Chapter Text
The tapping was incessant. Hermione moaned and sat up blearily, glaring at her window. Once she spotted the Ministry owl she started cursing under her breath. She slid out of bed and staggered over to the window. She had finally returned to wizarding Britain three weeks ago after spending three years in Australia searching for her parents. She had found them only to discover that they had died in a freak accident only one week after their arrival in Australia. Hermione spent several months after that just grieving quietly for her parents. Eventually Hermione had returned, but few people knew about it just yet. So far only Harry knew of her return. The Weasleys had collapsed in on each other and had holed up in the Burrow, trying to comfort one another over the loss of Fred. Harry had retreated to Grimmauld Place, and Kreacher had watched over him carefully; Harry had hesitantly asked Hermione to join him when she returned from Australia and she had agreed because she had nowhere else to go. She jerked the window open and snatched the official letter out of the bird’s beak, muttering darkly under her breath about the Ministry and what they could do with their official letters.
Hermione Granger,
This letter is to inform you that the Ministry has determined that by defeating Bellatrix Lestrange in combat you have gained dominion over her possessions by right of conquest. We apologize for the delay in contacting you, but the Post War clean up took a great deal of time. War acquisitions were relegated to low priority and are only now being disbursed.
You are required to come to the Ministry Department of Magical Law Enforcement to collect Mme Lestrange’s possessions at your earliest possible convenience.
Hope you are well,
Bathilda Dotage
Department of Magical Law Enforcement
“Harry!”
A loud thump answered her frantic call, and then the pounding of bare feet against the floor. Harry skidded into her room bare-arsed naked with his wand in his hand. Hermione blinked. He spun in a loose circle.
“Whass goin’ on?” He demanded blearily. “You okay?”
“I—Harry you’re naked,” Hermione sputtered. He glanced down at himself and glared at her.
“You woke me up to tell me that I’m naked?” He demanded.
“What? No! I woke you because the Ministry sent me a letter telling me that when I killed Bellatrix that I won her things. That can’t be right, can it? I mean…when she…when she killed Sirius, she didn’t get his things,” Hermione asked anxiously, her brown eyes wide. Harry blinked at her.
“What?” He said, a frown making his brow furrow. Hermione handed him the letter and he glared at it for several moments. “Kreacher!”
“Master Harry called Kreacher?” The house elf looked expectantly up at Harry, completely ignoring the fact that he was naked. Hermione admired his professionalism.
“When Bellatrix killed Sirius, why didn’t she inherit everything through right of conquest?” Harry demanded. Kreacher looked surprised.
“Mistress Bella was killing the Head of her House. This is going against natural law and wizard law. Also, the House of Black is entailed. Everything is being kept with the estate for the next Head of House,” Kreacher recited. Hermione smacked herself in the forehead.
“Of course,” she said slowly. Harry frowned at her.
“What do you mean ‘of course’?” He snapped.
“Bella couldn’t claim anything because none of it was Sirius’s per se. It belongs to the House of Black—to the estate. It’s a way to keep people from destroying an entire House through dueling. On top of that, she killed the Head of her House. That’s like treason against the family,” Hermione explained. Harry nodded; that made sense.
“Right. Does that mean I can go back to bed now?” He asked hopefully. Hermione sighed.
“No, it means you have to put some clothes on and come with me to the Ministry of Magic,” Hermione informed him. He sighed and his shoulders slumped.
“Right,” he muttered. “Just give me a minute.”
“It’s probably just some pictures of Voldemort with dried drool patches on them,” Hermione said as they made their way toward the Department of Magical Law Enforcement a half hour later.
Harry glared at her. “That is disgusting,” he said flatly. “I’m going to have nightmares about that, see if I don’t.”
“Well, really, Harry,” Hermione said huffily. “What could the woman have owned whilst on the run with Voldemort? I certainly don’t want her ratty old robes. And I doubt that she owned property in her own right. It would all have belonged to her husband, I imagine. Wizarding law seems to be woefully backward about things like that.”
“I don’t see why I had to come along,” Harry groused. Hermione sighed and linked her arm with his.
“Because I needed you?” She suggested. He sighed because he couldn’t argue with that.
“Let’s just get this over with. We can have a lovely bonfire in the backyard, torch Bellatrix’s things and go back to bed, yeah?” Harry looked hopeful.
“Yeah, sure,” Hermione agreed. “Bonfire, then bed.”
The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was hectic, Aurors raced back and forth busily. The receptionist squeaked and jumped to her feet when she saw them both. She pumped Hermione’s hand eagerly and then grasped Harry’s hand and practically wrung his arm off of his body. She curtseyed and then she bowed awkwardly and then she burst into a fit of giggles. Hermione and stared at her uncertainly and then turned to Harry who shrugged helplessly.
“Hermione! Thank Merlin you’ve come!” Kingsley Shacklebolt looked to be suffering from severe fatigue. Hermione turned to him, confused. That greeting sounded far too enthusiastic.
“Kingsley,” Hermione said hesitantly. “What—“
“Come along, quickly. We don’t have anyone to spare and this has been taking up time I don’t have,” he explained hurriedly. He grabbed her arm and tugged her down the hall.
“Where are we going?” Hermione asked worriedly.
“Interrogation room 1,” he said absently, “It was the only place I could think to put them.”
“Them?” Hermione shrieked her eyes wide with horror. She stopped, rooted to the spot. “I—I didn’t inherit house-elves, did I Kingsley?”
“House-elves?” Kingsley looked so surprised that Hermione relaxed for a moment before her gaze narrowed on him suspiciously.
“You said them,” she pointed out. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his bald pate.
“Yeah, I did,” he muttered. “Look, Hermione. This is…well, it’s a clusterfuck is what it is. I didn’t know what to do, but then the people over in Conquest & Inheritance said that it was your problem. Apparently, there were transfer of ownership papers and the magical bonds are automatically tied to you now.”
“Bonds?” Hermione repeated weakly. She licked her lips nervously and looked up at Shacklebolt. “It is house-elves, isn’t it?”
“Maybe you should just see for yourself,” he muttered under his breath and continued on to the interrogation room.
There was one of those windows that looked like a mirror on one side; Hermione stared through it into the interrogation room. Her jaw dropped open and she stared at the miserable, huddled figures of Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange. They looked filthy and tired—still covered with the grime of the Final Battle she guessed. They were leaning against one another and somehow she knew that it was for comfort. Her mind refused to acknowledge why they were in the interrogation room. Instead, she looked around the rest of the interrogation room quickly and realized that there was a small box on the table where the Lestrange brothers were seated.
“It’s the box, then?” Hermione asked with forced politeness. Kingsley sighed.
“Everything in the room, Hermione,” Kingsley said.
“No,” Harry said flatly. “Just…no.”
“But…he was her husband,” Hermione whispered in a horrified voice. “And...and Rabastan was her brother-in-law. How could she own them? And for Merlin’s sake have they been in this room for the last three years?”
“No, they haven’t been here for three years,” Kingsley protested, glaring at her. “They were in Azkaban until the Acquisition Department threw a fit a couple weeks ago. I can’t tell you how Bellatrix came to own them. We’re not sure, exactly, and we don’t have the people to spare for research. All we know is that they were bound to her magically, and by your defeat of her, that bond is transferred to you,” Kingsley said flatly.
“That sounds kind of like a house-elf,” Harry told Hermione. “When Sirius died, I didn’t have to do anything Kreacher was just mine.”
“Oh, Merlin,” Hermione said in a sick-sounding voice.
“As near as we can tell, she’s always owned them. They never acted of their own free will, they’ve always acted on Bellatrix’s orders,” Kingsley said and the exhaustion in his voice was almost palpable.
“That makes them innocent,” Hermione said slowly, staring at the two men in the interrogation room. They looked frightened, she realized. She didn’t know how she knew, she just did. Was it the bond? Her mind shuddered away from that idea, unready and unwilling to deal with it.
“Hermione, no,” Harry said flatly, watching her. Hermione turned to him with a determined look on her face and he sighed.
“They’re innocent, Harry,” Hermione said firmly. He snorted.
“It’s Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Hermione!” Harry snapped. Hermione bit her lip anxiously.
“But, if they’re innocent,” Hermione said slowly, the wheels in her mind turning. She turned to Kingsley. “Can the DMLE tell what kind of bond it is?”
“They are soubound to you, as tightly as house-elves if not more so,” Kingsley said tiredly. “I’m sorry to the both of you, but you have to take them Hermione. They can’t stay here.”
“I can get a hotel room, Harry, if you’d prefer,” Hermione said softly.
“Actually, you have inherited Lestrange Manor as well,” Kingsley said with a heavy sigh. “The deed is in that box. Considering the fall-out we might get over this whole thing that might be your safest bet.”
“They can’t hurt her, can they? The way a house-elf can’t hurt its Master?” Harry asked Kingsley hesitantly. Kingsley rubbed his face with one hand and shook his head.
“No, it would be impossible for them to hurt her,” he said finally.
“What do we do if any of the Weasleys show up?” Harry asked Hermione plaintively. She bit her lip again.
“I’ll take them to… to Lestrange Manor, Harry,” she said softly, not looking at him.
“Hermione,” Harry begged her to understand.
“I get it, Harry, I do, but…if they’re innocent,” she said softly.
“Merlin, it’s S.P.E.W. all over again, isn’t it? Only for the Lestranges,” Harry said with a tired laugh.
Hermione shrugged helplessly. “Harry–,” her voice was just as tired and the grief that lay just under the surface was a part of the both of them. He hugged her tightly.
“I understand, Hermione,” he said softly, cupping her face in his hands. “You said that I had a ‘saving people thing,’ but you do, too.”
“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione whispered. He kissed her gently on the forehead.
“If you’ll just go in, Hermione,” Kingsley said gently. She took a deep breath, turned the handle and slipped into the room.
The two men slid from the bench to the floor and knelt, sitting on their heels. Their hands were splayed on their thighs and their heads were bowed. Hermione’s stomach lurched. She’d never had anyone react this strongly to her presence in a room before. They did not look at her or speak at all, yet she knew that they were completely focused on her. The idea of it made her heart pound in her ears and she stood silently for several minutes trying to figure out what to say and how to say it. Surely they were confused, worried, nervous. How could she alleviate their fears? How could she comfort them and make them feel safe? She thought for a moment. If she were in a similar position, she’d want to know what was going on. Knowledge about her situation would make her feel better.
“I killed Bellatrix at the Final Battle,” she said quietly, but firmly. They seemed to twitch or shiver when she said Bellatrix’s name. “The Ministry has determined that because of my actions, you…belong to me now.”
There was a swirl of magic around each man that settled around his throat; a brief glow that ended with a collar around each man’s neck. Hermione stared at the blatant indication of her ownership and felt vaguely ill. She was nervous and panicky. She wasn’t at all certain of what she ought to do, but she certainly couldn’t leave them to the Ministry’s tender mercies.
“So, erm, if you would rise and follow me,” Hermione said slowly. Both men rose fluidly to their feet and stood quietly, their eyes downcast. “All right, let’s go this way.”
Being followed everywhere she went was new and rather annoying for Hermione. She had used Kingsley’s private Floo to get herself and the Lestrange brothers to Lestrange Manor. It was dark and empty-looking and she swallowed the uneasiness she felt when she saw it. They had nowhere else to go. She moved forward toward the house and knew that they were right behind her. She paused and frowned over her shoulder at them. They paused too, frozen, not staring at her, but completely focused on her, waiting for her response. At this point, the idea of inheriting a house-elf or two didn’t seem half bad. It was much preferable to having the Lestrange brothers following her wherever she went.
“Is there something special we have to do?” She asked. She swallowed and tried again. “I mean to say, are there wards that we need to access? Does the Manor automatically know that I own it?”
One of them moved forward, he didn’t look up at her, but kept his eyes trained on the ground. “The Manor is in stasis, Mistress. It knows that it has passed to new ownership, but you have yet to take control. The gate should acknowledge you. The spell is Agnoscat.” Rodolphus, or at least she thought he was Rodolphus, said quietly.
She flinched at the ‘Mistress,’ but there was nothing she could do about that until she figured out how to fix this mess. “Can you show me?”
“I cannot, Mistress,” the Lestrange brother confessed and appeared to be upset that he had to tell her no. “They snapped our wands at the Final Battle.”
“Oh,” Hermione breathed. She turned to the gate and tried the spell as the Lestrange brother described it.
The gate glowed brightly and he talked her through tuning the wards to herself and to them. She could feel the click as the wards accepted her.
“Well I guess that’s it then,” she murmured.
Silence followed her statement. They stood there quietly, waiting. She frowned at them before turning back to the gate. She strode forward and unlocked the gate. She moved onto the estate and then turned back toward her, her, well, the Lestrange brothers.
“Come along then,” she said impatiently and they hurried into the house, only to stand uncertainly near her. She fought the urge to stomp her feet and scream. Their nearness made her aware that they badly needed to bathe. She frowned at them. “Did they not allow you to bathe in Azkaban?”
“No, Mistress,” They chorused at her.
Hermione winced. “Right, well, you two both need to bathe. I trust you know where everything is.”
The two men led her to a large, well-appointed bedroom. Hermione sat down on a fainting couch and began to wait. She wasn’t certain what she ought to be doing, but she thought that she probably should keep an eye on the Lestrange brothers. She pulled a book out of her bag and began to read.
A half an hour later, Rodolphus walked out of the bathroom completely naked. Hermione blinked at him as Rabastan silently entered the bathroom to take his own shower. Rodolphus was older than she was, he was roughly Lucius Malfoy’s age, and he looked to be quite fit. He was tall and lean, as was Rabastan, and he had a well-muscled frame. She refused to let her eyes drift passed his firm stomach, following the trail of blue-black hair that led down his abdomen. She cast a silent drying and warming charm on Rodolphus and he looked at her in surprise. She handed him a bathrobe that Rabastan had laid out for his brother and averted her eyes while he pulled it on. A beard obscured most of his face and his long, lank hair covered the rest of it. Hermione waited patiently for Rabastan to bathe and spent her time observing Rodolphus. He seemed anxious and jittery and didn’t calm down until Rabastan came out of the shower and moved to stand next to him, also completely naked. What was wrong with the Lestrange brothers? She dried and warmed Rabastan and handed him a bathrobe. He shrugged into it and knotted the belt at his waist. He, too, suffered from unkempt hair and scruffy beard growth. She would have to take care of that, perhaps a trip to a beauty salon? It would have to be one in the Muggle world. Hermione could only imagine the shrieking and wailing if she tried to take them to a wizarding establishment.
“Since you led me directly here I’ll assume this room belongs to one of you,” Hermione said quietly. “I’ll, um, leave you two to get dressed.”
“You aren’t going to sleep here with us, Mistress?” Rabastan asked slowly, his brow furrowing slightly. Hermione paused.
“Um, no,” she said. She looked closer at the two men. “Do I need to? Is there, er, perhaps we should talk about the bond.”
“What do you wish to know, Mistress?” Rodolphus asked carefully. Hermione huffed slightly.
“Well, to start with, do you have to call me that?” Hermione asked tartly. Both men just stared at her as though they weren’t certain what she was upset about.
“What, Mistress?” Rabastan asked cautiously.
“That, do you have to call me Mistress?” Hermione demanded. They blinked.
“It is who you are, Mistress,” Rodolphus said with a shrug. Hermione stared at him.
“Can you call me Hermione?” She asked. Both men looked very uncomfortable at that suggestion.
“We haven’t been formally introduced, Mistress,” Rodolphus said finally. Hermione snorted.
“But it’s okay to parade around in front of me naked?” She asked drily. Both men shrugged calmly.
“You are our Mistress,” Rabastan said mildly.
“I feel a headache coming on,” Hermione muttered darkly. She rubbed absently at her temples. “Right, so, do you need physical proximity to me? I mean, will the bond cause you pain if I am not near you?”
“I am not certain, Mistress,” Rodolphus answered hesitantly. “Our previous Mistress had us sleep in her chamber.”
“Both of you? In her bed? Together?” Hermione asked, her eyes wide in shock. This was far more than she had ever wanted or needed to know about Bellatrix Lestrange and her bed-time activities.
“No, Mistress.” Rabastan shook his head. “We would usually sleep on the floor, at the foot of her bed.”
“What, like dogs?” Hermione felt revulsion rise in her throat.
“It was what our former Mistress commanded, Mistress,” Rodolphus said with that casual shrug that was starting to make her very angry.
“Oh, hell,” Hermione growled in frustration. She had wanted to ward the room with them in it, and her out of it. She frowned to herself. House-elves could be away from their masters without any negative repercussions. They certainly didn’t have to sleep in the same room. No, they would be fine. “I think…I think we should be fine. I want you two to stay in these rooms. If something happens and you need me, call me. I will set up a charm that will wake me if you call for me.”
“Yes, Mistress,” they said softly. She paused and looked at them both.
“Is there anything that you need?” She asked gently. There was hesitation from both men.
“Food would be welcome, if Mistress wishes us to eat,” Rodolphus said finally. If she wished them to eat? Hermione closed her eyes for a moment to maintain her control.
“Let’s get a few things straight right now,” Hermione said firmly, automatically using what Harry liked to call her ‘bossy tone.’ “I want the both of you to keep yourselves fit and healthy at all times. That means that you must eat and sleep properly. You also must bathe regularly and groom yourselves. This means that I expect your hair to be brushed, your faces to be washed and your teeth to be clean. I expect you both to wear clothing that is neat, clean and in good repair. If you don’t have access to anything you need to comply with my expectations I expect you to tell me. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” they replied softly.
Hermione’s gaze narrowed on them. She had the strangest idea that her little speech had made them both very happy. She suppressed a snort. A similar speech given to Harry and Ron would have produced a vastly different reaction, with ‘bossy little swot’ being the nicest words used.
“Very well,” she said huffily. “I have no idea what do with this house, so how shall we procure food?”
“The house-elves?” Rabastan suggested uncertainly, and she could see that he was anxious. She bit her lip.
“Do you have house-elves here?” She asked. Both brothers looked at one another and then shrugged. She fought to control the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes at them. “Very well, I’ll Floo out and pick up a few things.