Chapter 13

November 12, 2003

Moody Hall, Ministry for Magic

Hermione, Harry, and the Grangers sat at a table with Clarice Rollins and Thomas Bitner. They had been presented with their commendations for service and Kingsley had given a speech. Hermione lifted her champagne flute to her lips and caught Draco Malfoy's eye across the room. When he made a quick gesture for her to join him, she raised an eyebrow and set the flute down.

"Excuse me, someone wants to speak with me."

Draco saw Hermione leave her table and make her way across the hall toward him. He straightened his tie and stood. She greeted the table occupants and faced him.

"Good evening, Hermione. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Do you know if Miss Rollins is seeing anyone?" he asked and glanced at the young witch in question.

"Not that I know of."

"I was wondering if you would introduce me to her," he requested.

She smiled at him. "You like Clarice? Good, she's really sweet."

She nodded toward her table and looped her arm with his.

"Match maker, match maker, make me a match," she softly sang and winked at him. The table occupants chuckled as they walked back toward her table and one of them spoke.

"Did you see that ring?" one of the witches asked.

"My niece reports that there's been a small war at her office over who gets to cover her wedding," another said, "but Miss Brown has the closest connection to Miss Granger."

"It's going to be the social event of the year, of course people want to be there. It looks as if your son has a connection to Miss Granger. Has he secured an invitation?"

"I have no idea," Narcissa replied and glanced across the room.

She saw Hermione deposit her son into the company of a young, pretty witch at their table. She returned to her chair to chat with an older woman, who by the looks of her, had to be her mother. However, speaking to Miss Granger's mother might yield some information about the nuptials!

She rose from the table. "Excuse me."

She approached Hermione's table where Draco was still talking to the young witch, and Harry was talking to Ben. The men at the table stood when Narcissa stopped at their table. She extended her hand to Rachel.

"I wanted to introduce myself, Narcissa Malfoy."

"Rachel Granger, and this is my husband, Ben."

Ben gestured to his chair. "Would you care to sit?"

"Why yes, thank you."

When Narcissa was seated, Ben sat in the empty chair on the other side of his wife.

"You must be so proud of your daughter," Narcissa said.

"We certainly are," Ben answered.

"Is that your son next to the dracaena plant?" Rachel asked, nodding to where Draco and Clarice were engaged in conversation next to a tall potted plant.

"It is," Narcissa said.

"I understand that Hermione worked with your son's department on the smuggling case," Rachel said.

"Yes, and he's been pestering me for an invite to the wedding," Hermione dryly commented.

"Has he?" Narcissa asked. She hoped not, she had raised him with better manners.

"I'm teasing. Yes, he's getting an invite, and you are too," Hermione said.

"Of course she is, she saved my life, it's a debt that I can never repay," Harry added.

Narcissa was a bit surprised at his statement. She had no idea that she had been held in such high regard by him.

"We're almost finished with the invitation list," Harry said, joining the conversation. "It's at a mere 73. I wasn't aware that we knew that many people!"

"We think we've found the invite style we like, but there's a stationer in Oxford that sent me a letter informing me that I must see her selection," Hermione added.

"We have an appointment Saturday at… what the name of that shop?" Rachel asked Hermione.

"Madame Malkins, she wants to introduce me to her French apprentice who has a fantastique design that I simply must see," Hermione stated, mimicking the witch who owned shop.

"It's funny, we really haven't had to go searching for wedding services. People are sending us brochures and samples all the time," Harry added.

"The both of you are celebrities and admired in our world. People want to be a part of it, and the boon for a business that services the wedding of the year is immeasurable," Narcissa said.

#

On Friday, November 14, 2003 a special-edition Witch Weekly was published and as Bethany Browntree predicted, it was a record setting run. It sold out everywhere. The last time that happened was when the magazine ran their Order of Merlin edition back in 1998. Everyone who worked on the engagement story got a bonus and a personal note of thanks from Hermione and Harry for a job well-done. Lavender, who wrote the story, received the biggest bonus and was awarded a week's holiday.

Also that morning, the Chief Editor of the Daily Prophet held up a copy of Witch Weekly to his staff, deeply disappointed. He dropped it on the table, and the faces of the smiling couple on the cover seemed to mock him.

"How could this have happened? Our publisher wants answers."

The room was silent. He pointed to four reporters, who wrote features for the front-page news and Society sections. "Get me something, anything, from the happy couple. We can't be scooped by Witch Weekly," he stated and then looked at the Quidditch department editor. "Doesn't Weasley know them?"

"Yes boss, but she resigned on Monday."

"What? Let me get this straight; we lost our Quidditch columnist who actually played professional Quidditch and our connection to Potter and Granger?"

He shrugged. "When the articles about the smuggling arrests came out, she resigned."

"Can we get her back?"

"Probably not." He flipped the Witch Weekly to the Lifestyle section, tapped on it, and turned it to where the chief could see it.

Your Baby's First Magic

by

Ginny Weasley

Exploding milk bottles, books flying off shelves, spooking the family pet- these can

all be examples of your baby's first display of accidental magic. What do you do? Some of us consult a healer, others rely on the wisdom of experienced mothers….

#

At work, Hermione and Harry received heartfelt congratulations on their engagement. Clarice even asked Hermione to sign her magazine.

"These are great pictures of the two of you, they're as people know you," she said.

"Thanks, that's what Lavender was going for," Hermione said.

Clarice returned to her work and Hermione flipped through the article. She smiled at the photos that accompanied Lavender's article titled, "Destiny: Harry and Hermione's Story." Photos of she and Harry on the couch with Gracie, she and Harry laughing at something, a photo of Hermione's ring, a slice-of-life scene of she and Harry in the kitchen preparing food, and a photo of them with glasses of wine. She rolled her eyes at their official Ministry photos of them in their dress robes, complete with their Orders of Merlin. Hermione's favorite, which composed the back cover spread, showed Hermione leaning into Harry and both their eyes were closed. His lips were pressed against her forehead, while her hands were buried in his hair. Lavender said the subtle sensuality from the two would be irresistible, because it was a side of them people didn't ordinarily see.

Hermione and Harry got busy finalizing their invitation list and continuing wedding plans in earnest. Hermione had the help of her mum and her bridal party of Katie, Susan, and Clarice, who were thrilled to be included.

November 15, 2003

In the morning, Hermione and Harry apparated the Grangers to the manor house in Wales. They arrived in the living room that was three times the size of the living room at Grimmauld Place.

"That's the largest fireplace I've ever seen," Ben commented.

Two house elves appeared at the door way. Hermione smiled and walked toward them with her hand extended.

"Good morning, I'm Hermione."

"We is knowing who miss is," one of them said.

The other nodded. "Miss is kind to elves, but we is not wanting clotheses."

"I understand," she said, and they shook her hand.

"I is Bree."

"I is Joffy."

"Fine names," Hermione said, "and these are my parents, Ben and Rachel Granger."

The elves nodded in acknowledgment.

"Come on, I'll show you upstairs," Harry said.

When everyone had their bedrooms situated, they all went outside.

"Your parents lived in Godric's Hollow when they had this?" Hermione asked, looking at acres upon acres of fields, gently rolling hills, ponds, and groves of trees.

"I take it that you like it?" Harry asked.

"It's straight out of a storybook," Rachel said.

"What're those poles there?" Ben asked, pointing an area in the distance.

"That's the Quidditch pitch," Harry replied.

"Of course it is," Hermione mumbled.

"Are there fish in the ponds?" Ben asked.

"I think that larger pond to the east is stocked," Harry said. "We can check it out if you'd like."

Later, when Hermione and her mother had wedding dress catalogues spread out over the dining room table, Harry and Ben returned, talking and laughing. Harry got a bottle of ale for the both of them from the kitchen.

"Well, we know there's fish in the pond," Harry said.

"He waved his wand and more fish than I can count came flying at us from the water!" Ben exclaimed.

Hermione snickered and took a sip of her drink.

"I wasn't paying attention," Harry admitted.

"He blocked all the fish from hitting us and then returned the flopping things back to the water," Ben said.

"All's well that ends well," Rachel said.

"Want to go look at the quidditch pitch?" Harry asked Hermione.

With a no thank you on the tip of her tongue, she saw the earnest look on his face and relented. Ben and Rachel settled in the living room in front of a fire, watching the telly.

On the porch off the dining room, Harry and Hermione went to an impressive (according to Harry) broom cupboard where a dozen different brooms were hanging.

"Hmm… they're all Comets," Harry noted. "Older models, but still good."

He chose one for her, did a quick cleaning, and reinforced the various charms on the broom. He did the same for the broom he chose and they took off together toward the pitch. He observed her flying smoothly beside him.

"Thank you for flying with me," he said.

"We're gliding at five feet above the ground. Does it count as flying?" Hermione asked.

He shrugged. "You're on a broom, in motion, and you haven't fallen off. That's good enough for me."

"Fallen off? I'm not that bad!" she protested and took off faster to quaffle-goal level to show him that she was perfectly capable of flying on a broom.

"Hermione, wait!" he called out. He had never seen her fly that high and that fast! She could hurt herself! He caught up to her when she arrived at the pitch.

"What was that for? You could have hurt yourself!" he demanded.

She glided to the ground and slid off her broom. "I may not fly like a quidditch player or out-fly a dragon like you, but I am competent on a broom, thank you very much. Flying drills are a part of training at work," she said indignantly.

He dropped his broom, marched to her, and kissed her for all he was worth.

When they returned to the house, Rachel was in the kitchen discussing dinner with Bree and Joffy.

"Bree and Joffy are pleased to prepare soup, pheasant, roasted vegetables, with a lemon tart for afters," Rachel said.

"That sounds great," Harry said.

"It is being good thing to have people here," Bree said.

"It is, this is a lovely home," Rachel said.

#

When the Grangers retired to bed, Hermione and Harry cuddled on the living room couch. In front of a fire, they enjoyed glasses of wine and talked about the future.

"So, do you like it here?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it's lovely. It'll be perfect for weekend getaways," Hermione replied.

"But not to live here?" he asked.

She sighed and shrugged. "Now that I'm reconciled with my parents, the city doesn't seem as bad."

"I can understand that," he said.

She leaned forward and picked up a piece of paper. He groaned and let his head fall back. "I think I'm done looking at that. There's 82 people on that list, love. Some of them are people we don't even know, but it would be rude to leave them out, or so I've been told. How can we be rude to people we don't even know?"

"I don't know," Hermione said.

"And that stationer in Oxford will address all the envelopes?" Harry asked.

She took a sip of wine and nodded.

"That's good," he said.

"And she has the perfect ivory," she added, mimicking the stationer.

Harry nodded, not wanting to get into another discussion about the color white. Hermione had good judgment, so he left those details to her. Cream, eggshell, ivory, vanilla, chalk white, alabaster; he never knew there were so many different colors of white until dresses, invitations, flowers, and shoes were brought up.