A/N: Quickly, new chapter, and apologies, in last author's note wrote Sir Horatio Nelson, when it should be Lord Nelson. Heh!
By the way, saw GoF, twice! It rocked but could have been longer.
~*~*~*~
Reunion
"Caspar…? Caspar, wake up! Wake up, Caspar!" sharply whispered Hermione, gently shaking her son awake.
"Mumm…?" he asked, groggily, before turning over and drifting off again.
"Come on, Caspar! Wake up! Mrs Weasley's waiting for you downstairs and Ginny's going to come any minute! Wake up! Wake up, it's time to get ready!" she commanded, shaking him again.
Caspar barely stirred this time.
She sighed, pulled the covers off, lifted him, and as he lazily protested, went to the door saying, "I told you to go to bed early last night… I told you that I wanted to go out today… why didn't you listen? Caspar, if you keep this up I'm not going to let you go back to the Weasleys!"
They were at the top of the stairs where the light flowed in through the nearby window, sighing at the end of her statement, she missed his slight smile.
That was the point of his disobedience.
She carried him all the way down to the kitchen where Mrs Weasley, already busily preparing breakfast and complaining about the lack of real food in the cupboards, turned to her and said, "I'll take him, give him here- you go up and get ready, Ginny should be arriving any minute."
Hermione handed him to her, Caspar snuggled into Mrs Weasley's neck and she laughed, "Oh no, you don't! You have to wake up; the others are waiting for you."
"Taking him to London today?" asked Hermione, taking advantage of a pot of freshly brewed coffee.
Mrs Weasley shook her head, "No, we're going down to Godric's Hollow…"
The sound of Hermione's cup breaking on the kitchen floor cut her off and started Caspar awake.
"M-Mum…?" he asked, now fully conscious and staring at her.
Mrs Weasley was calmer; she put him down and cleaned the mess.
Hermione barely acknowledged this, having gone rather pale, but she was conscious enough to ask, "W-what?"
"We're taking them to Godric's Hollow… and about to see some of the preparations for Hallowe'en and the anniversary celebrations. Don't worry dear, we'll keep him well away from the press…" said Mrs Weasley, casually.
Hermione was not pleased, "But… why, why would you…?"
"I wanted to see it," said Caspar then, suddenly.
Hermione looked down to him, and the stubborn look on his face. He continued quickly, "Everybody talks about Harry, and his family, but I don't know him, and I wanted to see it. Don't be upset…"
For a time Hermione did not say a thing and just stood there staring between Mrs Weasley and Caspar. And then finally, her voice returned enough for her to say, "Eat your breakfast and get dressed Caspar… I should-I should get ready, Ginny will be coming any minute…"
With a last look at them both then, she left to get ready herself.
Through her shower, combing her hair and getting dressed after though, Hermione was lost in her thoughts. When she finally sat on her bed to put on her shoes, she was startled to find that she had gotten there. But she couldn't help it.
It was not so much that she was bothered by the morning's excursion to Godric's Hollow; she had actually planned on taking Caspar there herself sometime. She didn't mind that he was learning about that aspect of Harry's life, inevitably he would come to know of the horrors she and the others had faced in the war. She didn't even care that much that they were doing it without her permission, at his school a few of the children had wizard parents and she couldn't stop him from overhearing what they may say at times. But in her mind, the mention of Godric's Hollow reminded her of Harry, and Mrs Weasley's casual reply reminded her of the confession, and that combined to remind her of why she was rushing Caspar out of the house and waiting for Ginny.
Today was the day she would go to Hogwarts to see Ron, and Ron would introduce her to the twins.
A shoe in hand, she stopped to sink her head into her free palm.
How many days now was it? How many days now since she had learned the truth about them, and was still trying to believe it? How many days now since she had found the pictures of the twins and spoken to Ron and was trying to grasp that? How many times in those days since had she tried to steel her reserve to meet with the twins today knowing that she would have to leave without them after? How was she going to make it through today?
But she had to.
If she truly wanted to believe, if she truly wanted to understand, if she truly wanted to remember, or failing that, start with new memories of the twins and with them a part of her family, she had to.
At least Ginny would be around to help if she couldn't.
She released a sharp breath and began to put on her shoe again to clear her thoughts.
She didn't want to think of Ginny and Harry again, not today, especially not today. Those thoughts would make meeting the twins more difficult than it was already going to be. She knew how it was for her, but Ginny….
She stood and went to the mirror to survey her reflection.
She had to stop thinking of the others and just for today focus on herself. If she didn't do that, she could end the day no better than how she started it. It could be worse even too, the twins could think her crazy, or hate her.
She wouldn't be able to stand it if they hated her. She needed them to like her, to get to know her, to trust her, to understand something she barely did herself….
"Hermione, Ginny's here!" called Mrs Weasley from below.
"Bye Mum, we're leaving!" called Caspar after.
She heard the sound of the Floo Powder exploding in the fireplace, a moment of quiet, and then another burst. A second later, a voice called, "Hermione, are you ready to go?"
Ginny had come, it was time to go, but Hermione had not moved from her place on the bed.
"Hermione…?" called Ginny again.
On the nightstand beside her bed Hermione had placed a framed photograph she had taken from the album. The twins could be no more than five years old, dressed in full-skirt satin and tulle dresses, and seated in the ancient library of Grimmauld Place barefoot. She wondered how Mrs Black had taken to that, half-bloods weren't they? But more than that, she wondered how they had missed it. How come, despite being inhabited by the organisation that was most instrumental in the defeat of Lord Voldemort, they had missed the presence of two little girls and her nanny in the house?
That, more than anything, she didn't understand.
"Hermione…?" came Ginny's voice again, but softer, and Hermione looked up to find her in the open doorway.
"Are you ready to go?" she asked, and then her gaze fell on the portrait. "Is that them?"
Hermione nodded, Ginny stared at it a moment, and then said, "Come on, it's time to go."
~*~*~*~
"Nicholas Flamel" was the password; the portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress swung open and then abruptly slammed shut. She narrowed her gaze at the student in the hall.
Dark hair in two long braids, the small girl was dressed in an ivory sweat-suit and trainers holding a long, slender magnificent broom over one shoulder and a smile on her face. Her features were familiar, very familiar, but let no one say that the Fat Lady didn't know her students. She sniffed at the girl and turned up her nose.
"You're not a Gryffindor… what's your business here?" she demanded.
Maia replied, "Bonjour Madame, my sister is, je suis Maia. I've come to get her for Quidditch, may I go in please?"
"There's no Quidditch today…" said the Fat Lady, returning to carefully scrutinising her.
"No, but there's Quidditch practice… now may I go in? I'm going directly to my sister's room, no where else," Maia said, pleadingly.
The Fat Lady sat silently a moment, pretending to consider her answer, and then swung open, "Hurry in, dear… I was just pulling your leg. You're one of those twins, of course you can go in… but, I do have a duty to do too…"
Maia didn't hear half of her reply. With a hurried, "Merci!" she clambered in, and as the portrait came down behind her, she was left staring around the red and gold Gryffindor Common Room slightly open-mouthed.
Save for the colours, the windows allowing in the sunlight of the brilliant morning without and a view of the castle grounds and the portrait entrance, it was not too much different from Hufflepuff's. But she was more awed by the fact that it was exactly as her father had described it, that as she looked at it now he had seen it then, that Aimee was very lucky….
And that Philippe Weasley deserved to be tarred, feathered and sunk with a stone.
She had not seen him when she came in, but she heard him, "Never been surrounded by such finery eh…?"
Snapped out of her reverie, she looked down and found him lounging on one of the couches by the fire. Red hair mussed up (the apparent intention was a red-haired version of Harry Potter), still in his pyjamas and feet atop a table, he smirked at her (the actual impression was Draco Malfoy) and waved.
She rolled her eyes and continued on to the stairs. The room was mostly deserted around them, most of the students gone down to breakfast, some were not yet awake and others still sitting around barely noticed her. Philippe hopped off the couch behind her, and as she got to the stairs cut across in front of her.
"Where are you going, Gryffindors only!" he said, blocking her path to the girls' dormitories.
Maia narrowed her eyes at him, a retort at the tip of her tongue… and then relaxed. Folding her arms, and smiling, she replied, "Fine then, why don't you go and fetch Aimee."
"I'm not your servant!" he spat.
"But you said it was Gryffindors only, and as you like to point out, I'm not a Gryffindor," she told him.
He smiled at that, theatrically bowed to her and turned and headed up the stairs.
Halfway there though, he stopped, or rather, was stopped. A loud klaxon wail had sounded through the entire tower that started uproar all around. Some Gryffindors started yelling, a few others swore, someone threw something at a door somewhere above. The stairs turned to a slide, Philippe yelled and slid down to her feet.
Maia burst out laughing.
"I think you meant, girls only, and I am a girl!" she said, as he tried to sit up.
It was then that Aimee-dressed for the day in the matching outfit to her sister's, but pale lavender-slid down the stairs and landed on his back. His face dropped into the carpet again.
Maia ignored him, addressing her sister, "Finally, time to go, Captain Christensen wants to start early so he can have a practice after the match."
"Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Aimee.
"Apapay layedpay, ehay antsway sauay otway laypay ootway," she replied. <Papa played; he wants us to play too.>
Philippe rose off the floor, "Hey, you knew that was going to happen, didn't you…? (He levelled suspicious glances between them.) Hey! Wait… Captain Christensen…? Are you… are you going to try out for the team? Ha! What position are you going to play, Bencher? Cause that's the only good position on that whole team…!"
"Petrificus Totalus!" yelled Aimee, spinning suddenly, wand pointed straight at him.
His arms and legs snapped to his sides, his entire body going stiff and he fell at their feet. Maia snorted.
Someone over at the window said, "About time you shut him up… talks too much…"
A girl coming down the stairs then, had a different view, "Hey, I can deduct points for that! Unprovoked attacks against other students are against the rules!"
"Unprovoked…?" began Maia, shocked.
Aimee hastened to apologise, "Its Philippe, he was bothering us and…"
"That's not a reason to petrify him…" she scolded, glaring at them both, though for some reason her eyes seemed to tell a different story. Philippe was clearly not winning any popularity contests.
Drawing her wand she turned to him and muttered, "Finite Incantatem!"
Philippe fell free at once, the girl went on, "But you're lucky I'm busy at the moment… don't let me catch you at it again though!"
The girls shook their heads, and then raced out of the Common Room. Once they were in the hall though, they burst out laughing.
The Fat Lady fixed them a glare, a few nearby portraits did the same, but neither saw them. Maia giggled, "Did you see the look on his face…?"
"Even the prefect agreed with us… half of Gryffindor hates that prat…" said Aimee.
But their amusement wasn't to last for long for just as they started off again a hurriedly dressed Philippe bounded out from the portrait behind them, "You think that's funny, don't you? Well, I'm going to have me a laugh watching you try out for Hufflepuff, gods knows we're all going to every time you lot play!"
Maia rolled her eyes and fastened her hold on her sister's hand, "Come on, we have to get down to the pitch."
Philippe though, did not leave the girls all the way down and out onto the castle grounds. Joined by two friends at the front door, and straightening his clothes all the while, he continued to joke behind them, making whistling noises like a bomb falling from the sky and squealing like a girl… until Maia could take it no more and turned on him.
He glared at her and her raised wand… and then his eyes widened, his two companions freezing as well.
Because she knew better, she knew it was not because of her that that had happened, even Aimee had stopped moving. Before she could turn back though, his voice changed to a high-pitched squeak, and he stammered, "Uh-Uncle Ron… and-and Mrs Viktor Krum!"
Maia straightened immediately and spun round, only to be stunned still.
Standing beside Professor Weasley, who was shaking his head at the sight of her drawn wand, was a woman. Pretty, of average build and slender, with brown bushy hair and bright brown eyes, she was dressed in fine robes of ocean blue. The last time they had really seen her, and especially this close, was in Bulgaria where her robes had been in her husband's colours….
It was Hermione Granger-Krum.
Hermione was staring at them both in turn, eyes slightly wide… and then broke into a smile. Releasing Professor Weasley's arm, she walked to them, reached a hand to their faces… and stopped just inches from Maia's. It seemed very much as if she wanted to touch them but for some reason was holding herself back. And then instead, she said, "I'm… I'm Hermione Granger… it's very nice to meet you, Ron told me that you asked about… that you'd been at the game…?"
Aimee replied first, "Yes ma'am… Miss Granger… we…"
She smiled again, and cut her off, "Please… call me Hermione…"
"Hermione," Aimee repeated, "Um… yes, we were… h-he did…?"
"Yes, I did," Professor Weasley replied, "Once, mind you, and being the complete nutter that she is, she insisted on meeting you after that… couldn't wait to come down here…."
He paused then, before breaking into a grin and began again, turning to Hermione, "Good, now we've seen them, let's get you back to your room where the nice men in the white robes will get you some tea…"
He petted her hair and gently tugged on her arm as if to lead her away. The girls laughed.
"Ronald!" scolded Hermione, her voice turning shrill as she turned to shrug him off.
There was an echo though, and the twins looked over her shoulder to find a beautiful young woman, with hair as fiery red as Professor Weasley's but brown eyes, standing with her.
"Aunt Ginny…?" came Philippe behind them, "What are you doing here?"
The woman came out from behind them and stood next to Hermione before the twins, "I decided to come with them, I've never seen Ron teach, needed a laugh."
She flashed him a smile and turned to the twins, and much like Hermione had, she remained staring at them a while, before saying, "I'm Ginny Weasley, Ron's sister… so you're the Black twins I've heard so much about, which one of you is which?"
Maia spoke up, "I'm Maia, she's Aimee… it's nice to meet the both of you…. Um… you really came all the way here to meet us? Is this-is this about the paper…? And-and that woman who came to meet us…?"
Professor Weasley nodded, "Yes… and no, you see, we're the kind of people who don't really care about the papers much… well, except for my wife's. Pansy Parkinson is just a troublemaker you shouldn't worry about too much…. That said, they still wanted to meet you too, see how you were doing with all the attention… and I see they're in luck… trying out for the Hufflepuff team are you?"
Maia started at this, looked down at the broom in her hand and swallowed.
"Well, um… you don't-you don't have to look if you don't want to…" she said.
"Nonsense," said Hermione, kindly. "I've never really liked Quidditch but I don't mind watching… and the young man behind you, Philippe Weasley I presume, are you trying out too?"
She walked past them to Philippe who looked very near faint.
"I'm-I'm a G-Gryffindor…" he replied, feebly.
Aimee's interest was Professor Weasley and Ginny though; both were staring at Hermione with very curious looks on their faces. When she turned to point this out to Maia, she noticed that she too had gone rather pale.
She nudged her in the side, "Reay ouyay kayoay?" <Are you okay?>
Maia nodded, unconvincingly, but there was no time to question this as a voice sounded over the grounds, "WILL ALL STUDENTS WHO WISH TO JOIN THE HUFFLEPUFF QUIDDITCH TEAM PLEASE MAKE THEIR WAY TO THE QUIDDITCH PITCH, CAPTAIN CHRISTENSEN IS WAITING FOR YOU!"
She swayed slightly, Hermione, who had turned round just then, gently steadied her. Bending slightly towards her, she asked, "Are you alright?"
This helped little, Maia went paler and Aimee replied for her, "She will be, she's just a little nervous, she really wants to play."
"Oh," said Hermione, and released her, "Well then, let's get down to the pitch then… I haven't been there in years… gods, I sound so old!"
"You're not," said Aimee.
Hermione gave a little laugh, her cheeks deep rose, "What can I say to that?"
~*~*~*~
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" two words he never thought he would utter and never wanted to again.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" the Killing Curse, it took life: his parents, Cedric Diggory, Professor Dumbledore…. And then for him it also gave, destroying Voldemort it saved the world… destroying Voldemort, it gave him memories of a past he couldn't believe he had.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" an act of mercy, the Dark Lord fell, the pain was intense, blood trickled from his scar, eyes, ears and mouth… and then his life went flashing before his eyes: his parents' deaths… the dark cupboard… Hagrid bringing him from the Dursleys… displaying the sword of Godric Gryffindor for Professor Dumbledore… reaching for the Triwizard Cup with Cedric… his first kiss with Ginny….
He had to be dying, that was how they usually described it. This was his life, his past….
Hermione's greedy kisses… her tears in the rain… tiny movement in her stomach under his palm… her nervous smile descending the stairs of Grimmauld Place, the veil in her hair swinging slightly… two, tiny, fidgeting, screaming infants in a bassinet… "Hey Harry, look at this!" the babies rolling over unto their stomachs and trying to lift their heads… "Maia can sit up!" a laughing child sitting up beside her slumbering sister…
"NO! You can't make me do this; I'm not going to choose!"
"Then I'm leaving you here, because you can't come with them, with the memory of them!"
"You… how dare you do this! You can't make me choose! I won't do it Harry, I don't have to and I won't!"
"I'm not making you do anything! You don't have to… just stay with them, stay here, don't come back with me!"
"I can't…"
"Then you've just let them go."
"You know what hurts me the most…? The fact that you can do this to me…"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he yelled, Voldemort died, and he scampered away from the fallen body in the middle of the darkened forest and ran. He didn't know why he was running then but he did.
His heart racing, ragged heavy breathing, stumbling and tripping over the undergrowth, sweat, both warm and cold, flowing down his back…. He had to go somewhere… get away… something was wrong… he needed help….
What he had just seen… what… what was that…? Where did it come from? He forgot all about winning the war, he had to find out… he didn't understand… what… what was that?
To this day he still could not understand why his legs took him there. He needed answers, of that he was sure, and that he understood, but why there? Personally, he was quite sure that he was not in charge of them that night of Hallowe'en.
He was not in control of anything.
But still they led him there, he went and after ten minutes of insistent rapping, the door swung open, and he dove upon the occupant, "What did you do to me? WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO ME?"
"Calm down Mr Potter, it is merely a simple memory potion-well, not that simple-but all you have seen are your memories returning, it is wearing off… release me," said Snape.
Harry did so at once, only to grasp his collar again and demand, "WHY THE HELL DID YOU GIVE ME A MEMORY POTION?"
"Release me… (Harry reluctantly did and stepped away) some of your memories… are a little too 'precious' to allow the Dark Lord, or his supporters from what your condition suggests, to know…. Your wife's should be returning shortly," Snape told him, straightening his collar.
"My… what?" asked Harry, and was greeted by the feeling of his head swimming. He swayed slightly and backed into the door.
"Your wife," replied Snape, "Miss Granger… my apologies, the young Mrs Potter took the potion as well, her memories should be returning soon enough."
"Hermione? Hermione married me? She's Ron's girlfriend, why would she marry me?" asked Harry.
Snape sighed, "I have no time to help you navigate the mass confusion of your relationships… but I do suspect her pregnancy had something to do with it."
"Her what? She wasn't… we didn't… I'm not…" protested Harry.
"Think! Your memories hold all the answers, for the first time in your life, think!" Snape snapped. "I have no time to lie for you, to lie to you! The fact of the matter is that after your friend foolishly got hurt, you slept with his girlfriend, I found you out, Mrs Weasley had you married and then you decided to put away those memories for safekeeping. Now they're back, think and you'll see that I'm not deceiving you!"
It took a while but presently the images that had first swirled in his head on the cold forest floor came tearing back in frenzy. He fell back unto a nearby seat and let his head fall into his hands. The fury with which they went through his mind in blinding, flashing lights and a mixture of cries and voices made his head hurt almost as much as his scar did usually. He opened his eyes when he could take it no more and looked up at Snape.
"When… when will she remember?" he asked.
"I don't know… it could be hours, a matter of days… or worse… it depends on how you regained yours… or a trigger of some sort…. Tell me, how did you regain yours?" Snape asked.
And it was then that Harry realised what had just happened. After running all that way, all that way to the hiding place of Severus Snape, Harry realised that he had killed the Dark Lord. His mouth fell open and he stammered, "I… I uh… I killed him… Voldemort's dead…"
Snape gave a slight nod as if this were common knowledge and then asked, "Did your friends see you… do they know that it is over and you are alive?"
Harry shook his head, "N-no… I uh… um, I didn't stick around to tell them… I just came here…. Wait a minute, pregnancy? Wuh-where's the baby…?"
"Babies… at Grimmauld Place, I have not been there in weeks so I do not know how they are, but both girls are walking now… what exactly happened when you killed the Dark Lord?" asked Snape in reply.
Harry did not answer, instead he rose at once-which he instantly regretted-and made for the door.
Snape watched him stagger a moment and said, "I fear, that at this late hour they are both, and their guardian, asleep. If you wish to see them in the morning I can take you, but first Mr Potter, let's make sure that we've won."
Harry continued to the door, ignoring him, then fell to his knees and grasped the doorknob until his knuckles were white to support himself.
He was weak, thoroughly exhausted, but he had to go on, he had to see them, find the others and go home. He had to get up….
He was going nowhere though.
The last thing he knew before he fell into the welcome vacuum of sleep, was Snape coming over to lead him away, saying, "Come away from there Mr Potter, it will all be sorted out shortly, but I think you need to rest…"
He would "rest" for four days, then awaken to a world that thought him dead, or as the Daily Prophet proclaimed, "The Death Eaters' Triumph: Harry Potter Sacrifices Self to Save the World!"
If only, that was true.
Save for exhaustion, the remnants of malnutrition and a few cuts and a scratch, Harry Potter was very much alive. His current condition was "for their own good", it allowed them to "have the lives they deserved", to "give them peace"… or so it was claimed.
How foolish he was to believe that.
Hermione, Ron, forgive him.
In those first hazy days after the battle too, he was so weak that he depended heavily on Snape in his little shack home in Spinner's End. With Peter Pettigrew dead, and many of the other Death Eaters unaware of his home, Snape managed to keep him rather secret. This eased Harry's mind-at times deep in paranoid dreams-little.
More than once he imagined that Snape was trying to kill him, and especially when he advised him that it was best to maintain his "death". That it was quite dangerous for him not to do so, that it would only bring harm to his friends and his children, that it was best. Weak in mind and body, he agreed… but he was suspicious. If he killed him in his sleep, who would know?
Then Snape took him to see his daughters.
Maia and Aimee, only seventeen months old, toddled over to him with wide, curious eyes and smiled. He picked them up, couldn't sustain them, and put them down again. How beautiful they were, how innocent of the world around them, how fortunate-added Snape-that they didn't resemble him or their mother too much.
With Amaranthe's coaxing, and Snape's disapproval, the twins even called him "Papa". He doubted they could connect the face in the album they had with the man they saw before them though… another luxury according to Snape.
Amaranthe told him everything she could of her ten months with them. They walked on their first birthday, their first word was "Quidit"-which she assumed to be "Quidditch"-she was already starting them on their potty-training and Aimee was showing signs of an academic mind-she had her own little library in the nursery and was always found in a pile of books. She was honoured, she said, that she could take care of the children of the man who saved the world.
She wouldn't know yet that she would be caring for them for much longer than those ten.
Snape ended their visit early, Harry protested, but his weakened state meant that he went nevertheless. He promised the twins he would see them again, that he would relieve Amaranthe as soon as he could and that Hermione would be with him. She smiled sadly as she closed the door behind them.
He wondered if she knew it then, for he would never see the twins again.
As a matter of fact, the next time he would see any one of his world again, would be the night before Hermione married Viktor Krum. He travelled all the way to Bulgaria determined to stop the wedding… and couldn't. Snape's words echoing in his head: "Let this be, the only thing you can give her now is pain. She will not forgive you for leaving in the first place, she will never for ruining her chance at a normal life. And especially, Mr Potter, when you know full well that you can only bring her and everyone else their deaths." Snape had been there waiting for him in the hotel when he arrived and talked him out of it. It was just like when he had talked him into going away for good years before.
"You must make arrangements to leave, find a house somewhere… remote, somewhere they cannot find you, somewhere you will not be recognised."
"Why? After the war, who's not going to recognise me?"
"Because it is dangerous for you to go back to your friends now, and folly for you to dismiss the threat of the Death Eaters, Bellatrix will stop at nothing until you're dead!"
"I don't care about Bellatrix, I killed her master, and I'll kill her too!"
"When… after Miss Granger or Mr Weasley is dead? Miss Granger was almost killed in that attack on her home, you read about it, and if I'm not mistaken you were there. I told you not to go. Do you wish to have her join them again so soon?"
"I can protect them! I will protect her!"
"Get away from here Mr Potter, get away or you'll soon be burying them!"
"I can protect them; I've done it before…"
"And what, of your daughters? Unlike Mr Weasley and Miss Granger who at least may be able to resist, those two children cannot protect themselves. You do them more harm by returning than staying away, and you'd be a fool to forget that!"
What a fool he was indeed.
But now, the world was righting itself. He wished he could be there with her when it did.
~*~*~*~
"A Silver Arrow II, wow! Um… I mean… whatever, probably a cheap knockoff…" said Philippe from his place in the stands, comfortably seated between Ron and Hermione, looking on as the Hufflepuff team tryouts began.
Down on the field, the twins had just unveiled Maia's broom. Half of the line turned to look at it.
Hermione looked at Philippe and turned to Ron, "What's so good about that broom?"
Ron gave her an incredulous stare, "Are you kidding? That broom is the best since the Firebolt under professional level! Isn't your son Caspar Krum?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, sighed, and asked, "Forget that, where did she get that broom?"
"Her father," Ron replied.
Immediately, Ginny beside him started choking on her drink, Hermione dropped the Omnoculars in her hands and had to nervously scramble for it before it tumbled out of the stands altogether. Philippe, a world away in his thoughts, noticed nothing.
Ron hastened to explain.
"I think it was their 'Tantie Marie' who bought it, I mean, he must have made some kind of arrangement so they had money… she just bought it and told them that he sent it."
"Why not tell them the truth?" demanded Ginny, her tone barely concealing her anger.
"Sometimes, it's not that simple," said Ron. The dark look in Hermione's eyes then told that she disagreed, he did too, but it was true.
A lanky, white-blonde haired, blue-grey eyed Fifth Year, Captain Ethan Christensen appeared from the changing rooms flanked by his team and trailing a large trunk behind him. In the trunk were the Quidditch balls: the Quaffle, for scoring, the two Bludgers, to knock players off, and the Snitch, for the Seeker to catch. Today they only needed the Snitch, Ron tended to think they should use all, find a new team… but he dare not say that aloud. Hermione surely had a Hufflepuff bias now.
Attention diverted from Maia's broom, a quiet descended over those lined up. Aimee took the time to slip off the field and find a place in the stands. Ron called her up to them, she hesitated a while, as if unsure if it was really okay, and then went on up.
Helping her into a seat directly before them, he asked her, "How's your sister doing, Miss Black?"
"She'll be fine," Aimee said, "Tantie Marie said Papa was a Seeker, so it's in our genes… if I want to believe her that is. She wasn't really our aunt…"
"He was…" said Hermione, suddenly, her voice insistent.
Everyone, including Aimee turned to her, she quickly amended, "I'm sure he was… she was protecting you, I don't think she would lie about that."
Aimee shrugged, "For Maia, I hope she wasn't."
The Captain went to the centre of the field, set down the trunk with his team-mates, and freed the Snitch, taking care to hold it tight. Turning to the line, he looked around a while and then began, "Quite a number we have out today… (There were actually about twenty students in the line, the news of Mrs Viktor Krum had brought the rest) but all I want is for one of you to catch the Snitch. Almost anyone can, actually, but if you want to play Quidditch you better be the first, faster than the other players, so… hop to it!"
He raised his arm and released the small winged golden ball to the air. One by one the students gathered mounted their brooms to chase and capture it. The end result was somewhat entertaining.
One boy zoomed around the pitch for nearly half an hour, every few moments or so shooting off after a flash of gold he thought to be the Snitch. He had one of the faster brooms, a Comet Five Hundred, but handled it as if he had never flown before. Ron tried his very best to stifle his calls for Christensen to call him down. And then, finally, he descended empty-handed, only for Captain Christensen to release the Snitch that had flown past him some moments before and he caught without moving an inch.
Another student, a girl, gave up early. After the Snitch had flown past her a few times, on one occasion almost dancing on her nose, she flew down crying and ran off the field. Ron chuckled a bit, and Hermione glared at him.
Still another girl flew in a straight line, and not more than a few feet off the field. She looked so afraid to display whatever flying ability she had that Captain Christensen called her down, or rather, over, and told her to come back later when there was no one else around.
There was a mild intermittence, where the students flying were passable and sent to the sidelines to wait for a second try, and then it was Maia's turn.
Both Ginny and Hermione straightened in their seats. Ron just stopped himself from doing the same. Aimee gave no outward sign of anxiety but there had to be something. Maia Jae Black was the daughter of Harry Potter, and though he wasn't the best Seeker in the world (that honour still belonged to Viktor Krum), he was good enough that his daughters had to have some talent.
Philippe yawned, stretched and dropped an arm behind Hermione. She barely noticed, Ron removed it with a pointed look and returned his attention to the field.
Like the Firebolt before it, the Silver Arrow II, once Maia had set it down, rose to hover beside her, ready for her to mount it. Streamlined, sleek and made of willow, the broom boasted of the latest anti-jinx, braking, steering and cushioning technology. Not a stalk was out of place; no errant twigs could be spotted on the handle and handwritten at the tip in real silver was the name underlined by the pictograph of a hunting arrow.
Though they had all seen it before, they still had to look at it again.
Maia climbed atop the broom, settled herself, and Captain Christensen released the Snitch. It vanished almost immediately, and then she rose after it, but slowly.
If she was marking the position, Ron could not tell, and nor did she give any indication that she was really pursuing it. She climbed first to the height of the others' heads, then the goalposts, then the stands, and close enough so that she could look at the small crowd gathered, and then finally above them all with her eyes scanning the sky and then the stadium round.
Philippe muttered, "I knew I would have a laugh, what does she think she's doing? You can't do that when they're other players on the field…"
"But there aren't any now," said Aimee.
"That's not the point; can you two really play Quidditch? Even when there aren't other players…" and he was suddenly drowned out by the roar of the crowd.
They turned to find Maia diving at a speed that had Hermione rise from her seat to watch her go while Ginny gripped Ron's arm so tight he felt it going numb. She disappeared into the ditch that ran round the stadium and possibly did a lap before shooting up again by the goalposts and soaring as high as she dared above them all. That earned her a rousing applause that died as she settled into scanning the air again, having lost the Snitch once more.
Ron felt like applauding the broom though. It turned at the drop of a hat, the speed it accelerated to in a matter of seconds was certainly not for the faint of heart and though Maia handled it expertly-no doubt having well learned during the summer-it seemed to need no direction from her when it came to pursuit. With one of those on the Gryffindor team, once he convinced them that they needed a new Seeker, they would be unstoppable. Aimee surely flew as well as her sister.
And then she was off again, leaning forward, arm outstretched, concentration firmly on the little golden ball just flitting out of reach… and then it was over. She slowed again, straightened up and casually descended to Captain Christensen and handed him the Snitch.
Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Aimee delivered a standing ovation. Ginny actually screaming above the crowd, but amazingly out of Aimee's hearing, "She flies just like Harry!"
Hermione concurred, Philippe and the others were less enthusiastic, and a few muttered complaints about the broom.
Maia didn't care.
She grinned at them in the stands and went across to the others lined up for a second turn; Ron didn't see the need for one.
Hermione turned to look at him then with a smile on her face that he hadn't seen since she proudly displayed the newborn Caspar to the world. He returned it as best he could and whispered, "My belated Mother's Day gift, now what do you say?"
She looked puzzled a second and then shook her head, "Thank you, Ron."
~*~*~*~
When Maia finally left the Quidditch field after her first practice with the team it was sunset. Long rays of golden light, lancing through the hot pink and violet of the evening sky, followed her across the lawns and into the castle. The cool air whipped at her sweat-suit and now messy ponytail, and put a deep blush to her cheeks. Her tired limbs barely supported her and her broom all the way down to the basement past the kitchens to the Hufflepuff dormitory. But it was with a victorious smile that she uttered the password that revealed the trapdoor to the Hufflepuff Common Room, and climbed down to find Lixue, and Aimee, waiting for her.
She gave them both a weary smile, and then collapsed onto one of the couches.
Aimee grinned, "You did it! You actually did it!"
"I know…" replied, Maia lazily. For some reason though, she could barely keep her eyes open.
Aimee plopped unto the chair beside her and whispered, "Amamay awsay ouyay oday tiway ootway!" <Mama saw you do it too!>
This brought a fresh grin to her face and she turned to her sister with her brightest smile, "Ego nowkay!" <I know!>
Lixue joined them on the chair, "I heard about it when I was in 'le bibliothèque'. Are you ready for your first match? Rhiannon is Slytherin Seeker and now that you two aren't talking-why is that, by the way-you better be prepared for their attack."
Maia gave a weak shrug, "I don't care. Quidditch is in my blood, our grandfather, and father played, so I should be reasonably good…"
"Reasonably good…? You were great, and even when they made you go on the Captain's broom! I wish I had that kind of talent!" said Lixue. "Both my parents played Quidditch here and I'm horrible!"
Maia smirked, "Horrible? Well, that's putting it mildly. And besides, even if you were any good you would waste the entire game staring at Christensen. We all know you fancy him!"
Lixue blushed, and looked the other way.
Aimee took over, whispering, "Amamay ightmay omecay otway eesay hattay amegay, nday hetay omanway ithway erhay aidsay ouyay lyfay ikelay Apapay!" <Mama might come to see that game, and the woman with her said you fly like Papa!>
Maia snapped round to face her at that, "Hesay idday?" <She did?>
"Oui, nday Amamay greeday!" she told her. <Yes, and Mama agreed!>
"What do you two talk about when you do that?" asked Lixue, finally turning back to them, and looking anywhere but at the door. (Captain Christensen had just entered the Common Room.)
"Nothing," replied the twins, together.
"Yeah right, you only do that when you don't want anyone to know what you're saying. Is it about Philippe, I know he fancies one of you," said Lixue.
At this both girls made gagging sounds, and Maia gripped her throat as if she were choking. Lixue was not amused.
"You think you're so funny, but you're not!" she muttered, grumpily.
Her grumpiness would fade into a nervous, embarrassed silence though, when Captain Christensen suddenly appeared before the couch and said, "Good job, Miss Black-Maia is it?-Well, yeah, good job, see you next practice Tuesday afternoon."
The twins nodded, Lixue tried not to look at him, and once he was gone, disappearing to the boys' dormitory, Aimee said, "She did it again!"
"What? I didn't do anything…" started Lixue.
"You're right, you just sat there trying not to look at him… hey, now that I'm playing would you mind if I told him about you…?" asked Maia.
"Don't you dare…" she protested.
The twins began as if they didn't hear her, "Ooh, can you imagine the wedding?"
"She could have it in Marseilles… or Versailles, Versailles is always pretty…"
"But Marseilles is warmer…"
"How about Monaco, remember when we went there?"
"Yeah…"
Lixue rose with a huff and stormed away, which made them burst out laughing behind her while calling apologies in between.
Once she was gone though, Maia turned to her sister and asked, "Idday Amamay skay nythingay boutay suay?" <Did Mama ask anything about us?>
"Otnay eallyray, hesay ustjay… tiway asway trangeway, ikelay hesay idntday nowkay suay…" Aimee replied. <Not really, she just… it was strange, like she didn't know us…>
"Owhay… idday hesay entionmay Apapay?" asked Maia, her brow furrowed slightly as she puzzled over Aimee's reply. <How… did she mention Papa?>
"Onay, nlyoay henway hesay aidsay ouyay lyfay ikelay imhay, hatway oday ouyay akemay foay hattay?" she told her. <No, only when she said you fly like him, what do you make of that?>
There was a moment of silence, and Maia began in English, "I don't know. Tantie Marie always told us that it wasn't safe to talk to Mama or Papa. But then Papa always had her buy things for us anyway, and when she died she left us his address in that letter…"
Aimee continued, "And Mama never did, and then suddenly we get this visit today, and she doesn't even mention him. I always thought they spoke to each other?"
"Me too," replied Maia. "But maybe they didn't. And then you said that it was like she didn't know us, how could that be? How can you forget your children?"
"You think she forgot?" asked Aimee.
"I don't want to say that she doesn't know us, I don't think that she could not know something about us…. Unless Professor Weasley and that woman-Ginny-doesn't know… but…. Oh, this is all too confusing! And we have more important things to worry about than trying to figure out if Mama remembers us or not," said Maia.
"She said we could write to her, even gave me the address, which is also why I'm down here," Aimee added then.
When her sister looked to her in surprise, she drew a slip of parchment from her robes. Scrawled on in a neat script were the address of a house in Wiltshire and the name of the owner, Hermione Granger.
Maia snatched it from her and looked it over in shock, and then her face fell, "Oh, but this makes it worse now."
"What, how?" Aimee asked, now confused.
"Like I was going to say, it's not going to change that we still have to go to school here, and that news spreads fast in this place. If anyone saw her give you that, and since everyone saw us talking to her, it won't take long before the whole school knows. And when the whole school knows, the press will, and it will be just like when that woman came. Tantie Marie always complained that Uncle Sirius' family would be trouble for us," Maia explained.
After a time to swallow this bit of information, Aimee said, "At least we get to speak to her and Papa now, and that makes it all worth it."
"But we don't have an owl, and using a school owl isn't safe enough as it is," said Maia.
At this, Aimee said, "I told that to Mama, and all she said was to look to the skies at sunset on All Hallow's Eve, whatever that means…."
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