Disclaimer: I do not make money from writing this story. I do, however, accept cookies and pancake recipes x

Châteaux Lestrange

Thank you for the ever wonderful Vino Amore, who loves my Lestrange brothers.

AN: I seem to be Poly Amorous – or that is to say, I like Hermione to be with more than one man, she is far too curious a creature to be stuck to the same man, unless he is really truly special. So, I wonder who, out The Lestrange brothers, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and Lord Voldemort is special enough to be the final winner? I would also recommend you listen to Tam Lin, the song is the main inspiration for this story. I will be making several references to it. I love this song.

Inspired Songs: Fairport Convention; Tam Lin, and Duran Duran's; Violence of Summer.

Fancasts:

Rabastan Lestrange: Tom Hiddleston

Rodolphus Lestrange: Rufus Sewell

Kingsley Shacklebolt: Paterson Joseph

Narcissa Malfoy: Joely Richardson

Handsome Lord Voldemort: Aiden Turner

She will turn me in your arms, into a newt or a snake,

but hold me tight and fear not, I am your babies father,

And they will turn me in your arms into a lion bold,

But hold me tight and fear not, for you will love our child.

Tam Lin to Janet. (Instructions on how to thwart the Fairy Queen)

Fairport Convention – Traditional Story.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Still shell shocked by the events of the blunder that was the worst thought out rescue mission that was ever undertaken in the history of humankind, Hermione's parents were close to forcefully evicting her from the Wizarding World all together, citing it as: 'Too dangerous for nice young girls to be part of!' her father said that. Her mother remained tight-lipped her eyes, eerily resembling Snape's when he was furious, had said nothing on the matter. They may have welcomed her magic with open arms, allowed some people from her world into their home, even corresponding with Molly Weasley on a regular basis to find out the real story behind what their secretive daughter fails to explains, or conveniently omits or avoids to discuss with them. If she came home with severe injuries, she'd just say: The stairs are enchanted and I missed my footing due to stress. Molly, on the other hand, would be the one to tell them that their daughter rode a horse only visible to those who had seen death, from Scotland to London. Foolishly following her friends into a trap laid out by the Dark Lord.

Yes, they knew the real truths of her extra curricular adventures and were not best pleased by what their flesh and blood was becoming. Their child they had worked so hard to get, the only chance of being parents they had, treating their sacrifices as if they were nothing broke their hearts. All for following a mere boy into not one, not even two, but at least four dangerous adventures. Leaving her almost strangled by a plant, killed by a magic snake, rescuing a known convict on the back of a flying hippocampus type creature, and subject to a teacher who abused a quill that magically drew their princess' own blood from her veins. To write lines was fair enough, but for the ink to be extracted by their life-force. They had almost sued the Magical Government for allowing their princess to be scarred for life.

No, it was safe to say that Helen and Alexander Granger were not happy with their witch daughter and wished she could have been in Slytherin when they found out it was the only house in the school that kept themselves to themselves and desired nothing more than to learn and be the best.

It was also safe to say that neither liked Albus Dumbledore. "What kind of adult-in-charge allows children, children," Helen screeched one day to her husband, "to fight his battles for him?"Adding that: "If he was the one that the almighty Dark Lord was so afraid of why the hell did he not do something about it himself, with his band of qualified adult vigilantes?"

It was not as if they had fierce objections – and they could not use the excuse: That Potter boy is distracting you from your studies; for their daughter was likely to be class Valedictorian. Also they could not use the excuse that: It would be safer if we can find another school to send you too. The French one sounds nice, and you know, we have relatives in France... Because the Wizarding War was just as real in France as it was in Britain. As for the the French Relative... Hermione shuddered... Cousin Marie.

Hermione hated Cousin Marie. She really was a third cousin to her father. Old. Wrinkled. Smelled disgustingly of lavender and ammonia with the added aroma of ancient, heavy powdery make-up making her choke. She needed her nose for Potions, so she did not wish to be near her for any length of time. What freaked Hermione out the most as a small girl was Marie's insistence on sporting a vicious red shade of lipstick that blurred into the wrinkles surrounding her thin mouth, resembling painted dried streamlets of blood on her chin.

Another reason Hermione was frightened of her Cousin Marie, was the old bats choice of pets, for she kept budgerigars and parakeets. Scaring her when they swooped into Hermione's hair and tried to take clumps out. All Cousin Marie did was laugh as she watched the young girl battle, screeching out with terror whilst the avians pecked and scratched at her. A situation that took Hermione awhile to overcome from. If she was not so afraid of failure above all, her boggart would have been a flock of birds nipping at her flesh. It was this continual experience that made her hate broomsticks, flying horses, and anything else to do with being up in the air. That thestral ride was not her favourite experience in all her short life as an official witch. Now, she could add skull tattoos to the long list of things to be careful of.

So the Granger's finally decided to take a holiday: Away from Magic, away from Dentistry, away from the Potter boy, and the red headed crew of miscreants... Well, Helen conceded, not all of them. Molly was a wonderful source of information and they swapped baking recipes all the time, Molly even giving Helen some literal Magic Ingredients that made food taste even better. She also liked the little girl. Ginevra was a lovely and unusual name, whenever Hermione spoke of Ginny, Helen smiled warmly. It was nice to know that in the magical world size nor sex determined strength of character or ability. Alexander found himself itching to write to this Professor Snape – he was sure he could commandeer the man to sell some potions to help incredibly nervous patients sit in the chair so he could do his job without making people cry, but Hermione strongly advised against that idea, much to her father's chagrin.

So it was that now the Granger's – including Crookshanks – excluding Cousin Marie, (who was to come but had, ironically, caught a strain of bird flu), was in the hospital. Something dark in Hermione chuckled at the thought of her fowl loving relative ill with something relating to them. Her father's choice of vacation was the Channel Islands, more specifically, Jersey.

This location was chosen due to the fact that her father's favourite TV show was recorded here and it was as far south as they were allowed to go with a cat. They shut up shop for a month, Hermione was given permission by Albus Dumbledore and the new Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour – to take her wand with her – only being allowed to use it in dire circumstances. Hermione agreed with great alacrity – she was nearly 17, so she felt that she should be allowed to test her education so close to it. What she did not know was that she was being watched over by various Order members. Kingsley offered more than most, and even stranger to most members of the Order, Professor Snape himself volunteered to look after her. Causing Albus to twinkle merrily to himself.

Hermione did not want to spend a month just sitting on a beach, she had better ideas. The island was filled with history, both magical and muggle, armed with her Magical camera – her wand keeping up a rough bun in her hair – and Crookshanks faithfully following her around, Hermione decided a little trip around was infinitely more preferable than staring at the slow tide.

Wearing sensible shoes, tied to her feet as tightly as possible, in a pair of light beige linen shorts, a white cotton t-shirt with a lace-up front, nicely displaying her full and pert breast. Walking slightly hunched due to a backpack filled with water, sketch-pads and pencils to find areas to draw. CD Player, headphones, replacement batteries, CDs and money in case she needed to buy some food. Hermione set about exploring the island whilst her mother was reading a Mills and Boon on the beach and her father swam in the sea. She was also wearing a beige cotton hat, Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses and had a spare bottle of sun protection.

Panting, Hermione crested a hill and stopped to admire the view. She picked up her camera and took several panoramic views. Then she began to look for somewhere to sit. Eventually, her gaze rested on a sandstone step to sit on. Hermione took out her CD player – placed Duran Duran's album Big Thing in the machine, hooked the headphones over her head, before taking out her sketching materials. Nodding at the odd passers-by, fellow tourists who were similarly inclined to Hermione. Fellows that belonged to the school of thought that believed one should actually explore the place they spent money to visit rather than sitting on some boring beach becoming pork crackling under the unforgiving heat of the golden sun.

She continued to sketch as the album played. When it stopped she took a glug of water and swapped CDs same band but different album. This one called Liberty. Not even aware at times of humming along, loving how appropriate the first track was. Heart sped up. Violence of Summer began to play. Tapping her pencil to the beat. "So what man I still want to play play play oooooh aaaaah... Ooh a one two..." Crookshanks sat by her side daring the other bi-peds to make fun of his mistress. Personally, he thought she was perfect, no one else can have her. His scowl even made a little girl cry which made Hermione roll her eyes.

The light began to change, and Hermione wanted to find something to eat. The road still twisted and wound into the country side, and Hermione felt that was too far from her parents to go safely away into. Yet, surely they would not begrudge her some shade, perhaps there is a shop to buy food. Stopping the CD she wrapped the headphone cord back around the player and placed it neatly in her bag, along with her sketching equipment. Another long glug of water and Hermione was back on her feet and began walking further along to get some shade before the punishing walk down. Again, Crookshanks trotted along after her, showing the world that cats can be just as, if not infinitely more, loyal than dogs.

The Order of the Phoenix member who followed her began to scowl as they recognised where her feet would eventually take her, but he could not say anything otherwise she would feel betrayed by Dumbledore, who said it was fine for her to use some magic before her 17th birthday. A foolish promise, for neither Hogwarts, or the Ministry, allowed for any deviation to that rule. So far only a handful have managed to bypass the warning signals that set off in those esteemed establishments. One was a Dark Lord, one was the current Headmaster, the other... Him. The Founders themselves, for they did not just find the school, the Ministry was set up by Rowena Ravenclaw herself with the help of Salazar Slytherin. It was rumoured Helga Hufflepuff wished to set up Healing Houses throughout the length and breadth of Britain and Godric was the original sports fan and thought nothing of jousting matches in the air. All that aside, the spy sighed as he continued taking care of her. The girl was clever, but not innovative enough to find out the solution to that thorny issue set up by the creative half of the fab four of the Magic world. Neither would she think to, as the girl obstinately stuck to the rules in Hogwarts: A History verbatim, the way Puritanicals did their scripture and verse.

He watched as she found a pub with outdoor seating and wondered how she was going to get a drink when a group of local young men stopped by to appreciate the tourist girl. His blood boiled – immediately they reminded him of certain people he cared not to think on.

"Je m'apelle Pierre Blanc," a particularly swarthy one grinned.

"Je m'appelle Hermione Granger," she replied.

"L'Anglais, oui?"

"Oui," Hermione smiled as she was about to drink some water another man stepped forward.

"My name is Hans," he looked Teutonic except for the tan and dark hair. Devilishly handsome, Hermione could not help but squirm a little in her seat as she was aware these men stopped because of her! "Never mind Pierre, he likes to catch people out. So, where in England..."

"That would be giving away information I am not inclined to give," she smirked. The men glanced at each other with equal grins of ferocious delight. Clearly not here on her own, just looking around. The locals knew their tourists. "It was nice meeting you," she said.

"We're not in a hurry," Pierre hooked a chair leg with his heel and sat down. "Especially when such a rose is found amongst all us thorns."

In spite of herself, she blushed and looked shyly down at her lap. Viktor had told her many times she was a beautiful witch, and should let her inner Nymph out more, for he was sure she was a Nymph. Or a Dryad. Hermione may have got used to praise for her intellect, yet she was still shy of accepting compliments on her appearance. All she saw when she looked in a mirror was a plain Jane super brain. What the Order member saw was an innocent young woman being salivated on by Hyenas. Not that he was any better, for he was among their number, Hermione Granger had grown into a goddess!

"Thank you," she whispered. They had to be 19 or 20. Older than her but so what? "So, um, how er, how old are you?"

Pierre flashed a grin of white dazzling teeth: "21," he said.

By her side, Hans reached out and lazily wrapped a loose curl around his finger: "25, I'm his older brother," he pointed to a boy who looked so much like a young Lucius Malfoy Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Hermione had seen a picture of a young Lucius the same time she was looking for pictures of young Tom Riddle. Really and truly it was so outrageously unfair that: a) She got stuck with paltry Draco Malfoy as the chief Slytherin of her year when she would much rather have drooled over Lucius Malfoy; B) Evil really does look good some times, and C) What the hell was wrong with her that she was essentially lusting over someone old enough to be her father AND grandfather respectively? "Lukas," he introduced taking her out of her reverie.

"Lukas," Hermione repeated softly. The young man blushed a little at her naming him that she felt even more uncomfortable. "Well, it is nice to meet you three but I..."

She felt something on her thigh. A hand. Hot and heavy and it was twisting her insides. Another hand landed on her other thigh. She suddenly felt aware of the fact that she was a female and these were males. Males who were clearly out on the pull and decided she was the one to take home with them. Hermione was about to push the offending limbs off her but a waitress arrived. Lukas managed to reach her knee and worked his hand around the back as he gently pulled her leg up. Trapped, Hermione felt she should order something, so ordered a Strawberry Milkshake.

The men laughed and ordered her a half-pint of beer. Hermione tried to protest but three different hands exploring her legs stopped her. Crookshanks was about to hop onto the table to defend his mistress the best way he knew how when the waitress picked him up.

"Is he yours?" the waitress asked. Completely oblivious to Hermione's agitated state.

"Yes," Hermione hissed.

The waitress cooed over the grumbling cat before she went into the pub to get the beers for her friends and the girl they decided to pluck from the crowd. Tourist spotting was their favourite sport – especially girls – the waitress knew them well enough to know they would do nothing to hurt the poor things. All the same, she did not miss the wary signals as Hermione first supposed, and she would be prepared to help her escape them. She also wanted the girl to remain sober so she got her the original order. Much to the trio of hunks disappointments. As Hermione sipped her shake she decided to try and relax into their touches. So what, she was on holiday, this would not be the romance of the century but flirting was harmless.

Pierre leaned in and began petting her neck, Hans did the same to her jaw. Okay, she sighed, perhaps flirting was a bad idea. Especially now she felt Lukas lips on her dust speckled legs. Crookshanks was definitely feeling his Mistress agitation and fear, and began to claw and hiss at his Mistress attackers. They remained unaffected as they were robust island farmer dwelling folk, they did not care for a few cat scratches. They were almost amused by the cats shenanigans, finding his behaviour a cute attempt. However they were not to be dissuaded from their attentions towards Hermione, the beautiful tourist, who was sure to sing their names by the time they were through.

The Order member ground his teeth at the blatant orgy taking place before his eyes, if either of them hurt any hair on Miss Granger's head he was going to hurt them, permanently. It was all he could do to stop hurling violent hexes at Dolohov when he saw what happened to her because of him!

"OI!" shouted a man from the pub door. "Where do you think you are, Blanc?"

"In the presence of a goddess, she is ours to be worshipped."

"Git out and leave the poor girl alone!"

Pierre scowled at the bar owner. "Well if your daughter was not so high into her knickers I would not have to find comfort elsewhere!" he retorted.

Using this opportunity, Hermione quickly gulped down the rest of her shake and slipped carefully out of the way as the three men now had their backs turned to her. Now preoccupied with arguing with the hero of the hour, the unknown publican.

Hurriedly, she ran down the street opposite her and hid in another alley trying to catch her breath, briefly glancing up. Confusion marred her brow, as she found that now she stood in a small country lane, lined by bowed trees, creating a wild arch where shadows speckled the grassy ledges. A small breeze caused daisies, buttercups, and taller grass stems to dance and sway languidly. Refreshing her skin also with its gentle flicks of breath, cooling her down. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be drowned in the haze of green that she was enveloped in.

Good job I have an eidetic memory, she sighed as she danced a circle in the middle of the road. Arms spread wide. Countenance carefree and happy. Otherwise I'd never find my way back. Crookshanks had found her and, once again, witch and cat were exploring avenues unknown to a vista only imagined in their heads. As one they walked, Hermione was not sorry that the barman stopped what was happening, the feelings those three invoked in her were neither welcomed or desired. Adonis so they were but not her type. Lavender was another issue entirely. If they were wizards, Pansy would have thrown herself at them. It was almost embarrassing the way the Slytheriness tried to gain Viktor's attentions, even after he had declared HER as the thing he'd miss the most.

As Hermione wound her way along the serpentine lane she sighed, stopped, and gazed around: "Nothing but fields and cows," she turned to Crookshanks, "shall we go home buddy?"

Crookshanks mewed in agreement and turned around for Hermione to go back the way she came. But something caught the light, a shimmer, Hermione felt the seductive rush of magic. Some wizards lived here. Probably from Beauxbatons but she did not care. All she had to say to them was that she was best friends with Fleur's fiancée's brother. If that did not help she could mention her other best friend was Harry Potter. They could probably apparate her to the beach so she did not have to trek down.

It was then that a tendril of something crept its way to her, tickling her neck. She turned around at lightening speed. Only to feel something tap on her shoulder causing her to swing around. The something touched, tickled and stroked various places of her body making her spin around in circles. The exercise, coupled with the heat, mating with her still somewhat confused state over the three muggle men who were trying their level best to seduce her, made Hermione's vision swim. Through many blurring dots of vision, Hermione managed to see an entrance to what was likely a maze. Through the foggy confusion of her mind, the circles swam and interconnected into some sort of Venn diagram, which then focussed bright and clear on a hedge. Guarded only by an intricately wrought iron gate with silver leaves and golden apples decorating the twisted spindles between the squoval frame. It was then that Hermione noticed it was the foliage of the hedge itself that had reached out to tease her.

"Curiouser and Curiouser," she smiled.

She'd always wanted to be Alice, but was never deemed pretty enough and it rankled to this day. According to her teacher, Alice was meant to be blonde. End of... her mother was furious and frightened the teacher from ever saying anything to Hermione ever again. At least I was not allergic to the pretty tortoiseshell they got to play Dinah. Hermione almost managed to sneak the cute little kitten away but her mother told her off for stealing what was not hers. So, she was frogmarched to school the next day and forced to return said kitten to the owner. A rotten boy called Daryl Stubbs owned her and he was squeezing her. Hermione was angry! Her first physical memory of accidental magic happened that day. She was only five. Frightened when a golden light suddenly burst out as she magically whisked the cat away to another in the playground. A shy girl who never spoke to anyone but smiled as the kitten hugged and purred into her. The kitten did not want to go back to Daryl but the shy girl, who never spoke, invited her to play with Dinah from time-to-time.

Another frond emerged, returning the teen to the now. If Hermione squinted she swore she saw a leer on the leaf. It caressed down her arm, coiled between her fingers, itching along her back as it wrapped a limb around her waist where the leaf then ventured down into her shorts. Tickling her skin, causing her flesh to quiver, she tried to move but could not. The branch had trapped her so she could not even reach for her wand. Hermione was even more aware of her femininity with this plant than she was with those men. The leaf then crept its way into her knickers. The points seemed to grow as it teased her vagina, engorged and playful as a hand would be, tendrils thick and strong, prised her labial lips apart. Then the leaf flattened as if it were a tongue, a fuzz grew over the top. The friction made her moan and close her eyes as she was now helpless in the foliage's embrace.

The plant then led a somewhat entranced, and somewhat semi-bewitched, girl into the maw of the Maze. The gate swung open gently – a golden light emitted swallowing her in. Unaware by this phenomena Hermione moaned as the leaf pulsed passionately against her core, keeping her lips wide, soaking and tasting her – pumping her juices throughout the coils and vines of the structure of the maze.

Crookshanks tried to follow but was swatted away with a powerful swing of another unfurling, engorged, tendril, to the other side of the road, where he landed with a thump on the grass verge. Semi-unconscious, helpless to save himself or his Mistress. After all that Mrs Norris had taught him, he failed in his mission to keep his Mistress safe. Mrs Norris would never share a mouse with him again. Then his vision went black, or was that... he wheezed... Barely feeling the light touch of a man. A man whom his Mistress respected. A man he was under a Kneazle Oath from Mrs Norris, not to disrespect, a wizard of great power.

The only wizard, Crookshanks knew, who could help his Mistress wherever she was right now, she was sure to need help and this man may be the answer.

"No, Crookshanks," the wizard murmured stroking the distressed felines fur, "it does not look good at all. You lost one beautiful Mistress, I will not allow you to lose the other."

Ah, the cat whimpered. You're him...

The family had all sat down to their afternoon tea. They had arranged themselves in accordance to their stature, and rank. There were six people. Family through blood, beliefs and battle.

"Thank goodness you were meant to fail, Lucius," murmured Narcissa.

"It was only for our Lord himself to assess which of that band of miscreants would be worthy to join his side," Lucius sighed.

"True, the prophecy was just a distraction," said Rodolphus.

Draco remained quiet. Had done since he heard all about the Ministry debacle. It did not help that Luna Lovegood was part of it, he would not know what to do if he lost her. Especially as no one has found out about his forbidden feelings for the Blood-Traitor. When he found out that everyone in Ravenclaw was treating her badly he was ready to storm in the Headmaster's office and demand for her to be re-sorted. Gryffindor would have been his choice, at least she had friends there, that was one good thing about them, they help each other and their friends. Even if those friends are from other houses. Luna stopped him.

"Damn good thing too," said Rabastan. Sea green eyes matched with sharp cheeks, a rakish smile, added with a certain Je Ne Sais Quoi made him quite a catch. Rodolphus could not believe how many offers for marriage by fathers wanting to contract their daughters out to a rich man he received. Not one of them worth his little brother though, none of them had fire and zeal Rabastan needed. Both brothers were not badly off each owning their own estates. "His decision though... not that I am complaining... I held her – I can understand."

"She won't!" Draco grumbled. "Granger is much too goody-goody!"

"Really?" Rodolphus frowned. This was bad. "How do you mean?"

"She follows the rules, even down to the dotted 'i', and the 't' crossed."

"She is not that good a girl," Narcissa smiled. "The letter I received from dear Fontine Edgecomb over the state of her niece's forehead. Apparently the word is still strong and clear."

"What word was this?" Bellatrix asked.

"Sneak," Draco said with a grimace.

"Sneak?" Bellatrix frowned.

"Marietta Edgecomb, a Ravenclaw a year above us, told Umbridge about their little meetings. Apparently, Granger did tell everybody that something terrible was likely to happen with far reaching consequences if any of those who signed the parchment were to betray the rules set out by the club," Draco explained. "Turned out when Marietta did betray them, she found the word Sneak emblazoned across her forehead where everyone can see it, it constantly itches, and is unable to be camouflaged against concealing charms, make-up charms, and Invisa-paste. Nothing works. Only Granger knows how to get rid of it, and Granger, in a moment of rare vindictive pique won't. So Marietta is likely to suffer that brand for the rest of her life."

Bellatrix's eyes glowed with appreciation at the idea of modelling the young witch after herself. Yes, she despised Mudbloods otherwise she would not be where she was, but if there was talent, a hint of darkness in them – then who was she to stop their adumbral haze to shine and fashion the way one would a piece of Whitby Jet. Bellatrix saw the girl on the battlefield and she was stunned by how clever she was. How she was not above pulling dirty tricks on people. No, she will wholeheartedly support her Lord. If he said she was worthy: Bellatrix would make it her mission to bring that worthiness to the fore.

The men of the group laughed as they looked at each other in mirth; "Was she the one with hair like Bella's but lighter, and brown eyes?" Rabastan asked. Hoping it was. He tried to describe her as plainly as he could. One should not know intimate details of one's enemy whilst fighting for their lives. "She was fierce, I'll give her that."

Rodolphus guffawed; "I'll give her something else too," he winked at Lucius who fully reciprocated the sentiment by his trademark curl of the lip and a stoic indeed.

Draco wondered what all the fuss was about. After all, no one could light a candle like his Luna could. Granger was safe from him, he knew that would not break her heart. However it did not sit well with him to hear his girlfriend's best friend being discussed as something to own. He would almost bet his estate that Granger would not like to be thought of being owned either.

"Well, if she has caught our Lords eye," Bellatrix said with all the zeal and fervour of before, "then we must all do our utmost to convince her that we are not out to get her, just those who oppose us. Anyone have any idea what might make her think things through differently?"

"House-Elves," Draco said. "She tried to free the blighters – due to the state Winky was in when she was freed from service. She thought the treatment of the Elves was ownership at worst and barbaric slavery at best. It was degrading and unkind to such powerful, clever, sentient, creatures. If you use them as your base for argument, say something like: 'I agree to that point let us discuss and see how we can help those who are loyal to us...' should get her thinking," Draco smiled. "This may also help as I hear her two bodyguards somewhat make fun of her beliefs. To that end, we could take her seriously, show her we are not animals to the creatures. That we can debate and unlike Weasley, we do know what table utensils are, and show her in little ways we do genuinely like her, respect her, and not to call her that term."

"Good boy, nephew, a true advocate for our Lord," Bellatrix purred. Narcissa swirled her glass in her hands. "What do you suggest Cissy?"

"Books, I hear she can set aside any principle as long as it is written in a lawful, concise and logical manner," Narcissa said. "She favours Logic over Foolhardiness."

Bellatrix nodded soaking all this in like a sponge: "She lacks self-esteem," Lucius said. "A comment on how well her essay is written and she sparkles. One nasty comment about her looks can plummet her fragile self-opinion."

"So we must all help her where her friends otherwise fail, we must be kind and civil, be tender," Bellatrix sighed. She had to admit she was not the best suited for this mission. "It is a good thing Roddy and I are in an open marriage. What of yours Narcissa?"

"I am willing to share my husband for our Lord."

Lucius glanced over at Roddy and Rabastan: "So," he said. "Shall we draw straws?"

As the men were about to fight over who'd get to seduce Hermione Granger to their way of thinking, Rabastan felt his magic tingle. As did Rodolphus. The brothers glanced at one another.

"A stray witch or muggle?"

"What's happened?" Draco asked.

"The Maze," said Rabastan. "Our forefathers planted and treated it with spells and hexes – a sexual kind of jinx – that seduces a female who the hedge tastes as worthy – the message is sent to us as the Lestrange heirs through specific wards," his cheeks flushed with excitement. "Any we invite get to go in and the first Wizard to find her can have her for a lover for however long he desires."

"If it is a muggle we stun her and apparate with her under the quiet of darkness and lay her on the beach," continued Rodolphus. "A muggleborn we play with then, depending on age, we make sure she is safely out of the hedge, that is only if she is underage. If not, say they are 16, not yet able to apparate but of age to sexually play with – we will do so but only if they are attractive – we're men and Dark wizards..." it seemed impossible for magical folk inclined to Dark Arts, to remain loyal to their marriage partner. Even if they wanted to, the Dark Call was so strong, adultery was akin to pain potion as a temporary cure for the problem. "If she is too young for either we apparate her back to her parents and say sorry but their daughter got caught in a field that was not supposed to be trespassed on."

"Half-blood or Pure-Bloods are for the taking," Rabastan grinned as his eyes misted over. "I remember finding self-righteous Evan's once, a muggleborn of such high exacting standards I am surprised she married at all, especially Potter," he spat the name out contempt glowing in his eyes. He rejoiced over Potter's death. "Oh she was fiery though, quite a looker, Slytherin eyes and Gryffindor hair..." he began to drift in ardent memory of past lust, "and it took awhile to ascertain what to do with her but we decided to be gentlemen and took her home without hurting her. Evans was all sweetness about us to her parents and that horse-faced lemon-sucking bitch of a sister. Immediately looking at us, us, as if we were dirt beneath her feet! I almost lost my cool and killed the stupid chit of a muggle straight away."

According to Luna, who heard it from Harry, it would seem like good riddance, Draco thought. Luna – gods he was missing her, he was almost going to go upstairs and write to her but his mother broke his reverie. Narcissa leaned forward:

"You said those who were invited by you can... play?"

"Lucius is my brother-in-law," Rodolphus grinned. "Of course he can join in. Not Draco though, some things in that maze are not friendly..."

"Also," Rabastan sighed impatiently interrupting his brother. Personally, he could not stand the whelp of a blond and wished he'd been there when Miss Granger punched him hard in the face. "He is under aged," shaking his head at his brother's questionable sentimentality towards his nephew. "He'd be expelled as soon as he had to strike the first hex..."

"Ah, yes," Rodolphus scratched under his chin. "I forgot about that. Only Wizards of age can play."

Rolling their eyes, Narcissa and Bellatrix sat back. They knew the truth behind the plant. Without that there would not be purity at all. All Narcissa could hope for, for the poor trapped girl, was the common sense not to try and fight its power. Many a witch down the centuries lost their lives due to a fertility hedge. Janet, of Tam Lin's fame, was almost one such witch – if Tam Lin had not helped her out there would not be the Macnair line today. Carterhaugh remained theirs to this day.

Hermione could not believe she was being sexually aroused by charmed flora, the leaf continued to glide amongst the now damp slit. Stopping to wrap, curl and pump the clit. More liquid leaked out making her knickers and shorts incredibly uncomfortable to wear. She had abandoned her footwear a few turns ago. Keeping her backpack with her though in case she needed food and drink. Stickiness began to make walking uncomfortable, so she had to reluctantly abandon her shorts and knickers, leaving her only in her top, bra, hat and sunglasses.

What she did not know was that these natural juices fed the plant, giving it information for the ones who owned the land it was on. If the hedge could talk it would sound like a cross between the Sorting Hat and a creaky ancient house-elf: Oh yes, this one would definitely do for the Lestrange men, it seemed to think, even their honoured guest Lucius Malfoy could do with a spare. Hark on, good maiden, for cheer and fertile things awaits you my dear. I see no lack for suitors to seed you.

Enthusiastically, the turgid leaf/hand pumped more of her special juices into its weird eco-system, sending the message that the men should be prepared to hunt. They would hunt for this bonny thing. Most assuredly, it seemed to hiss in the breeze. She is firm, robust, lively, intelligent, most important of all... especially to a plant... she is fruitful. She could bear its Masters an heir. A spare and even breed a new line of purity from a forgotten half-blood wizard. It was not bothered which one but this witch needed to be seeded, by the end of the night. So, may the best Wizard win!

Hermione was about to turn left when the other side of the hedge seemed to shape shift into an arm, complete with pointing finger, to the other side:

"Whatever you say," she muttered hitching up her back pack remembering her childhood heroine from her favourite film, another reason she drooled over Malfoy Sr. "Come on feet," she sighed as she began down the right hand side.

"What are the rules again?" Lucius said after he took off his shoes and rolled his acromantula silk trousers up.

The men could only feel the soil between their toes. Another little thing, the women could walk in with any kind of foot garment, the men had to ritually take their shoes, socks and whatever else their feet were arrayed in off. Wash their feet clean in pure silver rune enchanted bowls to be then dried by the leaves of the hedge itself. It was to show the ground that the man understood his job to bear roots to their own tree – that seeding the lost witch was the idea to make sure the names of the Wizards on the hunt, did not die out.

"First come first served," shrugged Rodolphus. "Once one of us has had their go, the Maze will shift and change again, the first who has served will be blocked in and trapped until the second person has found her."

"When does it finish?"

"Like all Mazes, Lucius," Rabastan sighed. "When she has reached the centre. At the centre is a little house. If the Maze knows she is going to give birth though she will be automatically transported there through the Hedges magic. Otherwise she will have to find the centre before any of us. However, she won't because the foliage changes, and there are challenges to overcome. When she is inside the house, she will be trapped there until the baby is born. We will know through the wards who the baby belongs to," he looked at Lucius a little wary of the reason why the blond with an heir already wanted to play. The more players the less likely he'd get a chance! "That person is eliminated from playing again. Once the Maze accepts the three players – all three players has to impregnate her. She could be here for years if that is the case. Oh and yes, Bellatrix will be able to let in more players if others desire to join."

"I'd like to play then," said a voice behind them.

All three men jumped out of their skin, until they saw Severus Snape and, rather bewilderingly, Kingsley Shacklebolt standing there. Severus Snape was no surprise to them. He'd been wanting a chance to play since he was an awkward, gangly youth. Kingsley's presence, however, did shock them. What was an Order member doing here?

"I would like to be permitted to play!"

Three eyebrows arched with precise precision – Kingsley Shacklebolt – Head Auror, willing to play with a fertility hedge to get witch unknown, pregnant? They were rubbing their hands with glee. More the merrier. The more rounded and pregnant whoever she was, was for the better. Rabastan though was rather petulant.

Two more bowls of runic silver, filled with crystal clear water, appeared by their feet. Both Severus and Kingsley prepared their feet the way the other three did.

"We must get her out of here," Kingsley muttered to Severus.

"This is the first known Fertility Hedge in Britain. This Hedge is the reason we have the sacred twenty-eight," hissed Severus as he set aside his dragon hide boots and plain black cashmere socks whilst rolling the hem of his trousers up to reveal skinny white shins. "If either of us mates with Hermione perhaps there would be a sacred 29... do not mess with this hedge. It lures in the female by stimulating and awakening her sexuality. Her Inner Nymph, if Hermione has been trapped here then we all have to bed her when it is our turn. There is no escape for Hermione until she has a child from each and everyone of us!"

"Why did you not stop her from entering then?" snapped the Auror.

"Because the hedge almost killed her familiar, Crookshanks is not just a pet, but he is her familiar. Crookshanks is in there now, thankfully the hedge does know the difference between human and animal."

Kingsley nodded, they were both ready. Walking with purpose towards the heavy oak door oval at the top and square at the bottom, with the iron handle and key: "Ready men" Rabastan said with a smirk. "One, two, three, I turn the key;" which he did and they all heard the click. "Four, five, six – to hide amongst the sticks," bad poetry there, Severus thought. "Seven, eight, nine, whoever you are witch you'll be theirs and mine." The door opened, a light golden glow emanated through the lock. This meant their instincts were right, there was a witch inside. For muggles it emitted a purple glow and opened much more slowly. As if reluctant to allow its Wizards to mate with a lesser known species. "Ten, eleven, twelve; in we delve," the door grew wider to accommodate all five men. "Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, divide three is the number of our team. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and twenty: We will all love the witch a-plenty..."

The chant being said by the youngest brother as was tradition, the men stepped through the door. The maze opened up one tunnel of foliage for one to go through, for it closed as soon as Lucius – the honoured guest, casually sauntered in first. Next was Rodolphus the eldest Lestrange and eldest overall. Holding a cocky swagger as he was determined to find this witch first. Rabastan was next, he left with a florid bow to the other two.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Shacklebolt. Happy hunting good fellows all!"

The mouth opened once again and Severus, being next eldest, stepped through; "No heroics, Kingsley, we play this game as honourably as we can, understood?" then he spun on his heel, his cloak flapping in the breeze from the tunnel.

Kingsley waited patiently, and the hedge opened for him too. He stepped through and turned around to find the mouth had closed. He was sealed inside with three Death Eaters, a spy and a young witch oblivious to the entire scenario. Kingsley hated himself for his lust towards Hermione but he could not help it. From the first moment he saw her in dingy Grimmauld Place, he found himself captivated by her easy charm and smiles.

"I'm coming for you, Hermione," he sighed as he looked at the many paths forking like a ladies fan to different sections of the Maze. Confidently, he took the one third from the left. "Please be safe..."

AN: So there you have it, Hermione is trapped and is now being hunted by five gorgeous hunky Slyth... er Dea... er... Wizards... lol. By the way, I am serious about those pancake recipes. If I was to add more than another wizard to this situation - out of these three which one would you like to join: Antonin Dolohov, with Luke Evans as the fancast. Thorfinn Rowle portrayed in my head by Lee Pace. Or Fenrir Greyback portrayed in my head by Idris Elba. Also, I hope the french is perfect.

NOTE: I am partaking in two writing events. My energies will be on them until they are finished. I may update any of my stories as soon as I can but one of them is really close to the deadline and I have not started. I wrote this on holiday.