Fandom(s): Harry Potter, Twilight

Disclaimer: I do not own Hermione Granger and co, J.K. Rowling and co does. I do not own the Volturi and co, Stephanie Meyer and co does. I’m simply playing with the characters for fun, not profit.

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~ooO Witch of the Wood Ooo~

“A mortal knows.”

Aro Volturi frowned faintly. The proclamation was not something new, usually from vampires eager to get the ones responsible for the leak into trouble, but this vampiress was not eager or pleased. She looked afraid.

“Step forward,” he ordered brusquely reaching out with one hand.

The vampiress nodded jerkily and held her hand out. Aro gripped it tightly and frowned faintly as he began skimming through the memories to review the key points.

By the time he released the young one he was disturbed himself. He caught Demetri’s eye. “Show our guest to a private room.” He smiled more reassuringly at the fidgeting vampiress. “I believe I have all the information we need but I would prefer if you stayed for two days. After you may leave Volterra.”

The young female bowed her head and backed away before turning to follow Demetri.

Aro waited until Demetri and their guest left the room before he turned to his brothers with a grim expression. He didn’t have to say anything. They rose as one and left at a stately, steady pace that did not falter until they were ensconced in Aro’s private office.

“What is it?” Caius demanded to know.

Aro frowned and fidgeted before finally meeting his more volatile brother’s eyes. “Magic.”

Marcus sighed. “The enclaves.”

Aro nodded. “The young one stumbled into the warded estate of a witch or wizard and was spelled to forget.”

“But she remembered enough to come to us.” Caius deduced.

“She woke up just as the property owner was leaving.”

Caius frowned. “This could cause some problems with the ICW. They do not tolerate our breed of vampires inside their enclaves.”

“Because almost none of our breed has the discipline to Not drain a magic user dry,” Marcus pointed out blandly. “Their blood is intoxicating.”

“And poisonous,” Aro pointed out dryly. “It’s standard post-natal practice for enclave mediwitches to inoculate their newborns with potions that make their blood deadly to us. After the last idiot who committed suicide-via-wand-user the enclaves were warded against us.”

“But not this property. Or at least not properly,” Caius commented thoughtfully.

Aro blinked rapidly, then nodded. “Yesss. A wand-user would be a useful ally.” Aro thought for a moment before nodding firmly. “Yes. I’ll send Demetri to track down this wand-user. When he has a report for us we’ll see about offering a hand in alliance.”

Marcus looked like he wanted to say something for a split second but in the end he decided not to.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Four months later Aro was pissed.

He had sent Demetri who returned less than five days later completely befuddled when asked for a report on his assignment.

He sent Demetri out again with Felix. Both returned empty handed and blank minded.

He sent the pair out with the twins. The group returned with the same result.

With Afton and Hedie. The same outcome.

“Forget it! I’ll go myself!” Aro yelled out in frustration.

“Are you sure that is wise?” Caius asked indiffidently. “Your power is centered around memories and this magic user is especially skilled at manipulating memories. Do you want to risk being completely memory-wiped?”

Aro went still.

“Then who? You?”

Caius snorted. “I have no desire to risk angering a wand-user and being burned alive.”

Marcus stirred. “I will go.”

“No!” Aro yelled. Then more gently. “No. I do not want to risk you being killed.”

Marcus snorted softly. “This magic user did not kill Jane. That alone is a sign of great restraint. I will be fine Aro.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. “This is the first thing that has interested me in centuries.”

Aro studied Marcus intently. Then he held out a hand. Marcus placed his much larger hand in Aro’s, allowing the more proactive vampire to read his memories. What Aro saw was enough to reassure him, to nod and agree to Marcus’s suggestion.

Three days later Marcus left Volterra accompanied by Demetri and the Twins.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Marcus had easily overtaken the swift pace set the tracker and left Demetri far behind. He did not travel outside Volterra often, but he was one of the Ancients and a more than capable fighter when he cared to make the effort.

The sky was overcast, covered with dull pewter grey clouds indicating the potential for rain, the perfect weather for vampires whose marble-like skin reflected sunlight like a disco ball. Marcus wasn’t interested in much but he cared enough to not breach the Secrecy. It would result in open war and decades of conflict.

This was his first time in the Forest of Dean and he wondered why this was not a more popular seasonal area among the vampire population. The current weather and environment was perfect for his kind, too cool for camping, the few human outdoor enthusiasts around were more intent on their own activities. It was almost twilight and even those campers would be settling in for the night, leaving the land to just the animals and the vampires.

It was easy to move in the clothes Demetri had purchased: loose-fitting camo pants, a matching shirt over a navy blue t-shirt, a khaki hunters vest, comfortable hiking boots. Marcus had not worn anything so casual in centuries. It was interesting, being given a once-over and then ignored by mortals. It had amused him as well, in his living years. Before being reborn as a vampire, Marcus had been a wizard, a wand-user. He could still ‘feel’ it when magic was being used near-by. Unlike most of his vampire-brethren, he could walk over a warded threshold — he still had enough of a magical core to be recognized by basic wards. Thank Merlin he still retained his abilities in Occlumency — it was the only reason why Aro never discovered Marcus’s extensive history with magic and thee enclaves. Aro never knew and if Marcus had his way Aro would never find out.

The Ministries never suspected Marcus had once been a wizard either; most wizards who were Changed killed themselves the first time they got a chance — they could not bear to live without magic. Marcus would have done the same if it wasn’t for Didyme, then later Chelsea’s artificial bonds. As far as Marcus was aware, he was the only wizard turned vampire more than two hundred years old. All others committed suicide within a few decades.

He could hear Demetri and the twins calling out to him. They had lost track of him the moment he crossed over the outer wards set in the forest. They were afraid and angry. Understandable since they would have to explain to Aro how they had lost a third of the Volturi leadership. Marcus understood but he did not care to turn back, to reassure them that he was fine. This was the first chance he had to reconnect with his living past, from his magical years. This was the first wards in his experience that were not set up to repel or incinerate vampires.

The moon was rising now, the pale light filtering through the tree branches overhead, lighting the path before him, random patches of illuminated ground while shadows dominated the rest. Marcus did not need the moonlight to navigate. He walked down the path, beams of moonlight shimmering on marble-hard skin as he followed it to the end. A brighter blue light was emitting from the windows of the small cottage he could see through the trees.

His feet took the small side trail leading to the door. It was a solid sturdy affair made of ancient English oak. Marcus strongly suspected it was warded heavily enough to repel an army if needed. He raised one hand and knocked, and then waited.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Hermione looked up from the book on her lap desk, the sharp knocks an unexpected interruption in her plans for a lazy evening. She was a little concerned as well. Hermione had chosen her current abode with great care and warded it appropriately to discourage visitors. After the Battle of Hogwarts the muggleborn witch chose to retreat from enclave life, to focus on her research and private studies using her Order of Merlin funds. And her inheritance. Her parents had been the tipping point in her decision to step away.

It began when she went searching for Wendell and Monica Wilkens and found two gravestones. Her parents died thinking they were childless.

It had been a terrible struggle, trying to wrap up their estate because there were no provable connections between Hermione Granger and the Wilkens — Hermione had been very thorough. Fortunately she had not been skilled enough to cover all the magical traces and the Australian Department of Magic had been able to help.

She returned to Britain still shell-shocked from her loss and no one else truly empathized. Most were too relieved that the war was over and done with. Harry had felt guilt-ridden and Hermione had been forced to tamp down on her pain, to pretend she was recovering. But she wasn’t. Recovering that is.

Then Ron proposed to her. In fact he expected her to marry her before the end of the summer, to start a family right after Hermione finished her last year in Hogwarts — Harry and Ron would be joining the Aurors with their honorary NEWTs. Hermione had protested; she was still in mourning and wasn’t ready to take such an important step, but Ron kept pushing. And it wasn’t just him — everyone expected her to move on, to settle into a magical relationship and pretend everything was just fine and dandy, that she was happy. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Hermione refused to forget, to pretend everything was find, to toe the expected line, and it created a rift between herself and her old friends and former allies. Few witches or wizards bothered visiting her nowadays. The rare times she entered the enclaves for shopping or visiting Gringotts, most ignored her.

It was a quiet evening. Most of her evenings were quiet, filled with reading or meditation. She had felt the ward sensor go off, a slight tingle indicating someone had crossed the outer edges but there was no urgency indicating a threat of violence. So when someone knocked at the door she was not too surprised. It was more of a shock to see a vampire on her doorstep.

“Good evening,” he intoned gravely.

Good manners compelled Hermione to respond in kind. “Good evening sir.” After a slight pause she asked, “Is there a reason for your presence on my doorstep?”

He blinked once and inclined his head. “Yes.”

Most witches would have slammed the door on any vampire’s face long before now. But Hermione was not a typical witch. This vampire had not tripped any of the violence wards and he did not look thirsty or desperate. So she felt safe enough to invite him in.

“Do you wish to come inside and tell me?”

He looked slightly startled. He probably did not get that often from a mortal who knew what he was. But he did react and step over the threshold. He watched Hermione close and re-ward the door, then wave him over to her small living room.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink? A blood replenishing potion? A blood pop?” Now his eyes popped and it made Hermione giggle. “I have a few vampire friends who visit.”

The vampire’s expression soured slightly. “Ones with permits from Your Ministry,” he pronounced heavily.

Hermione snorted. “Not My Ministry. I refuse to be associated with that cesspit.” She smiled faintly. “I met them when I was a student. At a dinner party hosted by an old teacher.”

“And you kept in touch with them? Even after you graduated?” Seeing her nod he made a soft noise. “Very foolish or very brave of you.”

Hermione shrugged. “Both I think.”

“And you are not afraid of vampires visiting you when you live alone and so far from mortals or magicals?”

“I can look after myself. Besides living alone suits me. I’m a Potions Mistress. I can brew and do research on my own schedule in my own home much more comfortably than in a shop.”

“Surely you miss your friends.”

Hermione gave the vampire a tolerant look. “They’re busy with their own lives. We have different interests, goals, and desires. Besides if they cared they could easily Apparate to visit.”

The vampire looked intrigued. “May I know your interests, goals and desires?”

“No,” she told him bluntly. “I would like to know why you are here. No one else lives in this section of the Forest.”

He studied her intently before nodding slowly. “I wish to offer you a patronage contract from the Volturi. And before you say anything it is not illegal to make such an offer.”

Hermione laughed. “Only because the Ministries can’t imagine anyone ever saying yes.”

“Because they can’t imagine any magical ever trusting vampires.”

“I don’t trust vampires,” Hermione told him bluntly. He raised an arch brow and gestured at himself, as if saying ‘then why am I here in your home?’ She sighed. “But I think I could trust you. Maybe.”

“So would you be willing to consider the offer?”

Hermione waved at a trio of chairs set near the fireplace. “Perhaps. You can start by introducing yourself and telling me why I would be interested.”

He smiled, a surprisingly warm and intimate expression from the impassive visage. “My name is Marcus Volturi.”

Hermione inhaled sharply. She recognized the name. One of the Three Ruling Kings of the Vampire Nation. “It was my understanding the Kings never leave Volterra.”

“That would be a misunderstanding. We do occasionally leave the Fortress.”

“When was the last time you left?”

He was quiet for a bit. “A long time,” he finally admitted.

Hermione felt there were several sensitive and emotional reasons why it had been a long time, so she tried to redirect the conversation. “Why would I be interested in Volturi patronage? I’m not interested in killing or being Changed.”

“We do not need killers — we have the Guard for that — and I do not wish to Change you. We need your mind and magical talents more than your physical strength.”

“I’m not willing to move to Volterra.”

“There is no restriction on physical proximity in this modern age. You can live and work where you please as long as you deliver on your contract.”

This was going almost too well. “I’m not interested in creating poisons, or anything that will kill humans.”

“The Volturi are more interested in blending into mainstream society than standing out.”

“So I can pick and choose what I deliver.”

“As long as it will benefit the Volturi I do not see any issue. At least for our first contract. The terms may become stricter or looser if you choose to re-negotiate.”

Hermione absorbed the warning with a thoughtful expression. “And if I ask to deal only with you?”

Now she had clearly startled him, given his deer-in-headlights expression.

“Excuse me?”

“What if I want to deal with only one Volturi vampire. You.”

He stared at her. Then he smiled slowly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his thighs. “I’m willing to listen to your reasons why I should say yes.”

Hermione smiled.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Marcus Volturi had never thought he would be blessed with a second mate, not after he lost his beloved Didyme, but he had. He never expected to find her in the shape of a mortal witch in the Forest of Dean. But now that he had found her he was determined to never leave her side. Ever.

Marcus knew Aro would protest and send the Guard to take Marcus back to Volterra, or at least he would try. He would try and fail, because Marcus had no intention of ever leaving Hermione Granger’s wards and presence.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Aro Volturi dismissed the latest group of visitors and waited long enough to retreat to his private office. It was not his usual routine but ever since Demetri had returned without Marcus, and each group of guards sent out returned without any news, the seething anger built and built until he was just about ready to explode. The only thing that kept him from summoning all his allies and assembling an army was the knowledge that Marcus was safe, that the witch was delivering on her side of the bargain.

He reached under his desk to touch a particular spot. It required a precise amount of pressure to eject the hidden shallow drawer. Carefully he lifted the carved wooden box stored within the drawer. It was covered with abstract designs, runes that he could read using the language skills he had absorbed from various scholars.

It contained a rolled parchment, one whose contents he knew by heart — a contract of services signed by Hermione Granger and Marcus Volturi. Carefully he set the contents of the latest package delivered to Volterra inside the carved box — a shallow velvet tray containing two dozen narrow glass vials capped with silver stoppers. Each vial contained a dose of potion created by Hermione Granger that was designed to be used by vampires; a potion that would glamour the sparkle of vampire skin in direct sunlight. Aro had already sent Demetri to test the effectiveness under the direct sun of various Mediterranean countries. Given the background reports on Hermione Granger, Aro Volturi was confident the potion would work as promised. She was delivering on her contract. Her contract with Marcus.

Part of Aro was pleased by Marcus’s revival, his renewed interest in the world. Part of Aro was concerned by the witch, her influence on Marcus. He weighted the options and possibilities.

Hermione Granger had not indicated she wished to separate Marcus from the Volturi, in fact she was forming her own ties with the Volturi. Besides it would not be easy, killing a battle-forged witch. If she was angered she could do a great deal of damage. No, it was better to wait and watch. Besides, if he played his cards right, perhaps she would be willing to move permanently to Volterra.

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The End

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AN: I have a few ideas for outtakes, mostly centered around Hermione visiting Volterra and when the enclaves find out. But that’s for later

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