Granger, we need to talk
Chapter 34
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.
A little Yule, a bit of Emo
"Now," said Harry, hardening his voice, "Why have you been shutting me out? And how do you want me to act towards Daphne?"
As Hermione opened her mouth to answer, the portkey flashed blue and the both hastened to touch it as in a moment they both disappeared in a swirl.
/..
With a swirl of the portkey, the pair landed on a bare gravel roadway. Harry recovered nicely from his only-falling-to-one-knee landing and stood without falling arse over tea kettle. Any form of magical travel still flummoxed Harry.
He was turning to Hermione with his mouth opening to again demand an answer from Hermione when he saw standing in front of him the object of his ire with his girlfriend.
In the twilight, Harry could see Greengrass was wrapped in a warm looking, bright green cloak. Her hair was unbound with a simple halo wreath of some type of green stems and leaves atop her head.
"Lord Potter-Black and Honored Guest, Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin, I bid you welcome to our home. In the name of House Greengrass, I offer succor and protection during your stay. May the gods grant us favour this eve."
The return words had been drilled into him ruthlessly. "I thank you and your family for their safeguard and comfort as offered."
The blonde then grinned impishly and strode forward. Stepping between the two, she spun, grasped each by an arm and started hauling them down the white gravel drive.
"Let's go. You two are the last arrivals and the festivities are about to start. There will be a few people you know here tonight. Susan Bones, Astoria and a few other students you might know. Usually, we would have had the MacMillan's, Boot's, and Lord Moragaine here, but they are occupied helping with the Rites at their newly acquired Houses."
"They are trying to get their new Houses accustomed them," she finished in a dry tone.
"Greengrass, . . ."
"Not now Lord Potter-Black. My parents are waiting."
Grump.
The trio soon walked around the manor house to its rear. There near a large, neatly stacked pyramid of fire wood, between two flaring torches, stood two people that Daphne headed for.
"Father, Mother, I introduce to you Lord Harry Potter-Black and his Intended, Order of Merlin holder, Hermione Granger."
Harry did not look away from Lord Greengrass when Hermione gasped. He also knew without looking that right now Heiress Greengrass was receiving the Glare of Death. The two bowed to their hosts.
Still alive and unphased, Daphne continued, "Lord Potter-Black and Miss Granger, may I introduce Lord Carlton Greengrass and Lady Iolanthe Greengrass." In turn, the Greengrass' bowed to the Potter-Black pair.
Harry suddenly remembered his instructions. He reached into a pocket and pulled out three small packages. A tap with his wand and they enlarged to normal size.
Handing two to Hermione, he unwrapped the first. Handing it to Lord Greengrass, he said, "Holly, Mistletoe and Christmas Roses. For Hope, Continuation, and Winning through Trials."
Taking the second, he unwrapped the jug inside and intoned, "Honey for the Wassail to celebrate the Rites."
The third package was unwrapped and then further enlarged to show a four-foot long, needle-heavy, Scots Pine branch. "A Scots Pine sweeper to help sanctify and purify tonight's ritual area."
Harry had passed their Rite's offerings to Lady Greengrass as he unwrapped them, and she had ritually thanked him for the offerings.
As soon as the formal introductions to her parents were over, Daphne led the other two over to a group standing off to the left of the bonfire pile. The group was some fellow students and some unknowns who were quickly introduced.
Social interests soon had the group divided into two groups. Lord Potter-Black, Hermione, Lady Regent Bones, and a pair of young Minor House Heirs that had graduated from Hogwarts two or three years ago. The others were the younger children of the invitees, including Astoria.
The talk had barely gotten past what the world beyond graduation was like, when a messenger patronis to Astoria had them all moving towards the ritual firewood pyre.
There they were directed, with about twenty-five other adults and children, to stand in a circle about twenty feet away from the mass of wood.
A minute later, Daphne and Astoria led three other young girls, dressed in white with halo wreaths such as they had seen Daphne wearing, in a circle around the wood, sweeping Scots Pine branches to purify the ritual circle.
Lord Greengrass and his wife then picked up the two torches that they had stood between to greet guests and after several lines of incantation that neither Harry nor Hermione recognized, thrust the torches into the woodpile.
As the fire started to ignite, several women from what Hermione whispered to him were from cadet or minor branches of the House passing out mugs of wassail and cakes of rolled oats mixed with honey and nuts.
The sweetened, mulled wine in the mugs was drained to a last mouthful then the last was tossed from the mug into the fire. The last bite of the cakes was sacrificed in the same way.
There were no chants or songs during the offerings as the ritual was a requesting of a boon from the Earth Goddess and was considered intensely private.
After the last offering, the circle began to break-up into conversing groups. The talk became general, although several wanted to talk to Lord Potter-Black. Some to render congratulations on his defeat of the plot to force him into having two wives. Some wanted to get a sense of the new political power that had arisen in their midst. Others were just plain fanwomen or fanboys of the duo.
Harry's thin coating of patience was abrading fast when Daphne appeared and gracefully extracted the pair from the well-wishers around them citing Lord Greengrass wished to speak with Lord Potter-Black.
Daphne led them through the rear gardens into the manor. Harry could see it was three stories of mostly white stone with some pale brick accents. Inside, a house-elf took their cloaks, then Daphne led them to a door, knocked before opening it, and gestured the pair in. It was a small sitting room with a love seat, three chairs and a low table already containing tea and an array of biscuits.
Lord Greengrass and his Lady rose at their entrance. Lord Greengrass was a tall, thin, fit-looking man with dark blond hair. Lady Iolanthe was of medium height, with a heavy spill of wavy honey-colored hair and was strikingly beautiful. It was now easy to see where both daughters had received their impressive looks.
As this was a meeting, the House of Lord Potter-Black was the "senior" House, Lord Greengrass bowed first. "Lord Potter-Black, again I welcome you and the lovely Miss Granger into our house."
Harry bowed in return and thanked his hosts. In return they were seated in the love seat as the three Greengrass' sat in the chairs.
With tea in hand, Lord Greengrass spoke. "First MiLord, I want to apologize for the poor taste in humour my eldest daughter has acquired. I did not realize that when she introduced Order of Merlin Recipient Granger as your Intended, she was winding up Miss Granger for her own amusement."
The look of stern disapproval he gave Daphne was not missed by anyone.
"She will make her apology in public shortly." That statement got a startled look from Daphne. She started to speak then closed her mouth and schooled her face into impassivity.
"What I was hoping from you accepting our Yule celebration, was a chance to talk some and perhaps find some common ground to work together in the Wizengamot," Lord Greengrass finished on a hopeful note.
Harry knew from Narcissa that Greengrass had contacted her soon after the Autumnal Equinox session looking for support for a pet project to force the labeling of plant potion ingredients as to how they were raised and/or gathered.
Harry, in turn, had talked with Professor Slughorn about if there was a need for such legislation. Slughorn had agreed as he explained to Harry that purity and potency were affected by many factors. Depending upon the ingredient, its strength, potency, or solubility could be changed by every environmental condition there was.
Anyone with less than a Mastery in Potions, he continued, would always be guessing or estimating the power in each potion ingredient.
Slughorn also confided that until about a hundred years ago, the rules on potion ingredients was actually stricter than Greengrass wanted. Successive paid for Wizengamot votes over decades had weakened the strictures, leading to false potency claims and therefor increased profits to the vote sponsors.
"Another example of oligarchic kleptocracy," thought Harry. Hermione had explained the term to him last year and he had fallen in love with it.
"Before I start gushing all my plans and secrets Lord Greengrass, we would have to become better acquainted in the political arena. However, as a boon to you for your civil and honest talks with Madame Black, and your support against today's idiocy, House Potter-Black and House Longbottom, will provisionally back your proposal until you can negotiate on the specific language with Lord Longbottom," Harry stated.
With a completely bland expression on his face, Harry continued. "I am sure Heiress Greengrass can inform you as to why my inclusion of Lord Longbottom is a necessity."
Though surprised by Potter-Black's quick promise of support, and eager to expand on it, Lord Greengrass decided to quickly end the private meeting and proceed to display his new familiarity with the new rising political celebrity Lord.
Harry and Hermione spent the next couple hours of the evening being introduced to cadet lines and friends of the Greengrass'. When Harry needed a break, the pair headed back out to the fire where a snowball fight occasionally flared up between the many children in attendance.
It was on their way back to the house to warm up, that in an obviously contrived accidental meeting with a half dozen women led by Daphne occurred. One of her introduced Aunts squealed and stepped up close to Hermione.
"Oh, my dear," the Aunt, Mathilde? Harry thought, gushed. "Wherever did you get that fabulous cloak?"
Hermione's reply had been over-ridden by the still gushing woman.
"That cloak is made with fur from a Siberian Dire Wolf. Why, no one has seen one of them for hundreds of years. That must have cost your boyfriend a fortune."
Now Hermione was intrigued.
The woman raved on. "My Dear, if this is the way he treats you when you are his girlfriend, why, I can hardly imagine what fine things you could receive as his wife."
Hermione was stunned speechless. She had to fight the urge to hex the rude woman lipless.
Harry was trying not to let his anger at the now chattering, gushing group show. He could see the galleon signs appearing in many of the eyes looking at him. Raging green eyes locked with sapphire blue. "Thanks, Greengrass. You just put a spotlight on that target pasted to my back for every gold-digger in the country. I know you're trying to do the `Look how rich and powerful our new friends are' thing, but damn it . ."
Getting away from the still gossiping group as fast as politeness allowed, the upset teens headed into the manor and stopped by the main fireplace where a pair of traditional Yule logs were awaiting the hot coals to be brought in from the bonfire outside at dawn to start the warming hearth fire for another year. The three hollows scooped in each log already had the sacrificial greens in one, meat in the second and cloth in the third symbolizing the hope of health, food and fortune for the coming year. The logs would be fired from coals of the bonfire at dawn to complete the nights ritual.
Quashing their anger at the happenings outside, the pair made another quarter hour of small talk before pleading weariness, they started their leave-taking.
Stopping at the bonfire, they filled a conjured clay pot with glowing embers the new old-fashioned way with a shovel. They were doing this as tradition bid they start their own Yule log from coals given as a gift. They had just finished when Daphne walked up and announced she was going with them.
Hermione immediately reared up and looked as though she was about to blast Greengrass into the stratosphere when she suddenly deflated and looked down.
Harry's own temper with Greengrass abruptly turned to puzzlement as Hermione's reaction registered.
"Let her come, Harry. We need to talk," Hermione said in a flat defeated tone.
Harry looked at Greengrass. Her familiar Ice Queen mask was set on her face. Harry noted he was sorry to see its return. He had seen it for six years and had not considered it much. But having seen how easily it could crack and sometimes disappear for a while during the last half year, her return to it meant serious talking ahead.
Harry was tired. He did not feel up to having a serious talk now.
All three teenagers touched the pipe-like portkey as Harry tapped it with his wand. Several swirling seconds later, three forms appeared at the Potter Manor apperition area. Per usual, the two young women stayed upright while Harry tripped over his own feet and sprawled-out full length on the floor. A-a-n-nd that was why Hermione was carrying the clay coals pot.
Pushing himself to his feet, Harry looked at his girlfriend and Greengrass. The two of them seemed to be having a conversation that had no words.
In a moment, Greengrass turned to Harry. "I don't know about you two, but I am exhausted. With the permission of your Intended, may I please spend the night? We have much to talk about tomorrow, and I truly would like some sleep before I say something monumentally stupid."
Turning back to Hermione, she continued, "May I beseech you for some night clothes? Whereas I want to be with you and Harry tonight, I would prefer not to conjure sleep clothes. Accidents do happen," she finished with a glance at Harry.
"Wha'?" thought Harry. "Did she just invite herself into Hermione's and my bed? She's right about having an `accident' though. Hermione would probably jinx her cross-eyed if she lost her top again,"
It disturbed Harry to see Hermione looking . . lost? Like one of her certainties of her world had been swept away. He wordlessly took the pot from her as she turned towards Greengrass and with a tilt of her head, the two girls headed for the staircase.
Hermione turned her head and spoke. "Harry, we will see you in your room in about twenty minutes."
"Okay," Harry replied. As they ascended the stairs, Harry strode into the main parlour and placed the pot near the kindling laid underneath the Manor's Yule log. Tilitsy and Grimp had the sacrifices arranged in the three hollows.
Harry felt as though he had cheated on the ritual by letting the elves set it up, yet Tilitsy had been ecstatic. Her explanation had been that the Yule log was a step towards bringing the Manor back to life. "You's just be's here at dawn. All will be well," the little elf had spoken confidently.
Harry ran one last check on the wards before heading off to his room. There he dis-robed, donned a pair of sleep pants and headed into the bath to brush his teeth. He was tempted to put on a shirt, but knew that both young women preferred him bare chested. He shrugged to himself, figuring he didn't want to add any reason for more disagreement for the night.
He was crawling into bed when the door opened and his pair of bed partners entered. Both were in colorful light flannel sleep pants topped by blue long-sleeved t-shirts. Harry noted they both looked tired.
Opening the blankets, had them sliding into place like a well-rehearsed act. Hermione to his left, Greengrass to his right. No one said a word as Hermione rolled to her side and pushed back against Harry at the same time Greengrass rolled against his side, wordlessly urging Harry to roll and spoon Hermione.
The only thing different from many times before was as he draped his arm over Hermione and spread his hand over her stomach, she reached down and held his hand to her breast, sighed and pushed back into him a little more.
Harry immediately stiffened in shock, but kept mum. He almost whimpered when Greengrass slid her right arm over him and rested her hand on his lower chest. He was now positive he would get no sleep tonight.
What he did not see was the smile on Daphne's face. It was small, with more than a hint of sadness to it. But it was a smile.
Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO
Next morning, half-an-hour or so after dawn, found three surprisingly well rested teenagers sitting around Tilitsy's kitchen table eating a `light' English breakfast. Eggs, some bacon, some sausage, a dash of fried potatoes. Fruit and porridge were the mainstays of the girls with some occasional thieving from Harry's plate.
The day had started surprisingly well.
Roused before dawn, the three had donned slippers and the girls, warm dressing gowns. Harry had opted for a manly quilted over-shirt. Reciting the appropriate request for blessings upon the household, Harry then lit the kindling and they had all quietly watched until the Yule log was well alight.
The group spent some time admiring the Yule decorations placed in the room by the elves before heading off for some tea and breakfast.
Now the mood inside the kitchen now emulated the weather outdoors. It was a drear dawning with the sun seemingly losing the fight to get brightness through the clouds.
Greengrass made a remark that she wanted to take a shower, get dressed and paint her public face on. As she started to rise, Harry raised his hand and stopped her.
Turning his head to his left, he looked at his girlfriend. "Hermione, now would be a very good time to tell me just what is going on with you two. I am trying hard not to become angry and demanding about what I see as a bunch of secrets the pair of you are keeping from me." He frowned as he looked hard into her eyes. "You of all the people in my world should know how I have come to hate being manipulated and not being told the facts."
Hermione started to tear up, but refused to stop looking Harry in the eye.
"I finally get up the courage to ask you to be my girlfriend, and that no matter what, we will be friends forever. I had thought that once we had that sorted, we could spend our free time snogging and cuddling in front of the fire. Some sleeping in late with maybe some happy shopping for Christmas presents."
Now Hermione had tears running down her face but she refused to stop looking at him.
"Lord Potter-Black," came Greengrass's voice. "The problem is your Intended is having her latest attack of doubt that she is good enough for you."
"Huh?" Harry confusedly thought. "But I'm the one not good enough for her!"
"You have done well to make her your girlfriend," the calm Greengrass voice continued. "However, the last several days have once again shown her how ugly the worst of magical Britain can be. Her mind is unfortunately led her back to the realm that if she were to marry you, she would forever be a drag upon your chances of re-making our world."
After a short pause, she carried on again. "She is wrong, but feels she is being pulled in so many directions that even I cannot track all of them anymore."
At that point, Daphne reached out with her right hand and latched onto Hermione's left hand. Propping her elbow on the table, her left hand rose to vertical, the back towards Harry with the fingers balled together in a fist.
"First," and her thumb arose from the ball. "She is deeply in love with you and has been since our second year. And she has spent every year since desperately hoping that you would develop love for her back."
"What?" blew through Harry's mind.
"Second," and her forefinger joined her thumb, and Harry jerked his attention back to her.
"She sees you as Harry. Not Lord Potter-Black, not as The-Boy-Who-Lived, not as The-Man-Who-Conquered. Just her Harry. You do realize that she is possibly the only woman on the planet who thinks of you as `just Harry', right?"
"Third," the middle finger popped up. Harry could have sworn a smirk zipped across Greengrass's face as her forefinger bent a little. "Did she just flip me off?" "She is trying to deny it, but deep inside she knows that kiss on the express was not the kiss of a man who would want to go back to being `just friends' after a brief fling. So, why she now still feels insecure in your feelings for her is a mystery to me. "
"Fourth, she has come to the erroneous conclusion that she will never learn how to play the Great Manor Lady that she thinks Lord Potter-Black will need to help sway the opinions of people we might need if magical Britain is to be saved from itself. I am not sure if Madam Black can cure her feeling of inadequacy about that or not."
"And fifth," the little finger straightened along the others. "She is unfortunately correct that the pressure to marry a PureBlood to `save' one of your lines will never go away."
Harry had been looking at Hermione during the five-finger rant. He could see she was blushing, but he knew Hermione.
"Or so you thought. Since second year? Oh, Merlin." She should have been so red from Greengrass' spiel about her, her skin should have split. He could feel his own blush on his facefrom Greengrass' description of the kiss on the train. "So, was this . . . situation? . . what the two girls had been discussing two nights ago? If this had been what had tied Hermione up in knots, how do I convince her suddenly untie them?"
Greengrass waving her hand brought his attention back to her.
"The solution to the first problem is easy. Marry your best friend, Potter. Betroth her, engage her, marry her. Simple. She is of age to sign a betrothal contract. I can write one that gives her, and you, plain, easy outs if either of you becomes incredibly stupid enough to want to break it."
The little finger rolled in towards Greengrass's palm.
Harry was now looking between both young women. He knew his jaw had dropped and his eyes were wide. He was puzzled that Hermione was not starting a rant about the backwardness of a culture that used contracts for marriage instead of love. She looked uncomfortable but not furious.
"Second, you are sitting here with two out of the seven non-fangirls of The-Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione says you waver between dislike and hatred of fangirls. Lucky us."
Her ring finger curled down.
"Third problem is up to you, Potter. You have finally started the process of showing her your love, not just your `appreciation' for having kept you alive one more time, but love. And some lust for her body along with telling her you will want her for the rest of your life would not be remiss."
"Now Hermione has worked up past `blazing sunset'," Harry thought. "Yes, yes. I think I can produce some lustful appreciation for her body, but, is that love?"
Harry hardly noticed Greengrass' middle finger curling down.
"The fourth situation is that being a Great Manor Lady is never going to be your Senior Wife's strong point. Even with intense Madam Black tutelage, she will be straining for decades. She just has not had it bred in her bones and force-fed with her mother's milk. Fortunately for her, a Second wife, a Lady Black, steeped in all the myriad little necessary evil intricacies of being a decorative ornament on your arm at society functions, will pull a lot of the harpies' attention away from Hermione. Oh, she will still fight plenty of battles, usually at close range with someone she would rather gut than smile at, but she will study hard to succeed, because you need her. Vision, vision, vision."
Daphne's fore finger came down to join the others.
By this point, Harry had quit with deep thinking. "Why isn't Hermione hexing Greengrass through the wall? She hates being told she has to act a certain way that wizard society demands."
"And fifth, since our now resident bundle of emotional contradictions has managed to do an about turn and convince herself, once again I might add, that she's not good enough to marry you, we have a problem." The last was said in such a venomous tone that Harry's eyes whipped over to her. Blazing blue sapphire glared back. "Because if she will not marry you, I will not marry you. There's no point in it. Without her, we lose." Daphne's thumb snapped into her now closed fist. "Thud. We. All. Fall. Down."
A shocked Harry whipped back to Hermione. Chaos swirled through his mind, but from the way her eyes narrowed and her jaw set, he could see calculation was running through hers. He had seen that look often.
But Hermione did not say anything. Greengrass did not say anything. Minutes passed and a frustrated, secrets-are-being-kept-from-me Harry, detonated.
"Greengrass, why are you saying all this? What makes you think we would need you? And why you? Are you forgetting about Madam Black? Bones or Patil are just as smart as you. They could advise us."
Two things happened. Hermione sat up in her seat, started to speak, then covered her mouth with her hand. Greengrass released Hermione's hand and started to face palm but stopped. Instead, her face morphed into her PureBlood Ice Queen persona.
Daphne stood. "It is time I take my leave, Lord Potter-Black. I thank you for your hospitality. I will leave you with your girlfriend to explain to you why every point you just blurted out was proof that everything I said was true."
And with her disdain left hanging in the air, Greengrass left the kitchen and Harry heard the roar of the floo a few moments later.
/..
The remaining two in the kitchen were shocked. Hermione was sitting quietly, head up, eyes closed, tears leaking down her cheeks. Harry was glaring at everything in the kitchen except Hermione. But no matter how hard he glared, nothing combusted.
Muttering something into the air that Hermione did not hear, Harry violently pushed his seat back and practically ran out the doorway.
Twenty minutes later, she walked into the destroyed chaos of the dueling practice room. Harry was obviously in the beginning throes of magical exhaustion. He was staggering as he cast spells at the spelled manikins. And the manikins not scattered in pieces around the room were tagging him with the low-level stinging spells they were firing back.
For thirty seconds she watched, her heart breaking, as he was tagged by at least four stingers before she whipped out her wand and cast "Finite."
She walked over to the practically collapsing Harry and gathered him into a strength four Hermy hug, and then found herself riding with him down to the floor as he did collapse. Ending up sitting on her bum cradling Harry on her lap.
"All I wanted was a girlfriend I could take on dates, buy presents for and snog until I couldn't think straight. I just wanted something to be normal. Was that too much to ask?" he voiced in a low, breaking voice.
"I've given them my parents. I've saved them from two-faced evil wraiths. I've saved hundreds from gaze killing giant snakes. I've been used in a horrifying ritual to bring back Tommy Boy. I've been possessed by the most evil wizard in the world. I've had my heart ripped to pieces remembering those we lost at the final battle."
"Can't the bastards leave me with any normal?"
Hermione continued to rock him, saying nothing. Inside though, her mind was bouncing everywhere trying to interpret what Harry meant when he said, "A girlfriend I could take on dates, buy presents for and snog until I couldn't think straight," meant.
Those sentiments were Hermione's requirements for boyfriend Harry. Except she was now positive the only boyfriend, fiancé, husband she would ever want was Harry. But the price had become exorbitant in her eyes
Normal. Even Hermione with her constant, never slaked quest for knowledge would like to have some normal. Even with six years of excitement, danger and insanity, most days inside Hogwarts had been perfectly normal.
Yet, at the same time she was remembering back in the summer when after he had insulted Narcissa, and promised to take lessons on PureBlood deportment and customs. That day he confessed to her that he knew his wish to be normal would be forever lost when he took up his being Head of House for two families.
So, why the regression?
Daphne had spent their time in the greenhouse two nights ago explaining in exquisite detail why Hermione had to marry Harry, and why she had to accept Daphne as a wife also. The problem was for the first time in her life where Harry was concerned, Hermione did not want to follow the logical choice laid out ahead for her.
Daphne, her quiet voice logically laying out the arguments, had convinced her that to get most of the changes they would want to Wizarding Britainnia's laws, Hermione needed the power of the Potter-Black Family unqualifying backing her.
She had said, and Hermione agreed, that Harry would help her unreservedly because she was his best friend. But entering the battleground in that fashion would forever mark her as a pushy muggle-born, to be opposed by many out of sheer cultural reflex.
However, as Lady Potter, her influence would be far greater over Harry's eventual allies. The fence-sitters would socially begin to see she her as a powerful ally, or a fell foe. Even the Dark, who would oppose anything proposed by her because she was female and muggle-born, would also know that her powerful husband could destroy them if aroused his wrath.
As far as Daphne was concerned, that Hermione would be Lady Potter was a given. Daphne had clearly stated Harry had accidentally dropped plenty of hints during the nights he rambled his way to sleep during her Snuggle Witch time. AND his accidental breadcrumb trail had convinced Daphne that having a family with a bunch of children was possibly his deepest desire.
Hermione was more than a touch unhappy with all the information he had apparently pillow babbled to the blonde. How in Merlin's name had she done that? Hermione thought she had finagled almost all of Harry's secrets out of him after seven years, but it seemed she had missed a few.
So, she found herself hating the possibility of having to share her wizard with another witch. Resentment, pure and simple. Especially when the other claimant was knock-'em- drooling gorgeous like Daphne.
None the less, the true sticking point was that Hermione was a Mundane-born. And Mundanes were raised to have one wife. And Daphne's PureBlood attitude was driving Hermione spare.
As the aristocratic girl had explained, she had been raised all her life knowing that she would probably end up as a second wife consort to a PureBlood wizard who would agree to sire males to continue the Greengrass line. Therefor, she had a decade to come to terms with a possible loveless marriage and being a second wife.
She was also having a very tough time wrapping her mind around two particular points of Daphne's arguments.
First was Daphne's assertion that with Harry being her `best friend' forever, how would another Lady Potter react when Harry would always go to her for advice, or help for any trouble she had. Harry's blow-up with Cho Chang had zipped through Hermione's mind.
Whomever that Lady Potter was would shortly make his life miserable, or hire an assassin.
Second, didn't she, Hermione, realize that the other wife would always be number two in Harry's affections? "He loves you so much that the rest of the world cannot compete," Daphne had said. "I suspect he would burn the world to ashes if it meant saving you."
That was when Hermione's shocked mind had prompted her to ask, "Then why do you want to be married to Harry?"
The answer had flummoxed Hermione.
"Simple," The blonde solemnly pronounced. "If I can get Harry to love me just half as much as he loves you, I will be better off with him, and you, then with any other man I know."
The loud "What!?" had been shocked out of Hermione.
"Please think, Hermione," Daphne said into the echo of her bellow. "You know almost every non-Slytherin who was within a year or so of us. Can you think of one of them that can hold a candle to Potter? Out of brains, bravery or commitment, I would be lucky to find any of them with just one of those traits. None of the surviving Slytherins I know have even one trait between them."
"And an older PureBlood?" she waved her own suggestion aside. "Puh-leez. If I am going to become a baby factory, I want someone who would actually care about his children and not see them as potential barter chips."
As she remembered, Hermione was idly stroking her fingers through Harry's sweaty, tangled mess of hair. Her hand paused as the last piece of memory stiffened her.
Ice blue eyes had stared at Hermione across the white-painted iron French café table in the greenhouse for several minutes after the last declaration.
"My last topic of conversation for tonight is about us. And Harry." The blue eyes looked away from Hermione for the first time. "Am I correct in hoping that Harry would not order us to be . . . um, sexually . . um, intimate? . . together so he could watch?"
Hermione still blushed remembering her flaming embarrassment at the question, and the hope in Daphne's voice.
"No, Daphne, except for the usual teenage fantasies that would roll around in his brain, he would never order us to do such a thing."
The blue eyes closed. "Thank, Merlin and Morgana. You are very attractive, Hermione. But I truly believe I will prefer men for sex."
Hermione had been overloaded to distraction trying to process Daphne's revelations. And bewildered that Daphne Greengrass, arguably the most beautiful girl in the school, thought Hermione was attractive? She did not notice when the blonde rose and left the mansion. Which, coming out of her memories, she thought, had just happened again.
Apparently, her soothing hair strokes were missed as Harry stirred and with a groan, opened his eyes, slitting them against the room's light.
"I went off again, huh?" he rasped out."
"Understandable," was the reply. "Our very own Ice Queen does not know you as well as she thinks she does."
Switching topics with no warning as usual, Hermione stood and pulled Harry to his feet.
"Get showered, shaved and dressed. We have a busy day ahead."
"Wha'?"
An impatient huff preceded her explanation. "It is the twenty-second of December. We need to go Christmas shopping. Prezzies!" she finished on a rising happy note.
Unsaid was the distraction it would provide Harry. And he knew it.
Harry merely facepalmed and started towards his room. He really didn't want to argue with Hermione now.
"Shopping. Bleah. Should have used owl post shopping earlier. Double bleah."
Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO
And in a manor in Kent.
"Oh, Father. I think I have messed up."
A flood of tears followed.
/..
A/N:
This chapter is such a hot mess. About 3,000 words of plot advancement and 3,000 words
of emo angst that should have been settled earlier.
Oh, well.
I can do the Daphne hand thing with my right hand. Cannot with my left. Interesting.
Next: Christmas, who won the pool, and maybe some inebriated speculation on
the usual `What was Dumbles thinking?'