Chapter 2
When Hermione woke up the next morning, she met no one on her way downstairs but the two snakes who had decided to go on an early morning hunt and slithered out the front door Hermione opened for them.
She herself stepped out on the veranda, watching them vanish into the forest behind the house with a small smile. She knew that most snakes were solo hunters, but Nagini and Noodles seemed to get along just fine. Maybe it was because they both were Magical Creatures instead of non-magical snakes or they had just bonded over both of them being the familiar of a Parselmouth.
It was pleasantly warm, not hot yet, and there was a slight breeze. The nearby sea gave the air a salty smell.
Then she noticed a small snake on the bottom of a palm tree next to the veranda. It was green and black and, in Hermione’s opinion, rather cute.
She left the veranda and slowly approached the snake. “Hello,” she greeted before she came too close and the snake, a regular snake, nothing magical about it, immediately relaxed.
“Hello. I didn’t know humans can speak to us.”
“Very few can.” She knelt down on the sandy ground and the snake curiously slithered closer. It was a female and rather young, at least as far as Hermione could tell.
“Did you bring the two big snakes?”
She grinned. “One came with me, one with my father.”
“Do they eat other snakes?”
“No, don’t worry.”
“Good, they scared me. The cobras around here eat other snakes. They’re scary, too.”
“I’m sorry about that. I’m sure they didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Already making friends with the locals?”
She looked up and saw her father standing on the veranda, looking down at her and the snake with an amused smile. He too had spoken in Parsel, probably to avoid startling the animal.
“I think so. Good morning.” It was quite thrilling to include another person in a conversation with a snake.
“Good morning.”
“Is that your father?” The snake asked, now only a few centimetres away from Hermione.
“Yes.” She was still getting used to that.
When Hermione held out her hand, the little snake wrapped itself around her wrist and allowed her to lift her off the ground.
“Don’t get used to it, we are probably the only people you will ever meet who can talk to you. You should avoid other humans. They will be afraid of you and might try to hurt you.”
“I am afraid of them, too. But she spoke to me, so I thought it was fine.”
“We won’t harm you,” he confirmed. To Hermione he said. “She’s a green pit viper. A young one. When she’s grown, she will be around the size of your Noodles, maybe a little smaller.”
“She’s pretty.” The snake somehow managed to look smug and Hermione grinned.
The little viper eventually left them and they went back inside to join the others for breakfast.
They all spent the first few days together, either on the beach or exploring the island. Hermione was reasonably sure that both her and Draco’s father had used Cooling Charms on their far too formal and far too black clothes. By all rights, they both should have had a heat stroke by now.
On the fifth day, her father proposed the two of them to go to ruins of the Sigiriya Rock Fortress in the evening, when Muggle tourists were gone. Hermione happily agreed. By now she wasn’t nervous about being alone with him and she wondered briefly, if this was why he had waited a few days. He obviously wasn’t particularly sentimental in nature, but he was very considerate towards her and took great interest in her. During their conversations, he had asked about all kinds of things, what she liked in school, what she liked to do in her free time, the books she read, the topics she was interested in, and he always listened attentively to her answers.
He also made sure to visit places she and Draco would find interesting, always knowing something about the history or other titbits to tell them. She could see why Draco enjoyed spending time with him so much and wondered, if he ever got lonely in the many months between visits. Of course he had Nagini, but still …
Shortly before sundown she waited at the door, Noodles around her neck and Nagini by her feet. The two of them wanted to come along.
When her father came down the stairs, she couldn’t help but stare. He was wearing black Muggle jeans and a shirt with tucked up sleeves and comfortable shoes. When he saw her face, he smiled. “I’m not exploring the forest in formal wear. I’m not quite as bad as Lucius.”
“I heard that,” came a voice from the veranda.
For the first time, father and daughter exchanged a conspiratorial grin.
He held out his arm and she took it. Nagini was once more wrapped around his torso, Noodles on Hermione’s shoulders. Then he apparated them out of the house and a moment later they stood in Water Gardens on the foot of the rock, on the top of which the ruins of the ancient fortress awaited them. It was almost dark already, except for the full moon, which didn’t give enough light to see much.
“Lumus Maxima,” her father said and his wand lit up far more strongly than with a simple Lumos and bathed the area in a warm light, allowing Hermione to see the Water Gardens clearly enough. They slowly walked along the way that was undoubtedly full of tourists by day, but now they had the place to themselves.
Even while they hadn’t reached the magical sites yet, she found the area was interesting enough with its still functional hydraulic systems and the park that had in ancient times been used by royals.
They soon reached the rock itself and had a look at the frescoes showing mostly topless ladies, maybe the ladies of the kings who had once dwelt in the fortress.
In front of the impressive lion paws, which had been carved into the stone and marked the beginning of the many stairs, her father looked at her. “Are you interested in walking up over a thousand steps or do we apparate to the top?”
Hermione laughed. “Too taxing?” Before she could worry whether teasing him had been smart, he chuckled.
“Do you have any idea how heavy Nagini is? And there’s no way she’s going up those stairs herself.”
As if to confirm this, Nagini slithered up to wrap herself around her father’s body once more and Hermione laughed harder. “In that case we really should apparate.”
She took his arm again and next she knew they were standing amid the former fortress and her father’s familiar slithered to the ground to go exploring by herself. Noodles on the other hand seemed perfectly comfortable around Hermione’s neck and enjoyed the view.
“How is it that you, Lucius and Narcissa apparate soundlessly?” She had wondered about that a few times. “Everyone else I’ve seen apparate so far makes a popping noise, even the house elves.”
“It’s an advanced form of apparition. There’s a higher risk of splinching and it’s not really taught anymore, except to Aurors. To be fair, it has very little practical use in every-day-life and most people wouldn’t think it’s worth the risk. I learned it when I was quite young, right after Hogwarts. No real reason, I just like learning new things and I enjoy a good challenge. During the war, I taught everyone willing to learn. It gave us an advantage now and again.”
“Will you teach me?” Hermione asked eagerly. It was quite obvious now from whom she had inherited her eagerness to learn and it was nice to find out more about him, too, even if it was just a small detail like that. While he had asked her all kinds of things, she hadn’t quite dared to do the same in return.
He smiled. “If you want. But you will have to learn regular apparition first. There will be a course at Hogwarts in your seventh year. When you come visit me after graduation, I’ll be happy to teach you.”
They had a look around and when they stood in front of the remains of a wall, he stepped forward. “That should be it.” He tapped the wall with his wand and it gave way to a staircase down into the rock.
The light of his wand still illuminating their way, they went down the stairs. With some amusement she saw that Nagini was following them, so there was a good chance he would end up carrying her up quite a few stairs after all.
They came into a chamber with smooth walls full of carved-in symbols, something that looked like a stone altar and an artefact Hermione couldn’t place. It stood on a stone socle, looked like it was made of diamond-shaped glass and there was something inside, like a moving, fluid core with light radiating from it. She could feel the raw magic. She had never felt anything like that before but it didn’t feel unpleasant.
The light on her father’s wand went out and the room was still brightly lit.
“Those symbols are believed to work like the ancient runes we still use,” he explained in a quiet voice, slowly walking along the walls. “But no one has been able to figure out their meaning yet. Or the use of that.” He gestured to the artifact and Hermione could hear that he was just as fascinated by that place as she was, even if there was not much they actually knew about it. “Some think that the kings here had wizards and witches work for them or that this was a magical settlement altogether. I don’t think it was, this place is well-hidden.” He stopped in front of the wall, studying the symbols and Hermione did the same.
“I read that someone theorised that this was a place for blood sacrifice. Probably because of the altar.”
He smiled wryly. “People see an altar and immediately think of blood sacrifice or sacrificed chickens.” She giggled. “Sure, it’s a possibility, but there’s a lot of things you can do with an altar. Celtic wizards had rituals during which flowers and other plants were placed on an altar to symbolise life. And this isn’t Blood Magic,” he added with a nod towards the artifact. “Blood Magic has a very specific feel to it, an aura if you will. Whatever it is, it wouldn’t feel the way it does, if Blood Magic had been involved.”
She hesitated. “Do you have experience with Blood Magic?”
“Oh yes, quite a lot, actually. There are many practical uses. It was banned because if you don’t know what you’re doing and don’t know your limits, it’s easy to do great harm to yourself and others, but it was a loss in many ways. Lucius and Narcissa have quite a few interesting volumes on the topic.”
“They are age restricted, Draco and I can’t get the books out of the shelves. Believe me, we’ve tried,” she muttered dryly.
He gave her an amused look. “Their house, their rules, I suppose.” His dark eyes found hers. “Maybe it’s for the best. There are certainly some spells I shouldn’t have had access to until I knew a little more about life.”
Before she could change her mind, she ventured forward to the topic she had not quite been able to stop thinking about since she heard about it. “Like how to make a Horcrux?”
Hermione had half expected him not to answer, but he nodded while looking thoughtfully at the golden ring with the black stone that was on the ring finger of his right hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I would have made the Horcrux all the same, but I would not have killed my father for it.”
Her eyes widened. “Your father?”
“Yes. You know I grew up in an orphanage.”
It wasn’t really a question. “Yes,” she answered nonetheless.
“And you said that Dumbledore told Harry Potter that my mother gave my father love potion to make him run away with her.” She nodded. “A little before I was born, she stopped giving him the potion, maybe she thought he would stay with her out of his own free will, but he left. She died shortly after giving birth to me. I blamed him for her death and for me growing up where I did. I hated him for it. It wasn’t until later that I understood that I would have left, too.” There was no real emotion in his voice and she could imagine that Dumbledore would have seen that as proof that he was not capable of them. She called that bullshit. He had voiced regret, after all. To her and years ago to Lucius. “She basically raped him. Most people would have left under the circumstances. He did not deserve to die for that.” Another crooked smile, maybe to dissolve the sombre mood. “I should have chosen Dumbledore to make the Horcrux. That would have made a lot of things easier for myself and many others later on. Unfortunately, divination has never been my forte.”
She felt her lips turn up in a smile, too. A confession like that should have shocked her, and in a way it did, of course, but not as much as it probably should have. “From what I heard, it’s also not the forte of our Divination teacher.”
His laugh sounded surprised. Maybe he had expected her to draw back now, to distance herself. She wasn’t planning to. “I suppose you’re not going to choose Divination next term then?”
She snorted. “And waste two hours every week for five years? Time I could spend learning something useful or at least something that actually works? I think not.” A small smirk came to her lips. “Draco is considering it. He calls it creative writing for good marks.”
“That is actually a very good way to describe it.” He became serious once more. “I hope that wasn’t too disturbing.”
She shrugged. “Not really. I agree that he didn’t deserve to die, but you say you know that yourself now.” There wasn’t much more to say, at least she couldn’t think of anything. It wasn’t like it could be changed now, so many years later.
“I do. And whatever I’ve done in the past, I promise I will never hurt you. You have no reason to be afraid of me.”
“I know,” she said simply and gave him a small smile.
When they reached the top of the rock once more, her father gave Nagini, who had indeed made him carry her up the stairs, a pointed look. He seemed slightly out of breath. Hermione was secretly glad that Noodles, whom she had carried around the entire time, was considerably smaller.
“What?” Nagini said indignantly. “Your 13-year-old daughter is carrying her familiar, too.”
“Thank you for choosing a smaller one by the way,” Hermione said brightly.
“You’re very welcome,” came the dry reply.
Being rid of the snake around him once more, he sat down on one of the benches for the tourists and she followed his example. “I have something for you. Noodles, why don’t you go and see what Nagini is up to?”
“Why would I care what Nagini is up to?” Since he didn’t deign that with an answer, the Shinohebi, giving what had to be the snake equivalent of a grumble, slithered down Hermione’s body and the bench to find Nagini somewhere among the dark ruins.
Hermione watched as Tom Riddle put his wand down on the bench between them and reached into his pocket – his jeans pocket. She still wasn’t quiet over that. He pulled out something that was wrapped in a linen handkerchief and when he unwrapped it, she saw the most beautiful locket. It was made of gold with intricate engravings and in the centre, there were green gemstones, emeralds maybe, forming an S which looked like a snake. It looked old.
“It’s beautiful,” she said in a hushed voice.
“It is. It belonged to Salazar Slytherin; he made it himself.” Her eyes widened – it was roughly 1000 years old! “It has been an heirloom of our family for a very long time. And now it’s time for you to have it.”
He got up to stand behind her. Her hair was up in a ponytail and with Noodles gone, he could easily place it around her neck. She gently touched it with her fingertips. “Thank you! I will always treasure it.”
He nodded and sat back down next to her. “Open,” he said in Parsel and the lock clicked open. “It can’t be opened any other way. Only a Parselmouth will be able to open it.” He gave her a small smile. “Considering we may be the only Parselmouths for the time being, whatever you may want to keep in it one day will be perfectly safe. Don’t rely on it when you have your own children, though.”
She laughed quietly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Before you leave, I will put a variant of the Disillusionment Charm on it. Dumbledore doesn’t know I have it, at least I don’t think so. But it will raise questions when you walk around with a Slytherin heirloom all of a sudden. With the Charm, people will see that you wear a locket, but they won’t recognise that it is this particular one. Only those who know will see it for what it is.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe I will one day be able to wear it openly,” she mused. “Maybe one day it’ll be safe for people to know who my parents actually are.”
“Would you want that?” Hermione had the feeling that it wasn’t fathomable to him that she would want to tell someone that she was his daughter. The thought made her sad.
In answer, however, she gave a soft huff. “You haven’t seen the people who raised me until Lucius and Narcissa took me in.”
“No, but they told me a little about them and the reason for them to claim Magical Guardianship over you in the first place.” He looked over the dark trees beneath the rock, his eyes cold. “I meant what I wrote. I would not have allowed this to happen to you, if I had known about you. I would never have allowed anyone to lay hands on you. Not your so-called parents and not your peers.”
Hermione couldn’t help but think about the way he had grown up. Not with uncaring parents, but with an equally uncaring matron in an orphanage, and other children who had tormented him for being different, like her schoolmates had tormented her. There was one major difference, though. When she had come to Hogwarts, she had found good friends, a house teacher who claimed not to care but did anyway and eventually two people who had opened their home to her and made her part of a real family. He, on the other hand, had been introduced to the Wizarding World by none other than the famous Albus Dumbledore, who had not only pretended to set his wardrobe on fire at their first meeting, but had immediately judged him for defending himself and stealing a bloody toy when he probably had had next to nothing to call his own. Who undoubtedly had sent him back to the orphanage each summer, while Muggle London had been under attack during World War 2. While she had spent last summer having fun with her friends in the garden of a luxurious manor, had slept in a soft bed, safe and sound, he may have laid awake, waiting for the sirens to announce another bombing. And then, years later, Dumbledore had marked him the villain before the entire Wizarding World, started a war in his name, which had in the end caused him to leave his home country and his friends, probably the only family he had ever known, to end said war.
She hated Dumbledore, with a fierceness she hadn’t thought herself capable of. For the first time in her life, she understood how it was possible for one person to kill another.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly. “You couldn’t have known.”
He nodded, only once.
Then he got up. “Well, are you tired already?” It was a reasonable question, by now it was pretty late. “There’s something I found a few days before you came here that I want to show you. At least I think we should be able to see it tonight.”
“I’m not tired. What do you want to show me?”
Instead of answering her, he spoke in Parsel. “You two wait here. We’ll pick you up on our way back.”
Then he wordlessly held out his arm and she took it without hesitation. “We need to be quiet when we get there.”
“Alright.” Hermione couldn’t wait to see what it was.
He dimmed the light of his wand to the bare minimum and disapparated with her in tow.
Next, they stood in the middle of the forest, surrounded only by trees and the sounds of nocturnal animals. He gestured for her to follow him and they walked for maybe a little less than five minutes, a little uphill. Hermione stayed close to him, as his wand only lit up a tiny area directly in front of him. The thick trees prevented the moonlight from providing further light and there was no path at all.
He stopped and held out his arm to make sure she did as well. The next moment she could see why. In front them was a drop and maybe three metres below was a clearing, lit by moonlight and a bright smile came to Hermione’s face. Mooncalves! Maybe twenty of them and they were dancing! Hermione knew that many Magizoologists believed that this was part of their mating ritual, although some disagreed. Whatever it was, it was beautiful. Almost all of the light grey creatures with their long necks, huge eyes and short legs stood on their hindlegs and moved in an oddly complicated pattern, almost like in a trained chorography. Hermione could see why experts called it a dance.
Her father smiled at her and quietly, as to not disturb the shy creatures, sat down on a fallen tree and Hermione sat down next to him.
While she watched the spectacle very few had ever witnessed with their own eyes, she thought about how this man next to her had written in his first letter after finding out she was his daughter that he would probably not be a good father or even a decent one when he had done nothing but make the stay interesting for her and Draco, too. When he had made every effort to get to know her, had gifted her a beautiful family heirloom, one of the few things he himself owned of his family. He had mentioned that he had been on Sri Lanka a few days prior, so he had probably found the spot with the telltale traces of Mooncalves dancing, traces that had caused several conspiracy theories among Muggles, and had taken her here on full moon, when it was most likely to see them.
Hermione had a terrible habit of overthinking and before she could do that, she shifted a bit and rested her head on his shoulder.
At first, she felt him stiffen and just started to doubt that it had been the right thing to do. But then she felt one arm around her shoulders and relaxed against him.
~tbc~