Betrothal

What are you talking about? The Ministry isn't going to magically start hiring werewolves," Mrs. Lupin snapped, her protective instincts for her son raised. Hermione nodded.

"You are quite right. The Ministry will continue to be the breeding ground for idiots and sycophants," Hermione agreed. "I don't think that we really need to worry about that, though. No, I'm talking about marriage."

"Marriage? Who in their right mind would allow their daughter to be betrothed to a werewolf?" Mrs. Lupin asked in shock. Hermione smirked slightly and Andromeda rolled her eyes at her friend.

"I can see you biting your lips to avoid making a joke about the fact that most Blacks are not in their right minds," Andromeda drawled coolly. Mrs. Lupin blinked at her in surprise.

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs. Lupin said in a stunned voice.

"You know that I am Andromeda Tonks, but I was born a Black. This is my daughter, Nymphadora," Andromeda explained carefully. "At Hermione's wedding, we realized that Dora here is Remus' mate."

"Is she?" Mrs. Lupin asked faintly waving her hand slightly, silently asking if Nymphadora was a werewolf as well. The other two women shook their heads negatively.

"No, ma'am, but that doesn't make her any less his mate," Hermione said gently.

"But the children," Mrs. Lupin said faintly. Hermione shook her head.

"No. The children will be fine. Well, they'll have Black blood, and they do tend toward insanity, but aside from that…they'll be fine," Hermione explained carefully. Andromeda mock glared at her from across the table and a faint smile curved Mrs. Lupins' lips.

"I…we never thought," Mrs. Lupine murmured to herself thoughtfully. She finally looked up at both women. "Why?"

"You have done a wonderful job, Mrs. Lupin," Hermione said quietly. "Your son is one of the kindest, gentlest, most noble men I know. He is honorable, trustworthy and chivalrous. In short, he is everything that every woman hopes her own sons will be. I am privileged enough to call Remus Lupin my friend, and he is my husband's friend as well. I would go so far as to say that my husband and my brother consider him family."

"Ah," Mrs. Lupin said with a nod. Family was important in the wizarding world, and Mrs. Lupin could understand that.

"Which actually brings me to another concern that I have," Hermione said carefully. Andromeda frowned slightly and turned her head toward her friend.

"Yes?" Mrs. Lupin asked carefully.

"Your husband is still, er, outspoken…politically…one assumes?" Hermione asked as politely as possible. Mrs. Lupin sighed and nodded.

"He is," Mrs. Lupin said slowly. "Perhaps even more so because of Remus."

"I admire his desire to stand up for his rights," Hermione soothed, proceeding carefully. "I was wondering if he might be open to a certain arrangement?"

"It would depend on the arrangement," Mrs. Lupin said dryly. "John is a man of firm morals."

"I know that many people discount the Quibbler due to its more esoteric subject matter, but Xenophilius Lovegood is a man of similarly firm morals. He is not afraid to confront the Ministry in print," Hermione observed mildly.

"I see," Mrs. Lupin said carefully, in a voice that implied that she most certainly did not see.

"Due to a substantial investment from an outside source, the Quibbler finds itself in the unusual position of being able to hire a reporter," Hermione continued gracefully, smiling slightly at Andromeda who was watching her with an expression of fascination. Mrs. Lupin frowned slightly.

"And Lovegood wants to hire John?" Mrs. Lupin guessed with a slight frown.

"Yes, unfortunately, you'll be forced to move to a small house owned by the Quibbler, and live there rent free while Mr. Lupin works on the paper. Xenophilius insists on having his reporters close at hand so they can discuss their work," Hermione said mildly.

"Rent free?" Mrs. Lupin echoed sharply. "And John would be paid, as well?"

"Yes. Of course, when Xenophilius approaches Mr. Lupin, he may neglect to mention this, but he's an artistic spirit and he feels that money sullies his work. I'm worried that Mr. Lupin may receive the wrong impression, and may reject Mr. Lovegood's offer, not realizing that it is a genuine, substantial offer," Hermion fretted convincingly, biting her lip and wringing her hands.

"I see," Mrs. Lupin said with a slight frown.

"And there's the small matter of Nymphadora as well. Even though Cygnus Black has disowned Andromeda, Alphard Black is the Head of our family and he has promised to provide a dowry for the girl," Hermione explained carefully.

"I must speak to my husband," Mrs. Lupin said, clearly overwhelmed at all the information she was receiving today.

"Of course," Hermione agreed. "The house is located near Ottery St. Catchpole, close to Mr. Lovegood's house and another magical family, the Weasleys, I believe. Here is the address for the house that belongs to the Quibbler. I'm sure your husband will want to look it over."

"Thank you, Mrs. Black," Mrs. Lupin said in a somewhat dazed voice.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Lupin, if your husband is willing to work for the Quibbler, he will be instrumental in the war effort, and we will be thanking you for your sacrifices," Hermione said firmly.

"Sacrifices?" Mrs. Lupin asked sharply. Hermione nodded earnestly.

"Of course. Moving is such a chore after all, and Ottery St. Catchpole is rather quiet and cozy. It's certainly not fashionable," Hermione explained with a slight smile, knowing that everything she was saying would reassure Mrs. Lupin.

"I'll speak to John," were her parting words as she nodded to both ladies and took her leave. Andromeda was staring at her in wonder.

"You…you…does Sirius realize what he's done?" Andromeda asked curiously.

"I doubt it," Hermione said with a slight smile.

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HP/HG/HP

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Shopping in Diagon Alley was one of the things that one had to do at one point or another. Hermione was still adjusting to being called Mrs. Black everywhere she went. She had had several unfortunate mishaps where her orders had been confused with her husband's estranged mother. Really, why on earth would someone need a case of mummified bat's wings? One or two, sure…but a case? Hermione bit her lips as she walked and thought about that. What if Alphard was right? She had supposed that her new uncle-by-marriage was sad to see his cousin become so twisted and cruel, but what if he was right and Orion Black was cursed or Imperiused? With a case of bat's wings, Hermione wondered if maybe some sort of potion wasn't responsible. She was willing to bet that a strong-willed man like Orion Black had been would have been able to throw off an Imperius. She wandered toward Flourish & Blott's and began to look for books on potions. Hermione was deep in the stacks, nibbling her lower lip and frowning, unsure of which book to purchase when she felt that she was being watched. She straightened up immediately and turned toward the source of the feeling.

"Mrs. Malfoy," she said politely, with a slight nod of her head. They were related by marriage now, it wouldn't hurt her to be polite. Then she noticed that Narcissa seemed rather wan and pale and she smiled encouragingly at her.

"Mrs. Black," Narcissa said as though the words pained her greatly, and nodded her head as well.

"Are you well?" Hermione asked cautiously. Narcissa's face looked slightly pinched and somewhat pained.

"I'm fine, thank you for your concern," Narcissa managed to bite out between clenched teeth.

Purebloods often found it difficult to conceive children due to the excessive inbreeding, and the Potter's story was not unusual by any means. Old Hermione had not been privy to the vagaries of Lucius and Narcissa's marriage and relationship, but Hermione P—er, Black stood there and frowned slightly. Could Narcissa have had a miscarriage? It was entirely possible. She looked it, certainly. Hermione knew how much Narcissa loved Lucius, and she would view a miscarriage as a failure on her part to carry on the glorious Malfoy line…or something. Hermione sighed and decided to be kind to her new cousin-in-law. Certainly one of the less pleasant members, but also not the worst of the lot.

"You will give him a son," Hermione said softly enough that no one else could hear. Narcissa stiffened and her eyes narrowed in anger.

"Excuse me?" She demanded coldly.

"You will give him a son," she repeated. "He will be so happy, and so proud that he is going to name him using the Black family customs."

"He…he will?" Narcissa asked faintly, hope flickering feebly in her eyes. Hermione bit her lip slightly and then looked sternly at Narcissa.

"You must not spoil him, even if he is the only child you have. Spoiling him will only make him turn out like your sister, Bellatrix. You will love him, of course, but that doesn't mean you can't be firm with him. He won't break, Narcissa," Hermione said firmly. Narcissa nodded, dazed.

"I—I…thank you, Hermione," she whispered, and then Narcissa Malfoy was gone.

I think that was our good deed for the millennium.

You don't understand, children are a very big deal to the pureblood families.

You're worried that you and Sirius won't have any?

I have dreams about the twins…but they're just dreams.

Bloody awful dreams, you mean.

Well, yes, but what if that never happens?

Merlin's beard, I truly hope it doesn't.

No! Not the repudiation, I have no contact with anyone part. The babies part.

Aren't we kicking ass and taking names right now?

Well, yes. We are, and we're quite busy at it. It's just…later. Down the road I mean.

Oh, well, down the road sure. It would be fabulous. Right now, though, we have dark lords to squash.

Indeed. Our Ladies' Aide Society has been doing excellent work, protecting targeted families. Any time our milites hear of an attack, or I see it, we've warded the houses of muggles, and moved the magical families.

How do they choose the muggle families? Have you determined that, yet?

You won't like it.

Probably not, but tell Auntie Hermione anyway.

Usually? It's families that have magical children. Somehow…they're accessing the books at Hogwarts. The books that list incoming students.

That's…that's…I…I think I'm going to be sick.

You can't be sick. I'm not certain, mind you. It's a theory that I have.

Your theories are very often right.

Unfortunately, you're right.