To Brew A Scandal by stars_in_motion

Chapter 6

- NOT MY STORY!! ALL CREDITS TO @stars_in_motion ON A03!!

War was a hell that no one, especially not Hermione, could prepare for. There were books that described the carnage of it, how it tore families and people apart, but Hermione quickly learned that reading was different than seeing. More clinical, detached.

When she allowed herself to remember a simpler time, she could recall the look on Draco's face when he tried to describe Dark Magic. It did not make much sense to her at the time, but now, in the midst of a war, it was clear to her. There are some things that had to be seen to know that they were the most cursed thing.

The war dragged on for much longer than Hermione had hoped. The escalation of it was slow, then all at once. Her face was the first to be featured on the Daily Prophet for 'questioning.' Followed by Harry's, for the sudden murder of Dumbledore at Professor Snape's hands, again, for 'questioning.'

Ron and Harry did most of the Horcrux hunting together. After a startling clash with the Lestrange family that nearly resulted in Hermione's capture, it seemed that Ron and Harry were motivated to save Hermione from the destruction of the war as much as they could. But Hermione couldn't fully turn away from it, not hidden away inside the many rooms of the Order of the Phoenix, cooking up potions and sorting out ingredients alongside Neville. She saw it in the eyes of her friends when they returned home. She felt it in her heart when they did not return at all.

A war like this was unsustainable.

The day after Sirius Black fell in the Department of Mysteries, the magic of the house picked up all their belongings and threw each of them out onto the streets of London outside the many wards.

After a moment of surprise, Hermione frantically disillusioned herself and threw as many supplies that had been thrown out onto the street as she could into her beaded bag. When she saw the familiar haze of Death Eaters arriving through the air, she vanished.

Those who remained apparated back to the Burrow. After a quick head count, Mr. Weasley turned to Harry, his face pale and concerned.

"It seems that the magic of the house did not agree to allow Harry to inherit it," Mr. Weasley explained slowly. "It must have gone to someone else."

"It would have to be someone with Black blood," Bill reasoned, his teeth biting into his lip. "After Sirius, who is left?"

Hermione immediately knew who, but she kept her mouth shut. Remus spoke as if he'd read her mind.

"Sirius explained to me before that no women are able to inherit the Black fortune. Seeing as the only remaining members of the Black family are women, it has to have gone to a Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, to be exact."

"We're doomed," Ron exhaled, dropping his head to his knees from where he sat. The war had taken so much already, the devastating blow of losing Sirius and their headquarters in one fell swoop only added to their collective misery.

The Weasleys began to expand the Burrow as much as magically possible, while Hermione stayed with Fleur and Bill at Shell Cottage where she began to rebuild her Potion stores and wares. Fleur, the most beautiful woman Hermione had ever seen, and a talented witch who earned her right to join the Triwizard Tournament on just her talent alone, mystified her. She defied her mother's will in marrying Bill Weasley, a man with no title, or lands, and hardly a coin to his name in lieu of having her own season.

"I see no point," Fleur said one night, in her thick french accent, as the three of them gathered around their dinners. Carrot soup, again. "If I were to 'ave a season, I would 'ave been courted by one of those Death Eaters. A fate worse than death. Besides." Fleur smiled at Bill, reaching to brush his hair from his face. Bill's face flushed, hiding his numerous freckles underneath his reddening skin. "Bill is smart and kind, and he is brave. Those things matter more than money and lands."