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Surrendering Earl Grey

Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor, a roll of tape in her mouth as she occupied both hands in pinning down different corners of a wrapped gift in progress. She tried not to roll her eyes as she listened to her mother's words pour in from the kitchen, but it was no easy feat. In general, she sincerely approved of her mother's organization. After all, starting a support group for muggle parents of wizarding children had been a very good idea, and she suspected that the motivation came from how useless her parents had felt after they'd found out she had removed them entirely from the war.

So, it was a noble cause, but that didn't take away from the fact that it was currently being used for evil.

"Yes, yes it's the one she met at the bookshop," she heard her mother chirp away nervously. "No, I'm sure he's lovely. Andrew has met him a few times, but you know I've had more conferences than him recently, so I just haven't had the chance."

Perhaps it was her mother's growing attachment to the identity of parent-of-muggleborn that made her react so uncertainly to the knowledge of Hermione's fiancé's past. Or maybe Hermione's reports had just made it all more real, the prejudice she'd complained about from school so many times. Even so, Hermione felt, to some degree, that her mother didn't have a right to be concerned. It was she, Hermione, after all, who had endured the classroom taunts and the battlefield hexes. But she also realized that maybe those things were less forgivable when they were targeting your child.

"Still alive, somehow, but in Azkaban. It is frightening to think about, though, it's true," came her mother's nervous voice again.

Repressing a sigh, Hermione let the tape roll fall into her lap.

"He's not in contact with his father, mum," Hermione interjected lamely in the direction of the kitchen, but her mother appeared not to have heard her.

Hermione continued wrapping presents, trying to fold the paper as loudly as possible to distract herself from the half of the phone conversation she could hear. Instead she became so rapt in it that she didn't notice her father enter the room until her leaned down to give her a gentle pat on the back.

"Don't worry, sugarplum," he reassured her. "They'll get on famously, your mother just overthinks everything. It's because he's just an idea to her right now, when he shows up in human form, she'll like him right away. I did."

She knew he was right, but wasn't totally mollified.

- / - \ - | - / - \ -

The fourth place at the dinner table was so seldom occupied that they'd had to drag the chair from the computer desk in the living room just for the occasion. Hermione looked from her fiancé beside her to her parents, seated across her, and couldn't help but feel like she was on some sort of odd double-date. That was partly why she'd wanted to introduce each of them to him independently, but so far that had resulted in her father meeting him several times, and her mother always having to cancel the week of. So here they were.

"You're sure you wouldn't care for any milk or sugar, Theodore?" her mother asked again.

"Oh, no, thank you. I find Earl Grey gentle enough on its own, myself," Theo answered.

Clearly taking her mother's words as an attempt to start conversation, her father joined in helpfully.

"We haven't chatted in a few weeks, Theodore, so I think as your future father-in-law it's only right that I ask-have you made partner yet?" he teased affably.

Theo smiled, that dimple she loved flickering to the left of his mouth. "You know, it normally takes a number of years, but I did let them know you're feeling impatient, so let's hope that speeds things up," he replied goodnaturedly. Hermione's father chuckled at this, and her mother smiled, but it seemed a shade less than sincere. But she was trying, Hermione reminded herself. She was trying.

"I'm sure Zabini is too intoxicated with having something over you that you won't get the position in twenty years, love. You should probably give up and enter something more respectable, like dentistry," Hermione joked, patting his hand. She saw her mother's eyes linger on their hands even after they'd parted. Not meaning to be oppositional, but not really regretting it either, she placed her hand back on his and left it there.

Probably thinking she was being childish, Theo smiled warmly at her mother before responding, smoothly, by asking after her business.

"Oh, well, the same as usual, really. Though I have to wonder what those so-called energy drinks are doing to their teeth. Usually teenagers give up on sugary drinks as they near adulthood, but this energy-drink craze seems to be hitting an older crowd. Not that I'm involved in research, or anything, but it certainly is cause for concern."

Theo nodded thoughtfully. "I think I saw a piece on that the other day, actually. On the BBC, wasn't it, Hermione?" he turned to her lightly for confirmation.

She couldn't help but grin at him. Kiss-up. It was true, they had seen some droll segment on energy drinks, but of course he would bring it up to emphasize his very muggle tendency to watch telly. Once a Slytherin.

"And you've got to wonder what else they put in those things, besides sugar," her father added with a small grimace of disapproval. "We never even let Hermione have caffeinated tea growing up. As you can see, she hasn't gotten much the taller for it, but I like to think we added a few years on to her life."
Almost without thinking, Hermione targeted her reply to steer the conversation away from childhood. She wanted Theo to be as comfortable as possible.

Eventually, as the afternoon went on, they all seemed increasingly at ease. As she and Theo were preparing to leave, and he'd stepped off to the kitchen to help clean glasses and discuss the terms of some recent rulings on health care plans, she found herself alone by the fireplace with her mother.

"It's hard to tell from one afternoon if someone is right for your daughter," her mother began, and Hermione braced herself. "But it's not my choice to make, it's yours. And I want you to know that that's good enough for me. However nervous it might make me, you growing up, and even getting engaged. I know that you're ready. You've been the most sensible person I've ever known since you were five years old, Hermione. Probably more sensible than me, or your father. So I'm sure Theodore is a lovely boy-man," she caught herself, "a lovely man."

"I know you always wished it was Ron," Hermione replied. It could have been a cutting remark, but she said the words gently, in earnest, to demonstrate understanding. Her mother shook her head.

"I do love Ronald Weasley, but I understand why you two grew apart, and I love the people you've grown into. And this Theodore Nott must be worthy of your love, if he's on the receiving end." Hermione had the prickling sensation that her eyes were about to fill with tears. Her mother must have sensed it as well, because she added cheerfully, "And besides, I'll see Ronald at Molly's tomorrow."

"Yeah," Hermione replied lamely. Somehow her mother treating her like such an adult only made her feel more like a child when she leaned into the warm embrace of her arms, the heat of her mother's body now level with her own.

They parted as Theo and Mr. Granger reentered the room, the latter clapping the former on the shoulder, a paternal gesture that looked a little odd now that they were standing up and Theo was a bit taller.

They all exchanged 'Happy Christmas!'s and Hermione held tight to Theodore's hand as the fire swirled around them, carrying them back to their flat.

- / - \ - | x | - / - \ -

(Authors Note: Sorry if that fell a little flat. Just got on winter break and trying to get back into the swing of writing before I update some long-unloved fics. Whatever you are or aren't celebrating, happy holidays! Reviews and prompts appreciated.)