Granger, we need to talk
Chapter 32
Same old tired disclaimers. JK Rowling and Others own all recognizable characters.
I make no money off this work. As far as I know, no fame either.
Bummer.
Screaming accusations, deep dark plots, and . . . wait a minute.
I can't write anything with a plot.
Taking a steadying breath, she straightened. "I also came to inform you, or find out if you know about, a plot that is forming within the Wizengamot against you and Lord Longbottom. It involves . . "
"YOU!" The word exploded from Hermione. As Harry turned in shock, the teacup Hermione had been holding crashed into flinders on the floor. As she pushed herself off her chair, her wand appeared in her hand
"Heiress Greengrass," she spoke loudly and bit off every word. "I now see this has been your endgame for months. Merlin, I feel incredibly stupid for not having seen through you before."
Harry was caught wrong-footed. Daphne was frozen in her chair.
"Master Harry! Do not let her make a spell!" cried Tilitsy.
Harry's brain suddenly caught up with the situation.
"Hermione! Stop!" he shouted. "If you hex Greengrass our friendship will be over and you might go to Azkaban!"
Something in Harry's yell had broken through Hermione's rage. She turned and looked at him wide-eyed, even if her wand stayed locked on her target.
Carefully, Harry extended his hands out from his sides. "Hermione, love. Before you hex her, remember Narcissa's teachings about a Lord's responsibility to visitors in his house. Remember?"
From Hermione's expression, she suddenly did remember.
It was with utter surprise he saw her collapse back into her chair and with her hands covering her face, she started crying hard. Tears started streaming down the parts of her face not covered by her hands.
Harry immediately leapt over to her chair and kneeling, awkwardly tried to hug her hunched over form.
Rubbing circles on her back and muttering soothing phrases as he hugged her was about all Harry thought he could do.
He suddenly remembered Greengrass, He looked over to see her still sitting in her chair. Her look of surprise replaced by her emotionless Ice Queen mask.
With a grimace, Harry went back to trying to soothe Hermione. Her crying jag burned itself out quickly to a random sob. Harry conjured a handkerchief and handed it to her. As he looked at her, he saw she was a mess. As soon as she realized what she looked like, she would bolt.
Harry was suddenly aware of Greengrass standing on the other side of Hermione. Her wand was out, though pointed away from everyone. Behind her was a determined-looking Tilitsy. If Greengrass made a wrong move, she would probably be blasted into the entryway.
Greengrass took one last step towards Hermione. The movement must have attracted Hermione's attention as she looked up.
"May I?" she asked Hermione gesturing to her face.
Her face truly was a mess. The remains of tears everywhere. Glistening snot smeared across her lower face. Eyes swollen and red-rimmed, hair an even frizzier mess than usual.
Daphne must have seen assent in her eyes as she slowly extended her left hand and slowly, carefully helped Hermione stand upright.
Again, with exaggerated care, she brought her wand around to point at Hermione's face. As the wand made slow spirals and small arcs across her face, the damage was removed or repaired. Hermione's face became dry, the skin around her eyes shrank and lost the red tinge.
With a small finishing flourish, Hermione now sported subtle eye shadow and something shined upon her now fuller lips.
With a small nod of satisfaction, Daphne stepped back and conjured a mirror between her and Hermione.
"A Princess of Britannia must learn to be always "on"," Daphne spoke in a soft voice. "The gossip mongers will tear your reputation to shreds and build any minor faults into mountains. You cannot allow any gaps or even little cracks in your appearance. The self-proclaimed traditional society mores mavens will never stop."
"But I'm not a Princess," Hermione automatically protested.
Daphne astounded the pair with what she did next.
With a long-suffering look, she actually dragged her hands down her face, smearing her own make-up. When she opened her eyes a few moments later, her look of disgust flitted between both of them.
"When you two came into this room, your hair was mussed, clothes were wrinkled and both of you had slightly swollen lips. Since I was in the train compartment, I know you have at least progressed to snogging." she said with an increasing disdainfully curled lip.
"I thought you two had finally, finally, come to your senses and made the leap to being a couple." You did ask her to be your girlfriend?" Getting a sputtering, practically incoherent affirmative from both of them, she continued. Looking Harry right in the eye she said belligerently, "Is it too much to hope you asked her to marry you, Potter?"
The two astonished faces that tried, and failed, to coherently vocalize in the negative had Daphne scowling at them both. Two ninnies who were so ingrained with their own lack of worth, that they could not bring themselves to believe the other could love them back.
Hermione, feeling she was being condescended to, was starting to work her way back up to being upset with the bossy invader.
Daphne, being perceptive, could tell that Hermione's temper was starting to spike again. Abruptly she turned to Harry and asked, "Is there a greenhouse here that we could talk in?"
"Greenhouse? Well, yeah. But why do you want to go to our greenhouse?" a bewildered Harry questioned. The quick, dramatic emotional shifts with Greengrass were starting to confuse and irritate him. Just what in Hades had she done to upset Hermione?
"Because my mother taught me that for some reason people are less likely to start throwing hexes around in a greenhouse. Please lead on."
Harry spun and looked at Hermione. Wordlessly the two had a rapid discussion. Harry reached out and took her hand as they walked in the direction of the greenhouse.
The Potter Manor greenhouse was attached around both sides of the southeast corner of the Manor. It was an explosion of not-in-season lush greenery with highlights of colourful flowers scattered through-out the planters. Looking out past the glass, Harry could see light snow was falling from a leaden sky.
Following the white marble fitted stone pathway, he led the two young women over to a small white sidewalk café style round table with four dark blue cushioned chairs around it. After pulling out their chairs and seating them, Harry sat down and expectantly looked at Greengrass.
Leaning back in her chair, the stoic looking Blonde visibly marshaled her thoughts as another round of tea and biscuits appeared on the table.
She looked at neither of them as she began. "Lord Potter-Black. I have been trying to become a close acquaintance of you since this summer. I am of the firm belief that you and your hip-attached wife, oops, excuse me, girlfriend, can, with some help, change our stale, backward, wizarding culture into something great. Something to be proud of again instead of being a squabbling little backwater community that is inbred and inward-looking."
Harry was mostly interested in Greengrass' delivery. He wanted to try to figure the beautiful blonde puzzle out. He knew that Hermione could give him her speech verbatim later if he asked. Her voice was flat and had little emotion. What had she been doing all these months had become his question.
"Originally, I believed that The Sisters Black would provide education, elucidation, interpretation, and some gravitas. And frankly, they have performed wonders if not outright miracles with the pair of you." Greengrass paused. "However, I also realized before school started, that there was a problem in that you always, always, have to make an effort to contact them and vice versa."
She paused again and glanced at both of them. "AND they will work at implementing anything you ask of them, BUT they are a generation plus older than we are and do not have the same Halfblood and Mundane born desire to burn it all and salt the ashes."
Harry's astonishment was palpable. "Where had this flaming anarchist come from? Wasn't Greengrass a privileged PureBlood princess?" We have talked but she never gave any indication she felt that passionately about fucking over the Ministry!"
Harry could see Hermione had gone stone-faced. In spite of Greengrass' surprising declaration, he got the impression she felt Greengrass had betrayed her somehow.
Before either of the duo could speak, Daphne started again. "To keep repeating myself, you two have the inherent power to make tremendous changes to this world. However, if you want to perform most of this tremendous potential change, you are going to have to ask for help."
Harry interjected before Greengrass could continue. "We are looking for help. It is one of the most crucial jobs of the Black Sisters. We have allies in the MacMillan's, the Boot's, the Longbottom's and every House I gave away to a supporter. Now we have the Nott's, the Flint's, the Bletchley's, all the others and not least, as of tomorrow, your friend the Lord of House Moragaine. The others have a looser connection as allies, but when crucial doings occur, they will support the Houses of Potter and Black."
Harry was not about to reveal the deals made that the Houses they received from Harry's Rite of Conquest was that twice per year they had to vote as Harry wanted them to vote. Harry and Hermione were the only two of the inner circle that seemed to have any qualms about if this squeezing of the client houses could be considered extortion or blackmail. Everyone else who knew, including the awarded victims, considered the deal to be rational, or at the least how wizarding politics worked.
It also made the pair a bit queasy they had used the tactic. After all, they were on the side of Goodness and Light, right?
Greengrass gave Harry what he could only call a pitying look. "What you have done in the Wizengamot has given you great power, but it is old fashioned power."
At Harry's look of incomprehension, Greengrass' look changed to exasperation. ("Hmm. Her default expression when lecturing me," thought Harry. "she must have learned it from Hermione."
A small frown creased her forehead as she continued, "What you have now is the mailed fist within a velvet glove approach. Perfectly normal by the usually abysmal integrity and moral standards of the Wizengamot. But what will happen in a decade when everyone is used to you using the same old unchanging ways? What you want is for them to willingly, cheerfully and with utmost confidence follow you when you wave a sword over your head and cry 'Forward'."
Daphne quit while they all looked at each other. Daphne, in particular, staring hard at the other two.
"And the change has to come from those of us who lived through the hell of Hogwarts last year. It has to come from those who bled and suffered at the Battle of Hogwarts. The rising of a Dark Lord is only a symptom. The sickness is the PureBlood entitlement mindset. You have had some experience with that I believe?"
Her sarcasm had not bled through the last sentence, it had jumped out and bashed at their minds with a beaters bat subtlety.
She kept on with a hard-eyed glare at both of them, "So, what we, yes we, need to do is cripple the bastards politically so that they will never have the political capital to buy a cover-up of their doings or to hide their financial support of a rising Dark Lord from the new, less corruptible authorities. We do not want our children or grandchildren to have to fight another Dark Lord. Or fight a Ministry that could set another Umbridge upon young school children."
Harry was impressed. Greengrass had delivered what was a strident call to arms while sitting down. She had not stood, paced or gestured wildly.
Harry glanced at Hermione. For whatever reason, she did not return his look. Her focus was locked on Greengrass.
Harry had to force himself to remain seated when he wanted to jump up and start pacing.
"And just how Heiress Greengrass do you propose we accomplish these feats? Do you want a formal alliance with House Potter-Black?"
Looking Harry right in the eyes, she replied. "No. I want to become your wife."
"Bitch."
The word was said in a flat, frozen tone that could have turned the balls of a Fire Salamander to tinkling ice.
The flat, cold, emotionless voice emanating from Hermione's mouth continued. "After seven years of being in love him, I finally get him to admit that he has feelings for me and you suddenly plan to breeze in and steal him from me? You will be dead and I will be in Azkaban before that happens."
Harry was so bewildered by the whole situation that he just sat there staring. His overloaded brain attempting to sort out the last revelations.
"Hermione's been in love with me since first year? Why did she not say anything to me about it? And what was she doing with Ron? Merlin, what was I doing with Ginny?"
The answer flashed through his mind. " She had been as terrified as I was that confessing any romantic feelings for the other could destroy their friendship. The most precious thing in my world is Hermione Granger. How many hours have I spent afraid that she would leave me when she had had enough of following me into danger? Healer Ribbonstark would call this a tremendous breakthrough. I think she's a n . . . "
Before he could expand on those memories, his memories of Greengrass' `accidents' in his bed, their long talks on other Snuggle Witch nights and her pushing, pushing him to date and make Hermione his . . wife? "What the . . ?"
"Lord Potter-Black," Greengrass' words broke through into Harry's awareness. "May I suggest that you take our wands with you and go for a fly. You have, at times, told me that time on your broom helps you think."
With a razor slash thin smile, she looked at Hermione. "Your future Senior Wife and I need to talk. And without a deadly weapon at hand, we both should survive the meeting."
Greengrass very carefully reached into her light summer robe and with two fingers, removed her wand and handed it to Harry.
Even usually clueless Harry could see that Hermione was in the midst of a titanic emotion storm. Her chest was heaving with emotion. Her slit-eyed glare should have turned Greengrass into stone.
For another minute she stared at the blonde, interloping man-stealer.
Suddenly with a shake, her wand was in her hand and without looking at him, she thrust it into Harry's.
"Go have a good fly, Harry. It's time for some woman talk."
A/N:
I believe this is the shortest chapter in the story to date.
However, it is what it is, and adding would be a case of padding.
(Which I get accused of frequently.) It's been three weeks, so I'm kicking this out the door.
I am also suffering from a minor block.
Next, we have the Wizengamot Solstice meeting Yule celebration and the results of the "Women Talk.". I reckon I have tipped off the upcoming 'Mot intrigue of that chapter (s?) tho'.
