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The Black Prophecy

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Hermione rocked the chair soothingly watching the early tendrils of dawn. It was early even for her tastes, but the baby was going through a sleep regression and rocking was the only thing that soothed her. She looked down at the already curly hair and tiny fingers wrapped around her own. Narcissa had been right that the birth of their daughter fully cemented her place in the Black family. It was a bit comical that this sweet and innocent creature was the result of the obscure yet broadly powerful prophecy. Hermione had gained more than the prophecy had ever indicated she would receive. 

In the aftermath of the war, life had continued to move at a harried pace. The Dark Lord had quickly gone about reforming the government. He took the title of Minister of Magic himself and Andromeda stood happily by his side as First Lady. While she was certainly still a Black sister, her allegiance to him was beyond even blood. Hermione understood that feeling and saw it reflected in her relationship with Bellatrix. 

Lucius too had been raised to the head of the International Magical Cooperation Department. It was a role that suited him well. He loved diplomacy and putting on a show. In a few short months he had repaired the British relations with the other magical communities. He took great joy in spreading the happy news of the return of the Dark Lord. 

Severus had returned to Hogwarts as headmaster. It was a role that he had been born to fill. From their weekly floo calls, Hermione could tell he was thriving. He never failed to make time to check in on his god daughter and family. He was apprenticing Draco and Hermione suspected that he would go on to teach at the school in time. 

Bellatrix had been installed as the head of Magical Law Enforcement. It was, to Hermione’s mind, an ideal blend of action and paperwork. She had no desire to clip the dark witch’s wings, but she very much wanted to stay safe. And the power her witch had was undeniably attractive. 

The door to the nursery creaked open. Hermione didn’t turn to see the witch entering. She knew Narcissa’s magic as well as she knew her own. 

“How is my niece this early morning,” the blonde whispered. 

“Finally resting peacefully. She was up nearly all night, poor thing,” Hermione said quietly. “Thank you for coming.”

“You know I am always happy to help. I know your wife is somewhat useless at the home arts. And my niece loves me.” 

Hermione looked at the bundled sleeping baby in her arms. Even now it was hard to let anyone else hold her. She hadn’t been certain that she wanted motherhood initially, but it had been the most terrifying and beautiful experience of her life. While she was certain that in time she would return to the Dark Lord’s active service, she was enjoying the precious time with her family. 

“Morning, Cissy.” 

Bellatrix stood in the driveway looking sleep rumpled and not quite awake. 

“Morning, Bella. I’ve come to hold my little darling. Why don’t you take your wife back to bed and get some more sleep. We can have brunch later on.” 

The dark witch nodded adorably. Hermione smiled at the exchange. She stood and handed the sleeping baby to Narcissa. She watched raptly as the pacifier was sucked a few times before she settled against the blonde. 

Hermione kissed Narcissa on the cheek and took Bellatrix’s hand. A lie in and a late breakfast sounded a heavenly plan. Looking over her shoulder, Hermione smiled. This life was so unlike what she thought she might have and beyond what she could have dreamed for.