Chapter 11
When Hermione arrived in Grimmauld’s fireplace it was to an invisible barrier keeping her from entering the living room. Before she could question it more thoroughly than a muttered ‘what the-’ Harry burst into the room with his wand pointed at her and his chest heaving.
“Hermione?” He asked her, a confused expression on his face as he let the barrier fall.
“I see you’ve installed the wards I made.” She replied dryly as she brushed herself off.
“What are you doing setting off the wards?” He was befuddled and kept staring at her and his wand. Eyes darting back and forth to figure out what had gone wrong. Looking around she noticed that she’d arrived in the room alone; sans Malfoy.
“Oh for the love of- Harry, your wards thought I was an intruder because Malfoy was coming in behind me.” She told him tiredly, scrubbing a hand down her face as she set to work letting him through into the house.
“What? Why is Malfoy coming here?” He shrieked, glaring at her. She ignored him as she made adjustments to let Malfoy through. Following the war and the grossly underwhelming security measures around wizard (well ordinary wizards anyway) housing, she’d decided to help revamp the security wards. Unlike the ones she used in her own home and the ones hiding Grimmauld, these were fairly simple. A caster told their wand who was allowed to enter, who was allowed to come in upon invitation, and who was allowed to do the inviting. When someone the wards recognized as being allowed in arrived, the floo network behaved like it normally would. If it was someone the wards didn’t know, in theory, they wouldn’t be able to get into the fireplace. An alarm would sound on the head of a household's wand and they could decide what to do with the intruder (while the uninvited guest was stuck in limbo in the floo network, unable to go anywhere). If for some reason the wards didn’t work (or in this case glitched out) then the person could enter the fireplace but could not go anywhere else, whether that be back into the floo or out into the main house, until the ward holder released them. Hermione sighed as she opened the last of the networks in the floo to allow Malfoy entrance and turned to Harry.
“Because apparently I’m not dressed appropriately for tea with his mother.” She grumbled.
“But- I still don’t understand why he’s coming-” Harry started. Malfoy finally appeared in the network and walked out into Hermione, nearly sending the girl tumbling to the floor if not for his reflexes in catching her. “Here...”
“Granger, why are you standing in front of the fireplace?” Malfoy questioned. “And why was I stuck in the fucking floo for so long? I assume that’s your doing.”
“You can let go of me now, Malfoy. And technically that’d be Harry’s doing. I invented the spell, but he decides who can come in.”
“Again, why is he in my house?” Harry asked, wand still clutched in the fist at his side as he glared at the blond man in his living room.
“I’m helping Granger select appropriate attire for tea,” Malfoy told him distractedly. “Where are we exactly?”
“Harry put your wand down. I can handle him if something happens and we’ll only be a few minutes upstairs.” She told her friend as she started walking towards her room. “And we’re at Harry’s.”
“Obviously,” Malfoy muttered under his breath. “Why are we at St Potter’s? I thought we were going to your flat?”
“Because I live here currently since I only got back from Australia a few weeks ago. It doesn't pay to get a flat for a few weeks to move again when I'm married.” He seemed confused by her response but followed quietly anyway. When she pushed open her door, she quickly grabbed the clean clothes from her chair and shoved them into a drawer so he wouldn’t think she was a slob. Not that she cared... 'cause she didn’t! She just didn't need him to have more ammunition against her...
“What in Merlin’s name is that?” He asked incredulously as he pointed to her bed. She laughed slightly as Crookshanks simply stared at Malfoy for a second before he went back to cleaning himself.
“That’s my cat.” She told him as she opened her closet.
“That bloody beast is not a cat, and it’s certainly not living with me when you move in.” He said, eyeing Crooks wearily as he started to explore her room.
“The cat’s not negotiable Malfoy, I’ve had him since third year and he’s not going anywhere.” She replied exasperated. “Here’s what I have, what is to your standards?” She muttered ‘prat’ under her breath as he came to examine her dresses. He looked into her closet, frowning (presumably at her lack of choices) before selecting a light blue and lace dress that she’d worn to a relative’s wedding a handful of years ago.
“This will do. Do you have heels that go with it?” He asked her as he continued looking about her room.
“Yes. Don’t go through my things while I’m changing.” She threw over her shoulder as she left for the bathroom. She changed quickly and came back to see him studying her walkman, turning it about, evidently confused.
“Granger, what is this weird disk contraption?” He asked. She reminded herself that he was referring to a throwing disk and not the kind that worked in the machine.
“It’s a walkman. It plays music.” She told him as she went to put her clothes away and throw her hair back in an elastic.
“How does it do that? Is there a band in this that you’ve captured and miniaturized?” She giggled before walking over and holding out her hand for the device.
“It plays CDs. They’re compact discs like this,” she said, opening the device and taking out the Nickelback CD inside to show him. “Muggles create them using technology and... Well, think of them as music boxes with actual singing and full bands with more than one song on them.” She told him, realising he likely wouldn’t understand the actual mechanics.
“Well, I hear no music and there is no crank. It obviously didn’t play anything when you opened it, so it must be broken.”
“No, it’s not actu- Here, put these on.” She told him, handing over the headphones as she attached them to the disc player.
“On where?” She repressed a chuckle, remembering when Ron was just as clueless about muggle things. She tucked the device under her arm and took the headphones from him.
“Over your ears, like this.” She put them over his head (reaching slightly as he jerked away from her). “Now, all you have to do is press play. It’s this little triangle here.” She showed him as she pressed the button, laughing when he jumped and began looking around wildly as the music started.
“How do you get it to stop?” He shouted.
“You press the pause button, the symbol resembling roman numeral two.” She said as she pressed the button. She helped him remove the headphones once more before turning to collect her wand and her shoes.
“That was... Strange.” Malfoy told her, an unnerved expression on his face that said he wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the experience or not.
“Well, you only had it on for a few seconds, so you didn’t get the whole experience. But it’s not nearly as nice as a record.” She said, standing so they could leave.
“A what?”
“Nevermind. I’ll explain some other time.” They headed back to the front and Hermione shouted goodbye to Harry as they left the house to an apparition point. Her heart started beating wildly as they walked, and she had to remind herself to breathe as her therapist had shown her. In, out. Hold it. Let it go. She could do this. It was just a house. Bellatrix was dead. No one could hurt her there. She’d been fine thinking about having to go there for the most part, but now that she was on her way? Her heart felt like it’d beat through her chest; surely loud enough anyone in a five kilometer radius could hear it. Reluctantly she grabbed Malfoy’s arm so he could apparated them to the Manor. They arrived in the front hall and Hermione started hyperventilating. The room was different than she remembered but also so, so similar. Her chest tightened, she couldn’t get air into or out of her lungs, her hair stood on end and gave her goose pimples, and her vision swayed before she blacked out.
When Hermione came to, she had a cold compress on her forehead and was laid out on a fainting couch (which ironically was probably the only time she’d used one for that purpose). She could hear arguing in the next room and sat up to find out what it was. She could hear a female voice yelling at Malfoy, though as he got very few words in to defend himself she could only guess. She cleared her voice softly as she entered the open door.
“Ms Granger, how are you feeling?” An older, elegant looking woman whom she recognized as Malfoy's mother asked her.
“Better, thank you. I apologize for passing out in your home. You’ll have to forgive me, the last time I was here was quite unpleasant and I-”
“No need to apologize. I understand. Draco should have let you walk in through the front at your own pace instead of throwing you directly into our home.” She glared at her son as Mione shifted uncomfortably. “I hope you don’t mind, but I gave you a bit of Pepper Upper potion while you were out so you wouldn’t feel so bad when you came too. Draco was able to catch you but you still probably wouldn’t have felt very good.” She said kindly, placing a warm and gentle hand on Hermione’s shoulder. It unnerved her slightly.
“Umm... Yes, uh, thank you. It probably would have taken me, uh, several days to *erherm* come back to normal without it.” Hermione told the older woman as her face heated up.
“Well, how about some tea now that you’re awake. It might help you feel a little better as well.” Mrs Malfoy said as she gestured out into the hall. Hermione stepped out and followed the Malfoy matriarch into a beautiful little sitting room. The walls seemed to reflect sunlight around from the floor to ceiling windows, and the elegant blue and cream couches looked like they’d actually be comfortable to sit on. She was proven correct when she and Mrs Malfoy sat down. She suppressed a frown as a house-elf appeared with a tea tray for them before popping off. “How would you like it dear?”
“Uhm, one teaspoon of milk and sugar, please.” She replied, crossing her ankles as she waited. Evidently, Malfoy would not be joining them. “Thank you,” she told the older woman as she handed her her cup. They sipped in quiet, occasionally the sound of a spoon tapping the side of the glass breaking the silence, for a few minutes. Each seemingly unsure of what to say.
“Mrs Malfoy I-”
“Narcissa, dear. Please, call me Narcissa. I’d ask you to call me Cissa as my full name is sometimes a mouthful, but I have a feeling you aren’t quite comfortable with me.”
“Narcissa, I don’t wish to be rude, but why exactly did you wish to speak with me today?”
“To start planning your wedding, of course. Draco is certainly useless in that department, and I do love to plan a good soiree so I had hoped you would accept my assistance.”
“What?” Hermione questioned, feeling slightly air-headed. Of course, Malfoy had warned her his mother would likely want to help with planning but Mione wasn’t expecting her to outright offer to start it all this afternoon. It was more confusing to know she’d be dealing with the woman without her son. Though, that may or may not have been a plus.
“Of course I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, I only thought I’d be able to make sure everything runs smoothly. If you wish to include your mother or a planner by all means, but I thought since I have a plethora of expertise in the area and admittedly quite a bit of free time, I could be of some assistance.” Mrs Malfoy interjected smoothly. Hermione frowned at the mention of her mother. It hadn’t quite hit her yet that her parents wouldn’t be here for the big day. Oh, she knew, of course, but only in theory. Now that it was actually here (and much sooner than she wanted or expected) she was going to have to acknowledge that fact, and soon.
“Why?”
“Why what, dear?” Mrs Malfoy asked as she took a sip of her tea.
“Why do you want to help? Surely there are better things to do with your time than plan some wedding for your son and a girl who can’t tolerate each other. I would expect you and your husband to be causing a stir down at the Ministry trying to get Malfoy repaired or have someone trying to off me before the wedding. Why do you want to help me plan it?”
“Ms Granger, may I be frank with you?” Hermione nodded. “I do not particularly like you. You’re plain and brash. You have not been raised to know the proper etiquette that comes with being in high society and you are not someone I would remotely consider for my son if I were in charge of who he was to marry. However, you are undeniably intelligent and powerful. And, more importantly as of now, you have a good reputation and standing within the community. My family has made some... regrettable decisions in the past and I wish to see the family name returned to glory once more. I believe you can help us to accomplish that. And with the right products, I believe you can be pretty when necessity demands. I can make sure you can learn to behave and act as the situation dictates. You are a strong woman with, while off-putting at times, somewhat decent morals and strong opinions.” Hermione sat for a moment to let what the woman said absorb. Did she just compliment me in a roundabout sort of way?
“So you’ve got ulterior motives. You're not just doing this out of 'the good of your heart'? I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Am I doing this from the good of my heart? Not particularly, no. But I do believe I could come to enjoy your presence if it means my family will be bettered by it. This could be mutually beneficial as well. Think of this as a... business deal. You help me get my family back in good graces and in return, you get to live a pampered life. You’ll be able to stay home and raise a family while wanting for nothing.”
“Stay home and- You obviously don't know me. While I do want children, I am in no way an idle person. I have ideas and interests far outside of being a silly little housewife. I wish to make a difference in the world. And I don’t want your money.” Hermione bit out.
“What do you want then? My husband can help you in a political setting if that is what you wish, and I can try and imbue you with knowledge on reading people and how to conversationalize. It’s all negotiable. All I ask is you find a way to keep the Malfoy name in good standing, and create a happy home for my son and future grandchildren.”
“I can do my best on the happy home, so long as your son does his share. We don’t exactly have a good relationship. And as for the Malfoy name; if I choose to keep it I’ll need to make sure it’s in good standing for my own sake as well, won’t I?” Mrs Malfoy smiled cooly at her name remark but ignored it.
“So, do we have an accord?”
“So long as your family doesn’t try to kill me or make me want to kill them too often, I guess we do.”
“Excellent! Now, about wedding planning, will you allow me to be of assistance?”
“Yes, I was going to just hire someone to plan it but if you’re offering you are more than welcome to help. To be honest I don’t really have strong preferences on anything except maybe the food, music, and dress.”
“I can take care of everything else. With your input of course.” Mrs Malfoy said. “Mippy!” A house-elf blinked into existence.
“Yes, Mistress?” It squeaked.
“Get me a quill and a parchment.”
“Actually,” Hermione spoke before the elf could disapparate. “I have a pen and notebook with me we can use. Thank you anyway.” The elf started shaking, looking between the strange woman and her Mistress, unsure of what to do.
“What is a penandnotebook?” Narcissa questioned.
“It’s two things actually. The notebook is just lined parchment spiralled together to form a loose book, and a pen is a quill of sorts that you don’t need to dip into ink. It’s much easier to write with as well.”
“Very well, Mippy you are dismissed.” The elf disapparated once more and Hermione sucked on her lower lip to keep from chastising Mrs- Narcissa for ordering the poor thing about so harshly. She’d learned over the years that the elves were so brainwashed they didn’t wish to be freed (most of them anyway). When she got into the Magical Creature Law department in a few weeks she hoped she could start to at least put legislation into play that would see them properly clothed, paid in some way, and with fewer and less harsh punishments. Hermione handed over her pen and notebook and after briefly showing Narcissa how to use it they got to work. “Now, Ms Granger, I think the first thing we need to decide is who will be invited to the wedding and who will be invited to the reception.”
“If we’re going to be working together you might as well call me Hermione, and wouldn’t the invitees be the same for each?”
“No,” The older woman chuckled softly. “The ceremony is much more intimate. Most people invite their families and very close friends. The reception is where most of the invitations go; political figures, extended family and friends whom you don’t care to see as much for one reason or another, reporters, photographers, people you wish to keep in good acquaintance with, that sort of thing.”
“Oh.” That was all she could say in reply. This sounded a lot more complicated than she had anticipated. “Well I really don’t have all that many people on my list, and I’m telling you right now I do not want any reporters there, for either event.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous, of course, you need reporters. This wedding is going to be a big deal to a lot of people, they’ll want every detail. What better way to provide that than with reporters?”
“No reporters. I’ve dealt with enough of them in my life. They twist everything to cause drama and chaos. And no one has a right to my life. If I don’t want details out there then they won’t be out there.”
“Ms Granger, I think you’re being a bit unreasonable. People will gossip either way, at least with the press you have a management system.”
“No. And if you invite any reporters I’ll show up to the ceremony in fuzzy, footy pyjamas instead of a wedding gown.”
“Come now, surely a couple couldn’t hurt that badly? What if we invite three or four from the major publications and limit what they say? I think that’s a fine compromise, don’t you?” Hermione thought it over. The older woman had a point, people did tend to talk and she didn’t need gossip in her life if she could help it. On the other hand, after all the shenanigans Skeeter had pulled over the years, the idea of having any reporter there was decidedly off-putting.
“One. You may invite one major reporter. But,” She interrupted before the older woman got too excited. “I get to vet them thoroughly beforehand to make sure I wish to work with them. They must have an impeccable record and very few complaints. Rita Skeeter is not allowed anywhere near the wedding or reception, and no one from the trashy magazines like Wizard Affairs Daily or International Babes for All . You don’t look the sort to include them anyway but I needed to make sure. Also, my friend Luna is allowed to have exclusive rights to run the story first in The Quibbler if she wants to.” Hermione added as almost an afterthought. Narcissa frowned slightly at the idea of the Lovegood’s publishing.
“Three, and I’ll make sure they’re in our pocket so they only write good things. Your friend can still have first rights, and of course, you may research them and veto them as you wish.”
“Two and Luna, but the major publishers can only stay for the first hour of the reception.”
“How about we decide how long we’ll make the reception and then discuss a time limit?”
“I’ll think about it,” Hermione stated, though she doubted she’d change her mind.
“Excellent, now why don’t we decide on the guestlist before we do anything else. I’ll make a more comprehensive list later on for you to look over but let us get a general list started at least.” Mrs Malfoy stated as she started to bullet down names on the paper. “I have all of our guests written down elsewhere and I don’t think there will be much, if any, overlap so why don’t we go over who you want to invite?” Hermione had a spare bit of parchment in her bag that she pulled out, it had a few names scribbled onto it in poorly legible scratches but she could make it out well enough to give it to Mrs Malfoy.
“For the wedding, I want to invite Harry Potter and subsequently Astoria Greengrass; Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Bill, Fleur, Victoire, and Dominique Weasley; Andromeda and Teddy Lupin, George Weasley, Angelina Johnson, Percy Weasley, Xenophilius and Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom and his Grandmother, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Daphne and Theo Nott. And for the reception, I would also like to invite Katie Bell, Dennis Creevey, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, Cho Chang, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Lee Jordan, Victor and Bisera Krum, Mandy Brocklehurst, Oliver Wood, Parvati Patil, Eloise Midgen, Lavender Brown, Kellah and Ryan Albey, Susan Bones, Alicia Spinnet, Terry Boot, and Emma Dobbs.” Hermione ticked off, trying not to forget anyone. She didn’t have a lot of people in her close friend group (mainly just Harry, Ron, and Ginny) but she had quite a few people who she enjoyed spending time with who she would consider friends. She had considered inviting some of the people she had met and befriended in Australia but she was 80% sure they were Muggles and didn’t think they’d be very happy to go to a wedding where their world views were destroyed.
“Ok, anyone else? No? That’s it? That’s quite a shortlist.” Narcissa remarked frowning. She pursed her lips in the way Professor McGonagall used to and reminded Hermione of a few more names.
“Oh! Please also invite Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid and Olympe Maxime; Filius Flitwick, Bathsheda Babbling, Poppy Pomfrey, Septima Vector, and Irma Pince to the wedding. And invite Pomona Sprout, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, Aurora Sinistra, and Horace Slughorn to the reception.” Mrs Malfoy’s frown deepened a bit at the names.
“Ok, then. Why don’t we put a pin in this, shall we? And you can ask your Mother if there is anyone else you need to invite. That doesn’t seem like enough people dear.” Narcissa added the last bit under her breath as she dog eared the note page (something Hermione’s eye twitched at as she hated anyone doing that in any way because it weakened the paper and creased it).
“Mrs Malfoy, I think you forget, but I am Muggle Born. Even if I had any extended family they wouldn’t be able to come to a ceremony with drunk or underaged wizards or anything that displayed magic at all. However, I don’t have any family left anyway. My parents were only children.”
“Were?” Narcissa asked softly, her face lined with guilt or compassion that Hermione couldn’t place as she squirmed in her seat at the motherly gaze that seemed so out of place on the older woman's normally stoic face.
“They passed away in ‘99. Automobile accident. Not that it would be much different if they were alive. When the war broke out I Obliviated them with a modified version of the spell. I was fifteen and going back to school with the knowledge I may not have lived to see them again, I didn’t want them to suffer or to be used by Voldemort so he could get to Harry knowing I’d be there. I kept them safe the only way I knew how. When they died they didn’t even know they had a child, didn’t know who I was. When I went looking for them to see if I could undo the spell, which I’ve since learned wouldn’t have been possible, I found out they had...passed.” Hermione explained as she wiped a tear as it slid down her cheek.
“I’m sorry. No child should have to be responsible for protecting their parents like that. I feel partially responsible for having let that lunatic and his fiends into my home. But we all did what was necessary to survive and unfortunately war leaves behind wounds which may never heal.” Narcissa told her with a hesitant pat on the hand. Hermione nodded, throat tight and face hot as she tried to hold back the tears. Narcissa quietly handed her a handkerchief and got up with an excuse to use the ‘powder room’ before leaving the girl alone to collect herself for a few minutes. When she came back Hermione had composed herself once more and they restarted the wedding planning. They talked about what time frame was feasible for a reception (and Hermione limited Narcissa on the guest list as best she could but somehow she knew she’d still end up with at least a hundred people or more there), what kind of food would be best for the time of year, a colour scheme that would work well, and what kind of invitation style would look nicest as it went out. When Hermione was collecting her things to leave for the night it was well past seven-thirty at night and she was nearly dead on her feet from the emotional toll this whole mess was putting on her. “One more thing before you go, I know we’ve got the catering tasting for the twenty-seventh and the cake tasting for the twenty-second, but I would like to get you in for a dress fitting and bridesmaids dresses as soon as possible as well. When do you think it would best be done?” Narcissa asked her. Hermione smirked, the ferret never told her? Oh, this will be fun retribution for making me sit here all evening alone with his mother.
“Malfoy never told you? Oh, it must have slipped his mind. All of us girls are going to get our dresses picked out tomorrow as a sort of bonding experience. I know we’ll all be around each other for the foreseeable future since all of them are our spouses' friends so I thought it’d be a good get to know one another day. I suggested the boys do the same a few days ago, but I guess your son wasn’t keen on the idea or forgot. It’s really too bad since I’m putting in the effort to get to know his friends. A shame he won’t do the same.” She was playing the victim nicely (something she was normally loath to do) but it was working just as she wanted it to when Narcissa pursed her lips in the determined, yet annoyed way Hermione was coming to recognize.
“He must have simply forgotten. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he and his friends are there. If you don’t mind, I would like to pop in for a bit as well. Of course, I won’t stay for too long but the dress can determine a lot of the decor and style for the rest of the wedding.” The older woman said, and Hermione was sure it was nonsense but she could probably handle the woman for a couple of hours. At least then maybe Parkinson would behave if Astoria did actually manage to get the girl to accompany them.
“That’s fine. We’re all meeting at Marina’s in Diagon Alley at noon, I think the men will probably pop next door to Suits and Dressrobes For All Occasions while we’re there.” Hermione informed her future Mother-in-law as she hid a smile. Malfoy wouldn’t be able to skive off now that his mother knew about it. And if she was going to put up with all of his friend’s for the day he’d have to do the same. Even if it was partly her own idea. She smiled sweetly and the women said their goodbyes before Hermione flood back to Harry’s place. Stifling a yawn she grabbed a small bag of Wotsits out of the sparse pantry and headed to bed to rest up for what was sure to be a draining day.
～Edited 19th Jan, 2022