Extra Ordinary

“Perhaps you’re cursed, Granger,” Draco said loftily. Normally, she would have ignored him, but today his voice felt like swords jammed into her ears.

Seemed like she was getting irascible as the days ticked by and more of her working force fell ill. The smarmy Malfoy family could never simply pay fair could they?

Of course not.

“Don’t worry. We wizards know how to deal with curses. When the company becomes a part of Malfoy Expeditions, we’ll cleanse it.”

Hermione kneeled over the man who looked up at her blearily, “Oh, I’m sure. Be sure to pass your wizarding exams first, yes?”

He flushed and walked away as she wiped the sweat from the man’s forehead.

“It’s okay. I’ve got something for you. I promise.”

He coughed, looking up at her as she held his hand and tipped a cup of water into his mouth, whispering words of a healing spell and watching as he began to sweat pools of black. The black liquid turned a deep purple as it stained his clothes and his complexion returned to normal.

When it was done and his sweat ran clear he blinked with clear bleary eyes up at her, “Little ‘Mione?”

She smiled, “Hello, Georgei. Why don’t I take you home?”

He nodded and she got him onto his feet. Georgei lived on the other side of town, but she walked him all the way there, gave him a satchel of herbs, told him to take it easy for a few days, and not to worry about his pay. The sky opened up above her unleashing a thick downpour as she returned to the estation. The estate was quiet except for the rain and sent prickle of awareness up her spine.

At least until she heard Ginny shriek from the kitchen.

“Fred! George! I swear!”

She chuckled hearing them. Apparently, the twins weer back and were as lively as ever.

“Are the guests behaving themselves?” Hermione asked wryly.

“Hardly,” Ginny grumbled swatting George. “But they're your problem now.”

She smirked as Ginny left the room. Fred and George turned sobered up surprisingly quickly, given their usual banter.

“I take it you’re here for a reason?” Hermione asked.

“Er,” Fred started. “Yeah. We were hoping that your offer of employment was still on the table.”

“Doesn’t seem like anyone else will hire the Weasleys these days.”

“Mum and Dad never explained why.”

Hermione could bet why, but she led them to the study. Fred and George had already graduated from wizarding school. She drew them up contracts and a list of documents she needed to hire them officially.

“Get these back to me before the end of the week,” Hermione told them with a smile. “And try to keep the jokes out of it.”

They grinned their cheshire grins and nodded, “Thanks, ‘Mione.”

“Before you go,” she said, crossing her arms and regarding them. “Why is it that you came here instead of to Mage McGonagall’s?”

“We did go to her,” Fred said. “She sent us here.”

Hermione nodded, “Good to know. Now, will you be joining us for dinner or do you have plans?”

“I assume Ron might lose his mind if we don’t come back.”

“The poor kid has already lost everything he owns.”

Hermione chuckled at that, “Well, I expect to see you both bright and early. Whatever the Malfoys are attempting to do is slowing production down more than I like.”

They traded a confused look, but agreed to be back the next day with their paperwork in hand.

Fred and George arrived just before dawn the next morning with their paperwork and an air of nervousness around them. Hermione isn’t sure what they expected to be doing, but she’s pretty sure that it isn’t bottling hair potions and delivering them. It hardly mattered because work was work, a paycheck and stability. After losing everything for reasons they couldn’t control, Hermione didn’t have to wonder about how hard they’d work.

She left them under Harry’s supervision before she headed to the northern port to fill in for Georgei. The Malfoys had gotten underhanded with their tactics: attacking the people who worked for her, near fatally poisoning them, but Hermione had a contingency plan in place that kept production going even when people started to quit.

“I just don’t understand,” McGonagall said as she came in for their monthly meeting. “That’s another three people just this week.”

“It’s the Malfoys,” Hermione said. “They’re trying to run Granger Enterprises into the ground, but they can’t especially with the ball coming up.”

“The ball?”

Hermione smirked. The ball would have nearly every high-society witch, wizard, and muggle there. It was the perfect time to rub shoulders and get new business and there was nothing that Narcissa and that smarmy weasel Draco could do to stop Granger Enterprises from being represented. McGonagall wouldn’t be attending the ball, but Harry and the twins would be. Hermione had received her merchant’s invitation and would be attending in that capacity as well.

“Surely you intend to go?” Minerva asked.

“Of course, I do,” she said. “But I also plan to have representatives. It will be tricky since I’m not technically eligible to marry any of the princes, but possible.”

Minerva worried her lip, “How so?”

“I have a merchant’s invitation,” she said. “The queen and the king’s mother have been using my mother’s potions for years.”

Minerva laughed, “My girl, you must be touched by faerie.”

Hermione shrugged, “Maybe. How are things on the east port coming along?”

*

On the day of the ball, Hermione got up earlier than usual. She had a few other deliveries to make, some last minute contracts to settle and payments to collect. She had to pick up her gown of course, attend to her normal duties, and return to the Estate. It was a long day, but if she stayed focused and did just a little magic, she’d have enough time to check in with McGonagall like she wanted, take a nap, and get ready for the ball.

Around noon, Hermione exited the last building she had to visit with more than enough time to get back to the Estate and to change.  She tucked her renovation notes away in her deceptively small purse and walked towards town. She would be meeting with Minerva and--

She whirled just a second too slow to avoid the stunning spell. A grimy faced man leaned over her.

“This her?”

“Yeah, hurry up.”

They lifted her and tossed her into the back of a carriage. It would hurt later, she knew, but she didn’t have time to contemplate that.

Damn it, she thought. This would really put a damper in her plans.

She had no way of seeing out the window, but she bet that where they were going wasn’t anywhere that could surprise her. When the carriage stopped, they carried her out of the carriage, across a clearing, and tossed her into the cellar along with her things.

“Don’t worry, puppet,” he said. “That spell will wear off in due time and the miss won’t want you down there for too long.”

“Yeah, just long enough to ruin you.”

A black cat trotted through the underbrush and she focused on sending a small glint of magic towards the cat before they slammed the enchanted doors shut. The spell vanished and her body relaxed.

“Lumos,” she said, raising her wand. She sent the sphere of light to hover above her and survey the room. It was an old and damp cellar. Tree roots grew through the earth walls, but there was nothing else special about the room except for the obvious anti-apparation ward.

For the first hour, she hurled cancelling spells and curse-breaking enchantments at the door. When none of them worked, she looked for another way to escape. It seemed that Narcissa had dug deep into her warding knowledge for this prison. Internally, it was unbreakable, but all the enchantments would disengage as soon as the door was open. Problem was that there was a latch on the doors above her that could only be opened from the outside. It was a smart trap-- genius even.

She only hoped that black cat would find McGonagall before it was too late.

Keep calm, Hermione, she thought and took a seat. Even if she couldn’t get out, Harry and the twins would spread the word just as she planned. She wouldn’t get as much of a sales boost as she’d planned but it would be enough and she could make up the difference.

Unless Narcissa is even more underhanded than I thought, she thought, glaring at the door.

Please hurry, Minerva.

*

Minerva McGonagall wasn’t exactly having the best day. The carriage that Hermione had rented for the evening had been destroyed. As it was the only carriage in town that hadn’t been reserved by anyone else Hermione would have no way to get to the ball unless she was going to ride a horse there or fly on a broom. While it would look strange for a merchant to do so, she knew that Hermione would do so if necessary. The company returned Hermione’s deposit, but that was only a small conciliation. Harry had offered that Hermione could ride with him and Ginny, but Hermione’s gown had also been stolen from the shop along with several other simple ones. The Aurors suspected that it was the work of a noble wizard or muggle in order to lessen the competition for the hand of a prince, but they had no leads. The price for the gown had been returned, but again that wasn’t going to fix the problem at hand.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the woman in question was missing. She knew that Hermione had been on her way to McGonagall’s office just after leaving the old storehouse on the other side of town. She should have been there hours ago, but had not arrived.

Narcissa and Draco made it a point to stop on the way to the Malfoy Manor beside McGonagall who stood on the street.

“Why Mage McGonagall, it’s quite a surprise to see you without your mistress.”

McGonagall glared at the haughty woman, “If you have hurt one hair on that child’s head, I will have your innard for bootlaces.”

Narcissa laughed, “How base. What need would I have to hurt a muggle girl? Carry on, driver.”

The wench, McGonagall thought. There were so few people in the world that had the power to be truly evil. She believed that Narcissa was one of them.

“Meow.”

She turned. A black cat stared up at her. It wasn’t rare that cats flocked to her, she’d chosen a cat as her familiar in school and her animagus form was a cat for a reason.

“What is it, little one? Have you lost your way?”

The cat stood and meowed before walking down the street towards the forest.

Follow, McGonagall thought. Hermione.

She walked quickly after the cat and summoned her broom. It wasn’t exactly a short walk and by the time they’d reached the destination it was dark. She cast a light spell around her and walked towards the double red doors in the ground.

“Well, where have you led me?”

“McGonagall?!” Hermione called through the door.

Her eyes widened and she brandished her wand to check for curses. There didn’t seem to be any so she pulled off the latch and opened it.

“My dear,” she said primly. “This is not the right time for cellar diving.”

Hermione laughed and jumped to pull herself out of the cellar. She pet the black cat.

“Thank you dear,” she said. “What time is it?”

“Not early enough to fix everything that has gone wrong at the last possible moment, I should think.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well dear…”
*

“What are you going to do, ‘Mione?” Harry asked, fiddling with his dress robes.

Hermione sat still in her office.

“I will figure it out,” she said. “Go on with Ginny, Fred, and George, just like we planned.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she said. “Go on. The Malfoys are good, but until I get things fixed I will need you there as my eyes and ears. Go on.”

They left and Hermione closed the door after them. McGonagall came back down the corridor.

“Well my dear, perhaps all is not lost,” she said. “I have a friend. She knew your father. She used to be a gown maker before the Malfoys ran her out of business. I found her, but I am not sure how she will react to the prospect of making you a gown tonight..”

Hermione chuckled, “It’s a start and half the problem.”

“And for a carriage?” McGonagall asked. “I suppose you could fly, with enough calming potion in you, but riding is almost out of the question at this time in the evening.”

“We’ll talk about it when we get back. Let’s go meet this woman.”

The woman in question was the original Madam Malkin to Hermione’s surprise. She lived in a hovel more than a house and apparently scraped by with whatever coins she could earn since Malfoy Enterprises took her original shop from her and reopened it under a good friend of theirs-- a cousin of the true Madam Malkin.

“I don’t make gowns for anyone,” she said with a bitter gasp curling up by the weak fire. “I have not the passion for it any longer.”

McGonagall turned to leave but Hermione crossed the room to take the woman’s hands. They were scarred from hard labor both wizarding and muggle, but beyond those scars she saw pinprick made callouses. The callouses had not faded, nor were these that old.

The woman still made gowns by hand and by wand.

“My mother once said that a woman’s hands betrayed her world,” Hermione said and met the woman’s dark gaze. “I see a gown maker’s hands who has not given up her trade.”

Her hands tensed in Hermione’s hands.

“You say you have lost your passion for it, but a woman does not sit by the fire and sew tapestries with stitches made for ball gowns because she has lost her passion,” she said.

Madam Malkin gasped, “Who are you?”

“My name is Hermione Granger,” she said. “My father was William Granger and my mother was Selena Telos.”

Her eyes widened, “You’re her daughter?”

“I am,” she said.

“You have your mother’s eyes,” she said pressing her hand to Hermione’s.

“I’d like to offer you a proposition,” Hermione said. “One fit for the true Madam Malkin.”

“I am listening.”

Hermione grinned. Everyone wanted to make a deal. She offered the woman her own quarters at the Granger Estate, a salary, and backing to open her own gown shop in Surtse whether that be for private tailoring or full on seamstressing. Madam Malkin seemed shocked, but she smiled.

“That is of course whether you make me a gown tonight or not,” Hermione said. “You are a woman of talent and I am a businesswoman interested in expanding the Telos line of services and connections.”

Her mother’s potions had only been the beginning based on what she’d found in the woman’s journal of ideas. A gown shop affiliated with the Telos name would be enough to get the Secrets of Telos on enough lips in the three kingdoms to give her mother’s dreams a fighting chance.

“You must promise me one thing,” Madam Malkin said. “Should I make you this gown, you will crush the Malfoys, especially that Narcissa.”

“You have my word.”

“Then we have a deal.”

Hermione escorted her out of the hovel and apparated them to the manor with all of her things.  She made Madam Malkin dinner and showed her to her quarters. Whether the woman expected to be given the chance to bathe and eat first, Hermione couldn’t know. Time was of the essence but being rude would have been worse than missing a few minutes at the ball. She only needed an entrance, a glamour, and a premise to be granted a conversation with everyone of importance and be back in that horrible little cellar before Narcissa sent her goons to let her out.

“I can’t go there as Hermione,” she said. “I will use my invitation for Granger Enterprises. It must look like I planned not to go.”

“Yes,” McGonagall said. “Narcissa is a vindictive witch and making her appear to be outwitted would be far more effective in getting her to make a mistake. We will devise your cover story after we have come up with a way to get you there.”

Hermione led her outside to her secondary workshop, “I’ve been working on it for a while, but I haven’t quite gotten the animation spells right.”

She opened the doors to reveal the sculpted marble orb and horses. The orb and the horses had been carved with magic by a wizarding artist she met on his way to the capital. The work hadn't cost much since Hermione had bought the marble for cheap and done quite a lot of legwork for it. 

“It doesn’t have wheels,” McGonagall said.

Hermione flicked her wand and the orb floated, “It doesn’t need them. The charm is activated by a wave of a wand.”

McGonagall lifted her own wand and after a few words and swishes, the marble horses came to life, neighing as if they breathed and stomping their feet.

“How is that for a carriage?” Hermione asked as McGonagall stared at the carriage in amazement.

“I believe it will do quite well.”

They led the carriage outside and checked the spells before leaving it in front of the house. McGonagall went to aid Madam Malkin while Hermione rushed upstairs for a bath. She used versions of her mother’s potions that she had only developed for herself to detangle her hair and turn it into a collection of glossy curls. The curls banded together in defined ringlets around her shoulders. She slipped into the underwear she’d purchased for the event and wrapped herself in a robe. She walked down the hall to knock on Madam Malkin’s new workshop and waited for the door to open.

Madam Malkin opened the door and smiled at her.

“Come in, dear. I’m just putting the final touches on it.”

She walked into the room and gasped at the gown floating before her. It seemed more like the oncoming dawn than a gown. Stardust twinkled in the folds of the skirt and along the bodice that would practically glow against her brown skin.

“You are truly the greatest gown maker in the world,” Hermione said. “The Malfoys are fools.”

Madam Malkin laughed, “I wanted to make a gown for your mother, but never had a chance. I never thought I would have a chance to make one for her daughter.”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “I promise that the Malfoys will rue the day they decided to run you out of business.”

“I’m counting on it.”