Love In The Time of Voldemort

Chapter Eight

Hermione doesn't ask her if she's okay. They're too close for such inane questions. Hermione can see it in her eyes when she hugs her after the task. She's hardened over the course of the last hour, determined to prevent any more losses.

"I'm with you," Hermione assures her in a whisper.

"Good."

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Hadara sits next to Draco at breakfast the next morning, unwilling to be parted from him. Only Hermione had been able to convince her to go to sleep last night, and only then with the aid of a sleeping potion.

Her throat is still raw from screaming so intensely, a painful reminder of their ordeal. Draco hands a cup of green tea to her.

"Thank you, love."

"We were all worried about you, Principessa," Blaise tells her.

"Your concern is appreciated," Hadara tells him. "If unwarranted. I am fine."

"Are you?" Theo asks, a skeptical brow raised.

Hadara looks back at him, then up at the head table. Dumbleore hasn't bothered to grace them with his presence this morning. No doubt off plotting somewhere. Hadara leans forward and lowers her voice.

"I'm the strongest witch in this castle, perhaps even the whole country. I'm tired of old men threatening what's mine."

Theo smiles wickedly. "So you've finally come around, have you? Are you going to give us a Lady of our own?"

"I am," Hadara says, her eyes steely. "Though the less said here, the better. We can talk about it this summer."

"Whatever you say, Lady Potter."

It starts that way. Less and less Slytherin's call her Hadara. More and more call her Lady Potter, too cautious to call her something so obvious as "My Lady" on Hogwarts grounds. She'd be an idiot to miss the knowing looks, or the nods of acknowledgement. Each time another heir or heiress shows deference to Hadara, Draco beams with pride.

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It's a mere two weeks later that a package shows up, with a letter from Padfoot affixed to the top of it.

Dearest Prongslet,

Guard this book with your life. It is the journal of Lady Dorea Potter. Your great grandmother was a force of a woman, and a Black by birth. I think you will find her writings both insightful and instructive.

Remember, I am always on your side, Hadara. You have my full support, no matter what path you choose.

All my love,

Snuffles

Hadara picks up the leather book, holding it close to her heart. She can practically feel the family magic that it's steeped in. Potter and Black magic, intertwined in Dorea's loving hand.

Her writings are more than instructive, they're a near mirror image of her own. Dorea had been raised in the Black family, raised with Pureblood etiquette always at the forefront of her mind, but then she'd met Charlus.

Charlus, with the black hair that didn't lie flat, and the enchanting brown eyes. Hadara can't help but smile at the knowledge that her great grandmother was so deeply in love with her husband. One passage in particular stands out to Hadara.

'The more Light magic I am exposed to by my dear Charlus, the more I am convinced of the notion that there truly is no Dark or Light magic. There is only glorious magic, and those that codify it into laws for their own benefit.'