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The Black Prophecy

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The weeks of September and early October passed fairly quickly for Hermione. She occupied her time with her prefect duties, school work, extra assignments from Severus and getting to know her housemates. The class work was largely boring. She attempted to avoid both Dumbledore and McGonagall as much as possible, but she felt eyes on her almost all the time. Her protection detail seemed to always close ranks whenever she tensed at the sensation of probing eyes. Her only respite was in the DADA classroom and the dungeons. Her wife wrote her daily. The content varied from tactical updates to long erotic letters that left Hermione wet, craving, and needy. She could do nothing to sufficiently satisfy herself and quickly learned not to even try. Instead she longed for the first Hogsmeade visit of the term. The dark witch promised her the entire day would be spent in bed. The waiting was torturous. Narcissa, too, wrote frequently. Though she had to endure a certain level of teasing, the letters kept her company. The blonde clearly believed it was her job to remind Hermione why she must press on. She missed the youngest Black sister. It was different than the pain from being separated from her soulmate, but it pulled at her heart all the same.

At her sister-in-law’s insistence, Hermione agreed to be more social. It was difficult, but she wasn’t sure Narcissa really understood. The Malfoys brought out the very best in her. To her, they were open, loving, and non-judgemental. No one, much less a group, had ever treated her with such consideration and adoration. She hadn’t trusted it at first, but after meeting Bella she couldn’t help but give in to them. She still struggled with the idea that all of the green and silver clad teenagers wanted to be her friend. She had yet to find any evidence that they were anything but genuine. And yet she found herself pulling on a heavy cloak and the scarf that once belonged to the blonde witch. She carefully tucked her wand into her sleeve before opening the door. As expected a group of girls led by Pansey was waiting for her. Usually she had a group of both genders, but today was quidditch tryouts. So the boys that had become constant companions were already down at the field. It was clear from the body language of the girls, that they considered themselves to be no less capable of guarding one of the members of the Dark Lord’s inner circle.

After the brief walk to the quidditch pitch and up into the stands, Hermione settled in on the bench. She toyed with the end of the scarf as she looked down to find Draco. Initially he hadn’t wanted to participate, due to what he deemed to be “more important matters.” Eventually, after many promises, Hermione convinced him to play again. They were attempting to make the Gryffindors suspicious and curious about him. It was important for him to maintain his aura of power. That and she would really like to see her wife’s nephew wipe the floor with the Potter brat.

His platinum hair made him easy to spot. Much to her delight he seemed to be joking and laughing with his usual group of friends. Though it was normal procedure for them to all try out again, she suspected that it wouldn’t be an issue considering they all made the team last year. Not to mention she had witnessed first hand how much Draco’s flying improved over the summer. He had always been good, but the arrival of the Death Eaters and their eagerness to teach him gave him quite the boost. She watched with vague interest as the team kicked off from the ground and began flying.

The girls sitting around her chatted animatedly about which of the boys they liked and who they in turn might fancy. She didn’t interact with them, but absentmindedly stroked her necklace. She was proud of the Black family crest that hung around her neck, it was a tangible reminder of to whom she belonged. She was happy during the afterglow of her wedding night when she noticed that her wedding band matched it perfectly. She never removed either. The ring moved freely around her finger, she discovered as she frequently twirled it when class material got boring. The necklace however could still only be removed by someone with Black blood. And though her marriage gave her certain rights over people with that blood running through their veins, the charm on the necklace was not one of them. Secretly she hoped that her wife specifically ensured she could not. While she loved every part of Bellatrix, there was little that could be sexier than when she was possessive.

She held the medallion tightly in her hand. Her connection to her wife was powerful, but she had never before attempted to communicate at such a distance. She closed her eyes to silently centered her magic on her love for her wife and te necklace in her hand. She hoped it might work somewhat like a protean charm. Bella almost always worn a similar necklace and it was Hermione's hope that she might have managed to warm the metal against her lovers skin. And even more that she might be able to feel some semblance of the love the young witch had for her. After a few minutes she released te necklace and her magic. She didn't want to worry Bella with intensity.

She stared at the scrimmage wondering what exactly was going on and philosophically why such a game had appeal to the masses. She tried not to think of the distance between her and the one thing she wanted or the hopelessness of not being able to use their magical connection. She watched as Draco managed to capture the snitch. The girls around her erupted into cheers. He clearly wouldn't have a hard time finding someone to date this year if he so chose.

She followed the group as they descended to go congratulate those who made the team. Halfway down the stairs she froze. The metal around her neck and ring finger became pleasantly warm and she felt filled up with Bella's love. She could smell pine and cinnamon. It was like her wife's magic wrapped around her. It was so astoundingly pleasant that it stole her breath as well as caused her stomach to clench in hope of pleasure. She jumped when a hesitant hand touched her shoulder and a tentative voice asked if she was ok. She nodded as much as she could and forced her legs to start moving again. The familiar feeling of adoration mixed painfully with the loneliness of her current situation.

She was grateful when she reached the grass. Draco immediately set down his broom and ran over to her, scooping her up to spin her around. She couldn’t help but burst out in laughter.

“Congratulations, Draco. But I am not certain that was necessary.”

“Oh, I assure you it was. I haven’t heard you laugh in far too long. And we have no guests within sight lines at the moment.”

“I do believe you can put me down now,” she said in a falsely annoyed tone.

“Very well, your majesty. So what did you think of tryouts.”

“They were lovely.”

“You weren’t even slightly paying attention were you.”

“I might have been a bit distracted.”

“With what,” he asked clearly exasperated. “You promised not to bring a book. My mother will not be pleased.”

“Why does everyone threaten to tattle on me to Cissy?”

“Because she is the only one you seem to fear.”

“Right. Well I suppose that does make sense, but I am not that afraid.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Do you want to know what I was doing or not?”

“Of course I do. Please tell me, Hermione, what were you doing while not watching my tryouts.”

“Strictly speaking I was watching. I just was also experimenting with my magic. It seems that I can reach my wife even from here.”

“You can what?”

“I was able to make her necklace and ring warm, by holding my own. And I suspect I was able to make her feel my emotions at the time.”

“How do you know?”

“On my way down the stairs she figured out how to do it back. It was so intense I could even smell her magic.”

“You know I love you, but I am not certain that I really need to know anything about the intensity between you and my aunt.”

“Goes with the territory, I am afraid. You really should have considered that before you agreed to help your dear mother play match maker.”

“And yet, I would still not take it back.”

She looked at him sincerely, breaking with their playful banter. She kissed him affectionately on the cheek. “I will always be in your debt.”

“Good! Then you would be more than happy to spend the afternoon working with me.”

“What a lovely transition that was. What is it that you need help with, Draco?”

“I have a … project it is time to begin work on. I believe your skills would be useful.”

“Then you have my undivided attention.”

“Tell me the truth,” he said venturing back into the realm of playful, “how far ahead are you?”

“Only until next week. And this, my friend, is why I work so far ahead. So that I have time to go gallivanting off on your special project.”