Chapter Text
Hermione could feel the blood draining from her face and her eyes widen as big as they could.
“That’s bollocks. Utter bollocks!”
“Ms. Granger! Mind your words!” McGonagall sounded appalled and that made her even more furious.
How dare she be more appalled about her cursing than about the bomb Shacklebolt had just dropped?
Hermione ran her eyes through the people surrounding her, trying to make something out of their expressions. Only the inner circle of the Order was gathered at the kitchen’s headquarters for this meeting; the ones who had survived the war, at least. Shacklebolt, Professor McGonnagall, Professor Lupin, Mr and Mrs Weasley all looked at her with pitiful anxious eyes. Sirius Black kept his eyes down, refusing to look at her. They knew. Harry and Ron flanked her and she could feel their agitation and indignation. They didn't know, at least.
“But it is, innit?” Ron came to her defence. “A law making muggleborns marry purebloods is utter bollocks.”
“Ronald Weasley!” The scolding came directly from his mother, this time.
“No, I’m sorry, but no!” Hermione was so angry, she could feel her entire body shake and all she could hear was a buzz in her ears, if anyone had tried to stop her tirade, she couldn’t tell. “It has been less than six months since the battle. Actually, no, not since the battle. Since I saw Hagrid carry Harry’s dead body, since I saw Greyback tear Lavender apart. Since I tended to mangled bodies in the Great Hall. Your wife’s body, Professor Lupin. Your son’s body, Mrs Weasley.” she pointed accusingly at them, and not even the pain in their expressions held her back. “ I tended to them, so I could spare you some pain. And now I’ll be married off to some pureblood scum and you’re asking me to be polite about it?! No. I refuse. I am done. I will do what I have to do, because that’s what I always do, but I’m done being pleasant about it.”
“Mione, please…” Harry, of all people, was the one trying to calm her down.
“No, Harry! Look at their faces. Look at them! They knew! They’ve known for days!” she stood as angry tears rolled from her eyes. “They have already decided a big plan to save the day and they’ll present it to me and I’ll comply. Am I wrong? Go ahead, Minister , tell me I’m wrong.”
The room was dead silent, aside from the sound of the heavy breathing of the angry witch. Shacklebolt sustained her eyes, impassive. His years as Auror had helped him perfect the art of concealing any and all emotion from his face. And he also knew that sometimes feelings had to run their course in order to deescalate a situation. So he gave her time before speaking. He would not turn her outburst into a discussion.
“I would never insult you by trying to warp your perception of reality. You have your facts, and there’s no point in fighting it.” He spoke with a well balanced mix of assertiveness and tenderness. She took a breath as if she meant to interrupt him, but he sternly raised a finger, silencing her and spoke again “I have caught wind of this marriage law a week ago. It’s legislation that came straight from the Wizengamot. You know I don’t have the legal power to fight such things. We have spent most of this week trying to find loopholes, trying to find an out, but we couldn’t safely find one, Hermione.”
He paused, giving her a chance to speak.
“You were researching, the thing I do best, and kept me out of the loop because…?” she spoke bewilderedly.
“We wanted to spare you the heartbreak. If we could find a way to dismantle this law before it made its way into the public, we could have spared you. And I know it was not fair, that we had no right to decide this for you. But we also know everything you have done for the cause during the war, and we appreciate it deeply. I now can see how we were misguided and I am sorry you feel as if you were manipulated.”
She scoffed and sat back down. There was no point. At the end of the day she knew that she would only come across as a rebellious teenager and Shacklebolt would come across as a sensible leader doing his best. And she was so tired. So jaded.
“I’ll marry her!” Ron broke the long standing silence and awkwardly reached to hold her hand. He turned to her and spoke in rushed words “I know we broke up and thought that we’d be better off as friends, but I think we could make it work. I’m a pureblood, I’ll marry you and we’ll make it work! Right?”
Her heart grew a bit warmer in her chest, that wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t disastrous.
“You can’t.” Mrs Weasley spoke with her voice cracking and glossy eyes. “We had a squib born in our family within the past 5 generations, you’re great uncle Dilbert. You don’t qualify.”
Hermione felt her heart breaking once again. This time she didn’t even have the words to express herself.
“This is bollocks! They pass this law because pureblood lineages are birthing squibs and they want to restore the population, but families with squibs don’t make the cut?” Ron slammed his fist against the table, startling everyone. “How does it make any sense? Tell me a single pureblood family who has 5 generations with no squibs, there just isn’t any!”
“It doesn’t. This law has nothing to do with the discourse surrounding it. It’s about control.” Professor Lupin spoke for the first time that night, his voice calming as ever made a pang of guilt tighten Hermione’s chest. She had every right to be angry, but that didn’t give her the right to be as hurtful as she had been towards him.
“Besides, the pureblood families who subscribed to blood supremacy had the means to wipe the squibs of their records. Our family just never cared enough to do so.” Mr Weasley added.
Hermione let go of Ron’s hand and pulled on her own hair, resting her elbows on the table and breathing deeply trying to calm herself down.
“Who does that leave us with?” she spoke above a whisper. She could feel every adult around the table holding their breath.
“Me, a pureblood scum of the purest pedigree.” Sirius spoke. He had kept his head down through the entirety of the meeting, only then he raised his eyes to look at her. She turned her head slowly until their eyes met.
She studied his expression carefully, but she couldn’t read it. Not because he was hiding anything, but because it was all there. She could see sadness, anger, resolution, worry, tenderness, anxiety, care and fear all sprawled on his face. She wondered if she reflected his expression, because she felt it all too.
“We could alternatively try to smuggle you out of the country, if that’s something you would rather do.” McGonagall proposed.
Hermione barely registered it. Without a word, she stood up and went straight to the library, where she enchanted the door to not open unless she allowed. She just needed something familiar like the smell of old books and worn out sofas.
The boys tried for hours to talk to her, but she didn’t want to talk things over; she didn’t want to see how Harry was reacting to this debacle, because she knew she’d end up comforting him. She seemed to always end up being the one comforting someone but now she was the one who needed comforting, and she had nowhere to turn to. She wished she had a home to run to, but the headquarters was all she had. She wished she had her mother to ask for a hug. But those days were gone, she had to soothe herself, so locked in the library she stayed, until professor Lupin knocked on her door.
“I sent the boys to their room, and I understand if you need your solitude right now, but I would like to speak with you, nonetheless.” His voice was flat, and hearing his tone brought forward the look of hurt she saw on his face earlier today and her heart missed a beat, as if the guilt held it still for longer than it should.
She could not deny him, he was probably there to scold her for bringing Tonks up, and he had every right to do so. So she raised her wand and made the door open a little.
She didn’t want him to pity her, she deserved whatever scolding he brought, but still she couldn’t move her body from the foetal position she had curled herself in.
She saw his silhouette through the doorframe and the words spilled from her before she could really see what expression he carried.
“I’m so sorry, professor. So sorry! I should have never brought Tonks up, please forgive me. I-” her voice broke into a small sob.
He sat on the arm rest of the sofa in which she laid, and patted her head reassuringly. For as much she had craved comfort, now that she was finally receiving any her mind just didn’t know how to wrap around that feeling.
“I am the last person who would judge someone for how they lash out when they are scared and angry. Especially you, who has shown me kindness when I acted in a similar way.” his voice broke the silence after a while, when her sobs had subdued.
After the war, there was this unspoken agreement to not bring up certain things, and Remus’ attempt of leaving a pregnant Tonks was certainly one of those things. But tonight she felt like this barrier was flimsier and she could push her luck.
“It was just the truth, little Teddy will grow up proud of having you as a father.” she sniffed.
“That only time will tell.” he sighed and they remained in silence for a few moments. Lupin still soothingly petted her hair, parenthood having changed his usually distant ways. It was weird being in this situation, but Hermione was accepting any crumble of comfort she could have.
“I always thought that after Dumbledore’s passing, McGonagall would be the one leading the Order, just like she was a natural successor at Hogwarts. But, no. It was Kingsley who stepped up, and in many ways he feels like a continuation of the work that Dumbledore had started.” he spoke as if he was just thinking aloud. After a beat he spoke again, this time with more certainty, directly at her.
“I actually came here to pose you a question. Don’t answer me now, or don’t even answer me at all; but I want you to really think about this.” he spoke somberly “Why do you think Dumbledore did not lift a single finger to help me or Sirius after the first war?”
Hermione started to catch a breath to start answering but before she had finished inhaling, the professor had already shushed her.
“I want you to really think about this, take your time.” he stood up and started leaving the library and he was already by the door when he spoke again. “Sirius has asked me to tell you that if you need to talk, his door would always be open.” and with a sad smile and a nod, he parted.