Extra Ordinary

“I feared we would truly never see home again,” Vladimir said looking up at the shining halls of the castle as they walked the cobblestone path towards the palace.

“Y-You’ve returned,” the guards stammered, staring at them in awe and confusion.

Viktor smiled and pat one of them on the shoulder, “So we have.”

There was no time wasted announcing their arrival. The sound of Surtesean trumpets carried through the courtyard and up to the highest part of the castle. There was no one in the castle that didn’t know that two beloved knights had returned alive from war.

Vladimir followed him into the foyer as Viktor let his eyes roam over the familiar walls of the palace. It had felt like an eternity in Marvolo, but now that he was here, he could see that nothing had truly changed.

“Vitya!”

He looked up. The woman at the top of the stairs looking down at him with glossy eyes. He smiled and let his bag slide off his shoulders before taking the stairs three at a time to get to her. He lifted her into his arms and spun around, squeezing her tightly.

“I’m home,” he said as her clung to him, weeping happy tears into his armor. “I’m home and it’s really over.”

“I see you’ve returned,” a voice he knew relatively well drifted down the steps.

He turned to see Ivan, his eldest brother, coming down the stairs with that same haughty look he always wore. It had annoyed him years ago, before the war, now he could only smile and rush to hug his eldest brother.

“It is wonderful to see you, Ivan!”

The man let out an indignant shriek, “You’re covered in filth! Get off of me, you oaf!”

He released the man chuckling, “Forgive me, brother. I am simply basking in the joy of being home.”

He waved his hand and the dirt from travelling vanished from Ivan’s clothes. The man seemed only to glare him more sternly. Ivan had inherited little by way of magical affinity and despite having access to all the schooling every child of the throne had, it had done him little good. Viktor had a feeling that Ivan would always resent his power.

“We’ll have a proper dinner tonight,” Ekaterina said. “I am sure your brothers will be in attendance. For now, how about you go unpack, bathe, and get comfortable?”

“I want to see him,” Viktor said meeting her eyes. She sighed heavily and squeezed his hands, nodding.

Of course he would.

“After you clean up,” she said looking at the state of his armor. “While Ivan has, sometimes, too much of a sense of appearances, you do reek of travel.”

He winced and looked down at himself, “Right.”

Once he retrieved his bag and Vladimir had given his proper greetings to Ekaterina, they parted. Vladimir stayed in the knights quarters and was looking for the bath that was long due to him before looking for his husband. Viktor wished him luck in locating his love. Viktor had other plans.

While his boots remembered the way to his room, he forced himself to take the long route. The palace had not changed much but there were little things that he wanted to remember. Small things that would really make him feel as though he’d come home.

His suite had been maintained, dust and swept. New books had been added to the shelves, the bed had been changed as well, but there was no mistaking that he was home. He set his bag down by the desk and walked through the open doorway to his bedroom. The clothes inside the wardrobes would be a bit too small, but with a few tailoring charms he would be okay until he could get new clothing.

Beyond the wardrobe, was the rack of brooms. Of them all, one stuck out and he smiled, running his fingers over it’s carved handles.

“I was more surprised that you didn’t take that one with you,” her voice, Aella Krum, came from behind him.

He turned and grinned seeing the old woman there. She’d aged little since the last time he’d seen her, that artful gray streak through her hair had not changed at all. Her eyes were warm and stern.

“You look like hell,” she said and he laughed before walking towards her and enfolding her in his arms.

“Hello, Baba,” he said into her shoulder. “It is good to see you.”

“My little wing has flown home at last,” she said, reaching up to stroke his hair. “And is in desperate need of a bath.”

He chuckled, “I am working on it.”

She drew back, “Well please continue to do so.”

He held up his hands in surrender, “I’m going.”

The corridors leading up to the royal suites looked out to the courtyard and beyond to the mountains where Viktor had spent many days racing in between. It was closest to the library, not too far down from the pitch. He undressed and filled the tub to scrub himself clean. He couldn’t believe how much longer it felt since he’d last had a decent bath. On the battlefield, water was reserved for drinking or medicinal use, not bathing.

He groaned as he sank beneath the hot water. He washed his hair and face, lavishing in the comfort of his own bathroom. The water turned murky and cold before he got out to shave his face. In the mirror was a face he hadn’t seen in a long time. He looked like his father and his grandfather before him with their dark eyes and sharp features. Full lips and kindness marked his features as belonging to the line rather than being a mere copy. His brothers had inherited little of the traditional Krum looks, taking after his mother’s side of the family.

He pushed a hand through his hair with a sigh. He considered cutting it, but decided to simply tie it back before walking into the closet. As he thought a lot of it didn’t fit, but he found something clean to wear and books that still fit before exiting the bathroom.

“Vitya,” Aella gasped, not sure if she were speaking to her grandson or her husband’s ghost. “Goodness.”

He smiled and offered her his arm to escort her to his parent’s suite. They entered together and Viktor prepared himself to see his father for the first time in so long.

Years, he thought. It had been years.

“Father?” Viktor called.

“In here, Vitya,” his mother called from their bedchamber.

“Is that Vitya with all the noise?” his father’s voice croaked. “I don’t remember them being that loud when I came home.”

Viktor laughed and walked the distance to join his mother. Aella took the seat beside Ekaterina as Viktor took a seat at the edge of the bed where he could see the man’s face and be seen. He looked so tired, aged from the last time he saw his father’s face. Pale with sickness, he’d lost weight, but his eyes were as alert behind the pain as he remembered.

“I’m home,” he said softly. “Tatko--”

The man swatted him. Despite his apparent weakness, it was still hard enough to sting. Viktor flinched, not sure if the reprimand was meant to be harsher or not.

“The next time there is a war, you will not just run off to fight it,” he scolded. His voice was no more than a stern rasp, but it made Viktor smile. Stanislav took his youngest son’s hand, looking at him openly, admiring the view.

“You have grown up well, Vitya. Perhaps now this old man can get a decent night’s sleep.”

“You’ll forgive me won’t you, tatko?”

He snorted and took Viktor’s hand to squeeze. “Perhaps, but your Baba will not, lest you bend to her and your mother’s will.”

Viktor winced and let his eyes slide to his mother, “What exactly is it that you wish of me?”

“Dear,” his mother began glaring at her husband. “Vitya has only just returned. Can we not give him a day to settle in?”

“My days are already short,” the man said. “It makes no sense not to give out warning while I still can.”

Stanislav winked at Viktor earning Ekaterina’s stern stare and Aella’s huff.

“What is it?” Viktor asked, amused at his parents’ antics.

“We’re holding a ball,” she said. “In honor of the end of the war, your return and in hopes to see you all married soon.”

Viktor’s eyes widened in shock, a breath caught in his throat.

Marriage?

He couldn’t remember the last time he thought about marriage. He certainly hadn’t given it any thought before he went to war, let alone during. No, he’d been just a boy the last time marriage had crossed his mind, wondering if he would find a happiness like the happiness his parents and grandparents had shared.  Being the youngest of eight princes, there was never any anticipation of him needing to marry for politics or for heirs.

“What do you mean?” Viktor asked, hesitantly. “Is that not a concern for Ivan?”

Ekaterina sighed, “Given the end of the war, people will be looking for hope a new age.”

The former four kingdoms, now three, would be looking to usher in the new found peace with a grand celebration. Given that they all had children that were eligible for marriage, it made sense that people would be expecting at least one marriage.

Though Surtse has never had a real preference for class, his mother believed that marrying a mage of a high class, perhaps from another kingdom, would be a great show of peace and unity across the kingdoms. His brothers more or less had made up their list of preferences. The timing of the ball had centered around Viktor’s return. It would be a grand gesture of diplomacy.

Viktor understood the why but not how they could ask this of him.

“You cannot expect me to meet someone at this ball and fall in love enough to marry,” Viktor said, incredulously. “I have not even figured out how much war has changed me, yet.”

Ekaterina winced, “Yes, I understand dear.”

Viktor sighed and took her hand with his free hand, “Tatko, what have you to say about this?”

“Vitya, you should feel no pressure to do anything that you do not wish. Surtse knows that you have done more than enough for all of wizarding kind.” He squeezed Viktor’s hand, “I wish only for you to be happy and to see my youngest son home and safe.”

Viktor smiled at that but looked back to his mother and grandmother.

“Let’s leave your father to rest,” Ekaterina said, standing. “It is just about time for Madam Pomfrey to come see him.”

At the mentioning of her name, she knocked on the door with her cart.

“Save me, Vitya,” Stanislav pleaded, his eyes twinkling. “She makes the most awful concoctions.”

Viktor smiled at his father’s humor. It was good to see that at least that had not died yet. There was hope still so long as his father could laugh. It meant the man had not fully given up and so Viktor could not either.

“I will come back. I think we have things to discuss, right? Your Highness.”

Stanislav chuckled and released his hand. Viktor pressed a kiss to his forehead and followed his grandmother and mother to the adjoining room. He closed the door behind him and took a seat.

It’s Ekaterina who starts first. The haste at which she lays out her reasoning and her expression tells him that she’d been waiting for this moment for far longer than could make him feel comfortable. He was an expert flyer, a high-class mage, a pureblood wizard, and the war hero of the kingdoms. His participation was vital for the people’s sake of course.

No matter how battle torn he was inside, the people would look to him to say that it was truly over since he’d led the charge on Marvolo’s castle. There was also the matter of destroying the staff. He still had to figure out how to do so permanently in a ceremonial manner to commemorate the end of the war. The placement of the memorial of course was important and would need his presence.

The why was still as clear as it had been before, but how could she ask this of him not even a few days into being home? Yes, Stanislav had brought it up but it was only to stave off Viktor being blindsided by his mother. He knew her well-- she would have waited maybe one full day before bringing it up if that.

“We’ve already contacted the heads of the other kingdoms and…”

Viktor groaned, he knew where this was going and stood up. She quieted as he did so. Their gaze met, a silent meeting of the minds, maybe.

She knew her Vitya from before the war. While they were not as close as he was to his father or to Aella, they were close. He wouldn’t deny her this. This Viktor who had grown over the years in the war was someone she still had to learn.

Would he deny her?

Would he be able to go through with it?

“Have you set a date?”

“No,” she said stiffly.

Viktor nodded and hummed. “Make your plans, mother and add the presentation and destruction of the staff of Salazar to the list of festivities. I would have the men and women who have died commemorated with all the honor due to them.”

She blinked and stammered, “You will do it? Truly?”

He nodded, his smile was sad. “It will be one last event for all of us, won’t it?”

Ekaterina paled but they all knew it was true. It warmed her heart to think that Viktor would put on a brave face not just for the kingdom for her as well, that he knew her so well. She couldn’t send the love of her life to the other side with tears, but with a ball so grand that the heavens would weep for their decision.

Such was how much she loved him.

Such was how much Viktor loved them both.

“Let me know if you need anything from me,” Viktor said.

“Thank you, Vitya,” she said and kissed his cheek.

Madam Pomfrey came out looking just as grave as she had when she’d gone in. She left quickly with Ekaterina to speak about his father’s condition. Viktor didn’t look at his grandmother, instead stared out the window, wishing more than anything that he’d taken a little bit more time to fly before dealing with matters of war.

He was the youngest son, he shouldn’t be dealing with any of this.

At least that’s what Ivan thinks, he snorted at the thought of his eldest brother.

“We will speak later, little wing,” Aella said, kissing his cheek. “For now, I believe your father needs to speak with you.”

He nodded and re-entered the bedchamber to take a seat at the end of the bed. Stanislav sat up in bed, supported by pillows and drinking water. He groaned in disgust.

“There is not enough water to wash the taste away,” he groused and set the empty glass aside. He took one glance at Viktor’s face and let out another helpless groan.

“You agreed?”

Viktor chuckled, “I have worried them for years. It is the least I can do.”

Stanislav shook his head, “The ball was going to happen, but to have it so soon after your return--”

“She fears you will not make it,” Viktor said.

Stanislav nodded, unable to disagree with that. “Whether I die before or not is of no consequence. She will be my regent and has my will.”

Viktor flinched at the word and Stanislav took his hand, “Do not look at me as if I am a ghost already, Vitya. I have some time before I join my father.”

Viktor worried his lip and squeezed his hand, “F-Forgive me, tatko. I should have been here--”

Stanislav hushed him, “Madam Pomfrey is the best healer of the kingdoms. If she can barely hold my sickness at bay while she searches her tomes for an answer, what hope could you have to help?”

Viktor’s jaw trembled and he closed his burning eyes. The tears came anyway. Stanislav drew him close, tangling a hand in his hair and pressing him close to his chest.

Viktor was so large now, yet he felt just as he had when he was a boy, crying in pain and loneliness when his brothers would leave him behind or treat him too roughly. Viktor cried for him now oddly enough and it made his chest tighten painfully.

“There, there, dear Vitya, my little knight. It will be alright.”

Viktor clung to his father, yet the tears wouldn’t stop. He knew that all men died. He knew that. He’d seen it over and over again on the battlefield. He’d seen hundreds of deaths, hundreds of dead towns of bodies strewn everywhere. He’d dug hundreds of graves over the last few years. But this was his tatko. His father. He had fought so hard to make it home alive and end the war at last yet he would have so little time with this man who had been his idol for most of his life.

“There are matters we must speak of unfortunately,” Stanislav said gravely, drawing back.

Viktor’s face was splotchy red and flushed from crying. His shoulders trembled from sniffling as he stared at the man. Stanislav chuckled.

“I will not disappear just yet, Vitya,” he said. “But before I do, you must know that I have chosen you as my heir.”

Viktor flinched and his eyes widened.

Well, that wasn’t what he expected at all.

*

“Mum! Hermione’s here to visit!” George called.

“Ronald, Hermione’s here!” Fred called with a grin. “Though she is looking in a certain form today. Are you here for a date? If so, I would leave now before you regret it.”

Hermione swatted Fred on the shoulder and kissed George’s cheek. “Now, now boys, you know I’m a busy woman, no time for dates. I only came to visit for a bit. Is Harry here?”

“Where else would he be?” Fred chuckled. “Sirius is off on business.”

Hermione nodded, thinking as much. He heard Harry’s voice coming from the kitchen, glancing shyly over the mountain of potatoes he was peeling across from Ginny who smiled at him just as shyly.

Goodness, they were so cute, looking at each other like that. It was a wonder they weren’t already engaged with how long they’d fancied each other.  Harry spent most of his free time at the Weasley’s home, the Burrow. With it’s worn nooks and crannies and the constant smell of food, it was homey and much more welcoming than the Black Manor where he lived with Sirius and their makeshift little family.

If Sirius was off on business again, it meant Lupin had gone with them. Tonks was probably still making her way back from war and young Teddy, Harry’s godson, was with Lupin’s family.

“Hermione dear, don’t you look wonderful,” Molly greeted. “You’ve gone and gotten yourself a good apprenticeship I suppose.”

She chuckled, “Something like that. How are you today, Mrs. Weasley?”

She sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. “Other than the Malfoys being as they are, nothing much has changed here dear. Arthur’s off at court and Harry’s here helping out, he’s such a dear.”

Arthur arrived soon enough with a notice and an announcement. He pressed a kiss to Hermione and Ginny’s heads, shook hands with Harry, kissed his wife and called everyone into the foyer.

“What’s going on?” Ronald asked, slumping to the ground, exhausted and flushed from working outside. He looked over to Hermione in her new dress. “Er, hi, Hermione.”

“Hello Ronald,” she greeted kindly, before giving Arthur her attention.

“By the order His Majesty King Stanislav Krum and Her Majesty Ekaterina Krum, a grand ball is to be held in the palace Surtse honoring the return the youngest prince from war, his deeds, and the official end of the war against Marvolo,” he read from the decree in his hand, his formal robes swishing around him. “It is the King, Queen, and Princes’ royal wishes that everyone in the kingdom attend if able. In addition to the ball, there will be a grand memorial service at the end of the world to honor those lost in the war.”

Ginny squealed, “A ball?! Really?!”

Hermione hummed. A ball for the entire kingdom. She considered the number of people in just Kula alone, let alone all of Surtse. It would be a great time to get Granger Enterprises back on the map.

“By royal command, every wizard and witch eligible for marriage in the kingdoms is to attend.”

Hermione snorted at the last bit. Hermione wondered which prince needed to be married off in light of the king’s illness. How desperate did they needed them married to make that sort of decree? Amused at the thought that the princes were all incredibly awkward or horrid, she chuckled.

“Well then, it seems we’ll have to tighten our belts,” Molly said. “Can’t have you going to meet the princes in a shoddy gown.”

Ginny blinked, a wince passing over her face as Molly pinched her cheeks and went on about being potentially chosen by one of the princes. Harry paled and looked to Fred and George who quickly escaped the room.

Molly looked over to Hermione cautiously as Hermione took notes in one of the little notebooks she always seemed to have. Harry couldn’t understand Molly’s expression, but with her distracted, he could meet Ginny’s eyes.

Terrified.

Pleading.

Her jaw trembled. He was pretty sure that he’d never seen Ginny so frightened, but knowing what he knew of court whispers about the princes who’d stayed behind, he could guess why she was so frightened. He worried his lip.

Sirius and Remus were pretty stern about keep his last name to himself. Hermione was the only one who knew the truth. They’d been even more strict about it when he started hanging out with the Weasleys.

Molly is a lovely woman. She really is, Sirius told him. She’s just more ambitious than I want you exposed to.

And a lot more desperate, Remus had chimed in. Remember this much Harry. There are secrets even among wizards that a lot of people would die to protect. The Weasleys have just as many secrets as the Malfoys do.

“And you, my dear? Will you be in attendance?” Molly asked Hermione.

Hermione shifted her weight and hummed, scribbling away in her notebook.

“I doubt I shall have the time for such a thing, besides I’m not technically eligible to be married to any of the princes, now am I?” she said, her eyes alight. “I should be off.”

Harry stood and followed her out quickly as Ginny cringed back from her mother’s gushing about what she would need to put Ginny in the perfect light to be chosen. Arthur winced and attempted to intervene, but was quickly overrun by Molly’s gushing.

“We’ll have to get you an appointment with the beauty parlor in town. They’ll know just what to do.”

Ginny stammered, “B-But--”

“It may not be through your brothers the Weasley name ascends to where it was meant to be, but perhaps through you, Ginny. We’ll have to get you in marrying shape before the ball!”

*

“Hermione!” Harry called rushing after her. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly she could move.

“Is this about Ginny?” Hermione asked, slowing down enough for him to catch up. “It can’t be anything else after listening to Molly.”

Harry stepped aside an old woman with a basket. Hermione avoided a young  man hauling a bag of flour as they walked.

“I,” Harry swallowed thickly. “I want to ask her to go with me.”

“I know,” she said. “What is it that you need?”

“A job.”

Hermione stopped and met his gaze, “A job.”

Harry nodded and glanced around, worrying his lips. “Sirius and Remus are--”

“Insistent.”

“Yes.”

“And you hope to do what with the money you earn?”

“Pay for Ginny and myself to go,” Harry said evenly. “I’ll do anything you need.”

Hermione tore a page out of her notebook and gave it to him, “Use this to find out exactly how much you’ll need to earn before the ball and then meet me at the Granger Estate tonight.”

Harry nodded quickly and took the page. He rushed off to get it done and Hermione shook her head before turning to pay for a newspaper from the stand. The ball would be after Harry’s seventeenth birthday on the fifteenth of August.

Perfect, she thought and tucked it under her arm. It would all come together in due time.

She added “speak to Sirius and Remus about Harry” to her list and continued down the road.

*

Arthur held his baby girl close to him by the fire that night as she wept frustrated tears. The last time he’d held Ginny as she sobbed had been when she was just a little girl waking up screaming from a nightmare. She felt just as small and fragile now as she had then.

“She won’t listen,” Ginny sobbed. “I don’t think she even cares!”

Arthur sighed and stroked her hair, “Shh, button. It’ll be alright.”

“A-And Harry-- Harry just left. He didn’t say anything! Chasing after Hermione…”

Arthur frowned.

“Wh-what if he-- What if he doesn’t--”

Arthur pressed a finger to her lips to stop the thought.

“Any person with or without eyes can see that Harry is head over heels for you, Ginny.”

“The-Then why?”

Arthur shook his head, “I don’t know sweetheart, but it does no good for either of you or your relationship to jump to conclusions.”

Ginny whimpered, turning her face into her father’s chest. He sighed. He never imagined that it would be Molly’s ambition that would make his headstrong daughter cave like this. When she’d been born, he’d hoped beyond hope that someone worthy of his daughter would catch her eye and whisk her away. Molly had wanted a daughter so badly, so desperate to raise the Weasley name from just technically noble to a lavish state since they married.  Her scheming and planning had paid off with Ginny’s birth, but had nearly destroyed their marriage in the process.

When they’d reached the tenuous truce they lived in now, he thought it would be over, but Molly hadn’t learned. Instead, she’d done everything in her power to groom Ginny into a young lady fitting court, but it just wasn’t in Ginny’s personality. She tussled with her brothers, she cursed and fought. She wanted to be a knight, not a kept housewife. With the war over, she wanted something other than the domestic life that Molly had built for herself as the Lady Weasley.

“Do you resent us, Ginny?” He asked off-handedly. “Your mother and I?”

Ginny gasped, looking up at him. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

“I know you,” Arthur said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “You think Charlie and Bill left the way they did for reasons I don’t know about? Percy? If not for you and Ronald, I am sure the twins would be gone as well.”

Ginny looked at her hands, “I-- I-- I just want to be happy. I don’t want all that stuff that she talks about.”

Arthur nodded, “I know.”

“Would you give your blessing?” Ginny asked quietly. “If Harry ever or if a Prince…”

“I wouldn’t give my blessing to anyone you had not given yours to,” he said firmly. “I only want you to be happy, Button.”

Ginny smiled and hugged her father, finding such love and understanding in his embrace. She drew back quickly. The mention of her brothers who she had not seen in so long made her heart beat faster. She didn’t want to go to the Ball to be picked by a prince, but she would never pass a chance to see her brothers.

“Do you think Charlie and Bill will be there?”

“Possibly. I suppose I should write and ask.” Her jaw dropped and he gave her a wink, “Best not tell your mother.”

Ginny nodded and locked her pinky with his, “I promise.”

“There’s my girl. Now off to bed with you. There are long days ahead of us.”

She kissed his cheek and stood up leaving him sitting by the fire. Arthur leaned back, looking out the window and wondered how it was that he’d arrived here. He thought to Sirius, his distant cousin through the Black family, and could hear Molly’s tirade on him.

If he was a good man, he’d help us! Yet Sirius only has polite words to give us, well I won’t have him set a foot in this door.

He groaned and scrubbed his face. If Ronald hadn’t met Harry the way he did, he was sure that Ginny wouldn’t have met Harry every. Harry went to school with Draco at the premier wizarding academy in Surtse’s capital. His children all went to the academy two tiers below because they simply couldn’t afford it.

Harry, in all of his kindness, had more or less rescued Ronald in a moment of great magical distress and they’d been friends ever since. With Harry came Sirius and Remus back into the life of the Weasleys. Sirius still wasn’t allowed in the Burrow, per Molly, but he and Arthur had a much better relationship than Molly believed.

He sighed and thought to the empty chair in the Wizengamot that had always been beside the Black chair. Over the years, they thought that they would eventually remove it, that the letters would tarnish to something illegible, yet it hadn’t happened. The Potter seat still remained an ever-present memory of the late James and Lily Potter.

It was a mess. Everything was a mess and the ball would only make things messier for sure.

*

Hermione arrived at the gravel road leading to the Granger Estate exactly five minutes before Harry came running towards her, flushed and harried.

“Hermione!” He called and skidded to a halt before her.

She smiled, impressed, “I expected you at least an hour from now. I’m impressed.”

He panted and bent to catch his breath, “I meant it.”

Hermione held out her hand, “The list?”

He held it out to her and fell into step beside her, “And this is with the use of Black carriages?”

“No,” he said. “Not at all. I didn’t include anything Sirius could help me with.”

She smirked and hummed.

“S-Should I have? I--”

“Calm down, Harry,” she said. “You’re fine.”

Harry followed her beyond the gate, his stomach tumbling as she read over the list and led him up the road. He looked around realizing that the driveway up to the house had been fixed recently. It looked like it did before she went to go live at the Malfoy Manor.

Flowers bloomed in a melody of colors along the pathway. Hermione opened the front door and stopped in the doorway.

“What’s wrong?”

She chuckled and stepped aside so he could see the piles of mail, “Nothing. Just a lot of mail.”

Harry’s eyes widened. There were too many envelopes to count, littering the foyer floor from where owls had dropped them off through the mail slot.

“Well Harry,” she said pulling out her wand and waving it wordlessly. The letters lifted off the floor and arranged themselves in several neat stacks hovering by the door. “Do come in.”

“You’re a witch?” Harry asked. “Since when?!”

“We have a lot to speak about Harry,” she said. “And I don’t think that we’ll cover it all standing on the porch.”

He flushed and shuffled in ahead of her, in awe. She toed off her shoes and let her hair down before leading him through the house. The letters followed close behind towards the office. He remembered that it had once been her parents’ study. The two desks had been combined into one large one. She set the letters on one side of it and took a seat.

“Have you eaten?” Hermione asked.

“No, I, erm, didn’t get a chance.”

“Well, then I guess you’re staying for dinner,” Hermione said. “Come on.”

Harry followed after her wondering what exactly they had to talk about, what she would ask of him. They’d known each other for a long time and while he had a pretty good grasp of what Hermione was like as a person, there were a lot of things that he didn’t know about her.

Like that fact that she was a witch.

“Curious?” Hermione asked, flicking her wand so that a knife came flying out of the knife block and began to chop whatever floated onto the chopping board.

“Very,” he said.

Hermione smiled and gestured to the chair across from her, “Sit. A bit of a chat before business.”

Harry sat down as she asked and watched a pitcher pour them both glasses of icy water. She stayed perfectly still as the kitchen came alive with the makings of dinner.

“I’ve been a witch all my life, Harry,” she said. “My parents thought it best to keep it hidden since it isn’t really heard of that two muggles have a witch for a child.”

He swallowed. Both of her parents were muggles?

“They had me privately tutored by Mage Minerva McGonagall. You’ve met her.”

“Your family’s accountant?” He asked. “Isn’t she a master of transfiguration?”

“She is,” she assured.

But Minerva came with more connections than just her own knowledge. She’d been tutored by a lot of people in Minerva’s extensive network including Severus Snape. Severus probably didn’t connect the young girl he’d tutored for several years with the Hermione who’d handed over stacks of paperwork, but she remembered him well.

“But you can understand why I can’t exactly publicize this, don’t you?”

Harry nodded. The Wizengamot would swoop down on her faster than a flight of owls if they found out before she had her wizarding license, regardless of her age. There was no telling what they would do to her. He didn’t understand all the laws regarding magic, but he knew that she would definitely be interrogated about the origin of her magic and held with great suspicion. In the history of wizarding births, there hadn’t been a single muggle born witch or wizard that hadn’t been born of horrible circumstances since the Blood Wars.

“What about the Malfoys?” Harry asked. “Won’t they hold it over your head?”

“And incriminate themselves for housing an underage, unregistered witch in their house?” Hermione asked. “I think Narcissa has other things to worry about, especially since I am registered now that I’m seventeen.”

“Wait--” Harry said. “You only just got a wand? How have you been doing magic all this time?”

“Wandless,” she said with a shrug.

Harry gawked at her. At a loss for what else to say, he could only stare.

“You’re incredible.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I’m glad you think so. Anything else I should clarify before we get to business?”

“What about school?” Harry asked. “Where do you go?”

“The public academy,” she said easily. “I’m an orphan with no caretaker remember?”

He winced, “Right. Sorry.”

“No need to be,” Hermione said. “I know you meant nothing by it.”

Harry frowned, “I can’t do wandless magic yet. That’s bonkers.”

Hermione shrugged, “Just another day in the life, dear Harry.”

In reality, it had been a matter of necessity from the first moment that her parents realized that she had magic. She had to keep it underwraps for as long as possible. Surtse was a good kingdom, kinder to muggles and half-bloods than most, but that didn’t make them perfect. Given that her mother was actually from Espirit, there could have been issues. Issues she narrowly avoided by registering only when she’d turned seventeen.

Espirit or Surtse could have claimed her as a ward of the kingdom if she were underage. She would have never seen her parents again and may not have survived this long. Being in a wizarding house had almost been a blessing as much as it had been a curse.

He blew out a breath, “Wow. I feel like there are so many things that I don’t know about you. Wait-- can you apparate?”

“I can.”

“With a practice wand?”

Hermione nodded. “It took a little bit of time to work it out, but I figured it out.”

“Hermione,” he said. “What could you possibly need me for? I’m about to graduate, I have an actual wand and I still can’t Apparate.”

Hermione chuckled, “You think I can revive Granger Enterprises and expand it with no name, no backing, and no connections on my own?”

Harry frowned at her smirk. She waited patiently. Harry was honest, harmless. He really had very little knowledge or disposition for deceit, but he wasn’t stupid.

“This is about my seventeenth.”

“It’s before the ball,” she said, tilting her head. “You think Sirius will keep you underwraps past the time you’ll be of age?”

“No.”

Hermione’s eyebrows lifted encouragingly and Harry frowned.

“But how could you know that?”

“Harry, I’ve known who you were since we met,” Hermione said.

“I meant about Sirius and Remus’s plan for my seventeenth.”

“You asked me for economics help,” she said. “Trade agreements, management, estate taxes, last year, remember?”

He nodded, “Yeah, you were doing Draco’s homework.”

He frowned thinking back to that moment. There had been magic runes on those pages before her. Why hadn’t he asked her then? How was it that he didn’t draw the pieces together before?

“You wouldn’t have struggled with problems from the school, Harry. Not living with Sirius all your life.”

Harry huffed and he sat back as a plate and silverware settled themselves in front of him.

“How is it that I didn’t think about that until now?”

“Memory charm,” she said easily. “It’s one I casted on all of Draco’s homework just in case someone saw me doing it.”

“You are scary.”

“Thank you.” She said and gestured to the pots and pans that had floated between them. “Help yourself.”

Harry swallowed, “I’m still not sure what I can do for you.”

Hermione smirked, “Well, Harry, I can think of quite a few things that will have you wondering why you were worried about affording you and Ginny’s trip to the ball starting with getting me a few things for the garden.”

Harry frowned and he choked on a laugh.

That’s right.

Most people thought she was muggle. Any wizard in Surtse who sold magical items wouldn’t let her in the shop until she had her wizarding license. She needed a wizard to buy things. She might also need him for magic work, but she mostly needed his presence.

Merlin, Hermione was terrifyingly brilliant.