Hello! This is an old project, but a new story. It is a Regency-era Dramione, with the use of magic. I hope you like it, and if ever anyone wishes to betae my works I would be more than glad, as my beta has left Fanfiction for a while.
Thanks for reading, and please review.
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"I shall not, Father! You will not force me!"
The young woman scowled, stomping her foot in a very unladylike manner, and two more curls burst out of her coiffure, surrounding her pretty, heart-shaped face.
The man across her, fidgeting quite nervously in a seat, fingered his glass of Whisky and replied tiredly,
"But you must, my dear. This is the only way to assure you a good marriage."
Hermione Granger wrinkled her nose and frowned at her father.
"It is not! I assure you that Lord Ronald Weasley would be more than happy to marry me."
"He might be, indeed, but I have yet to hear an offer from the young man or his estate. Time is running out, dear. Do you know that you happen to be one of the last of your promotion from Hogwarts Academy for the Noble and Grand of the Magical Gifted to be without fiancé?"
Hermione offered her father a withering stare.
"Well, in that case, you shall hear from Lord Ronald. And if not, then I might admit to start considering the possibility of wedding to Lord Cormac McLaggen. However, Father, may I add that Viscount McLaggen has the most dreadful manners, and appears to think of women as little more than swine."
Edward Granger gave his daughter a sharp look.
"Be very careful, Hermione. You are a Lady, and not a mere laundry washer. Please remember that the man you are speaking of is, after all, the only son and heir of one of the King's most valued friends. A marriage to Lord Cormac should have most of women swooning in joy. You are the only one foolish enough to not consider things this way. The only reason I even let you think about marrying the young Lord Ronald is because I value most of all your happiness, dear child."
Hermione's head drooped, ashamed. Indeed, she was not acting as a young lady should.
"I beg you to pardon me, Father. I suppose I am upset to learn that Lord Cormac may be my husband. But you are right. I shall marry him if Lord Ronald does not beat him to the fact. I must think of the future of our household."
Baron Edward Granger smiled softly to his only child.
"Well said, dear. Now, please, off with you. After all, I do believe that Lord Ronald, as well as the duke and duchess of Godric's Hollow are to come today."
Hermione's face lit up immediately, and she applauded sweetly:
"Yes, Father! We are to go to the theatre. Tonight is the very first performance in London of the famous Orion et Auriga by the talented Sir Delacour. It is said that his daughter, the beautiful Fleur Delacour herself, plays Auriga. Oh, how wonderful! Paris went absolutely mad for the show. I must leave, Father, to prepare."
She kissed him on the cheek and left, leaving Edward chuckling. However, as soon as Hermione was in her bedroom, she sank down upon her bed, thinking and thinking hard.
Hermione Jean Granger was the only daughter of Edward and Jean Granger. Her father was an old soldier, and, especially, an extremely rich man who held the British universe of Healing in his hands. Very talented, he had started out as the third son of an apothecary, and had travelled the world, discovering plants and remedies that he had sold in solid amounts of gold upon his return. He has opened apothecaries of his own, and gained power and money until becoming one of the richest and most influent men of the country. He had met Jean Hopper when travelling to North America. She was the daughter of a powerful Governor, and it had been love at first sight. Gov. Hopper had gladly given his child to wed to this rich English man, and in return, had made his son-in-law enter higher circles. Hermione was born, and sadly, they did never have more children, but the girl was so lively, intelligent, loving, that they did not regret never having a son.
As it turned out, the child was a witch, and even though they planned sending her to Durmstrang School for the Magically Gifted or to Beauxbâtons Institute for Young Witches and Wizards, Edward and Jean were made Baron and Baroness by King Cornelius and Queen Amelia when she went ten, thanks to the fact that Edward, already an acquaintance of Their Majesties, managed to save the youngest of their children, Princess Susan, who was their daughter's age, of Dragonpox.
So, in a few years, the Grangers managed the immense feat of becoming astoundingly rich, members of nobility, and world-known Healers.
Becoming noble permitted them to send Hermione to Hogwarts, a British wizarding Academy reserved to the crème de la crème, meaning only nobility or children whose parents had a special charge within the royal household.
Hermione soon proved that she was, indeed, the daughter of her parents. One term out of seven years in the school were enough to show that, though muggle-born, new rich and new noble, grandchild of a simple apothecary, she had her place in the world. Excessively intelligent, she was Valedictorian every time, getting up to one hundred and sixty-two percent of success in exams, and was known as Cleverest Witch of her Age. Valedictorian was a word coming from the Americas, designing the top-graded students, as her dear mother had been. Apparently, North American high schools were becoming of quite a good quality. Most people thought very highly of her because, not only was she clever, but she had great qualities: perfect virtue, a nice character, courage, sensibility, and she was a helpful, respectful girl without spite or nastiness of any kind. She did lack, however, a few things, such as diplomacy or forgiveness, and just wouldn't be bothered with social relationships and duties. She hated curtsying to people she didn't like, or speaking sweetly to such people par exemple.
Hermione was a pretty girl, not a stunning beauty by any means. She was not very tall, and had pale skin, often a healthy pink, with a spatter of freckles across the nose, otherwise flawless. She had a heart-shaped face that was considered as delicate, with a small, pretty, turned-up nose, pouty, heart-shaped red lips, and big, amber, doe eyes. She had perfect, white teeth like pearls. Her hair must have been the best or the worst depending upon the side of things: best, since it gave a wild look to her tamed, small features, and worst, because it was very difficult to hairdress. She kept it flowing past her shoulders, not too long nor short, and it was composed of rather thick curls that made beautiful ringlets but not an easy coiffure for everyday lifestyle. They were silky, though, and of a warm chestnut color with golden streaks.
Hermione Granger was not your breath-stealing beauty, but was pretty enough to make men look at her, and she certainly had appeal. Her freshness and her love of life gave her a gorgeous figure, healthy and different from all those nineteenth-century young women like her but who tried their best to use makeup and dress up like dolls so that men would consider them beautiful.
However, Hermione's mind was far from her looks or her personality, since she was thinking about Lord Cormac McLaggen.
She knew from Hogwarts that the man was very good-looking, with dull blond hair and expressive brown eyes, and that women lined up to throw themselves at him. Not like he refused, though. Cormac had been known to get himself in quite a mess several times, duelling out by wand or by sword if the deceived husband was Muggle, and if that did not suffice, then King Cornelius often gave him the royal pardon, since Cormac's Uncle was an old friend of his. The man was actually twenty-one, a year more than Hermione, and had inherited everything after his parents' tragic death seven years ago when they burnt to death in a country house of theirs. Thus, Cormac was the actual Viscount McLaggen, very researched by mothers searching to marry off their daughters.
And Cormac had come that morning knocking upon Edward's door to propose for her hand.
Hermione really hadn't seen it coming. She knew that Cormac had an interest in her, that much was obvious from their Hogwarts years. But since he had graduated she had never seen him, only heard of him in their shared social circles. Then again, Cormac was interested in every woman with a pretty face and a nice body, so Hermione hadn't given it that much thought.
Cormac hadn't even asked to see her, hadn't given the least sign of wanting to court her. No, he had just skipped along that morning, while she was off horseriding in the countryside, and had asked Lord Edward.
It was extremely impolite, and though it could happen from time to time, Hermione was very suspicious about Cormac's proceedings. Something had obviously pushed him to inquire of her hand, but what? A man didn't hurry in such matters without having something spearing him and though at the moment, Hermione loathed the Viscount, she was curious to know just what.
Of course, her father had been over himself in joy. Indeed, it must be rewarding for the son of an obscure apothecary to give his daughter away to a rich, influent man such as Cormac, who had an Uncle in the King's best books and every hope in the world. Hermione could understand that, and she loved her parents enough to marry the disgusting ladies' darling if that may make them proud. Lord Edward, though, respected her enough to have told the Viscount that he would first ask her instead of promising her hand straight away.
Lady Hermione Granger was, however, a woman in love. And a woman in love could hate forced marriage even more than a woman without a heart-throb.
Since she was no more than thirteen or fourteen, Hermione was pining for one Earl Ronald Weasley. The man was one of her best friends, and issued of one of the best families of the country, though, as all Weasleys, he was as poor as a church mouse. Hermione didn't care about that, though. She loved him, was the only heir of one of the greatest fortunes in Britain, and he had an excellent, Pure-blood pedigree. She wanted him and only him.
She even loved him enough to pretend not to mind when he started a relationship with one Lady Lavender Brown, Baroness. Of course, their relationship only went as far as morals, that meant no more than a few kisses and brief hugs, but still. They weren't in such a relationship since years now though, and if Hermione had never once kissed him, at least she knew he loved her, as he had already told her so. However, she wondered if he would propose anytime soon.
Well, as it went, tonight she would be off to the theatre with Ronald, and his sister, Lady Ginevra, who had married her long-loved Duke Harry Potter last spring. They were great friends, and would be chaperoned, of course, by the couple, which was a good thing, since Lord and Lady Potter tended to mind their own business, knowing that their friends wouldn't bring shame upon anyone, and knowing how lovers could feel about social duties when not married.
Hermione stood up, and rung a bell. Soon, her two personal servants ran along to help prepare her. She preferred paying people to do the task than enslave creatures, such as house elves.
Miss Marietta Edgecombe scuttled in, her long blond mane tamed upon her head in the strangest way, and she curtsied quite curtly. Hermione raised an eyebrow. She should think about marrying Marietta away or proposing her curriculum to another family. She really didn't like the girl, who tended to snoop about for juicy information to sell to the nasty Argus Filch, house keeper. Her other servant was a kind lady, a married woman in her forties, named Porpentina Scamander, wife to the famous Newt Scamander. While Newt was a clever naturalist in his seventies, Porpentina gave her home a wealthy income by her perfect service to Hermione.
The two women prepared Hermione, chattering away. At the end, Hermione was wearing a beautiful crinoline royal blue dress, slitted to reveal powdery white skirts and small, velvet slippers. The dress was ornated with slivers of diamond, and had sleeves in the same white as her petticoat. The dress' top stopped just over her cleavage and under her shoulders, in a straight line. Her hair was done in shiny ringlets, with slivers of diamand and blue stone weaved in, and she wore a precious diamond necklace and matching earrings with the lightest ever makeup. She looked like a princess right from a seventeen-century romance novel. It was beautiful. She glanced in confusion to the good Mrs Scamader who shrugged it off:
"I knows dat de Mister Viscount cames ter propose today. And I knows dat Milady wants de good Lord Ronald ter propose instead, right? So I decided ter makes Milady irresistible."
"Oh, thank you so much, Mrs Scamader! And thank you as well, Marietta."
Marietta cast her a scornful look that Hermione pointedly ignored, before hugging Mrs Scamader and bouncing off to see her father.
When she entered the sitting room, Lord Edward was drinking brandy and dotting down notes in a tiny book, and Lady Jean was embroidering next to the fireplace. Her mother spotted her first and put the embroidery down, taking her glasses off and casting a warm smile to her daughter.
"You are gorgeous, my darling."
"Thank you, Mother..."
Edward looked up, bored, and instantly spat out his mouthful of brandy, half-choking, in a very unmanly way.
"You are not going in that dress, and with that heardressing, and...and...you are not going! You are far too beautiful," he screeched. "Go to bed!"
"Father!"
"Edward!"
Both women had shouted at the same time and the Baron cringed.
"Well, at least, I am sending four guards to chaperon you," decided Edward, lifting a bell.
"There shall be no need," assured Hermione, crossing her white gloved hands before her. "The Duke and Duchess shall be with us. You have the Duke's word of honor already, Father, that harm shall not reach me while under his care."
"I doubt men will wish to hurt you when you are that pretty," muttered the Baron.
"Edward," exclaimed Lady Jean. "You are being insulting to Hermione as our daughter and as Baroness."
"Besides, Father," added Hermione not without cunning, "you are suggesting that I am divinely pretty tonight, which means that by normal times, you find me quite common, not to say ugly."
Edward seemed horrified by that.
"Of course not, dear! You are a woman of the most wonderful figure..."
"Then what changes? I shall be back at eleven o'clock."
"Sharp," insisted Edward.
"Sharp," she answered obediently, before kissing them both and leaving.
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A/N: Read and review, please.