Capítulo 70: Family Matters
She had come back to Hogwarts for the Tri-Wizard Cup to cheer on her goddaughter, and for no other reason. Really, it had been extremely difficult for her to even come to Scotland, but living in France for the last fifteen years had made them quite close and Fleur was like another daughter to her. She was staying in Hogsmeade so that she could come to every event. So far, she hadn't run into…anyone, and she truly hoped her luck continued. She hurried toward the stands to find a place when she heard a chorus of voices.
"Maman! Maman!"
"Marraine!"
She turned and was tackled by her children and Fleur. Cassiopée and Cephée were too young to enter the competition, but they had come as part of the Beauxbatons contingent anyway. They were dying to see their mother's alma mater and they desperately wanted to be near to hand if Fleur needed them. She laughed and hugged all three of them, listening and nodding to the rapid fire French that all three children were using to try and talk over one another. She did not notice the surprised and shocked faces on several wizards who had been standing and talking near the stands. One of them had to blink his hazel eyes rapidly to get rid of the gathering moisture. His sandy haired friend gripped his arm and he shook his head slightly. They both turned to a dark haired, grey eyed man.
"Did you know they would be here?" James asked in a strained voice. Regulus shook his head.
"No, but I should have guessed. She loves Fleur like she was her own. They would feel like they had to be here, despite the risks," Regulus muttered. Remus looked worried.
"Does he know they're here?" He said finally. The others shook their heads, and Regulus listened with half an ear to his niece and nephew chattering in French.
"And then, this arrogant blond boy told me that I was 'passably' pretty, and he might be willing to let me warm his bed! Can you imagine? I wanted to punch him in the nose, Maman!"
"Which arrogant blond boy?" Cephée asked darkly. "Is it that one? I'll go punch him right now."
"Cephée Alphard Delenoir! You will do no such thing! You will show me where Beauxbatons is sitting and you will be a perfect gentleman, or I will send you home tonight. Do we understand one another?" Hermione's voice was chillingly cold, and the handsome boy hung his head sheepishly.
"Oui, Maman," he muttered obediently. Hermione's gaze narrowed sharply on him.
"You go, Fleur, we'll be watching you," Hermione urged her goddaughter. Fleur took one last tight hug and one last kiss on the cheek and then she was hurrying toward the champion's tent.
"It's right this way, Maman," Cephée carefully led his mother toward Beauxbatons' section in the stands, where Hermione sat delicately, and crossed her ankles.
In their excitemtent, they did not notice the group of people that they had moved past to get to their current seats, nor did she see the look of shock on their faces. One in particular looked particularly tormented when two miniatures of himself—one female and one male—moved with an unconscious grace passed him, their beautiful faces turned up to their mother with devotion and adoration there for anyone to see.
"Maman," whispered Cassiopée a few minutes later. Hermione turned to her daughter with a smile of love and affection that was touching to those who were watching the small family.
"Oui, chou-chou?" She asked gently.
"That man is staring at us," Cassiopée whispered from behind her hand. Hermione cast her eyes over her shoulder and spotted the man her daughter was pointing out to her, who was indeed staring at them with burning eyes. She paled dramatically and turned back toward the event. "Do you know him, Maman?"
"I suppose you could say that," Hermione whispered through numb lips. Cephée looked up at his mother sharply.
"It's him, isn't it?" He asked darkly. He turned and glared viciously at the man who was staring at them and then turned resolutely away. He put his arm around his mother's shoulders which were shaking just slightly. "It's okay, Maman. He's not coming anywhere near you."
"Cephée, my little lion-heart, you need not worry about what will never happen," she said with a slight catch in her voice.
"Hermione?" She stiffened under her son's arm and he turned to glare at the red-headed woman who stood uncertainly behind them.
"Please leave us alone," the boy said stiffly, his French accent slight.
The teenage boy's grey eyes were stormy, and to Lily Potter, he looked just as Sirius had in his fourth year. The girl who was frowning at Lily fiercely looked like a feminine version of Sirius, though her delicate face had a lot of her mother in the shape of her jaw and her small nose. They both looked willing to protect and defend their mother like fierce little warriors. Lily swallowed heavily, her heart breaking in her chest yet again. That this was what they were reduced to caused her more pain than she'd ever admitted to James. If only Sirius hadn't been so impetuous, or if only she had known what was going on and had been able to stop them in time. Some days her life seemed consumed by 'if only'.
"I…I'm sorry, Hermione. For everything," Lily said softly, not trusting her voice to speak any louder than that. Then she turned and went to sit with her son and husband. Hermione blinked rapidly and Cephée's arm tightened about his mother for a moment.
The event began, and the tiny Delenoir family focused its attention on Fleur. Hermione could feel their eyes on her, but she ignored them for the most part. She jumped to her feet, her hands to her mouth when she thought that Fleur had been burned by the dragon, and then shouted encouragement in French, forgetting that her goddaughter couldn't hear her. The other group watched her with a sort of longing fascination, one with a burning hunger, as she interacted with her children and shouted at both her goddaughter and the dragon. When the event was over, they hurried out of the stands and flew to Fleur.
"Marraine, marraine! Did you see?" Fleur was proud of her work. Hermione gave a low throaty chuckle and hugged her goddaughter to her.
"I saw! You did well, ma petite Fleur. I am very proud of you," Hermione said with a grin.
"You were incredible, Fleur!" Cassiopée was shrieking excitedly, jumping up and down.
"Cephée, what is wrong?" Fleur asked with a worried frown. He scowled darkly.
"He's here," he said flatly. Fleur's eyes widened and she turned to her godmother with a determined look on her face.
"If he comes near you, he shall deal with all of us," Fleur said flatly. Hermione shook her head.
"Don't worry, he won't," Hermione said with a sad finality.
He was watching them covertly. He'd been reduced to spying, but he couldn't help himself. He'd told her that he never wanted to have anything to do with her again. Then, spurred by his own impetuous nature and his righteous anger…he'd made the biggest mistake of his life. Later, he'd found out the truth and he'd been almost mad with grief at everything he'd thrown away. He'd been utterly inconsolable…and it had been far too late. She'd disappeared and never returned. He'd known she was pregnant. She had sworn that the child was his, that there had never been another man, ever, and he had laughed in her face. His heart twisted in his chest as he watched his son and his daughter talk to their…what? He heard them call her cousine, but the Potters had no family in France. Ah, she called H—her—marraine, so she was a goddaughter.
"Uncle Padfoot?" Harry came to stand near his uncle who turned to him and gave him a sad, bitter smile. He glanced at the small group that was speaking to Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, and frowned thoughtfully. "That's her, isn't it?"
"Yes," Sirius said quietly.
And those are your kids? My cousins?" Harry asked curiously. Sirius nodded again. "What are their names?"
"I don't know," Sirius said sadly. He turned and walked toward James and Lily. Harry looked after his uncle and then turned resolutely toward the aunt he'd never met.
"Aunt Hermione?" Harry called uncertainly. The woman turned and she looked a lot like him…like his dad. Her face tightened and pain rippled across her features.
"Hello, Harry," she said softly in English. He started slightly. She knew his name! He remembered his Dad saying that his sister 'knew things', but he hadn't realized what that meant.
"I've never met you before," he stumbled along uncertainly, "and I thought maybe I ought to."
"Perhaps you felt it wasn't right? That you hadn't met me, I mean?" Hermione asked dryly, one eyebrow raised. He blushed.
"Maybe," he muttered. Hermione nodded.
"A lot of things happened, Harry, that cannot be smoothed over or forgotten. Some things, once done, are irreversible. There are choices that stay with a person forever," Hermione explained carefully, her eyes seemingly bottomless pools. He stared at them for a moment, and felt as though he were teetering on an abyss before he mentally pulled himself back. Harry frowned, but he nodded.
"Yes, ma'am," he said softly. He looked at his cousins. "I don't know them, either. That seems sort of sad."
"It is very, very sad," Hermione agreed. "This is…you would say Cepheus and this is his twin sister Cassiopeia."
"Just like you and Dad?" Harry asked curiously. His parents didn't talk about his Aunt Hermione when he was around because it always made his Dad upset. Once, they didn't know he was eavesdropping, and it was the one time he'd seen his Dad cry. Hermione's face tightened again.
"Yes. Just like Jamie and I," she managed to choke out.
"Hullo," the twins said sullenly, their grey eyes watching this cousin of theirs most carefully.
"You both go to Beauxbatons?" Harry asked curiously. His pretty cousin tossed her long black hair over her shoulder.
"Of course," she said coolly, eyeing him up and down. His other cousin, the handsome boy who looked like old pictures of Uncle Padfoot was hovering protectively near his mother. "We attend with our cousins, Fleur and Gabrielle."
"Well, um, it was nice to meet you all," Harry said uncertainly. Hermione nodded.
"It was nice to meet you, Harry," she said with a fragile, sad air.
Hermione awoke gasping in her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She reached out, her hands searching, and she realized that she was in her own room. She crawled out of her bed and ran down the hall to Sirius' room. He'd woken as soon as he heard the door creak slightly and he already had his arms open and waiting for her. He cuddled her against his bare chest, stroking her back and pressing light kisses into her hair.
"Bad dreams, kitten?" He asked her softly.
"Awful," she whispered, shuddering against him. Sirius frowned slightly. Hermione refused to talk about a lot of the dreams. Sometimes she would just cling to him and sob.
"Tell me?" He asked quietly. She was still shuddering and her arms tightened around his neck.
"I…you…," she started crying and it was as though she was trying to burrow inside of him.
"Did I die?" He asked uncertainly. She shook her head.
"No," she gasped out. "You thought that I…that I…you repudiated me."
Repudiation was a very old magical ritual that was unheard of in this day and age. There was no such thing as divorce among the pureblood families—once they married, they were bound for life. However, if one were desperate enough, one could perform the ritual of repudiation. Such a thing was rarely undertaken because the magic involved was great and it was just as magically binding as the marriage bond. Sirius went cold even at the thought of performing that ritual with Hermione in mind.
Estado de energía semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Piedra de
Poder