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Chapter Text

Hermione Granger inhaled deeply as she crossed off several items on her little notebook. She liked making lists. It gave a sense of accomplishment to see each item being checked off one by one. Each list of tasks completed meant she was one step closer to her goal or equal rights in the Magical World. She had never imagined finding herself in this position; making plans counter to everything she had worked for.

The equal-rights advocate who trusted a handful of Ministry employees, one who worked from outside the system, she was gone and Hermione did not regret the loss. She no longer cared of equality and reform. She only cared about one particular being she was currently carrying beneath her heart.

Absently her hand went to her waist. No one knew of her condition. Hermione had no compunction about Obliviating the knowledge from the Healer who had confirmed her pregnancy. In the days that had followed the young witch had developed a strong sympathetic understanding of Molly Weasley. She could understand how a house-witch could have taken out Bellatrix Black – maternal protective instincts were truly amazing. Hermione knew she would easily duplicate the feat against anyone threatening her baby. Only in her case the threats would come from the Ministry and proper society, even her old friends.

She brushed back tears and wished for the nth time she had someone she could confide in, someone who’d help sound out her plans and examine all her options. But Hermione did not have anyone like that. She did not trust anyone. Wizarding society was strongly prejudiced against Dark creatures and her baby was a dhamphir, a hybrid with a vampire father.

Absently she put down the fountain pen and notebook and picked up her mug to sip her herbal tea while she went over the scanty information she had about vampire society. Wizarding society was prejudiced, bigoted and heavily slanted. None of the books had the information she needed. She had been forced to beg Harry to use the library at Grimmauld Place which turned out to be a treasure trove of information.

Vampire-human hybrids, dhamphirs, they were not common. They could only be sired by male vampires and born by still living witches. The magical vampire virus accelerated certain functions and halted others. Vampire females rejected any child conceived as a parasite. Human females rarely survived to give birth due to the tremendous strain a hybrid pregnancy would cause. But witches could and had survived conceiving and bearing such hybrid children.

In the past Dark witches had approached covens, to Choose a vampire consort and bear his offspring in return for protection or allies, but now Dark families were purebloods who disdained magical creatures and would never lower themselves to taint their pure bloodlines with creature blood, and the rest were Light oriented and fearful/hateful of the Dark. The last magical dhamphir had been born in 1378. A proper witch would never lower herself to have a vampire lover much less conceive and bear his child. But Hermione was no proper Light witch. She had learnt the hard way she was gray and tainted and determined to protect what was hers anyway she could. And right now she desperately needed allies.

~o~

Harry was her last and only hope. Everyone else she knew was too Light-oriented and Hermione did not know any of the Dark families well enough to trust them. Hell they’d probably sell her out at the first opportunity since most of them were blood purists. But Harry was different. He hadn’t been brought up in the enclaves. He’d had problems with Authority, with the general public for things he could not control. Most of their schoolmates had turned on him when he had a supposedly Dark talent, for being a Parselmouth. The public had called him mad and a liar when he tried to tell them Voldemort was back. He trusted and loved a werewolf (Remus) enough to raise his son. She only hoped he trusted and loved her enough to support her.

It had not turned out as she had hoped.

“Hermione, I need to take you to St Mungos.”

“Harry, I can’t. The Healers will want to kill my baby.”

“Exactly! This is dangerous and illegal and Dark! You can’t want to have the baby of a Dark creature!”

“What about Tonks? Was she crazy for having Teddy?”

“That’s completely different. We’ve known Remus for years. You went and had a one-night stand with a vampire.”

“Who is not a human drinker! He had gold eyes.”

“It doesn’t matter. Werewolves are at least human for part of the month. Vampires are not. And how in Merlin’s name did you get pregnant anyway? I thought Vampires are dead.”

“There are different breeds. Vampiro Pietra are not dead in the magical sense, their systems are either highly accelerated or in stasis.”

“Whatever. But I’m serious Hermione. Hybrids of any kind are dangerous to the mother. You must know that.”

“Yes.”

“Then someone must have cursed you to want to go through this.”

“No!”

“Hermione if you don’t go peacefully to St Mungos I will file a report with the MLE.”

“Obliviate.”

It had been easy, replacing the lunch conversation they just had with mundane talk about her plans for an extended sabbatical travelling abroad. Thirty minutes later he left happy and placated. Hermione paid for her meal and stepped out onto a side street her eyes blurry with tears. She Apparated not bothering to find a less visible spot. Once in the privacy of her she collapsed on her bed and cried but not for long. A small part of her had expected the lack of support. He had always supported anyone but her, even when they were in school. Something had broken and hardened in her that day. She had immediately sent a request for an extended leave of absence and started on her escape plans.

~o~

There was nothing tying her to the enclaves and she refused to stay and hope for the best. Life never worked out that way. She needed to get out of Britain, to a more Dark friendly country. But even so as a British witch she would be subject to extradition and most Ministries looked down on magical creatures and half-breeds. Hermione needed someone powerful enough to back her against the Magical Ministries, someone feared, someone ruthless enough to do what she couldn’t, to take out and kill all those who would want to harm her baby.

A small part of her wanted to catch the first plane to America, to Seattle, to her baby’s father, far away from this mess, but she knew it wouldn’t help. Carlisle was too gentle, too good. She needed someone who had no issues with killing because she knew her enemies and former allies would want to either kill her and/or her baby, eradicate evidence of her disgrace and ‘betrayal of the Light’.

She drained the last dregs of the peppermint tea and put the mug down as her mind wandered over to certain information she had gleaned from the Black Family Library. She only hoped her last resort would honour the treaty.

Chapter Text

Aro was bored. Not something entire new to him. Boredom was one of the many downsides to an immortal life. It was one reason why he secretly enjoyed unsettling others, to see how they reacted to turmoil. A genuine smile curved his lips as he recalled the focus of recent turmoil: Isabella Swan, no Isabella Cullen. She had actually gone through and married Carlisle’s eldest, a rather insipid young man with a very powerful gift. Aro secretly believed there was something wrong with the girl, to trust vampires so completely when she was utterly human and weak. Of course she was no longer human now but she had not stopped trusting others around her blindly. Such devotion was rare and desirable and Edward was a fool, unworthy to hold such a gift.

He frowned faintly remembering the other cause of recent turmoil, the hybrid child. His spies had confirmed the claims were genuine, that she was bonded to one of the wolf shape-shifters. Aro wrinkled his nose in distaste. If Renesmee were his daughter he would have locked her in a tower and only introduced her to suitable males. Then he remembered females in this Age were brought up in more liberal unseemly ways. Aro enjoyed decadence but in his own child? Never!

“Master Aro.” Why was Heidi addressing him? It was not feeding time. “You have a visitor.”

Now that was something new. “Oh really? Do I know him?” Aro relaxed his control and tried to determine if there was another vampire in the Castle. There wasn’t. There was a human female with an odd bland scent. “A human female?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“Yes Master.”

That made Caius stiffen. He remembered the chaos sparked by the last human female to stand before them in this very room. Marcus looked up his expression impassive as always.

“Well then, bring her in.”

Heidi vanished. A few minutes later the sounds of soft footfalls drew close. The human female wore a voluminous pewter grey cloak with the hood up. Below the hem of the cloak was a dark green skirt reaching down to the ankles. When she walked the material swirled revealing narrow feet shod in dark brown boots whose tops vanished under the edge of the heavy skirt. The bland scent was more distinctive now and clearly faked. Her true scent was masked.

And unlike most humans she stood quietly below the dais and waited for permission to speak. Intrigued Aro did so. Most humans broke after thirty seconds of scrutiny and began babbling all their secrets. Even vampires were not immune to Caius’s glares. She simply waited, her gloved hands clasped at her waist.

“Welcome to Volterra. What brings you to the Fortress my dear?”

She raised her right hand and pushed the hood back. She was not beautiful, just pretty, with intense chocolate brown eyes set in a creamy oval face. Her nose was turned up at the tip, her lips were unpainted and pressed together. Caramel brown hair streaked with light and dark was braided into an old fashioned coronet around her head. There was no fear, just determination as she looked each of the three Kings in the eye before facing Aro who was slightly in front of the others.

The streaks in her hair glinted as she bowed her head and spoke. “Greetings Volturi, this one invokes the Materna clause of the LaFey Accords.”

The guards were confused. The three Kings froze. Marcus leaned forward, more alert and interested in what was happening. Caius was gaping, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief. Aro was the first one to pull himself together.

The LaFey Accords were a collection of vampire-mage treaties that had been created more than fifteen hundred years ago, and the Materna clause had only been invoked twice since - once in the tenth century and then in the fourteenth. Both times the witches involved had chosen to approach other covens, the Russian and Romanian. Both times it had been due for singular reasons, a daughter of a Dark magical family seeking allies in her quest for vengeance. There had been plenty of vengeance seeking Dark families in the last few centuries, but none invoked the LaFey Accords, not when they held their blood-purity beliefs higher than their desire for vengeance. The Accords had become forgotten archaic footnotes only remembered by vampires more than seven hundred years old, when they were last invoked. Vampires turned after the 1500s were not informed of the Accords, not unless they crossed paths with a witch or wizard.

The magical enclaves had become anti-Dark and anti-Human over the centuries, pushing out all other magical creatures, especially Dark intelligent beings. No ‘proper’ witch would ever consort with a vampire much less conceive and carry to term a dhamphir, a half-breed that would be scorned by her own kind. And how had she survived an encounter with a vampire? Unless the vampire in question was an animal-blood drinker like Carlisle. He frowned and tried to come up with such an unmated male and failed.

“I’m sure you can understand we need some proof of your claims since you are clearly standing here without your Chosen.”

“Of course.” Her voice was soft and even as she removed her cloak and draped it over one arm. Underneath she wore short sleeved forest green dress with an empire-style waist draped over a distinctive swelling at her waist.

Felix and Demetri were the first to spot it. Her ‘scent’ was bland with no traces of the specific hormones and other chemicals it should have been laced with. Then she reached up to the rose crystal pendant at her throat and snapped the slender mineral column in two. And then it hit every vampire in the room like a sledgehammer.

A heavy rich aroma infused the air, laced with feminine chemicals, pregnancy hormones and the distinctive sweet-sharp scent of venom, a very familiar venom. Caius was the first to speak the name of the source. “Carlisle Cullen.”

The witch inclined her head. “Yes.”

“Why isn’t he here?” Marcus demanded with unexpected severity. “He should be standing beside you.”

She smiled faintly and shook her head. “He is not my Chosen.”

Caius sputtered. “Then who-” He waved at her incoherent.

She gave him a curious look. “Does it matter?” she asked calmly. “I am standing here of my own free will to invoke the Accords.”

Aro was torn between hope and worry. His mind worked preternaturally fast, considering the avenues opening and closing to him before deciding on a course of action. “The invoker is meant to have a vampire Chosen, a champion who will defend her against vampires seeking to Claim her. Are you prepared for the consequences of not having a Chosen who will stand for you?”

She allowed her cloak to fall to the ground and held her hands out at waist level. “I am.”

Aro hesitated before deciding on a course of action. “Attack her. Full force unrestrained.”

The Volturi Guards glanced at each other confused and uncertain. Understandable given they were asked to use their gifts against a mortal, a pregnant one who clearly had some alliance and knowledge of vampires.

Jane was the first to try and scream enraged when her powers only made the witch look in her direction and smirk. Aro was not surprised when Jane launched herself against the witch. Aro and his brothers were not surprised when Jane bounced off an invisible shield and flew twenty feet before hitting a pillar hard.

Alec was the next to try. His gift flowed like smoke across the ground and towards the witch and stalled in an arc around her feet. He moved closer and tried harder, intensifying the field and expanding it. Her shield defence was a sphere that completely enveloped her before vanishing into the ground, the ‘cut off’ section a circle in the marble tiles.

Now she was on the attack. She did not speak, simply pointed a finger at Felix and a gout of blue flames flew from the tip shaping into a five-feet long Chinese dragon. Felix fled from the flaming creature. The moment he vanished through the doors the fire dragon flew back to the witch, coiling itself about her feet. She made a gesture and it vanished. Then she turned towards the dais and asked, “Do I pass?”

There was only one answer Aro could give her. “Yes.” He was surprised and concerned to see the pleasure and relief on her face. Some long forgotten vestige of decency made him ask, “Are you sure you wish to do this? To invoke the Materna clause without a Chosen?”

Her happiness faded a fraction before determination took its place. “Yes.”

“I do not understand. Carlisle is an honourable man. He will not stand aside , not if he is aware of your condition.”

Her mask broke and Aro could see old grief and not yet accepted loss. “I know. But I have enemies and I require ruthless allies to stand with me.”

Some understanding dawned. “Carlisle prefers not to fight.”

Caius made a scoffing sound. “He is weak.”

Sparks crackled in her coronet as she turned towards Caius with a dangerous look. “Do not mistake compassion and mercy for weakness Caius Volturi. Saving and Giving Life is far more difficult than Killing. Anyone can kill. I’ve killed dozens of men all older and more experienced than myself. But saving lives, that is by far more difficult but beneficial in the long run.”

“If he’s what you want why aren’t you with him?” Caius asked harshly, but Aro knew it was a genuine question. He too wanted to hear her answer.

The witch looked away for a moment. “Just because I value life doesn’t mean I don’t recognize that some people just need killing. Because they kill for no valid reason. I may not like it, that you kill humans, but I’ve accepted it because humans are your natural prey. Real monsters kill for pleasure, to cause pain and fear.”

Caius leaned forward in his chair. “Oh? And exactly who do you want the Volturi to kill?”

“Anyone who seeks to harm my child.”

The words hung starkly in the air between them.

Caius leaned back inhaling sharply, fingers digging into the ebony armrests of his throne.

Aro tapped one finger against his own armrest and considered the answer.

“And who do you believe will try to harm your child?”

“All the Ministries and enclaves.”

Aro froze. All the Ministries and enclaves? Why would all of them be interested in one witch. He could understand her home country trying to arrest her, for consorting with Dark creatures and some such, but all of them? Most of the Ministries guarded their own spheres of influence zealously. To interfere in the personal matter of a foreign witch, the witch in question had to be very important.

“May I have the honour of your name?”

She gave him a knowing look. “Hermione Granger.” Aro sucked an unneeded breath, red eyes wide in shocked comprehension. She gave him a mirthless smile. “You understand now?”

Aro bounced up off his throne and down the steps to stand before her. “Oh yes.” He held his hands out palms up. “May I?”

He was pleased when she stripped off one glove and placed her hand in his without hesitation. It was not like touching anyone else. It was not like touching Isabella either. Aro could see her memories her thoughts, but many were compartmentalized and hidden, beyond his reach. But he saw enough to see the truth in her words.

~o~

She was an orphan in every sense of the word. Trying and failing to find stable ground in a society she secretly despised though she loved magic and would not give it up.

She had met Carlisle Cullen in Seattle bar when she was grieving, the third anniversary of her parents death. She had met him when she was a child and he had not aged a year. She knew what he was but did not care. He was genuine and she needed someone to hold her and remind her she was alive.

The research she had done, the reactions garnered when she casually put forward hypothetical situations. It wasn’t illegal (yet) but the social pressure would be enormous. And no one would protect her, help her through her confinement, the birth and after.

She had thought about going to Carlisle when she discovered she was pregnant for only a split second. She knew he was married, from an unrelated encounter when she was much younger. She did not know if he still was and did not want to bring strife into his life. The Volturi would be a better choice, a proactive ally to fight when she could not.

She knew she was condemning the wizards and witches sent after her to death but she did not care. She was going to be a mother and they were trying to kill her baby before it was even born.

~o~

Aro broke the connection and moved his hands away, stepping back.

“Welcome to the Volturi, Hermione Granger. If you need anything to make your stay more comfortable speak to Gianna, the day-time receptionist, or Demetri and they will arrange it.”

She inclined her head. “I am honoured.”

“Demetri, please show our guest to the Rossini suite in my wing. The rest of you please inform the others of our new guest. She is not to be harmed in any way.” Aro stressed in a dangerously even voice.

He was pleased by their chorus of affirmatives, even Jane who was more than a little afraid after bouncing off something she could not detect.

Aro scooped up her cloak before she could bend and handed it over to her. “Demetri will take care of you Miss Granger. If you need something they cannot provide please inform me.”

She chewed her lower lip for a few seconds. The scent of her blood was most intriguing. “Do you have contacts in the enclaves?”

“A few,” Aro allowed with a smug grin. “In the less reputable quarters of course.”

“Then I will make a list.”

Aro watched Demetri escort Hermione Granger out of the chamber feeling genuinely exhilarated and giddy for the first time in centuries.

Chapter Text

The moment the doors closed behind them the Guards began speaking.

“Master Aro, who is she?” Heidi asked fearfully. She had not attacked Hermione. Smart move.

Caius was the one to answer Heidi. “That is Hermione Granger, and if you have any brains you will not fuck with her.”

Aro took the steps two at a time to the dais. “My brother is crude but essentially correct.”

Jane frowned. “What is she?”

Aro smiled and sat on his throne before answering. “She is a witch, a real wand witch.”

All of the Guards gaped disbelieving. None of them had crossed paths with the magicals. Witches and wizards rarely left the enclaves, only the Muggleborns and they were more than capable of handling the single nomads and foolish young ones.

Finally one of them spoke. “You mean magic is real?” Heidi asked hesitantly.

“Most of it is stereotypes but the core is real,” Aro explained. “Witches and wizards can actually kill and harm us so most vampires avoid them. After they retreated into their enclaves and separated from the non-Magical world it became much rarer to encounter one. But in the centuries when there were more interactions between our races there were many alliances and battles. The LaFey Accords is a collection of agreements to keep things civilized and less costly.”

“And the Materna Clause?” Alec asked. “Materna means Mother doesn’t it?”

“As all of you must suspect by now yes, Hermione Granger is pregnant with Carlisle Cullen’s child; to be more accurate children. The twins she carries are no danger or threat but highly desirable future allies,” Aro warned sternly. “Mortal females cannot bear the strain of accelerated pregnancies and usually the hybrids are uncontrollable monsters. The mothers usually die before reaching full term. Isabella Swan was fortunate, her daughter was not born with full-blown blood lust.” Aro lectured in a dispassionate scholarly voice.

“Witches on the other hand have no problems having hybrid offspring called dhamphirs. The pregnancy is usually six months long and the child grows four times as fast for three years with the father’s strength speed and other vampire gifts. Then they age at the usual rate. Their venom becomes fully active at twelve when they look twenty-one and they change into vampires, only they can use the full scope of magic as their ‘gift’ after the change. I have a theory, the only reason why Isabella survived her pregnancy is because she has magical ancestors, even though she does not have all the abilities of a true wand witch. I will have to verify it but it is the only logical reason why Renesmee was not born a raving monster. I’ve had to kill hybrids born of human mothers, you do not want to ever witness such a thing as an infant in a blood lust. It is one of the reasons why we are so strict about no changing children policy.”

Then Caius took over. “Unlike mortals, witches can have several offspring without great difficulty. In the Old Times they would select a consort, one vampire male to be the father. The Chosen was usually the best fighter because any other vampire who could beat him could challenge her directly, to be the father of her next child,” Caius explained.

Alec frowned. “I don’t understand it Master, if witches can have a vampire’s child why haven’t-.” he broke off and blushed.

“An effort been made to seduce them into conceiving and bearing dhamphirs?” Aro finished sardonically? “Because there has to be some degree of trust and submission for her magic to accept the pregnancy and carry to full term. If the witch does not want the child or she fears and hates the father she will miscarry. And do you really want to risk being set on fire by a hysterical female you are trying to bed? You saw what she did to Jane and Felix.”

Many of the Guard looked queasy at that description and reminder.

“Besides the enclaves have labelled us as Dark creatures. No ‘proper’ witch would stoop so low to take a vampire consort,” Aro added sourly. “But even in the past the Materna clause was only invoked by witches seeking revenge or protection from a stronger enemy. They would select a powerful vampire, usually a coven leader and negotiate the number of offspring she would have with him, to have his coven fight her war.”

“How is this different?” Alec asked curious. “You did not talk about how many babies she will have, only that she should have a Chosen. Are you going to negotiate?”

“No. Hermione’s case is different. She is asking for Protection, not an army to go out and fight on her behalf. And we will provide it because a dhamphir is a blessing for any coven, a potential powerhouse with the magical talent of the mother. And Hermione is a very strong witch.”

Then Felix spoke
unexpectedly. “You know her.”

Aro smiled faintly. “I know of her.”

“Who is she Master Aro?”

Aro leaned back in his throne and frowned. “I despise most wizarding because they look down on all other beings. Even the families that were our traditional allies would never stoop so ‘low’,” he sneered, “to allow us to court their daughters. They pride themselves on having only human magical ancestors. Blood purity. Magical Nazism.” Many of the Volturi Guards frowned. They had lived through the World Wars and had not appreciated the destruction caused by the Nazis. Full-out open warfare and bombs were dangerous, even to vampires. And immortality tended to be an equaliser to vampires of different ethnic backgrounds. “These Dark Lords never lasted long of course, there were always those willing to fight for freedom, for family and friends. The most recent Dark Lord, Thomas Riddle, he was quite pretentious. He called himself Lord Voldemort, a silly anagram of his birth name, and sent an envoy to Volterra. You may remember him, Antonin Dolohov.”

Jane scowled ferociously. She remembered that sexist pig who had tried to order her around in the seventies. Well he had stopped after she taught him a lesson in pain. “That bastard?!”

“Oh yes. He was one of Riddle’s minions.” Aro smiled dreamily. “He tried to kill Hermione when she was sixteen. She killed him when she was eighteen. In fact she killed quite a few of Riddle’s followers.” Everyone gaped disbelieving. “Hermione is what the magical enclaves call a Muggleborn, she has no known magical ancestors and is looked down in a society that practically worships long magical bloodlines. She was the perfect example of what those inbred Pureblood families feared: brilliant, powerful, skilled, intelligent, far more their own moronic scions. But instead of bringing her into the fold, allying her strength to theirs, her power to their own, they pushed her out and isolated her; because she was too strong willed to toe the party line.” Aro’s expression was genuinely admiring.

“She was called the cleverest witch of her generation when she was still a student, a war heroine of the Voldemort Wars before she even graduated. Many believe she was the only reason why the Light won, because she kept Potter alive when they were being hunted by Riddle’s followers.” Seeing their confused look he explained. “Harry Potter is the scion of one of the Light families, and the focus of prophecy. The Potter boy was prophesied to be the only one who could kill Tom Riddle so there were understandably many attempts to kill him when he was a student, young and inexperienced. Hermione kept him alive at great cost to herself when they were still children. Suffice to say Prophecies are much more difficult to interpret than Alice Cullen’s visions and I strongly believe most have an element of self-fulfilment, knowing the prophecy sets events into motion. If Riddle had not targeted Potter the boy would not have fought so strongly.”

“If she is such a good friend of Harry Potter, why hasn’t she gone to him Master Aro?” Renata asked softly.

Aro frowned blackly. “She did. She loved him. She loved him to stand beside him when public opinion was against him. To stand against him in order to protect him. To give up her parents to follow him into battle and risk death. To gracefully stand aside when he chose to marry another witch. She stopped loving him when he told her to kill her child, when he refused to respect her wishes.” He exhaled softly. “She had always forgiven him in the past, excused his actions and words, but this was something she could not brush off.

“She has cut all ties with Britain and applied for citizenship with the Italian Ministry of Magic. She has no one who can protect her against the political fallout in Britain. She has chosen to formally ally with the Volturi for protection, for herself and her child, against any who might be sent by the British Ministry of Magic.”

“So we will have to fight wizards and witches?” Felix asked.

“Yes. None of Hermione’s calibre of course. Most wand-wavers need to speak the spell and use a wand to cast magic. Spells usually travel in a direct line limited to the line-of-sight. It takes preparation or high power levels to cast wide-area spells. Move fast enough, break the wand, and they are helpless. A handful can cast wandless and soundless magic like Hermione. Of course they can escape by Apparating, their equivalent of teleporting. I’m certain Hermione will have ideas to improve security against magical intruders but for now we will need to increase patrols.”

There was a murmur of agreement and Aro nodded pleased. “Jane, you are in charge of the extra patrols. Chelsea make sure there is no wavering in the lower ranks. Heidi, pick up something for Hermione ready-to-eat and drink for two meals, until she lets us know what her preferences are. Caius, please teach the Guard how to identify magicals and locate the enclaves. It may become necessary to run a few infiltration missions, for more intel.”

Aro watched as his orders were put into action, pleased and content. A Strega Materna had chosen of her own free will to ally with the Volturi. This had far more potential than recruiting any of the Cullen clan, except perhaps the Seer Alice.

Then he frowned faintly. He needed to figure out a way to deal with her. He wasn’t quite ready to let Carlisle find out about Hermione’s condition.