A Continuance
The bejeweled man lifted his head, met Hermione's gaze and smiled, "We want you to curse our dear Princess, of course!"
All around her the nobles nodded enthusiastically. Draco shared an incredulous look with Hermione that clearly communicated, "What?".
The silence stretched on.
Hermione had never wanted to do this mission. She had been completely content to organize and putter about in the Research Division as she went through her day-to-day. The job was safe in the sense that the life-or-death of her research was far removed from her desk. So it was a rather disappointing day when a field work case file landed on the top of her To-Do basket with a paper attached saying the mission was non-negotiable. Even more disappointing was the inside of said file- instead of being filled with useful things like itineraries and people to meet, it contained the name of her partner, a rough sketch of what they were supposed to find, acceptable clothing suggestions, and what looked like a book cover for a fairy tale. Since the book cover was only that, Hermione had discarded it after a few moments of inspection. In short, she knew that she would be woefully unprepared for the mission and was confident it was all by design so Draco, her "Ranking Officer" would look good.
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to convey what she thought of him and, by extension, how well she thought this mission was going. Draco adopted a look of innocence but whatever he had planned on saying was foiled by Hermione breaking eye contact and responding, "I beg your pardon? Why?"
It was then the gentry's turn to share concerned glances with each other silently. They seemed at a loss for words until an older woman stepped onto the front line of the crowd to say in a grandmotherly way,"Well... How else would the princess find true love, dear?"
Hermione's mouth popped open for a few seconds, closing it only when Draco made a small noise that could have been a cough. She swiveled her incredulous gaze from the elderly woman back to Draco. His fists were clenched tightly and he was turning a curious shade of red. She schooled her expression into a frown to communicate that he would be the one cursed if so much as a squeak of laughter escaped his lips. He swallowed and made a visible effort to calm himself. Satisfied with his behavior, she turned her attention back to the crowd and, halting began
"Er..," her hands twisted the hem of her sleeve, "Look. I, uh, "
How was she going to explain this? Her eyes darted from left to right, scanning the crowd as if hopeful one of them would laugh at how it was all a joke. But no such luck.
In the past, she would have been the first to admit that she had been a precocious child. With the right people, she would have even begrudgingly admitted to being a bit outspoken. But now? After working in a relaxed environment like an office job? Sure, she had her fair share of meetings where voices were raised but this situation was different. In an office, she knew she was speaking with a group of sane individuals. Honestly, she thought, what kind of people thought that cursing someone would magically make their true love appear?
Realizing she was hesitating, she forced her hands to stop their fidgeting, "I will admit to being a witch."
She steadfastly ignored the hope blooming on their faces, "But I really must object to cursing the Princess. I pride myself on being a good witch. One that helps people not curses them."
Another silence unfurled at her declaration. As it stretched languorously on, getting itself comfortable at the expense of everyone around it- several smiles began to wilt. But before the death of hope could start in earnest, the man Hermione had accused of having a dead animal perched on top of his head rallied his spirits before introducing himself as Gerald, the Royal Financier.
Unbeknownst to Hermione, Gerald was also having a Bad Day. Perhaps, when it was compared to Hermione's, he would have found that his Bad Day was a few shades less of Hermione's and would have accordingly adjusted his tone. But, because he could not read thoughts and because he rather thought that it was impossible for a magical being to have a Bad Day, his imploring tone came out sharper than intended.
"If you will not do it now, would you perhaps do us the honour of thinking on our request for a few days?" Since it had been decades between visiting witches, Gerald bowed as low as he could and straightened before his hairpiece could slip down and continued, "At least until her birthday."
Before Hermione could protest further, Draco placed his hand on her shoulder "What you have asked of us is a difficult task indeed. However," he tightened his grip on her shoulder slightly as if to remind her that he was still in charge despite waiting till now to step in," it is also a deep honour to be asked in the first place." Hermione resisted the urge to shrug off his hand. "We request to know when the Princess gains another year."
Gains another year? Hermione thought. Why on Earth is he speaking so oddly?
As if releasing that the Witch's companion was the key to her agreement, Gerald replied, "Her birthday is in a week."
Draco nodded, "A week is an acceptable amount of time to consider your offer. In turn, we will only ask of two favours. First, a place to rest at night and meals for our stay."
Gerald nodded, "And the second?"
Draco smiled predatorily, "To be exacted upon the Princess' birthday."
Gerald blanched but waved his hand as if it were an inconsequential agreement, "Of course, of course." He paused a moment to mop at his brow, "But first, we must see a demonstration of magic."
Finally, Hermione shrugged out of Draco's grip. She absolutely hated that he had all but accepted the town's mad request of cursing the Princess for her. Feeling backed into a corner, she reached into her sleeve and pulled her wand out. Hope had fully revived the crowd making it once again boisterous in their excitement. A few sensible gentries had taken a step back, reasoning that they weren't scared- they just wanted to make sure that their clothes weren't ruined on the off chance that she summoned something messy. A wave of her wand brought several hats spinning into her palms.
As the crowd cheered, Hermione took the opprotunity to hiss at Draco, "We'll talk later."