Chapter 15
September 12th 1978
Harry
I look back and forth between Hermione and the clock Nervously as she continues to steadfastly ignore me.
It's been five days and counting since I outed her secret to the marauders and she still hasn't said more then a word to me.
I made an effort all week to sit next to her in class, at lunch, dinner, and breakfast. I even followed her to the library at studiously say with her for the four hours she did research, and here I am now, having been sitting here watching her read her book for an hour and a half, and nothing. Not. A. word.
That's it.
"Hermione, please just talk to me!" I groan, shutting the potions textbook I had open for no reason. She doesn't even lift her eyes from the page. "There's nothing to say." She says indifferently, brushing me off. Good thing I get my incessantly annoying personality from my dad!
"Mione."
"Hermione."
"You know your a lot like Moony, Mione."
"Moony, Mione, even sound the same."
"Moony, Mione, Moony, Mione, Moo—"
She slams the book shut with a loud thud. Perfect. "What!" She asks with a glare sent from the deep dark depths of hell. I let out a sigh of relief, tossing the book in my lap. "Ah, finally!" She gasps in horror as she looks between me and the textbook. "Look, I'm sorry I told Sirius, but he deserved to know."
She's still looking shell shocked between me and the book on the ground. "We—" she points a stunned finger at the book before turning back to me. "We'll discuss that later—but I don't care if Sirius had a right to know because you had no right to tell him." Her expression goes from one of surprised horror, to one of anger and frustration.
"I know—" I start but she cuts me off. "No Harry, you don't. Do you have any idea what would happen if someone found out?" She asks and I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. "Hermione, none of them would tell anyone, you know that, they're family—"
"You think that matters?" She inturrupts, standing from her seat on the common room couch. "You know secrets spread like wildfire, whether you want them to or not, and this is the one secret I'd rather have to myself." I shake my head huffing at her vague answers. "But why, Hermione? you finally have the chance to get to know your family, why wouldn't you want that? I don't understand."
She lets out a cruel laugh shaking her head. "How could you understand Harry? Your a potter." I glare at her. "What's that supposed to mean. She crosses her arms lifting her chin defiantly. "It means," she emphasizes the word. "That of course you have no qualms about telling people of your family, your parents are war hero's and saints." She throws her hands up in the air. "I'd be surprised if you did."
I roll my eyes. "Hermione, it doesn't matter—"
"But it does Harry!" She yells. "It does matter, and the only reason you think it doesn't, is because you don't have to worry about it!" I cross my arms frowning. "Do you have any idea what that would be like for me? How much that would change?" She puts a hand to her chest, her eyes starting to water.
I take a step forward. "Hermione, I understand—" I start to say but she cuts me off. "No Harry, you don't." She says firmly. "You don't know what it's like to bear the weight of this name—"
"I bore the weight of my own—" she shakes her head. "It's not the same and you know it! Because your name came with glory and pride—and yes it was hard to live up to those expectations of greatness, but at least they expected greatness." Her face crumbles and she lets out a small sob. "my name, it comes with a legacy of Evil and darkness."
Another tear falls from her eyes. "From the moment I was born I was given a name that held a reputation for nothing but bad. I was born with tragedy in my blood and pain in my heart. No one knows the burden of being a black, the madness and tragedy and pain it comes with, my name isn't just a name!" My heart breaks a little for my best friend. "It's a death sentence."
"Saying it out loud means that I will never again be my own person, I won't be Hermione Granger, brightest witch of the age. I'll be Hermione Aria Black, daughter of Regulus Black, heir of house Black. Saying it out loud means that that is all I will be for the rest of my life, because that is all people will ever see me as. A child of madness and evil and power."
" I don't want to be that Harry." Her voice breaks and I look to the ground for the first time regretting what I'd done. "Half the blacks went mad you know." She sniffs wiping a tear.
"I don't want that to be my legacy, I don't want that to be the only thing they see when they look at me. But if I tell the world my name that's all there will be. I won't be anything else,"
“Just another black you need to watch out for.”
Hermione
"Hey, kiddo." It's past midnight when I finally look up from my book to the sound of Sirius coming through the door. "Just got back from detention, thought we could talk." I nod but furrow my brows at the lack of his brown eyed, black haired, companion.
"Where's James?" I ask nodding to the empty space behind him. "Oh, he's probably upstairs asleep, McGonagle has learned way too many times that leaving me and prongs alone unsupervised in the castle is bad idea, so we serve detention's separate now."
I roll my eyes. Of course they do. I set my book down at cross cross my legs looking to him as he sets down his satchel and takes a seat on the couch opposite to me, leaning forward and intertwining his fingers. "What do you want to talk about." I ask resting my tired head on the palm of my hand.
I haven't really been sleeping since—well, if I'm being honest since sixth year. After sixth we were on the run and I usually volunteer to be lookout so the boys could get some rest, after that was the incident at Malfoy manor, which just unlocked a whole new level of nightmares—as well as bringing up old ones.
After Malfoy Manor, I'd gone for months where I would try to sleep and wake up screaming and crying, my magic exploding all around me, from my curtains being on fire, to water from a glass beside my bed floating around the room, to earth shattering earthquakes, to lightning storms of rage. Eventually, the few hours of rest and energy I got weren't worth the ones I took from whoever else was staying in the same house or building, so I just stopped trying.
Now, I was no stranger to nightmares, I'd had my fair share of them through the ages of 9 to 11–not to mention the end of fourth year and rest of fifth, but after everything that had happened those dreams seemed to just be another problem on top of many, another burden that I didn't have time for.
"I, we'll—" Sirius rubs the back of his neck nervously. "Prongs king told me about the conversation you two had before I left for for detention." Ah, so that's what this is about. "I just—"
"Sirius, you don't have to—"
"I just want to say I get it." He cuts me off, and I find myself surprised by his words, not seeing the conversation going this way. "God knows I don't want to be a black much either these days. I just I get it, I know harry doesn't—god knows James never did—but I do. I know how much of a burden our last name is, and I just want to tell you that you don't have to carry it alone—or you don't have to carry it at all if you don't want to—it's your choice. I mean if I could change my last name too, I would."
I nod solemnly, remembering that Sirius's story is almost as tragic as mine. He sighs. "I had really hoped that the next generation of blacks would be a little less fucked up." He chuckles dryly and a let out a small laugh.
"I'm afraid our last name will always be a cursed on uncle."
Sirius
In a way, it almost hurts to hear the words. My entire life I'd convinced myself that I would be an example, and that future blacks would learn from me and end up ok. I was wrong.
Not only did the future blacks end up as fucked up as the formers, but us formers get even more fucked up as time goes on. Ever since Hermione had given us the full story I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Regulus died for me. He left for me. He has a beautiful little girl.
He's gone.
I almost didn't believe it when my niece had told me he betrayed the dark lord and our mother and fled. My brother! The one who went to Slytherin, and told snivillous not to waist his time on Lily because she's a muggle born, the one who didn't even hesitate to take my place as heir.
The one who took the mark.
I knew Reggie joined that fucking psychopath since late last year. Me and Reggie had been on ok terms up until then—well as ok as possible—we didn't acknowledge each other much except the occasional nod in the halls, but seeing as he was forbidden from even looking at me, and encouraged to just kill me if he got the chance, we got into a couple skirmishes as brothers do, but over all we weren't bad.
That was, until late last year. A week before sixth year was over, and me prongs, moony, and wormtail, were sitting by the black lake messing around when Reggie came over needing to talk to me about something.
Naturally we were all just messing around and Pete started messing with him—much to his displeasure—and somehow his sleeve got rolled up and on his left arm, loud and clear was the dark mark. He instantly paled and ran off. We haven't had a nice thing to say about each other since.
Now, I'm left with his daughter, who had it arguably worse then we did, and I once again wish he had just come with me that night to the potters. Maybe if he had his daughter wouldn't have lost both of her parents. I can't help but say to myself as I stare up at my bedroom ceiling.
I'd decided to go to bed and left Hermione in the common room at the promise she would go to bed once she finished the chapter in her book. Do I think she's going to keep that promise? Not really, but it didn't hurt to try. For Reggie's sake a least.
I run a hand through my hair. Holy fuck. Reggie has a kid. A daughter. A gryffindor princess. A golden haired, hazel eyed, gryffindor, princess—wait hold up, how did she end up without the black curls and grey eyes?
Well, in all fairness, she did get curls just not the black family curls. Her hair was a different kind of difficult, I've never seen hair like that. Must have been a malfunction in the gene pool, wouldn't be surprised with all the inbreeding we are sadly known for.
Bloody purebloods....
Hermione
"Hey." I look up from my book with tired eyes for the second time tonight at the sound of a voice. I see George standing there, two hot mugs in his hands. "Figured you'd still be up." He says taking a seat next to me handing me the steaming mug of what looks to be hot chocolate. "Did you—"
"Yup. One teaspoon of nutmeg and a pinch of cinnamon, just how you like it." I take a sip and sigh happily into my cup, snuggling closer to the blanket wrapped around me. I look up at George and smile. "Thank you George." He clutches my hand and smiles back. "It's no problem, Fred would have killed me if I didn't take care of you during my grief—in fact I think he would come back from the grave just to tell me how much of a git I am."
I laugh a sad laugh. "At least he'd be back." I mutter sadly looking down at the hit drink, my joy of its taste washed away at the memory of the person who used to make it for me every night.
I don't even notice I'm crying until George wipes my cheeks with his hands placing a small kiss on the tip of my nose, pulling my to his chest. "Hey, no more crying." He whispers softly kissing the top of my head. "Freddie would kill me if he knew I let you cry." I laugh a laugh too close to a sob and whisper, "what do you think he would say if he could see us now?"
George laughs shaking his head. "He would say, 'darling you are way too pretty to be crying' and then he would look at me and tell me to get off my sorry arse and stop wallowing." I let wiping my tear and snuggling into George's laugh. "That does sound like something that got would say." I giggle and am met my another kiss on my forehead. "I love you Georgi."
"Love you too Mione."
2364 words
so sorry this took so long, I had wrote the entire chapter but I switched tabs and deleted it all somehow so I had to rewrite it all.