𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 II SS/HG ✔️

Death Eater

Hermione stood before her mirror brushing her long curly hair as she readied for bed. Marcus squatted in the doorway to pet Crookshanks' belly.

When he looked up, he asked, "Mummy, what's a Death Eater?"

The hairbrush stilled mid-knot. Marcus and Crookshanks stared at her.

"Where did you hear that word?" she asked, once again tangling with her hair.

"A reporter asked me when I was with Uncle Ron, how I liked havin' a Death Eater for a Daddy."

She was—was—enraged. And concerned about just who was able to talk to her children and say whatever they wanted. And scared Marcus or Bianca might do research on their own and see things—they weren't ready to see.

"Ron told the guy to bugger off."

Hermione Floo'd Ron when the kids went to bed.

"I didn't see who asked it," Ron said.

"Well, did you say anything?"

"To Marcus? No. Didn't think it my place. I didn't want to tell off whoever it was and make a scene either."

Hermione nodded even as she sighed from deep in her chest.

"Want me to ask around?" Though he wasn't an Auror anymore, he still had contacts.

"No. Thank you."

"Do they…not know, I'm assuming?" Even on the other side of the country, Ron tread carefully around the subject.

"No. We haven't mentioned it yet." Hermione rubbed the scar on her arm. "I thought we had at least another year."

"Yeah, I—I think we're all in a similar boat."

They ended the connection a short time later. Hermione went to Severus next.

"A reporter asked Marcus about you. Being a Death Eater."

"What did you tell him?" Based on the way Severus continued to peruse the bookshelf he already knew the answer.

"I suppose you overheard him ask me?" Hermione loved Severus—but the spy habits died hard.

With an arch of an eyebrow, he turned to face her fully. "No. I did not." Severus returned his gaze to the Potions section of their shelf. "But Bianca may have eavesdropped and told me about the conversation."

"Severus," she said, more of a growl than a sigh.

"Children eavesdrop—you in particular," he said, quick as a hex. Book under one arm, he said, "She may well have picked up the habit from either one of us."

Alright, he had a bit of a point.

"I didn't say anything," she said. "We should talk to them together." She rubbed the Mudblood scar. "I just don't know what we're going to say."

Severus pressed his fingertips to the back of her hand so she'd pause. "They know you're going to announce your bid for Minister soon."

Another habit—referring to any unknown entity or threat as 'they.'

"These types of questions are going to get worse. And more frequent."

Hermione gripped her arm. Severus's hand retreated to his side.

"Should I—should I not run for Minister?"

"How else are you to meddle in my school if you don't?"

Her hand shot out to swat his arm. "Severus!"

"I've seen you eyeing the Muggle Studies curriculum," he chided.

Nothing would ever get past him. Pity the first boy Bianca snogs at a Quidditch match.