at near-record speed. The library was empty, even the school's librarian, Madam Irma Pince, was nowhere to be seen when Hermione had entered. Not that it mattered much to Hermione, she had research to conduct and was in no space to entertain anything else. The Hogwarts library held vast amounts of books regarding histories of wizarding families, most notably those containing the histories of the families listed amongst the Sacred Twenty-Eight. She already knew some things about the House of Black from speaking with Harry and Sirius. Still, she knew next to nothing about the Travers family, only that they were also a pureblood family listed as part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Oh, and that the family had notoriously supported Voldemort and had since his initial rise to power. 

Hermione sighed. 

She wondered if her biological mother had also sided with Voldemort if she had been a Death Eater just like her biological father had been before he defected from them. Such thoughts would do her no good, Hermione knew, as she would never be able to ask the woman directly but still they permeated her mind. How differently would her life have turned out if she had been raised by Phoebe Travers instead of the Grangers? Would she be able to recognize herself or would she be someone different entirely? Would she have been friends with Malfoy and the other Slytherins instead of Harry and Ron? Would she have taken the Dark Mark, just like her father before her? 

The thoughts trail off in her mind as Hermione grabs a few leather-bound tomes off of the shelf, she needs to focus on the task at hand instead of what could have been. Eyeing that her favorite table, tucked away in a somewhat secluded corner of the library, was open Hermione beelined over to it. The worry of being caught in the library was an unfamiliar feeling to her, something that she'd never experienced in her years studying at Hogwarts, but what she was studying this time made everything feel different. This was her family history that she was studying, not the proper incantation for a new spell or the properties of a certain ingredient for a potion that had intrigued her. These were things children learned as they grew from either their parents or other relatives, not at nearly nineteen years of age through aging tomes and word-of-mouth.

How would she explain what she was doing to anyone other than Harry, Ron, or Ginny? Lie and say that she, for some reason or another, had been harboring a secret interest in the Sacred Twenty-Eight families? Or tell the truth and have nobody believe her? No one would believe that she, a Muggle-born, was the biological daughter of two Purebloods, let alone two that have been dead for the last eighteen years. There were spells, ancient ones that surely no one in the modern era had any use for anymore, that she was sure could reveal her parentage to others but what would the point of that be? She didn't have to prove herself to anyone, she had been Hermione Granger her entire life and had planned on remaining the same witch for the remainder of it.

Settling down at her preferred table, Hermione grabbed the first, and smallest, tome that was a part of the stack that she had acquired. It wasn't any larger than a standard diary, small enough that Hermione had nearly missed it on the shelf as it was dwarfed by the other tomes that had surrounded it. The leather was weathered and becoming brittle, rough against her soft hands, and the gold flake on the title of the tome was beginning to peel, but the pages inside appeared to still be in good condition. Which must be due to some sort of preservation charm, Hermione thought, as she read the title; La Famille Travers. There was no author listed on the front of the tome, something that Hermione quickly noted.

The Travers family must have been one of the pureblood families that emigrated from France to England at some point in time. Upon opening the tome, the smell of old, musty parchment wafted into Hermione's nose as this diary of sorts must have not been opened for quite some time. The first page was blank of words, however, there were a few of what appeared to be watermarks that had stained the parchment. Flipping to the next page, Hermione's heart dropped when she recognized that it was all written in French. She had learned a few basic words and phrases when she was attending Muggle primary school but nothing that would help her decipher this. The slopes and curves of the handwritten letters had been partially smudged over time, some of the words blending together the closer they got to the bottom of the page. 

The only thing that Hermione could translate on her own was the date that was written in the top-left corner of the page; August 7th, 1845. How long had this been in the Hogwarts library? And how did they obtain such a personal item, if Hermione's newly formed theory of it being a personal diary was correct?

There was a spell that Madam Pince had taught her in her Third Year, a spell that would change text temporarily to whatever language the spellcaster needed it to be. When she taught Hermione the spell, she had said that there was a higher chance of failure if the text was over a hundred years old, something about the ink being more bonded and absorbed into the parchment. There was a chance that it would warp the ink and parchment into something unreadable entirely, which was why the Hogwarts librarian didn't teach the spell to every student as she didn't want the ancient books within the library to be ruined. 

Taking out her wand, Hermione tapped it gently against the aging parchment in front of her, mentally already asking for Madam Pinces' forgiveness. 

"Linguae Comprehendere" Hermione whispers, willing all of her attention onto the writings in front of her. 

A singular strand of white light appears almost like a small, thin piece of wire out of the tip of Hermione's wand, weaving itself through the small diary on the table in front of her. The pages of the diary lift and flip on their own as the wire sifts through it before settling in the spine of the diary itself, light dimly shining from where it had embedded itself. The diary returns itself to the page that Hermione originally had it on, the first page still blank of any writing. With bated breath, Hermione slowly reaches out a hand and flips over to the next page. 

Where ancient French writing had been mere moments ago, now there was the perfect English translation. Hermione smiled to herself, mentally noting that she should thank Madam Pince for teaching her that spell. A small part of her mind felt guilty for reading what could be one of her direct ancestors' diary but she was sure that other students and other members of the Travers family must have found something important about it, otherwise why would it be in the Hogwarts library? 

Pushing her thoughts aside, Hermione turns her focus back to the diary and begins to read. 

August 7th, 1845,

                   I have hereby jinxed this diary to ward off any readers not descended from the line of Travers, other future readers be warned as it will result in your death. I, Laurentin Travers II, son of Laurentin I and Ysabel Travers née Rosier, have been told of the secret of our family. A curse so ancient, so intrinsically tied to the magic of our family that neither my father nor his father before him, could rid us of it. I write this down so the descendants of myself, and my siblings, may understand what is happening to them as they approach their nineteenth birthday. The curse takes effect then, laying dormant in our blood until the sun rises on the nineteenth birthday of every member of the Travers family. Breeding with fellow witches and wizards left it coursing in our veins stronger than before, as does breeding with Muggles, should one of us resign to such a fate. Cursed with the blood of beasts, we shall not know the comfortable lives our fellow wizards shall. Forever designed to be prisoners to our base impulses and instincts, is death better for us? Should we breed the magic right out of our family? Is such a preposterous thing possible?

                   I know not of the curse yet, not like my brothers and sisters do, as my nineteenth birthday has yet to pass but it's coming. I can feel something changing within me, my magic rebels beneath my skin akin to a hurricane. As it has been for the last couple of days. Father says it will pass in time, as it did for him, but that everything will change come my birthday. All of my siblings underwent their change elsewhere, Mother and Father forbade them from the family home a week before their birthdays and only allowed them back after Father said that they had calmed down. The Veela blood in our veins makes us prone to violence during the change, Father says, and he doesn't want that in his home or around Mother. She wasn't cursed, wasn't destined to be a freak like the rest of the family, but loved Father and her children despite it. Where she was born, full-blooded Veelas still roamed freely she said, so it didn't bother her that her husband and children had Veela blood rushing through their veins.

                  Father says he didn't believe his father when he spoke of the one boon of the curse; the Veela blood in our veins allowed us to locate our perfect mate. Whether the magic within the two parties was a perfect fit for each other or it was the souls, my grandfather didn't know but he knew that Veelas only had one mate in their lifetime. Father and Mother were mates, Grandfather and Grandmother, and so forth. Father said that he recognized Mother as his mate directly after he changed, despite the two of them knowing each other since childhood and attending Beauxbatons together. The notion was romantic, sure, but it didn't make the curse any less a curse, at least not in my mind. Being forever forced to wage war against my most basic and animalistic instincts and impulses but I'm rewarded with a witch? Only one of my siblings has met their mate, my eldest sister Camille, and she doesn't entirely seem to like him, a fellow pureblood wizard named Symon Lestrange. Would that also be my fate? Stuck together with a witch I can hardly stand but my instincts require me to attend? 

Upon reaching the end of the first journal entry, Hermione's jaw had popped open of its own accord. How was it possible that the Travers family had Veela blood mixed into the bloodline? Was it truly a curse upon the family or had one of Laurentin II's ancestors just had children with a full-blooded Veela but didn't want to admit it? Was there still some in it to this day or was it slowly dwindled to nothing over the generations? What other pureblood families now had Veela blood in their veins because of a member of the Travers family? Was she a descendant of Laurentin II or one of his siblings? Or was she descended from a completely different branch of the family, perhaps one that didn't have any Veela blood? Her nineteenth birthday was steadily approaching, less than a mere twenty days away, so she would find out soon enough. 

The only other wizarding family that she knew to also have Veela blood were the Delacours, perhaps she could write a letter to Fleur about her experience being quarter-Veela? Hermione quickly shot down the idea, knowing that the French witch would undoubtedly ask questions about why Hermione was writing to her about such a personal topic. All she could do was read more of Laurentin II's diary and hope that it contained the answers that she needed. 

August 11th, 1845, 

                  Mother and Father sent me away today, as my nineteenth birthday is now only three days away. The staff and servants at our London home were sent away so I could be alone here during the change. All of the nearby wizarding families have tried to seek an audience with me, wondering why the youngest son of the Travers family was in town alone, but I refused all of them. They couldn't know of the secret our family harbors, it would ruin the family's image. All of my siblings know what will happen to me in the coming days but have any of them explained it to me? No. Camille said I must go through the change alone, not knowing what it was, as they all had but I have to disagree. If I knew what I was in for I wouldn't have to spend it alone, I can control myself. And if I can't I might as well spend the rest of my life alone. Like Uncle Alphonse, who at the ripe age of fifty-four has yet to meet his mate. What if I never meet mine? Or, what if an even worse fate were to befall me, like I suspect it has to Uncle Alphonse, what if I don't have a mate?

                It doesn't matter, this diary isn't for me to write down my own personal woes but to document the change. My magic feels wild beneath my skin, as it has for days, but now it seems more violent almost. As if it could explode out of me without notice, destroying everything and anything in its path. The only information I got from Camille was that it didn't feel like that for her, that her magic moreso felt as if it was warmly embracing her for days on end. But that's Camille, my sweet sister who wouldn't even imagine hurting a fly so of course her magic wouldn't do anything rash or destructive. Maybe the change is different for each one of us, the Veela blood changing and warping us into an elevated version of ourselves?  I didn't have a chance to ask my other siblings before I left for London but I shall upon my return. As well as Father, of course. 

If the Veela blood hadn't been entirely wiped from the Travers bloodline by the time Hermione was born, based on her calculations her magic would begin to start acting differently any day now. Would she have to hide away in the Room of Requirement until this aforementioned change is over? Would she be a threat to those around her? She needed to start making a plan for when her birthday arrived, just in case she also had Veela blood in her veins like her ancestors did. 

August 16th, 1845, 

                The change has happened to me. My birthday was two days ago and I feel like a war has been waged inside of my body. My limbs ache and my head pounds at any sound or light, but, despite this, I have yet to sleep. Something hidden from me is keeping me awake, despite the pain in my bones. Anger simmers hotly in my gut, my arms shake both from the pain and unspent frustration. I'm missing something, my instincts haven't stopped screaming at me since I awoke on my birthday, but I can't place what that something is. I brought all of the things I thought I would need with me from the family home in France. Is it because I'm alone? And the Veela side of me already yearns for its mate?

                I have yet to look upon myself in a mirror but I feel different. Bigger. Stronger, perhaps. My teeth feel sharper when I run my tongue against them, have they transformed into the fangs of a monster? My vision is sharper, I can see farther and in more detail than I could before. I can smell the bakery down the street prepping their pastries for the day, the lingering scents of the staff and servants on the bedsheets from before they had left permeate my nose. The remaining smells of fellow humans make my stomach turn horribly as if they were moldy food being served in front of me. All of my siblings did seem somewhat different upon the return from their changes, my brothers were larger and stronger looking while my sisters were almost inhumanly beautiful. Was this due to the Veela blood taking over? Or was it our magics changing our bodies so we could find our mates easier? Like animals? 

              My magic also feels more powerful than ever before, like the awakened Veela blood is enhancing it somehow. I was never a weak wizard, no member of the Travers family is weak, but now I feel like I could be unstoppable. I pity the witch or wizard who duels me next, for I fear I won't be able to control the strength of my spells. Is this what Father and my siblings feel like? 

Hermione quietly sets the diary down on the table, her mind trying to process all of the information she just received. It would be foolish of her to convince herself that the Veela blood had been bred out of the Travers family line,  especially since it hadn't been two hundred years since Laurentin II wrote his first journal entry. Her translation spell would be over soon, Hermione knew, so she quickly closed the diary. Darting her gaze around the part of the library that she could see, which was still empty except for her, Hermione quickly slid the diary into her charmed bag. She was sure that Madam Pince wouldn't notice that it was missing and she would return it soon. Not that the majority of the student body could read it anyway, but Hermione still didn't like stealing from the library. 

She would continue reading the diary at a later date when she had finished processing the first few entries, but Hermione didn't know if she could mentally handle reading any more for a little while. With a silent flick of her wand, the other tomes that she had collected began to levitate and head back to their proper places on the library shelves. Hermione could come back at a later date to read those, on a day when her mind wasn't swarming with the possibility of her being partially Veela. She didn't subscribe to the belief that some of her fellow witches and wizards did that humanoid magical creatures, and those with magical creature blood, were less than but it threw her off. She wasn't expecting that sort of revelation when she opened Laurentin II's journal. 

Tucking away her wand and her charmed bag into her pocket, Hermione stood and left her secluded corner of the library. Still, there was no one else in the library, at least no one that she could see, as she was leaving. She should be heading back to Gryffindor Tower, as there was nowhere else on the ground she had to be until dinner in the Great Hall. Slipping out of the doors and into the hallway, Hermione is almost instantly greeted by three familiar faces, all looking at her with identical concerned looks on their faces. She hadn't stopped by Gryffindor Tower upon her return from Hogsmeade so Hermione knew that the three of them must be worried about her, as it was now late in the afternoon and the last time they all saw each other was last night. 

"Hey guys" Hermione offered in greeting. 

"Where have you been?" Ginny asks immediately. 

"What?" Hermione asks back, arching a brow at the younger girl.

"I went looking for you this morning and Lavender said you left the dormitory super early this morning" Ginny explains, crossing her arms in front of her chest. 

Lavender had been awake when Hermione left the tower this morning? She had been extra cautious in the hopes that she wouldn't wake anyone when she was leaving but it looked like that had been all but pointless. The other girl might have been awake already, she had told Hermione that since the war ended she's been having trouble sleeping. 

"I went for a walk and have been here all day" Hermione lies, the seamlessness of it sending a jolt of fear through her.

Had it always been so easy for her to lie to them? 

"A walk?" Harry repeats, almost as if he doesn't believe her. 

"Yes, Harry, I wanted to clear my head so I took a walk" Hermione says, a flash of annoyance rushing through her. 

The three of them nod almost simultaneously, seemingly believing Hermione's lie. 

"Heading anywhere?" Ginny asks. 

"I was thinking of going back to the tower" Hermione says with a small shrug. 

"Us too" Ron says. 

The four of them turn down the corridor and begin their journey back to the Gryffindor Tower. Apart from them, only a few other students were wandering the halls at that hour. Most students tended to remain in the common rooms of their house on the weekend, at least at the beginning of term anyway. 

"What were you studying? Almost no one's assigned homework yet" Harry asks, genuine interest in his tone. 

Should she tell them? They were accepting of when she told them the identity of her biological parents but this was a different matter entirely. Her friends would care for her no matter what, she did know that, but a nagging thought at the back of her mind made her think otherwise. This wasn't a secret that could get out, it wouldn't only affect her but it would affect the Travers family as a whole, both those who carried the surname and those who didn't. A pureblood family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families no less, that secretly harbored creature blood? It would cause an uproar in the pureblood community. Not that Hermione cared about what those bigots thought of her but she was in no place to air out her newfound maternal family's secrets. 

"Just brushing up on some family history" Hermione says vaguely in a hushed tone, knowing that voices liked to travel in the corridors of Hogwarts. 

"Anything interesting?" Ginny asks with a smile, nudging Hermione gently with her arm.

Hermione shrugs. 

"Nothing that matters right now" Hermione says vaguely. 

Hopefully, Hermione thought, nothing that would ever matter but she knew that believing that would be foolish. She only had a limited number of days to prepare for the change that would occur when the dormant Veela blood in her veins was to come alive and she needed to prepare. Not only for herself, but for those around her.