Chapter Text
"Mummy, what's this one?" Hermione looked up from her book to see her daughter pulling a large one from the crowded shelf, her little hands struggling to grasp the thick cover.
The witch laughed as she closed her own book and stood before she made her way over. As she plucked the large tome from Isabelle's hands, the young girl pouted and folded her arms in front of her. Hermione's hand ran down the familiar leather cover and she was unable to hide the soft smile that grew on her lips.
"Is it a fairy sale?" Isabelle asked, her little head tilted to the side and her soft voice regaining her mother's attention.
Hermione's smile grew as she shook her head and held out her hand, leading her daughter over to the sofa against the large window. "Fairy tale, darling. With a T. And no, not exactly."
She watched with adoration as her daughter's brows furrowed and she looked from her mother to the book now sitting in Hermione's lap. "What is it, 'den, mummy?"
She contemplated what she wanted to say. Her daughter was four and just as intelligent as she had been at that age. She knew without a doubt she had inherited both her mother's and father's thirst for knowledge but was she too young to know the truths about who they were? Would it be a disservice to her to keep it from her, even at her age?
Hermione took a deep breath and looked down at the leather once more, her fingers tracing over the letters magically carved into it.
Days in the Sun
"It's a story, but unlike the fairy tales your father has read to you, this one is real. It's about a witch and a wizard who fell in love against all odds." Hermione's throat was tight as her daughter's little fingers traced the letters after her.
When she looked down at the little girl next to her, she smiled and pushed the dark curls out of her face, looking into the bright blue eyes that looked back up at her.
"Will you read it, mummy?"
"Would you like me to read it to you?" She asked, her finger grazing down Isabelle's soft cheek. "I need you to know that not everything you hear will be happy. There are some not so nice moments that happen in this tale."
"But you said it was true…"
Hermione nodded and smiled sadly. "It is, darling. It is. Sometimes life isn't always nice."
Isabelle seemed to be making a decision as she looked from her mother to the book and then with a deep little nod, she smiled a brilliant smile she could have only learned from her father.
"Read it! Please, mummy!"
Hermione couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up out of her as she nodded and opened the cover. Her eyes took in the handwritten note there and simply turned the page.
"Get comfortable. It's a long story," she cooed as her daughter shifted on the sofa and settled in next to her.
At the soft sigh from Isabelle's mouth reached her ears, she glanced up at the doorway to the library and met the blue eyes of her husband. He leaned against the doorway, his dark hair mussed from his work that day and a serene smile on his face. He was more handsome than anyone else she had ever seen and her heart stuttered at the thought of how lucky she was.
How everything could have been so different.
"Read, Mummy," Isabelle said as she patted her hand.
Hermione tore her eyes from her husband's nervous ones and cleared her throat. "Alright, darling. Once upon a time…"
Once upon a time, cradled deep within the secrecy of the magical world, a boy lived in a magnificent castle.
You see, little reader, even at a young age, he showed signs of being unfathomably powerful, a coveted wizard for those who knew what it meant.
Wanting to be the ones to hone his magic, he flourished with the tutelage of his professors. Desiring the notability of a closeness to the boy, he easily charmed his peers. Quietly, he grew into his power under the watchful eye of his Headmaster.
He had anything he could have wanted right at his fingertips. With the right flick of his wand, the correct swish of his wrist, he could do what even most grown wizards could not.
He seemingly had everything his heart desired, but a wizard like him would never be content with what power he had.
Over time, others within the castle watched as the curious boy morphed and shifted into a cruel prince. Secrets of lineage were whispered along the stone walls of the castle he called home, talk of potions that stripped one of their consent and ripped offspring of their right to feel.
He was undoubtedly unkind—admittedly cruel. It was no secret to those around him, for he tolerated most and trusted very few, that he sought power beyond what he already held.
The prince had his sights set.
A throne that would be his no matter what it took.
"A prince, mummy? Was he really a prince?" Isabelle interrupted, her eyes wide as she looked up at Hermione.
Hermione smirked and shook her head slightly. "He thought himself as important as one. Even more so."
"So, a king?"
"More," she whispered and her daughter gave a little gasp.
"More?"
Hermione nodded and refrained from rolling her eyes, not at her daughter but at the man they spoke of. "He fancied himself a bit of a Lord but we're getting a little ahead of ourselves, darling. All will be answered in the story."
"Sorry, Mummy," Isabelle mumbled and settled back down next to Hermione.
She smiled and looked back down at the book. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, the rise of a Lord."
The prince amassed followers with his handsome smiles and gained support through false promises. The young man spoke in hushed words of deceit, ensuring the Pureblood families of the British Isles that he would cleanse their world of an imaginary filth that even filled his own veins.
Unspoken languages led to chambers filled with secrets and eloquent lies imprisoned souls behind molten masks.
By the time he found himself leaving his grand castle, ready to venture out into the world, he had already begun to spark fear into the hearts of those that dared to think other than he did. Slowly, through that fear, the prince learned what would gain him the power he so desperately wanted.
His sharp words and cutting threats turned into torturous curses and merciless death. Muggleborn witches and wizards trembled in terror, never knowing when his regime would strike. When they would wind up being the ones he used to further his plans.
"He killed people?" Her daughter's voice was soft, almost low enough that the witch couldn't hear her.
Hermione looked from Isabelle to the man that was still standing in the doorway and swallowed. "He did. He killed a lot of people. People like mummy and grandma and papa because of who they were."
"Why would he do that?" She asked, her little brain unable to make sense of reasoning.
Merlin knew Hermione struggled with it for a long time as well, understanding why Voldemort had done what he did.
Hermione cleared her throat and tucked a curl behind Isabelle's ear. "That may be a topic for when you're a little older, darling."
"Why, mummy?"
After a moment of hesitation on Hermione's part, her husband spoke up, pushing off the wall.
"It's a tad complicated, little one. Your mother wishes for you to be a little older," he shot her a look when she mumbled 'a lot older' under her breath before he winked and then sat down on the table in front of Isabelle. "That wizard was not a nice man and well, he did things that were very very bad."
"The prince?" Isabelle asked, tilting her head slightly as she looked up at her father.
Hermione watched her husband smile and nod. "Correct."
Isabelle looked from him to Hermione and the older witch watched the cogs turning in her daughter's little eyes, her mind wading through the information she had already gleaned from the short portion of the book.
"Can you still read me more, mummy?" She asked sweetly and Hermione nodded, glancing over at her wizard as he settled in to listen just as raptly as her daughter.
"Of course, darling."
Just as the prince was gathering more and more power, a witch spoke of his defeat. Of a babe that would be the downfall of the kingdom he was so close to ruling, of the magic that coursed through his very blood.
A new prince born of the very kind the cruel Lord wished to eradicate.
Irrational and misguided, he found himself on a destructive path. One lined with good intent and something he was incapable of understanding.
Through the misfortune of a forgotten wand and the unmistakable pleas of a mother, her fear written so plainly on her face, filling her green eyes, the Lord sealed his fate.
At the same time the Dark Lord was vanquished, the new prince was hidden away. Many believed him a savior, the one chosen to be their protector even at his young age. Yet another wizard saddled with a burden of power before he truly knew what it meant.
Years passed and the prince stayed in hiding, a life of solitude and sadness while the wizarding world rejoiced in his sacrifice. Muggleborns were no longer in danger of the cruel Dark Lord and they could finally rest easy.
"That can't be it, Mummy," Isabelle said as she looked up at Hermione, shock written so clearly on her little face.
"Oh? What makes you think that isn't the end?" Hermione asked, holding back her smile as her daughter tried to hide the way her blue eyes rolled.
"You said they fell in love. There was no love there."
Hermione's husband chuckled softly, earning the attention of both his little witches and he moved to the sofa, positioning his daughter between them. As he grabbed the book from Hermione's lap, his fingers grazed her own and she couldn't help the way it still made her heart jump.
Even after all this time.
"I think I will take over for your mother, little one. Now, it is still a ways away from the love of the story. Are you sure you want to hear more?" He asked, looking down at her expectant eyes and Isabelle nodded fervently.
"Yes, daddy! Yes!" she shouted as she clapped her hands together.
"Alright then, get comfortable."
However, little reader, the rest of our tale does not follow the kind prince. Make no mistake, he will be prevalent in our story but from here, the words you will read will follow the story of a princess. A young witch destined for greatness and power beyond anything anyone could have ever dreamed to possess.
Even the Dark Lord would have bowed at her feet.
You see, while most witches and wizards are born to families that will be able to guide them and teach them the ways of their magic, our princess was not. She was born to a loving family, a mother and a father that had no magic of their own. At least, none that they could use.
When it was her turn to find a home within the stone walls of the castle, she did so in awe. She found a home among the brave, a family among the golden. For with her, within the same corridors she walked, was the kind prince.
Our princess quickly found a brother in the prince and together, they fought for what was right. She learned to protect him when needed and he, in turn, reminded her of who she really was.
A golden light for the wizarding world in the darkening times they would soon face.
Hermione sat there, having heard the story already countless times, having lived through it herself, and watched them. Isabelle sat with her head perched on her father's shoulder. Her thumb had found its way into her mouth and even though they were desperately trying to break her of the habit, she had gotten so good and only did it when she needed the comfort.
She didn't have the heart to chastise her for it when they looked so serene together. Not when her husband had been so nervous about this moment, about the first time they would need to tell her about what had happened.
Hermione had dreaded it as well, knowing that her sweet little daughter could take everything they were going to tell her and look at them differently. Could listen and hear what the words said and not what they truly meant. Could want nothing to do with them.
That night, she found solace in the way her daughter's eyes drooped, knowing that she would be fast asleep before they ever made it to the parts of the story that had the potential to change everything.
Soon, Isabelle was fast asleep and Hermione reached out, placing a hand on her husband's, drawing his attention away from the story she knew brought him great pain. He looked down at his daughter and he smiled, it was a soft smile reserved only for those within that room and Hermione thanked the gods once more that she was lucky enough to witness it.
"She's out," Hermione whispered and giggled softly as her daughter let out a little snore around her thumb. "We should get her to bed."
"I want to spend some time with you. Chip?" He called out softly and with a quiet pop, the house elf appeared in front of them with a smile.
Before he spoke, he took in the scene and nodded. "I's be taking little miss to bed. Master and Mistress be's staying here."
Hermione knew better than to fight the opinionated elf with no fear of speaking his mind to his family and just thanked him before he popped out of the room with their daughter. She took in a deep breath and when her husband slid the book back over to her, it was open to the page that began their story. Not from the very beginning like she had with Isabelle but the true beginning.
"Read it to me? Please?"
She looked up from the page and met his eyes, the emotions swimming in pools of blue. "You know the story, Tom. You wrote it."
He smiled once more and nodded, letting his finger trace the edge of the page. "I know. I would like to hear it from you anyway. I may have written it down but it's just as much your story as it is mine."
Hermione chewed on her bottom lip and then nodded. "Well, I suppose I can do that. Since you asked so nicely."
Well, pay attention, little reader. For what is to come is a story much more complex than that of a muggle fairy tale. You may find that the cruel prince is not all that he seems and the beautiful princess not all that meek.
This will not be a story of two lovers in fair Verona, star crossed and fated for tragedy.
This will be a story of a wizard accepting power in ways he thought impossible and a witch, forced into a bond against her will, learning to love against all odds.
For who could ever learn to love a beast?