A/N: Only one or two more chapters to go. Almost there.
Monday morning, Hermione was sitting at the Gryffindor table eating eggs and sausage, and talking to Ginny when Fred and George's owl flew in and dropped a letter in front of Harry. He frowned at the letter and quirked a brown at Hermione who shrugged helplessly; he sighed heavily and opened it. Harry frowned for several minutes at the thick vellum paper in his hands and then he looked at Hermione and Ginny who looked just as confused as he felt.
"I don't get it," he said flatly.
"What is it?" Hermione asked with a glance at Ginny who shook her head and shrugged.
"It's a letter of intent—basically informing me of their desire to ally themselves through the bonds of marriage—yada, yada, yada," Harry said slowly, "but you three are already married. I don't understand."
"I told them I wanted a big public wedding so that everybody knows about us," Hermione explained carefully and went to take a sip of pumpkin juice. Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs and snatched Hermione's hand.
"Sweet mother of Merlin!" Ginny gasped, staring at Hermione's ring and her exposed bond mark.
"Is that the, uh, let me look here," Harry grabbed the letter and scanned it, "oh, yeah, the bridal gift?"
"It's the beginning," Neville said next to them, his eyes on Hermione's hand. "Usually it's a whole slew of gifts that make up what used to be called the bride price. Hermione, is that what I think it is?"
"What do you mean bride price? Are they buying me from Harry?" Hermione demanded indignantly, her hair starting to spark. Neville frowned at her hair.
"You know, I always wondered about that. It sort of explains a lot," He said thoughtfully.
"Seriously? Harry? Answer me!" Hermione hissed at her brother.
"Do you know about this kind of stuff Neville? Why are they sending me this stuff since they've already got the bond?" Harry asked, shoving the letter towards Neville. Neville cleared his throat uncomfortably and shifted under Hermione's angry gaze.
"Hello? I'm right here! Can we include me in the conversations about me?" Hermione growled at both boys.
"Well, Hermione's asking for a very public display of their relationship, and to wizards, that means that they have to follow all of the customs and rituals. The Weasleys might not be an ancient and noble house like the Potters or the Longbottoms, but they will do the best they can to observe all the traditions," Neville explained, glancing at Hermione's angry face. Ginny huffed indignantly.
"What's that supposed to mean, 'do the best they can'? I've a mind to hex you right between the eyes, Longbottom," Ginny growled. Neville flushed.
"I mean the courting gifts. The Longbottom vault has whole coffers filled with pieces that are specifically bridal gifts. A lot of them are easily recognizable, and the gifting of even one would be considered tantamount to a proposal of marriage. I can only imagine that the Potter vaults are the same. You might have to ask Sirius to help you catalogue some of it," Neville said solemnly.
"Circe's knickers," Hermione muttered, staring at Ginny. Neville cleared his throat.
"Erm, I would imagine that Hermione's status is playing a huge part in how they've chosen to handle the situation," Neville said with an embarrassed shrug.
"What do you mean, my status?" Hermione frowned darkly at Neville. Was he trying to bring up the whole muggleborn thing? She might just help Ginny hex him if he was.
"Well, technically you are a Potter, a daughter of an ancient and noble wizarding family. You are allied to the ancient and noble house of Black through your godfather. You are also a major war heroine, and the Chosen One's sister. All of those things make you extremely desirable as far as marriage is concerned. My gran was making noises about me offering for you," he said apologetically. Hermione narrowed her eyes dangerously and turned to her brother.
"I haven't received any offers of marriage," she said flatly, glaring daggers at her brother. Neville snorted.
"Well, no you wouldn't. They would go straight to the male head of the family, which would be Harry." Neville said blandly, not noticing the frantic hand gestures from Harry.
"Harry James Potter!" Hermione's eyes were glowing. Harry sighed.
"Yes, Hermione?" He asked quietly.
"How many offers of marriage have you received for me?" She asked in a low, dangerous voice.
"One hundred twenty-seven," he sighed, rubbing his temples.
"One hundred twenty-seven!" Hermione shrieked, her face going pale. Harry glanced at the thick vellum letter that Neville handed back to him.
"Well, one hundred twenty-eight, now."
"Why haven't you said anything?" Hermione demanded. Harry shrugged.
"You're already bonded to Fred and George. There was no point to mention it to you, and I simply rejected all the offers," Harry said carefully. Hermione frowned at him.
"When you say it like that, it sounds completely logical," Hermione muttered darkly. Harry shrugged.
"It's what I would have done," Ron said through a mouthful of eggs. Ginny grimaced at Hermione. "I mean, you're already taken, these tossers need to leave you alone."
"No one's actually approached you, have they Hermione?" Neville asked in a shocked voice.
"No," Hermione said slowly. "I mean, a lot of the boys have sort of flirted with me, and hit on me—it's been so surreal, to be honest—but nobody has run up to me begging me to marry them."
"Fred and George are just going to love that," Ron said in a disgruntled voice.
"Maybe we should have kept all those shirts," Ginny muttered to Hermione.
"The worst part is that I almost agree with you," Hermione muttered back.
"So, according to this letter, Hermione's acceptance of the ring, and her public wearing of said ring, indicates that the Potter family is considering their suit," Harry said slowly, reading the letter again. "What does that even mean?"
"They're betrothed to her now," Neville said helpfully. "All other suitors should bow out gracefully because she has made her choice."
"They're bleeding married," Harry said rubbing his throbbing temples. "How can people who are already married be engaged?"
"So, you're marrying them twice over?" Ron asked curiously. Hermione sighed.
"I just wanted everyone to know that we belong to each other. We had to hide everything because of the bloody Death Eaters…I just…I wanted people to know the truth," Hermione said quietly, her shoulders slumping. Ginny put her arm around Hermione's shoulders and gave her a sideways hug.
"If it makes you feel any better, it'll make Mum happy. Although I bet she and Sirius will have some major screaming matches over the details. He's going to want to marry you off like a proper pureblood princess," Ginny said with a cheeky grin. Then she snickered. "It should be loads of fun to watch."
"Unless you're in the middle of it all," Hermione groused sourly. Ron snorted.
"On the bright side, Malfoy should stay the hell away from you now, yeah?" He said firmly. Since the twins weren't available, Ron had somehow appointed himself their proxy advocate, and felt it necessary to behave as a good brother-in-law whenever he felt the situation warranted it. Usually, Hermione disagreed violently, and had been known to hex him. This one time, she had to agree, even though it grated on her nerves. She nodded thoughtfully, and looked at Ginny.
Later in the day she was sitting in the Library, working on her homework when she felt someone sit next to her. She turned in irritation to see Draco Malfoy staring in horrified fascination at her left wrist. She was reading, and her hand was tucked under the book, so he hadn't seen the giant sapphire on her hand, yet.
"Is that what I think it is?" He asked faintly. Hermione wondered why everyone always asked that. Was there a book somewhere called Pureblood Conversational Techniques with a chapter on triads that insisted you use that as the opening line? At this point she was starting to suspect that maybe there was. Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance.
"That all depends, Malfoy. What do you think it is?" Hermione said coolly.
"Are you…but who with? It can't be Potter, he's your brother," Draco was muttering to himself.
"Fred and George Weasley are my bondmates," she said coldly. "Not that that is any of your business."
She closed the book in front of her, and Draco's eyes immediately went to the impressive ring on her hand. His jaw dropped open and he stared at her wrist and her hand for several long minutes. The look he turned on her then was almost relieved, and she wasn't sure whether she should be insulted or not. He obviously didn't really want her, he just wanted to help his family. On the one hand, she couldn't blame him for caring about his family. On the other hand, the idea that he thought he would ever even have a chance with her was almost laughable. Even if she didn't have the twins, Harry would kill Malfoy cheerfully before allowing him anywhere near his sister, and while normally Hermione might decry the blatant sexism—for Malfoy she would make a special allowance.
"Congratulations," he said in a stiffly formal voice. She nodded.
"Yes, thank you," she murmured.
"Er, I must be going," He said abruptly before he stood up and left the library. She sighed in relief.
F/H/G/F/H/G
The Christmas holiday was almost frenetic that year. Sirius and Molly wanted to meet with her every single day to discuss wedding plans, and Ginny had been spot on—Sirius was acting like Hermione was his flesh and blood daughter and he wanted her married off like a pureblood daughter of an ancient and noble house. Harry, the traitorous toad, had thrown up his hands and told Sirius that if he wanted to plan the damn wedding he was welcome to it. Molly was pleased with most of Sirius' suggestions, but they butted head on more than one occasion and over things that made absolutely no sense to Hermione at all because they were strange wizarding customs.
"Wait, you want people to throw shoes at me?" Hermione asked faintly. Molly and Sirius glanced over at her.
"Well, of course dear," Molly said in surprise. "It's good luck."
"What, if they hit me with the shoes?" Hermione's eyes were wide. Molly frowned slightly.
"You, or Fred or George. Any one of you will do," Molly assured her, and patted her shoulder. Hermione made a strangled noise and took a sip of her butterbeer, wishing it were firewhiskey instead.
"Now, Hermione, for a formal marriage there is supposed to be a transfer of property and goods. I've drawn up a list of Black estates that I would like you to look at. Choose the one you think suits you best, and we'll draw up the paperwork," Sirius said firmly handing her a parchment. Hermione stared at paper in her hands her mouth falling open.
"You're giving me a house?" She whispered, turning to stare at Sirius with wide eyes. He frowned at her.
"Well of course," he said slowly, as though he couldn't figure out what was wrong.
"Hermione, dear, it is the way things are done," Molly said uncertainly. "The Burrow was a gift from my father."
When Hermione flung herself into Sirius arms and started crying on his crushed velvet jacket he looked helplessly at Molly and carefully patted her back. He was giving her a house, but it wasn't that—it was that he considered her a part of his family. He was trying to show her, through the strangest customs she had ever heard of, how important she was to both him and to Harry.
"Maybe we should take a break," Molly said carefully, and she stood up and left the two of them alone. She sent Harry in, and the three of them hugged one another and spent a couple hours talking about which house might be the best choice for her, and for the twins. Eventually Sirius rubbed his neck.
"You should go look at some of them. Take the twins with you, figure out what you three want and then let me know," Sirius said with a sigh. Hermione nodded. If she were going to live there with Fred and George then they needed to help choose the home.
"You're right," Hermione said firmly.
It was the sixth house they went to look at. It wasn't as ostentatious as the first house they saw, which Hermione privately thought would be more accurately termed a palace. It wasn't as homey as the second house, which was a tiny cottage with a darling little garden. The third and the fourth had just felt 'wrong' to all three of them. The fifth had been a huge manor house. The sixth, though, was a pleasant mixture. It was a large house, and she supposed it might be considered a small manor house, but there was a homey feel to it…a coziness that the other houses had lacked. When Hermione saw the nursery, she had blushed, but then she considered the idea of little red-headed boys and girls running down the halls; and she had felt strangely happy and content at the thought. The sixth house also had several outbuildings to recommend it. One of them looked to be absolutely perfect for Fred and George to experiment in. They had both gotten really excited and started talking about some of their research and development projects. Hermione listened to them fondly, and thought that some of what they were working on sounded positively fascinating. Some of what they were discussing she had only read about in theoretical treatises. It was experimental magic, and she found herself excited by the prospect. Maybe they would let her help.
Once their decision was made, Sirius took all of them to Gringott's and had all the paperwork drawn up. The three of them were the proud owners of the Grange. Hermione had started crying again, when she learned what their new home was called. Fred and George had patted her back and held her while their goblin looked on with distaste. Sirius gave a sort of shrug.
"Kitten, it's always been called the Grange. You can change it if you'd rather," he said cautiously. Hermione shook her head furiously.
"No," she muttered. "It's the Grange."
"This just means she's happy," George said dryly. Hermione punched him and he grunted.
"Don't be a prat," she said faintly.
"I hope we survive to the wedding day," George muttered rubbing his arm. Fred rolled his eyes at his brother.
A/N: In Tudor England, throwing shoes at the retreating bridal couple was an actual wedding custom—striking their carriage, or better yet the couple themselves was thought to bring good luck. It is where our modern custom of tying shoes to the 'getaway car' comes from. However, the wizarding world seems to hold on to customs and traditions we would consider archaic…and they don't have cars…so I figured they might follow the older tradition.