The Replenishment Decree

Hermione met Harry in the kitchen Wednesday morning for tea, smiling brightly. “You and Narcissa made the Prophet again this morning,” he said, sliding the paper across the table.

There they were, lead article, above the fold. The photo had been taken in the Prophet newsroom which was a bit...odd.

“Funny, isn’t it? The Daily Prophet making themselves front page news?” Hermione commented, tossing the paper back on the table. She wanted to pour a cup of tea before she read the write up.

“Is it true, though? Did you two cause this shake up?”

“I don’t know, Harry, I haven’t read it, yet. I did go to the Prophet with Narcissa yesterday when we finished our business at Gringotts. You can see that in the photograph. Narcissa looks good in those robes, doesn’t she? Even in a black and white photo, green is her color.”

Laughing, Harry waved his hand between Hermione and the paper she was staring at, “Focus, Hermione. We were talking about the article, not your good looking girl.”

“Just stating facts,” she shrugged as she sat down. “Also, she’s a woman, not a girl. Fill me in on what the article says. I just woke up.”

“Okay, this, uh, Emily Limus-”

“Oh, good, Emily wrote it. She’s the new Content Editor of the Social Section for the Daily Prophet.”

“Right. Well, she pretty much just outlined what Narcissa did yesterday. Limited freelance writers at the Prophet. Assigned Editors, reporters, and photographers to different sections of the paper. Offered suggestions for the weekly, semi-weekly, or bi-weekly columns she wanted to see. The biggest section of her article was devoted to interviews with other journalists from the paper, actually. She asked them how they felt about no longer being contractually able to use shotcut enabling tools to write their articles for them.”

Hermione sat up straighter and stared at Harry. That had been the biggest challenge yesterday and last night, when Narcissa had finally gotten an owl back from her personal barrister, Mister Wilfred Harrington the Eighth, it was also the most difficult part of the contract to draw up. “What did they say to that?”

“Most of them said things like, ‘it’s going to take longer but that’s what we get paid for’ or ‘there are no shortcuts to true success’. One of them, Trecus, the writer for the Decree section, said using a Quick-Quotes Quill is like taking the Draught of Living Death on purpose, you give up the free will you have to write in your own style just to get the words down faster.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hermione sighed. “I didn’t even realize I was worried about how they were going to react but obviously I was.”

“Just so you know, there was one voice of dissent.”

“That’s good, truly. It doesn’t seem realistic if there’s no disagreement. I’m sure I could guess who it was, too.”

“Go ahead,” Harry grinned, looking at Hermione.

“Jamison Wolfe.”

“Ten points to Gryffindor. How’d you know?”

“He was the only freelancer who made a big fuss about the changes. The actual Prophet employees were really happy to have a functional newsroom back. They may not all have been thrilled with their placement in it but they liked having a hierarchy in place again. Then the freelance writers were told that they could write two articles a week max for the Prophet, they were all unhappy with that.”

“Why?”

“Freelance writers get paid per article. If you’re a freelance journalist in the British wizarding community there’s really only one place to get paid for your work frequently and that’s the Daily Prophet. But it had gotten to the point where writers were putting out two stories a day in the Prophet and being paid as freelancers. There just weren’t enough people to staff the papers and write the boring, important stories because everyone was freelancing and only writing what they wanted to.”

“So, Narcissa ended that?”

“So, Narcissa and Barnabas Cuffe capped what they would print from freelance journalists per week and offered all of the journalists on site yesterday a one year contract with the Daily Prophet.”

“Rita Skeeter?”

“She had already left,” Hermione smirked. “In fact, that’s probably in the Personal Interest section with a photo of her stomping her pointy-toed snakeskin shoes.”

“She didn’t.”

“She did. She actually kind of threatened me, I think? Narcissa very calmly, truly she stayed very calm, asked her to please vacate the premises and Rita was apparently very offended and whipped out her wand and turned on me.”

“Oh, my, Merlin. What did Narcissa do?”

“I think she cast a silent protego. Then she advised Rita never to attack me again because I am a strong and independent witch who had faced off against worse than her and came out victorious,” Hermione tried to hide her smile behind her teacup.

“Ugh,” Harry dropped his forehead to his arms on the table, “you guys are the cutest. I hope Ginny looks like that when she talks about me.”

Hermione reached out and gripped one of Harry’s arms, “I promise she does, Harry. You’re doing the right thing not getting married to Padma. Not just defying the Ministry but because you and Ginny are so good together.”

“I hope so, Hermione. Here, look at the Decree section. Trecus has printed some interesting information today.”

“I’ll look in a minute. I wanted to talk to you about something, actually,” Hermione said, pulling one foot up onto her chair to hug her knee to her chest. Harry recognized it as her emotional conversation pose.

He nodded at her to continue.

“Well, a few things, I guess but, um, first. Well. I know you’re not a girl,” she blushed.

“Caught on, have you?” He teased.

“Oh, shut it,” she covered her eyes with one hand, embarrassed. “What I mean to say is this, Narcissa and I are both fairly traditional women who are actually having a fairly traditional wedding. There are a few spots, however, that we are planning to bend a few. One such tradition being the wedding party. Neither of us wants to stand up there with a group of women, nor do either of us have only women in our lives who would hold those roles.”

“Hermione, are you asking me to be your Maid of Honour?”

“Technically, I think I’m asking you to be my Best Man? But Narcissa and I were just going to go with the term ‘Wedding Party’ if that’s okay?”

“Of course. I love you. I am honoured to be asked to stand with you at your wedding.”

“Yeah?” Hermione asked, her eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah,” Harry answered quietly, reaching out for her hand. Hermione grasped his hand quickly.

“I’m getting married, Harry,” she whispered, “like, for real. You and Andy will be the Witnesses, I think. You’ll have to sign our Marriage Certificate.”

“You mean I’ll get to sign your Marriage Certificate. I’m really honoured and touched to do this Hermione.”

Her tears spilled over. She pulled her sleeve over her hand and wiped them quickly away. “I don’t want to cry now,” she laughed, “Narcissa’s going to be here soon and she’ll think I was upset.”

“Ha!” Harry said loudly.

Hermione jumped, dropping her teacup onto the table, “What?”

“This is awesome! I get to plan your Hen party! Yes! Oh, Hermione, this is going to be so much fun!”

Just then, the kitchen door pushed open and Narcissa stepped in, “I hear we’re planning Hen parties now?”

“Yes,” Harry laughed. “Hermione’s asked me to be her Maid of Honour so I get to plan her Hen party!”

Hermione, chuckling, just smiled and shrugged. “I did not, in fact, ask him to be my Maid of Honor. I asked him to be in my half of the Wedding Party. He took the Maid of Honour part and ran with it.”

Stopping next to Harry on her way to Hermione’s side, Narcissa laid her hand on his shoulder and asked, “Harry, you truly accept? You’re going to be a Witness at our wedding?”

“All joking aside, I truly accept. As I told Hermione, I’m deeply touched to be asked to take part in your wedding and will be honoured to sign my name beside Andromeda’s as a Witness.”

Narcissa squeezed his shoulder just a bit, “thank you. We’re very honoured you said yes.” As Narcissa made her way around Hermione’s chair to sit next to her she leaned down to kiss her fiancée good morning. “Still want to go today?”

“Yes. If you’re so adamant that I have to choose another flower I want to look at them all.”

Harry just looked back and forth between the women, confused.

“I’m sure you realized there’s quite a lot of planning that has to go into a large wedding like the one we’re going to have, right?” Narcissa asked Harry.

“Of course. And flowers are part of that because you both carry a bouquet, right?”

“Yes, and flowers are a traditional decoration in the ceremony and at the reception. Hermione keeps insisting that daffodils are her favorite flower,” Narcissa rolled her eyes.

“They are!” Hermione said forcefully.

“She has always liked daffodils, I remember in our first year, Hermione, you had pyjamas with daffodils on them.” Harry tilted his head, his eyes going up to the ceiling, clearly remembering a young, twelve year old Hermione in her flowered pyjamas in the Gryffindor common room. “I don’t understand, though, what’s the prob...oh.” Harry smiled. “Hermione, think about those pyjamas of yours.”

“Harry, you’re so weird. I haven’t had those pyjamas in six years. Nearly seven.”

Harry looked carefully at Narcissa, wondering why she didn’t just tell Hermione. Narcissa shrugged subtly, her cheeks a little pink.

“Okay, well, have fun at whatever flowery place you’re going today,” Harry said standing up to rinse his teacup out in the sink. “Was there something else you wanted to ask me, Hermione?”

Hermione was still looking back and forth between Harry and Narcissa, narrow-eyed, aware she had missed something. “Yes, there was another discussion I wanted to have...and I guess it’s good Narcissa’s here now, too. Um, Harry, have you thought about what you’re going to do after I get married? I mean, with the flat? Do you want to stay here and take in a different roommate or maybe move to Grimmauld Place?”

“I have been thinking about it, Hermione, don’t worry. It actually seems a little, I don’t know, wasteful to me now to keep the flat. At first I liked it, and I know you did, too, because we’re so anonymous here. The only person who knew where we lived was Ron, no wizards live near here, it’s a totally muggle neighborhood and it’s been a good reprieve. But, I think I’m ready to be back in the Wizarding community again.”

“Mmm, I’d say that’s reasonable. After the first eighteen years of your life, Mister Potter, you were entitled to a little downtime.”

Harry smiled, “always the understatement from you, Narcissa.”

“We all have our talents.”

Hermione just rolled her eyes between them. “I don’t know then, that Grimmauld Place is the house you want to live in. It’s not quite the center of wizarding fun.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that, too. Um. So, Narcissa, you, Draco, Andromeda, and Teddy are, as far as I know, the only living descendents of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Grimmauld Place should belong to the four of you. Draco should never have to live in Malfoy Manor again if he doesn’t want to.”

Narcissa didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. She knew if she tried to speak she would cry. Instead, she reached over and twined her fingers through Hermione’s hand and squeezed, trying to encourage Hermione to speak for her.

“Harry,” Hermione said, “where will you live?”

“Where I’ve always wanted to, Hermione.”

“Godric’s Hollow.”

He just nodded. “I need to. I’ve always needed to. Kreacher is working on cleaning up Grimmauld Place - really cleaning it, not just moving dust from room to room. When I told him I was going to try to bring the House of Black back into Grimmauld Place he cried.”

Narcissa cleared her throat, then repeated the action. “Harry,” she paused, “I have lived on this earth for thirty-six years and I have never, ever met anyone as kind or as thoughtful as you are. And I just can’t understand it. After the life you’ve led, to still be so selfless. You’re a godsend, Harry, and I’m so thankful you’ve been in Hermione’s life and that now you’re in mine.”

He just blushed in response and looked down at the table.

“I can’t imagine Andy will want to leave her cottage,” Hermione said, “Ted lived there with her and it’s filled with memories of him.”

“And I’d like to stay at Black Manor. Would you?” Narcissa asked Hermione.

“Yes, of course.”

“So, you’ll just have to ask Draco, Harry,” Narcissa grinned at him. “It should come from you.”

“I don’t want it to seem like pity or something, though. It isn’t. I just want to do what’s right. And, I don’t want to live at Grimmauld Place without Sirius.”

Hermione leaned toward Narcissa to rest her head on the other woman’s shoulder, “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Harry. I know Draco was really worried about Dean having to go back to Malfoy Manor. He’ll probably be really happy with another option.”

“Before we go,” Narcissa interjected, “I wanted to bring up just one more thing.”

Harry and Hermione looked at Narcissa.

“I, um, I told Hermione yesterday but, eh, I had a little incident, let’s say, in Diagon Alley. People don’t, um, think I should be walking around free, as it were. I think, really, most people have absolutely no idea what actually happened last spring and even leading up to it.”

“Yeah, I mean, the Order only had so many folks in it and you had to know the password to listen to Potterwatch. They weren’t exactly handing out flyers in the Leaky Cauldron announcing their plans,” Harry teased a little.

“Of course,” Narcissa swallowed, wringing her hands, “I just mean, I think we should tell people. We should tell them what happened. How can we stop it happening again if they don’t know how it happened this time?”

“Like write a book?” Hermione asked.

“No. I’m sure there are an awful lot of witches and wizards already trying that; we know Rita is. I mean, a daily column in the Prophet or the Quibbler or both or a separate daily paper for a few months. A profile a day of someone who was in the Order or who fought against Voldemort. Starting with you, Harry.”

“Don’t start with me. People are sick of me,” Harry shook his head, groaning.

“If Rita’s really publishing a book on you soon like she says she is, now is the best time to actually tell your version of your life. And it wouldn’t be a bad place to start...October thirty-first, 1981. Skip ahead a few years to Quirrel. Then Lucius’ part in opening the Chamber of Secrets. Then-”

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Narcissa interrupted.

“The Chamber of Secrets? At Hogwarts? It’s not just a myth. We’ve been there. The monster was a basilisk and it petrified me during second year. Thankfully, I’d already discovered what it was in a book in the library and was peeking around corners with a mirror or I’d be dead,” Hermione said very nonchalantly, as one does.

“There are so many disturbing parts of what you just said,” Narcissa replied quietly.

Hermione tilted her head, smiling sadly at Narcissa. She raised the other woman’s chin until their faces were level and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “I know it sounds disturbing but when you live through harrowing adventures year after year you forget how often you’ve defied death and it just becomes a part of how you live. From your perspective, though, I can see how it sounds terrifying.”

“Also, my ex-husband had something to do with you almost dying before we even met. If the basilisk had gotten you then, I wouldn’t be marrying you now. That’s…” Narcissa held her breath and shook her head, trying to force the thoughts to go away.

“That’s a road you can’t go down. Every day a thousand little things could change and cause a million different outcomes. We never know what those choices are or what differences they could cause in our lives, we just live.” Hermione held Narcissa’s face in her hands and kissed her, letting Narcissa lose herself for a long moment. “Okay now?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. It all just got too big,” Narcissa said.

“I understand. Harry, I think your story should go first but maybe don’t go back to 1981. Let’s just stick to being on the run after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, through the Battle of Hogwarts. Narcissa, did you have a writer in mind?”

“Actually, I do. He’s retired now but widely considered one of the best journalists in the wizarding world, Augustus Filhous. If you two will agree to be interviewed, I’ll send a few more owls out today and contact Mister Filhous about being a Special Contributor for the Prophet. What do you think?”

“Do it,” Hermione answered right away.

“On one condition,” Harry said, leaning back with his arms crossed.

Narcissa smirked at him, glancing quickly at Hermione before she answered, “And what might that be?”

“You’re one of the first five interviews, Narcissa.”

“What? Harry, no. That’s not why I’m doing this,” she insisted.

“Then I’m not doing it either. Interviews go like this; Me, Hermione, You, Neville, Minerva, Ron, Lee, Kingsley, George, then whomever else you want. Ginny maybe, she resisted from inside Hogwarts. The rest of the Weasleys if you’re feeling magnanimous. Oh, Bill and Fleur definitely should be interviewed, actually, they did a lot. Hagrid, absolutely. He belongs up there. Aberforth, for sure, we need to show the resistance happened everywhere. Some other professors. Madam Pomfrey, she healed a lot of damaged folks after those battles. Mafalda Hopkirk maybe? Andy? She lost her husband, daughter, and son-in-law and helped a whole crew of us escape Voldemort. Ollivander. Definitely Ollivander. And Luna. And Draco.”

“I completely, totally, one hundred percent agree with Harry. You have to be on that list and you must be near the top. I would interview Narcissa, Neville, Professor McGonagall, and Kingsley before me, Harry.”

“Hermione, no. You’re way off. I wouldn’t have survived five minutes without you. You weren’t just the Brains of the Trio but the courage, loyalty, and glue as well.”

“Oh, Harry, thank you,” Hermione whispered, trying not to cry.

“Narcissa,” Harry turned back to her, “the world needs to know what you did. If you can do it, if you can tell them what Lucius and Voldemort and Bellatrix did to you, how they locked you up, kept you from knowing what was going on, and you still had the bravery to lie to the most powerful Legilimens in the world successfully, it would help a lot of people. Also, it’s okay if you don’t want to help a lot of people, but you know who else it would help?” Harry looked right into Narcissa’s eyes.

She nodded and answered, “Hermione.”

“Harry! Don’t do that to her. Narcissa, don’t do this for me. If you’re not comfortable with this, don’t do it.”

“I’ll do it,” Narcissa said. “We’ll all do it. It’s good for the community, right?”

“Right.”

“Good. That’s all settled, then. I believe my fiancée and I have a date at the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew followed by lunch at La Maison du Steak in Cambridge and a tour of the Cambridge University Botanic Garden given by their leading Professor of Herbology.” Narcissa stood, offering her hand to Hermione who took it and didn’t let go.

“I know this is for research purposes so I can choose a different flower or bunch of flowers but, when you say the way you did, it just sounds awfully romantic,” she said to Narcissa.

“That wasn’t an accident. A trip to the Botanic Gardens with your betrothed should be romantic,” Narcissa kissed Hermione.

They said their goodbyes to Harry and made their way outside to Apparate to Kew Garden.

After meandering through the paths and trails at Kew for over an hour, Hermione stopped in the middle of a bridge and turned to Narcissa, wrapping her arms around Narcissa’s waist. “This is a perfect way to spend a day.”

“I, too, am quite enjoying it.”

“I have to say, though, I haven’t seen a single daffodil, or really any kind of flower I might choose for our wedding.”

“No, I think we’ll have to look at the plants inside the glasshouse for that. Shall we make our way over?” Narcissa raised her eyebrows and looked in the direction of the large glass building Hermione had seen when they arrived.

“Yes, let’s. I’m getting hungry,” she laughed. “Can I steal a kiss, first, though?”

“You must, in fact,” Narcissa kissed Hermione, “we’re on a bridge and engaged to be married after all!”

“What?” Hermione laughed, kissing Narcissa again before wrapping her arm around Narcissa’s waist and starting the long walk toward the glasshouse.

“Don’t you know that superstition?”

Still giggling, Hermione answered that clearly she did not.

“When crossing a bridge, on top or below, you must have a kiss or separate ways you shall go.”

“I’ve definitely never heard that!”

“You went to Hogwarts! How many times did you cross the Hogwarts bridge with boys and not once did they try to steal a kiss from you with that rhyme?”

“Harry and Ron didn’t acknowledge that I was a girl until December of our fourth year, Narcissa. I wasn’t exactly a little miss popular. We weren’t all tall, gorgeous, blue-eyed models, you know,” Hermione pinched Narcissa’s side.

“You don’t have to be tall and blue-eyed to be gorgeous, Hermione. Every time I look at you, you take my breath away,” Narcissa said earnestly

Hermione stopped walking and bit her lip. “I can’t decide if it’s better or worse for you to say those things to me in public,” she kissed Narcissa.

“Probably better,” Narcissa grinned. “Come on, the glasshouse is just around the corner.”

As they stepped inside a few minutes later, Hermione was immediately awed by the flowers.

“Oh, that’s such a beautiful flower, nigella damascena, it looks so interesting.”

“Yes, it’s also called love-in-a-mist and there’s a legend that this misty foliage is reminiscent of the green hair of the water nymph who seduced and drowned an emperor leading an army during the crusades. This plant is said to have grown at the place of his death. Though in the language of flowers, it means harmonious love and represents that which bonds people together.”

Hermione’s mouth was hanging open. “I had no idea you knew so much about plants.”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I liked to read. Have you any idea how much time, literally how many hours I’ve spent alone in a Manor house with an inexhaustible library? Years, darling. Years.”

Hermione just smiled and tucked her hand into Narcissa’s elbow to walk arm in arm with her fiancée through the flowers.

“See anything you like as much as your daffodils?”

“Not yet,” Hermione smiled as they rounded a curve, “Oh! But I do see my daffodils right there!” She let go of Narcissa and walked toward the plaque with information about daffodils on it. Hermione stopped short and turned to look accusingly at Narcissa. “Really?”

“Are you mad?”

“I don’t think so. Just. I can’t believe I had no idea!”

“I can’t either. The first time you said it, I thought you were just being sweet. Then you said it again and I thought well, maybe she just thinks it’s cute now or something. Then I finally realized you didn’t know.”

“I just never even thought about it. In my mind everyone in the Black family is named after a constellation or a star. I never even considered another possibility.”

Narcissa slowly shrugged her shoulders, tilted her head and said, “I’m unique?”

“Also, though? It kind of makes my heart melt a little. Is that too weird?”

“Why?” Narcissa stepped up to Hermione so she could place a kiss on the other woman’s head.

“Without even knowing what your name meant, daffodils were already my favorite flower. Now, it just makes even more sense. It’s just...it’s so perfect. I agree, though. We won’t use them to decorate. I can understand why that would make you uncomfortable.”

“Thank you, Mione.”

“So...tell me about Narcissus?”

“I’m not a big fan of the Greek tale of Narcissus from whence the name comes. He was so enamored with his own reflection he fell in a river and drowned. That’s why Narcissi grow so readily along river banks and dip toward the water.” Narcissa grimaced. “However, in the language of flowers they can symbolize regard, renewal, and new beginnings. And that I do like.”

“Mmm, I like it, too. I hold you in high regard. And our wedding is a new beginning for us both.” Hermione rose up on her toes to kiss her bride-to-be.

“You could add daffodils to your bouquet. They come in paperwhite, you know.”

“Oh, Narcissa. I would love to have a bouquet filled with choices that have beautiful meanings in the language of flowers,” Hermione said, one hand wrapped around Narcissa’s waist and one tangled in the hair at the back of her neck.

“That’s the perfect plan for us, Hermione. Now, dear, we just need to teach you the language of flowers.”

Standing in front of a beautiful cascade of honeysuckle, they met for a long kiss.