Paper Forts and New Conviction
Hermione scrambled to find her feet, making a mess of it, as her hands failed to find purchase on the ridiculously smooth marbled floor. She felt her cheeks flush as the person she had mowed down gracefully stood in one move, making it look effortless, and watched Hermione’s clumsy attempt.
Whilst she was very used to people looking down their nose at her (metaphorically and literally speaking), she definitely did not appreciate it, and this girl had that exact expression on her face, the one which said I know I am better than you.
She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover, all silver-blonde hair, long legs and stupidly blue eyes. She brushed off non-existent dust from her expensive, designer looking robes, before crossing her arms imperiously.
Meanwhile Hermione was still wearing her just out of bed look, with her hair as untamed as it could be, since she did not get a chance to even brush it before she was whisked away. So she knew it was bushy and wild, probably sticking out in all directions after the fall. She did not even want to think about how she looked after her panic and sprint, but judging from her panting breath and the sweat she could feel forming at her hairline, it was not pretty.
It was enough to make anyone feel insecure, which admittedly did not help colour her opinion of this stranger any more positively.
The lion on her pajama top decided that moment was the best time to let out a roar, face moving with it. They were a charmed gift she had received from Ginny, and on most days Hermione loved it, but right now she cursed the girl for the ill-timing they had.
The blonde had, understandably, jumped at the unexpected loud noise. (So maybe it wasn’t so badly timed after all).
A new scowl had appeared on her face, and Hermione’s ears strained to pick up an impatient tut. She really had been going to apologise, it had been at the tip of her tongue, but now she was just ticked off, so screw that.
The vibe she was detecting was definitely Malfoy-esk, and that was reason enough to plaster on a fake smile, then turn around and just walk away, not feeling a need to say a single word to this stranger.
“Hey! Do you make a habit of pushing people over then running away?” The voice was smooth and lilted, with an unexpected french accent. And it was definitely angry.
Hermione froze, mid step.
She looked over her shoulder, “Not a habit, just a hobby.”
“And not apologising?”
“A choice.”
“So you are rude, as well as clumsy.”
Hermione gritted her teeth, “Only if it is towards someone who showed that quality first.”
“A hypocrite then?” The blonde’s eyebrow quirked, challenging.
Hermione felt her indignation rise in response, maybe she was being irrational but she was beyond drained from this hell of a day (morning). Her mind felt like a chaotic pit of whirling thoughts that she really needed to organise, preferably in her bed with a cover over her head and no people around for a mile. Just time to think, process and maybe even write a list or two.
“Just tired of self-righteous, privileged people who think the world owes them something.”
Hermione knew she would feel guilty later about unleashing on an admittedly, (mostly) innocent bystander like this but for now it felt good, releasing her frustrations.
The blonde’s face had tightened and gone cold. “I see I will get no apology here. Prejudice, stubborn fools usually don’t give them.”
Hermione’s mouth had opened to retort, ready to argue back, but the blonde’s back was already facing her as she stalked off, like Hermione wished she had done herself instead of turning around.
She relaxed the fist she didn't even realise was clenched and let the urge for a fight leave her. The encounter had replaced her tiredness with irritation, and she decided to try and walk it off by taking the opportunity to explore, before the two witches she had run from found her.
If she was in Buckingham Palace she might as well make the most of it and have a look around.
She wandered the halls, peeking only into rooms that already had the doors open, not wanting to risk walking in on something she wasn’t meant to, or happen upon someone who might send her back to the Queen.
That doesn’t mean she was not tempted though, especially when she passed a closed door that had a glowing red light spilling out from its cracks with an energy she could feel pulsating from it. Her hand had touched the door knob before she had even registered what she was doing and had to quickly yank it away with a shake of head.
Opening it was something Harry would have done instantly and she would have called him an idiot, it was almost alarming to think that she had almost done the exact same thing anyway. Maybe her friend’s impulsive behaviour had rubbed off on her more than she had realised.
She kept moving, not even sure exactly what she was looking for until she came across it.
A Library.
Seeing it was like a breath of fresh air and Hermione’s whole being lit up.
There was no hesitance at all in her feet as she walked through the beautiful arched doorway, but once in, she did pause and take a moment to soak it all in.
The shelves were stacked from floor to ceiling, they looked like they were a polished dark oak, which combined with the low burning torches on the wall wonderfully. She spotted a spiralling staircase which led her gaze upwards and it was with baited breath that she saw how far up it went. She counted at least seven floors.
Hermione decided she had wasted enough time gawking and found a comfortable looking armchair sat by a window looking out at light summer rain falling onto a large field of freshly cut grass.
From what she could tell, the library was completely devoid of people, other than herself of course. She appreciated the silence and freedom it bought, she also found it devastating that so many books were left here unread. Whilst there was no dust visibly, no doubt being magically cleaned, she could still sense it on them. Many hadn’t been opened in far too long and Hermione was happy to be the person to bring life back to them, even if it was one at a time.
It wasn’t long before she was firmly settled with a fort of books surrounding her. At first she had just focused on ones pertaining to the history of Royal families and what they meant in the wizarding world, but some off-topic ones that had caught her eye were snuck in too. How could she resist, ‘Mystical wonders and hidden truths of obscure magical creatures,’ or, ‘1000 reasons why Numerology is better than Divination,’ just to name a few.
She detected a magical barrier of some kind, presumably made so any muggles would only see non-wizarding books. She felt its active presence buzzing at the edge of her mind, but it was quiet enough for her to easily ignore and instead focus on the wide array of books in front of her.
The soft tapping of the rain on the window added to the ambience of the room and acted as a whitenoise, further helping Hermione get lost in the sea of pages.
She was midway through her fifth book when a face suddenly popped up in front of hers, causing Hermione to yelp and jump half way out of her seat.
“Je suis désolé! I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Hermione’s heart began to return to normal speed when she saw it was just a child, maybe around ten, who was the culprit.
If the actual French did not give it away, then the strong accent did, it was definitely stronger than the woman’s from this morning.
Wait.
Blonde hair? Check. Blue eyes? Check? French? Check. Expensive looking clothes? Check.
Hermione found coincidences like this to be very, very unlikely, so this kid must be-
“You are the girl with the ill-mannered clothing, non?”
In response to whatever Hermiome’s expression was, the girl rushed to continue.
“My sister talked about a girl who ran into her with crazy hair and loud pajamas, then I saw you when I came to the library!” The girl smiled innocently, all excitement.
-her sister.
Hermione swallowed the indignant retort that was at the tip of a tongue and just returned the kid’s smile. There were worse things to be known for she supposed and besides, it was not this blonde that she had a problem with.
“People also call me Hermione. Nice to meet you.”
The younger girl grinned, “Je m’appelle Gabrielle Delacour, I think we’re going to be friends.”
Hermione just blinked at her. She did not have much experience with kids, other than brief dealings with the younger years at Hogwarts, and felt a little (a lot) out of her depth.
The girl was still looking at her expectantly, so Hermione moved to a topic that she could cope with.
“Did you come here to read?”
“Oui!” Gabrielle was practically bouncing with energy again, “I start school after summer. I wanted to get ahead.”
Hermione grinned. A girl after her own heart.
“Want some help?”
--
Gabrielle and Hermione had moved to a space where they could sit around a table and it was littered with parchment and books.
Hermione found the younger girl as attentive as she was enthusiastic, making for a great student and the two found themselves to be good study buddies straight away. She had directed Gabrielle to look at some of the foundations she wished she had known before starting Hogwarts.
Mostly she let the girl make her own notes and read what suited her, but she did help her with some of the harder concepts she struggled with and it was when the two were in deep conversation about the delicacies of transfiguration that a stern voice called out.
“It is considered quite rude for one to keep a Queen waiting.”
Gabrielle shot up in alarm and hastily curtseyed.
“Your Majesty!”
Gabrielle side eyed Hermione when she didn’t jump to do the same, then (not so) subtly elbowed her in the side. Hermione raised her eyebrows dubiously but half heartedly copied the action to appease her.
McGonagall just looked amused, if anything. “At ease, girls.”
She looked at the small blonde, “Miss Delacour, your sister is rather alarmed at your disappearance and has been searching for you quite frantically.”
Gabrielle’s face fell into a pout and she crossed her arms, but there was poorly concealed guilt written all over her.
“She is in your room, if you wish to go to her.”
The young girl nodded sulkily and started to leave, but turned around to give Hermione a surprising hug first. She hesitated for a moment, but then returned it with a smile.
“Merci ‘Ermione. See you soon!” And with that, the girl scarpered off without a second look.
That left Hermione alone with her Grandmother, for the first time ever.
“Your mother said you would probably be here, we thought you would appreciate the time alone.”
Hermione nodded, “Thank you. Where is mum?” She asked, looking around as if she would suddenly materialise.
The older woman looked hesitant for a moment, but still answered.
“Rosaline thought it would be best for her to go home and give you some space while you sort through things. Then you can talk when you are ready.”
Hermione did feel relief at this, it was only delaying the inevitable, but it gave her time to think before she had a discussion with her mum, which meant it was much more likely to be productive and less of a shouting match. She was also not sure if she was ready to face her mum yet, the person who had based her whole life off of a lie.
She grew up thinking she was muggle born, that her mother knew nothing about magic until Hermione had received her Hogwarts letter, a huge part of her identity was based on that. It was a lot to revisit who she is and what part of her life was actually real.
On the other hand, she couldn’t help but feel abandoned. Here she was, in a new place, with people she didn’t know, with a whole new life she had to learn and the one person she thought she could trust, the one person who was meant to be there for her unconditionally, had left.
A small part of her thought that perhaps she was just running from her own demons and it had nothing to do with Hermione at all. Which somehow hurt just as much.
“I see you have met some of our visitors. The Delacours shall be staying for the summer.”
For the whole Summer?! That didn’t bode well she thought, as angry blue eyes popped up from her memory.
“Who are the Delacours, exactly?” Hermione asked, attempting for casual.
“The ones staying with us are of the French Royal Family. Not heirs directly, but would be in-line if anything happened to their Queens children. They are Queen Isabella Delacour’s nieces.”
They were definitely considered important then. Hermione gulped.
“So please be courteous to our guests, it would not do for our heir to have bad relations with them. Even if they do not know who you are yet.”
Well. Oops.
She certainly wasn’t going to tell the older woman that the ship had already sailed and she may have made an enemy of the French Royal Family on her very first day. Surely Hermione had a long time to fix diplomatic relations there, she would not be taking the throne for a long time if she had anything to say about it, so there was no reason to really worry. Probably.
When Hermione made eye contact with steely grey, she tried to keep any guilt out of her face. She tried not to twitch as McGonagall stared at her intensely, before asking the question that had been waiting to be answered as soon as she had opened that damned letter.
“Are you ready to accept your new role? We have a room set up for you to stay for the Summer and there are tutors on standby.”
Hermione gritted her teeth and squared her shoulders.
“Yes. I am ready.”
After all, she had a plan.
--
There are worse places to spend her summer Hermione admitted, lounging on her new very, very, large bed. She was practically swimming in it, and it was the perfect balance of soft yet firm.
The room was a ridiculous display of wealth that Hermione really didn’t know what to do with. The walk-in closet was double her bedroom at home, just itself. Her clothes would barely even fill a fraction of it. She knew for sure because they were already in there, looking freshly washed and ironed.
Crookshanks had also been waiting for her, looking rather put-out at being unceremoniously placed somewhere unfamiliar. Actually, that’s probably exactly how Hermione looked too.
Before she had retired to bed, as her time in the library had made the day disappear and it had been dark out when she emerged, McGonagall had taken her aside and given her a warning.
Hermione needed to hide her newly found identity as Princess of England, heir to the throne (that was never going to roll off the tongue.). This was to make sure there were no press leaks before she was ready to be presented, as that would lead to a flurry of paparazzi and attention she was not ready for, both personally and to not embarrass the Royal Family.
It was also for her own safety. Assasination attempts were not uncommon, and things had been especially rocky with England not having an heir for so long. Many people had been vying for the spot, as there had never been such an opportunity to take the throne from the Mountbatten’s like this one. So news of Hermione's arrival, whilst relieving to a lot of people, would also make some quite upset.
Unfortunately, Ron and Harry were included in the people she could not tell. Owls and messages were too easily intercepted, plus McGonagall did not quite believe that they would not tell anyone about it.
Hermione was going to work on that front, she knew she couldn’t do this alone. She needed her friends.
She turned off the light with a clap of her hands, which was actually from muggle technology and not a spell, she had been surprised to learn, then looked up in awe.
The ceiling was akin to the one in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, it looked like it opened up to the sky. It was currently cloudless, letting the stars shine to their maximum potential, and Hermione basked in it.
She traced the constellations with her finger, playing dot-to-dot in the air. She lingered on her favourite star, The Lost Pleiad, just barely present in her cluster of seven.
She could do this.
If she said it enough times she would convince herself, she hoped.
Some of the books Hermione had read were on the power of the Royal Family and the changes they had single handedly brought about, which got her to thinking about what she could do with the position. SPEW would no longer be a small club with a dozen signatures, she could do so much good.
Why not take advantage of the situation handed to her?
She let the thought blanket over her comfortably, it let her mind calm enough for sleep to take her almost immediately.
Learning how to be a princess could wait for the morning. How hard could it be, really?