Tie Your Heart at Night to Mine, Love
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
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The Witches Weekly Digest would teach a girl all there was to know about fashion, etiquette, and handy spells to style her hair bewitchingly. Every now and again, it would feature an all-exclusive guide on spellbinding and stunning –figuratively, of course!– your typical Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor wizards. What the magazine didn't cover, however, was how one dressed for and behaved at a one-on-one Order meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Not that Hermione read such thing to begin with, but, staring at herself in the mirror, she wouldn't have minded a bit of help. Especially after his letter arrived - elegant, slant-free handwriting on a rich red parchment paper, carefully folded and wrapped, and delivered by a harpy eagle, of all animals – informing her of their meeting place. Hermione just wished it had informed her of the subject of their discussion as well. She assessed her wardrobe and sighed – and happened to include a dress code of sorts.
She had known the place – a Muggle historic bistro on the outskirts of London she had once visited with her school on a trip to Winchester. She had been nothing but a child then, yet past the heavy, rugged wooden doors, the antiques preserved at The Chesil Rectory had played with her imagination much more than her already practical, nine-year-old mind had liked to admit. She had been standing in a Middle Ages' merchant's house, later gifted by Henri VIII to his daughter, Queen Mary. Centuries later, the building still stood, housing several period pieces and hosting a small young girl with wild brown hair that, later that day, would ask her parents for books on old conventions of an England she had yet to know. There was a touch of magic in History, she had thought, and it was perhaps that single concession to fantasy that made Hermione so accepting of the Magical World two years later.
Although the man couldn't possibly have had known that particular piece of her past, a part of her knew Shacklebolt would take any chance to fluster her, if only for his personal amusement. And if she were to dwell on her nine-year-old self, he would most certainly succeed. That knowledge alone sufficed to have her emptying her wardrobe on top of her bed, in an almost fruitless pursuit of a combative –bordering on belligerent– garment that could somehow set them on equal grounds while also deeming her fit to be informed and trusted with what could be an important Order matter.
Hermione settled after many tries for a sleeveless, olive-colored a-line dress, tan heeled sandals and a matching clutch. Her outfit alone added months to her age, and, once she applied a light makeup and pulled her hair back in a chignon, she could pass for a stern twenty-one. Well, as stern as a twenty-one-year-old girl could look, but, given the circumstances, she would take whatever leverage she could get.
Feeling a boost of confidence from her sober, steadfast appearance, the witch judged glamours unnecessary – they were, after all, headed for the Muggle world, where she remained nothing more than an inconspicuous young woman. Apart from the fact that the wizard she was meeting had a rather noteworthy predilection for purple, that is.
Hermione apparated behind the bushes and trees that adorned the corner between the bistro on Chesil Street and an office with a "Just Rented" sign, on Bridge, and headed for the restaurant. Nothing about the house had changed since she first visited it – she admired the contrast between the upper timber-framed facade against the recoiled tiled ground floor, one of the charming oddities of the period's architecture, and climbed down the stairs of the entrance portal. Her fingers lingered on the linear cracks of the wood as she pushed past the heavy door and her feet drifted towards the two open cupboards at the corner on their accord. Just as she remembered, the cupboards' wood was as dark as the beams that timber-framed the white walls, yet the former had intricate leaf and square patterns carved into it rather than the rugged, unpolished feel of the latter. Hermione reveled in the warmth provided by the fireplace across the room as she studied the antique collection of the Late Middle Ages and Renaissance that the fifteenth-century building had quartered over time.
"Miss?" called a honeyed voice from behind her, and Hermione shifted to include a gray-haired waiter in her vision field, "May I help you?"
"Oh, I came to meet…a friend."
"Would you be so kind as to follow me?" the man asked and then smiled, "I believe I know who you mean."
Hermione mimicked his expression with a close-lipped smile that felt strained, at best. It was neither that simple sentence nor his amused smile by themselves that made her mouth go dry. Coupled together, however, they were cause for distress. Far, far worse than Kingsley's all-purple robe –which she could always attribute to a cultural trend– the wizard would have no way to tell inappropriate, mismatched, and ludicrous Muggle clothing from 'regular' ones, as the episode of the camisole-wearing wizard at the Quidditch World Cup could confirm.
Young couples and an occasional family filled the restaurant at that hour and she trailed after the attendant as he took her through the semi-open rooms of the old house-turned-restaurant, the faint scents of food and yogurt sherbet unable to lessen her anxiety. Years of coming up with plausible excuses for the most implausible situations didn't prevent Hermione from halting as the waiter walked inside a more private room. Like with a horror movie, the fear of looking almost surpassed a rather unhealthy curiosity. Almost being the key word.
The purple was there, just not as Hermione had pictured. Kingsley stood from his seat, grabbing the lapels of his black, tailored jacket suit, layered over a dark purple shirt with the first button undone, denoting a grasp on fashion and the social graces of Muggles unmatched by any other wizard she knew, Harry included. Despite being raised by Muggles, her friend could never be called stylish, whereas the Head Auror of England's Ministry of Magic was a tie away from making the GQ cover.
"Hermione, it's very nice to see you."
Her lips parted, but her brain was relapse in answering in kind. A strangled 'How?' almost bubbled out of her mouth, but, even in her amazement, her mind deemed it rude, if not somewhat prejudiced. At her lack of response, the waiter pulled her a chair and she managed a small 'hi' at his cue. A pathetic 'hem' returned her traitorous voice, and the witch straightened herself in her chair, her hands folded on her thighs, and made a point to look into the Auror's eyes, "What did you want to discuss?"
"It wouldn't hurt to order first, would it? I do believe we'll need to eat at some point," Kingsley motioned for the menu, "I took the liberty of already asking Hugh for a bottle of wine."
The gray-haired waiter beamed at her, "A most fine Abboccato, miss. Mr. Shacklebolt has quite the taste."
The man's—Hugh's earlier smile was brought into context as he punctuated his subtle observation with a not so subtle wink. For whatever reason, he seemed to be under the impression that Hermione and Kingsley were, in fact, on a date. And, based on the Auror's schooled expression, Hermione had strong suspicions concerning the origin of that misinformation.
"Right," Hermione snorted, and either her unladylike manner or her clear lack of interest in Kingsley's taste disconcerted Hugh, as he shot an apprehensive look towards her 'date'. Hermione settled for a random item on the menu, her gaze following the chagrined waiter as he slipped out of the room, shaking his head sideways. The undisguised curiosity of another attendant –a much younger one, with dark brown hair and penetrating eyes– reminded Hermione she had yet to set any barrier spells. He held her gaze, rooted to the spot where he had been attending other clients in the adjoining room, up to the point when she reached inside her clutch, got hold of her wand under the washcloth and cast a Confundus Charm in his direction. His expression seemed off, though - a bit too… disappointed for someone confounded, and Hermione cast a Notice-Me-Not as well, for good measure.
Her companion didn't seem overly concerned - his expression was rather alike that of her teachers, Professor Snape being the notable exception, whenever she performed magic above her level. Despite the strangeness of the test, Hermione couldn't help but take pleasure from passing it.
"I hope you don't mind me saying," Kingsley's deep voice brought her attention back, "You look quite beautiful."
And the charming son of a witch struck…again.
"Hm, thanks. You're…" 'dashing' would be the appropriate response. But Hermione's lip twitched and she finished quite differently, "Unsettling."
Pettiness couldn't always be bad, after all.
"You wound me," he countered with a hint of a smile. "You're quite the witch, Hermione, but I must confess my interest in you is of a different nature…for now. I've been wondering about your plans for the future, have you decided on anything yet?"
"I can't say that I have, there are so many fascinating options…"
"And if the Ministry is reinstated … how would you feel about a political position?"
Politics…that hardly made for small talk, "In what way my career choice is related to the Order?"
"I may have misled you about the true reason for this meeting. This is a professional matter, the Order is in no way involved."
"You didn't 'mislead' me then, you lied. What for?" Hermione spat. She was well acquainted with that pattern - the exchange of pleasantries, the delightful meal meant only for a select crowd, all the while concealing second intentions…It bore a striking resemblance to the despicable, elitist Slug Club. All that was missing was Kingsley's goal, "You inquired about my political ambitions…Are you offering me a job?"
"I may be."
"You wish to run for Minister."
"I cannot deny that."
"And Umbridge? The Order—"
"The wizard's council is to be dissolved in two months. The Order of the Phoenix will soon be disbanded, its members have lives greater than the organization," Kingsley claimed, "I'm aware that wasn't the case for you, but it's time to move forward, Hermione. Someone with a keen perception as yourself would be a valuable addition."
"You said the Order is not related to it. Officially or at all?" Hermione inquired, her eyes narrowed, "Are they even aware?"
Kingsley never replied. He sipped his wine and stood. "Give the idea some thought. You might find yourself changing your mind."
The food arrived later. Hugh conveyed Mr. Shaklebolt's apology on his sudden departure, accompanied by his wish for her to order whatever she fancied. Their secret meeting didn't sit well with her, and neither did the food, left untouched on her plate as if the Royal Frittata was in itself a compliance.
It was madness. The discrepancies between what she knew and what she learned about him that afternoon were more than a little worrying. The man had Ravenclaw's wits, Slytherin's deceptiveness, and the charm of a Gryffindor. The matter at hand was whether or not his traits still included a shred of Hufflepuffian loyalty. And she knew exactly who could answer that.
Back at Grimmauld Place, Hermione borrowed Luna's owl and scribbled a note to Remus, "How well do you trust Kingsley?"
The reply –a sentence-long note just as her question– read, "Why do you ask?"
It didn't bode well.
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A/N: I had a hard time getting Kingsley to cooperate for this, but it's finished! Not what you expected, I bet, but I hope you enjoyed! There's always more to it… ;)
Sugar hexes to…
My reviewers: laisvega, Crossy70, SereniteRose, ChronicallyCurious, IrishIris, Calebski, Guest, and Journalism13.
To 1 TTP, chrissyly, JessicaxGriffel, catknight45, SpiralsawsGirl, JennNoll, Nici94, Tinkerlily22, ash0and0burn, killingperfectionXD, Journalism13, and Luna Nyx Swan for adding the story to their favorites.
And to dramonie1028, JessicaxGriffel, GhostDoor, olliepuppy, anaylen, Harry's Love Can Conquer All, SpiralsawsGirl, d-ess19, JennNoll, elementary4695, ash0and0burn, burpie, kiki mcgmail com, Journalism13, snipandsnail, erinmelanie, Love and Dead, Mrs Sorbo, Luna Nyx Swan, moonbabeads, and heartsclock for following!
To Guest: It's great to know you liked it! Thank you for the review! :)
Thank you all! Please review :)