Granger, we need to talk

Chapter 40

Chapter disclaimer:

I make no money from writing this.

J.K. Rowling owns the rights to the Harry Potter universe.

Keeping track and advancement chapter.

{Not quite 5,000 words}

"Miss Bulstrode, send a letter to your Lord Bulstrode asking him to meet at Potter Manor Saturday afternoon, preferably with some type of plan. Hermione, Daphne, start planning on our end. Then we need to meet with McGonagall and get her onboard with any plans. We are going to need cover and excuses to disappear."

/*/

Friday, January 22, 1999.

It was now two weeks since the phone call to Australia that had gone so badly. Harry was not looking forward to tomorrow's promised call to Australia.

It had been a busy two weeks. Everything seemed to be happening at once.

Harry's friends and advisors were minor to majorly upset, or almost dying of hysterical laughter because articles were starting to appear in the Daily Prophet and Teen Witch Weekly about the fact that in only six months, Lord Harry Potter-Black would be taking up his post-Hogwarts duties. The articles were wild speculation on what careers he might take up.

Some of the stories even included drawings of Harry standing tall and arrogant, dressed in an Auror dress uniform or in fancy, tailored Wizengamot robes. Or looking very rugged, yet sexy rough in what the editors thought was a curse breaker's `uniform'.

He wanted to go hex everyone at both publications. The Eighth-Year girls enlarged and posted the pictures in the common room where he could see them and then theatrically swooned and sighed as he walked by, face flaming in embarrassment.

At those times, the huge revenge smirk on Tracey Davis' face was particularly irksome.

The Underground Pub work was proceeding apace. One final quick trip to Dean's step-father's pub last weekend had given the transfiguration crew their last look at what they had to create.

Dean was working like a house elf and was earning every bit of the eight sickles per hour pay Harry was giving him as a "Mundaneborn Experience Consultant."

More bits of junk from the fourth floor had been transfigured into the bar, stools and a scattering of tables and chairs. Lilith Moon had sworn she could charm the pool table into accepting knuts just as Mundane tables used twenty pence coins to access the balls needed for the game. Daphne and Oliver Rivers had promised an anti-magical jinx on the games to prevent cheating. The former on the pool table, the latter on the dart boards.

After seeing the positively evil grin on Daphne's face after he asked what would happen to anyone caught cheating, he decided not knowing was safer than asking.

Hermione had really crawled out on a limb with her part of the project. Seeing an old broken pinball machine in his pub, she had gotten Mr. Thomas to give her his suppliers name. A quick call from the cell phone and a deal was made for an old broken machine to be delivered. A letter to Gringotts gave her a delivery address. She told Harry that after the goblins alerted her to the machine's arrival, a quick floo trip and a shrinking charm would get it back to the school.

Rumors of the new Hogwarts attraction were running rampant. The constant stream of students asking him when it would open was driving him spare. Finally, he had an announcement printed that proclaimed the Grand Opening would be two weekends after the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. For some reason, everyone who read the sticky-charmed parchments finished reading with a smile.

/*/

Harry was not the only person in Hogwarts having a rough Friday.

Headmistress McGonagall was in an ill humor. She was sorely vexed by several of her students whom she had just finished a meeting with. Today's afternoon meeting had been to inform her that Professors Potter and Granger, plus Miss Greengrass, (1) were leaving in the morning on House business, and should return Sunday.

When Lord Potter invoked "House Business" as the reason for leaving the school, she had to drop any objections to his leaving with whomever he wanted to take with him. Long tradition held even asking about where they were going was forbidden.

It was the second such meeting in the past week and a half, and the Headmistress had become increasingly irritated with those she was becoming to regard as her wayward charges.

She now had an accurate count of eight students who were perfectly willing to trample her authority because they "knew" they were in the right.

At the first meeting, she had been told the story of a madman who was targeting the Bulstrode Family and how many he had already killed. She also had a first-hand account of the fight that had occurred at Bulstrode Castle after Christmas.

The last parting words still seemed to echo in her office.

"Nine dead so far Headmistress. I will agree that even a heavy auror presence at the Bulstrode's probably would not have saved any of them back then. However, they should have been there after Boxing Day. It should have been trained auror's there fighting that insane killer. Not me, not Hermione, not Ron and Millicent. The reason they were not there is due to the continuing fecklessness, incompetence and inertia of the Ministry."

The last had been said with a dangerous gleam in Lord Potter's eyes.

She had thought from his, and his now fiancée's, reactions to being offered their chance to return for their NEWT's last summer, that the group of veterans would be as pliable as usual school children.

The opening feast remarks by Harry Potter had hexed that broom out of the sky. And the backing of every ex-child who had fought had been another nasty shock.

She so badly wanted to rein them in as they offended her sense of order and academic structure. However, she also knew that their stamp of approval was vital to continuing educational reforms at the school. She was also cognizant of the political power Lord Potter-Black and his allies were wielding in the Wizengamot. And several of those allies were his classmates.

Her frustration had been building all week. Almost a dozen students had gone last weekend on a "field trip" connected with that damned project of Mr. Potter's. Having her students running around the country willy-nilly was another affront her sense of school discipline and order.

Yet her innate sense of fairness also made her admit that except for some young adult foolish drinking in Hogsmeade, the Eighth Years and Veterans caused less trouble then she had expected this year. The returned ex-Slytherin's had been instrumental in clamping down on any problems in that house before they started, and the others were usually helpful with the youngers or at least polite and kind.

She really did not want to think through the implications, but it seemed as though they had put away their childhood days.

Well, she pondered, she had made it through the Prewitt twins, the Marauder years and the Weasley twins. She only had to keep her sanity for another six months, she thought to herself. She could endure that long.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Harry's frantic Friday was coming to a close. The day was not going to close out calmly though.

Sitting propped up in his bed, Harry was confused again. Harry might be confused as to why he was attracted to two women, but he was, and trying to leave one of them out of his life was a line of thought that actually made him hurt.

However, at the moment, he really, really wanted one of his girls to enlighten him with an explanation of what was going on. It caught him by surprise when they walked into his room together

Harry knew Daphne had been talking with Hermione this last week, and it now appeared some type of arrangement had been made as the composed blonde had shown up to be in his and Hermione's bed again.

It was apparent that his fiancée had known Daphne was going to show up because she dressed for bed differently. She still wore flannel pajama pants but had paired them with a tight, light pink long-sleeved t-shirt. Noting at her obviously unbound chest, Harry was boobie-eyed happy to not see her heavy, button to her neck flannel top.

Daphne, on the other hand, had apparently decided to deliberately contrast herself versus Hermione. She was dressed as she had been on Samhain Eve when she had first slept with the now engaged pair.

Harry's daydreams, and some night dreams, had featured that hip length, blue, lace bodice, translucent nighty that exactly matched her eyes with the matching silky knickers. It was apparent from her slight frown that Hermione recognized the blonde's sleep outfit also.

Both of them were hiding their particular type of nerves well. He could tell from her micro-expressions that Hermione was trying not to be hostile to the blonde space invader. Daphne, Harry reckoned, was standing tall and proud to cover her case of nerves.

"Alright," he thought. "Daphne was joining us together in this bed a month ago. So why is she so nervous? It's not like we've set a deflowering night. Yet."

"Ladies," he stated quietly as he flipped back the covers to allow them both access to the bed. Hermione crawled in on his left, while Daphne walked around to wriggle in on his right. Both ended sitting, legs tucked under, next to him.

Hermione broke the silence first.

"During all the prodding and pushing to get us together that Gree . . Daphne was performing last year, one thing she never wavered on was that after she knew you had bedded me, she would give me a three week `honeymoon' with no interference. She would stand back and let you and me spend time learning to be a couple."

After a thoughtful looking short pause, she looked Harry directly in the eye, and continued. "She said that because of our particular circumstances, we would probably never see that much alone time again. Since except in rare cases, we will be alternating sleep nights with you, it appears she was correct."

Daphne picked up the narrative. "Therefor, tonight we will get comfortable with each other once again. You will kiss and murmur sweet nothings in our ears and make us feel loved. Then, tomorrow, Hermione will be here alone again with you. Sunday it will be me. Alone. With you."

Harry could not help himself. His eyes whipped over to look at Hermione. He could see tears glistening in the chocolate depths, but she gamely tried to give him a smile.

"Yes, it is more acceptance than enthusiasm. But, we three have talked the subject to death and we can make us work. We have to. All three of us bring something akin to hope of change, and also hope of stability, to the mass of our country's witches and wizards. Without all of us, not just two of us, the scales of that change will seem unbalanced."

"So, let's take a little time for me to ease into seeing her as a friend by shared interests versus a conniving witch who stole part of your heart from me. And you have to move beyond just liking your stunning Lady Black as a fascinating new acquaintance.

Harry's exploding blush was testament to the accuracy of her gentle barb.

"The last thing I want to talk to you about is that my period ended four days ago and I am so, so sorry that my mourning over my parents has kept us apart these last two weeks. So, tomorrow after we call them and talk with the Bulstrodes, you are either going to spend the rest of the day commiserating with me, or celebrating."

"Either way, we are going to shag like bunnies tomorrow." The last was said with a smirk and brazen stroking of his groin.

Daphne had been listening and smiling her agreement with Hermione's little speech. The last sentence and the blatant sexuality of her stroking hand had shocked the culturally insulated PureBlood Princess to her core.

"And here I thought I was being forward when I let my transfiguration of my chemise "accidentally" slip in his bed this summer. What could Potter have done to make the Gryffindor Bookworm into some type of sex-crazed slag? No, no, no! That's not the right word. That ring on her finger says he will be her one and only 'till death do they part"

"Still, could Pot . . Harry, turn me into a bold, sex-wanting woman like her?" Daphne actually shuddered at the thought. "Do I want to become like that?" Her thoughts paused as she peered at the intense brown eyes that were locked with vivid green eyes of the man she wanted to love her.

"I think maybe I do," she realized with a shiver at the idea.

Hermione moved as quick as a striking snake and locked her lips on Harry's. Her tongue hammered through his lips and ravaged the inside of his mouth. Harry attacked back and for half a minute the pair tongue wrestled almost violently as she pushed him onto his back.

Hermione finally broke off and looked at both him and Daphne, her eyes glittering.

"Harry, it's Daphne's turn." Harry snapped his eyes over to a wide-eyed Daphne. "You haven't kissed her properly yet. You know ever since we gave her her bracelet, she has wanted to snog the life out of you."

As Harry looked back at Hermione, she continued, "Well, go on. I'm just going to lie here and perv on you two until it's my turn again. You don't get to hog him until Sunday, Blondie."

As Harry kept looking at her, she finally reached over and pushed him at Daphne. Sapphire met emerald until Harry snaked an arm up and around Daphne's neck and pulled her down to him, stopping when her lips were two inches away from his.

His raised eyebrows made clear the question his eyes were asking her. If she wanted this, it was up to her to close the distance of her own volition.

A hundred thoughts flew through her mind. "Almost nineteen and I've never kissed a boy. I hadn't dared to do so to any boys in Slytherin. They would have taken it as permission for all out sex, the Merlin be-damned animals. And being caught kissing a Halfblood or Mug . . Mundane born would have had me banished from society. So I buried my wants under the Ice Queen."

"I'm scared. I don't know what to do."

Harry waited. He was surprised that he could see confusion in those lovely blue eyes. So, he waited some more. With Hermione by his side, he could afford to wait. He actually had to hold himself back from chuckling. The irony of Daphne having pushed and shoved to get him into precisely this position, and then hesitating, was not lost on him.

A very slight increase of his hand's pressure upon her neck, that she could easily resist, let her know that Harry wanted her to follow through.

And with that small squeeze, Daphne knew that Harry cherished her. He would not be doing any of this without Hermione's approval. And if she approved . . .

She slowly lowered her pink rose lips onto Harry's. She wasn't sure what to do next.

Harry was surprised when Daphne stopped moving once she had touched her lips to his. His recognition of what she was, or more accurately, was not doing almost had him start laughing. The first time Cho had kissed him, he had no idea how to respond. Right now, Harry was positive that the blonde beauty who put up such a formidable front, didn't know how to kiss!

Determined to make such a big event memorable, Harry started by gently moving his lips against hers. As she responded by following his movements, he flicked the tip of his tongue along her lips, and let her follow his `dance' steps.

Next, he gently used his tongue again to open up her lips, and as she again responded positively, he followed by gently flowing his tongue into her mouth and gently wrestling with hers for a few minutes.

Carefully withdrawing from her lips, Harry smiled at his new . . girlfriend? Giving her a quick peck on the nose, he turned back to his left side and his fiancée. Giving her a roguish grin, he pulled her into a full tongue-lashing snog fest.

Harry's right hand was just starting to wander up Hermione's side when she slowly withdrew, and with her eyes, pointed him at the girl on his other side.

Trying not to show his reluctance of leaving Hermione, he rolled back over and embraced Daphne. Before he could get too close, he saw her eyes flicker between his lips and Hermione.

"Yes, this is unusual, but what about this relationship is not unusual?" Harry said very quietly, and closed the distance between them and proceeded to take their kisses from gentle and chaste to a good hair tousling, side-stroking and bottom rubbing snog.

Minutes later, as she retreated from her latest kissing fest, (snog was such a common, vulgar term,) Daphne vaguely wondered how she had ended up on top of Harry with her unbound hair making a private tent around their heads, and her body rubbing against him like a cat demanding to be petted.

Rather dazedly she looked down into his eyes. It took a moment of peering , but she realized Harry was not looking at her with the expected unbridled lust, rather he had love, affection and even wonder in the gaze he returned.

And for moments, Daphne was flummoxed. This was not what she had been training herself for years to accept. She knew she was going to be either a wife to a wizard who would renounce his Family for the Greengrass name in order to sire an heir to continue the Greengrass line. Or she was destined to become a trophy wife to some powerful Death Eater to provide protection for her family.

And she was used to the boys she knew looking at her with calculation and lust in the stares.

With what she thought she was seeing in Harry's eyes, the fears those looks had invoked, were in the past. She not able to place a feeling on it yet, but she liked it.

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Next morning, the three got ready for their day.

Kelsey deftly elf popped Daphne back into her room where the awaiting Tracey verbally mugged her until she spilled what had happened. The other two dressed in mundane clothes and after breakfast in the Great Hall, they apparated to Hogsmeade, then floo'd into the Leaky Cauldron and from there apparated to Oxford and as before, rented the same room from the library.

This time however, with an expressionless face and a determined look in her eye, Hermione pushed the speed dial button that called her parents. She had poured over the phones instruction pamphlet, committing it to memory.

Again, it was her mother who answered on the first ring.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Mum it's me."

The short exchange was followed by silence.

Hermione figured as she was the perpetrator, so she visibly swallowed, and spoke again.

"I'm so sorry, Mum. But I had to do something. I had to go away last year like Harry said, and I was scared out of my mind about what the terrorists would do if they came hunting for you."

Tears were starting to leak from her eyes, but she carried on.

"What happened last year was awful. Remember the bombing of the air liner over Lockerbie a few years ago? And how many people were killed? What the magical terrorists did last year was ten, probably twenty times worse. Just like those bombers, the PureBlood scum did their killing in the name of a cause. And they especially enjoyed the killing of parents of Muggle-born children like me so you couldn't pollute their world with more magical trash."

Hermione had ended her rant on a rising, bitter note. "Six years of not telling you everything that had or was happening came back to bite me on my arse."

Hermione pressed the phone against her ear.

"Sorry, Mum. I'm nineteen and going through my dirty-mouth rebellious stage."

At that, she paused, then sighed, "Sorry, Mum. That sarcasm was uncalled for. I didn't dare tell you how many times just being a witch, or following Harry on some mad adventure, had turned dangerous. You would have argued to keep me from going back, and I would have fought to stay with my friends. And once I started to understand the magic world, I wanted to stay and become a witch that could change this backward, prejudiced culture that magic has thrust me into."

"Lately I've had a teacher who made me see that being a witch has thrust me into a world that is old, and despite the same language, is a country within a country. It may speak the Queens English, but the cultural difference is the same as crossing a border and going into another country.

Harry could see her listen intently.

"No, Mum. Harry is the leader of a group that for the first time in centuries is making some progress against the vile, in-breed cretins who want to kill me for sport, and kill you for existing"

"It was a civil war, Mum. And we've won. We still have a long road ahead of us trying to knock sense into their thick heads, but they have to listen to us now. Tell Da that we have them by the short and curlies and they have to do as we say or we will yank hard."

Harry could actually see a small smirk on her face as she listened again.

Hermione then sighed again and then spoke, "We aren't going to convince the other that I did the right thing over the phone. Part of the problem is that Harry and I are Assistant Professors and can't leave Hogwarts at a whim."

Hermione suddenly stiffened and snapped, "No Mother, you are more important than a whim, but we now have adult responsibilities. And that means staying at our teaching posts and not flying back to Australia to argue with you and Da."

"If you want to come back to England, we will get you a place to live until the house is rebuilt. We will only have one week off around the Spring Equinox this year as the school is recovering from the war, but you are more then welcome to stay at one of Harry's houses. Otherwise, we will visit after school lets out in June."

Pause. "Yes Mother, he has more than one. I know your address from Healer Courter. I willzsend a letter with news this week."

I'm going to say good-bye now. Remember, I love you both."

Hermione was sniffling as she punched the `Off' button. Harry held her as she leaned back into him. He kept hugging her as she fought not to break down into a crying jag.

Her tremors settled down, and after a few minutes of just being held by Harry, she turned, stiffened her spine, gave him a watery smile, and said, "Let's go home, Harry. We have a meeting soon."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

Tilitsy had the Manor sparkling for the Bulstrode meeting. While eating lunch in the kitchen, the new trio waited the arrival of their friends and the Bulstrodes.

The floo signal chimed as they walked towards the parlour. Lord Longbottom with his fiancée's Ginny and Luna erupted through the flames. As everyone greeted each other, the fireplace roared again as Ron and Millicent, followed by Lord Bulstrode, his heir Grenadier, and an unknown man arrived.

The tall, muscular, grizzled brown-haired, brown-eyed man was introduced as Captain Sulstrude, the captain of the Lady Amphitrite, the schooner that would be doing the Razor Fin fishing next week.

After a short round of pleasantries, the group gathered around the meeting room table. Lord Bulstrode started the meeting by stating he wanted Captain Sulstrude to explain why the Lady Amphitrite was the ship being used to harvest the Razor Fin Plimpies.

The captain stood and in a strong, carrying voice started. "Lord Bulstrode has told me you all know about how our Family earns its galleons. You know it's either through fishing or Plimpie gathering. Although, we used to have a lucrative side business doing transporting of untaxed goods several decades ago."

His mouth twisted in a wry smile. "The muggles have become entirely too good at finding our boats when we thought they were invisible. Something about roadar, or inferred red. (2)

He shook his head. "Sneaking across the Channel is almost impossible now-a-days. However, those are stories for another day."

He chose to not not notice the intense attention everyone was paying to his story. "About a hundred years ago," he said, leaning back in his chair and using his hands to gesticulate. "Fishing boat hulls started being made out of iron and powered by steam. The extra strength of iron hulls over wood boats was obvious, and the ability to steam in any direction was a god's send. Especially in the oft stormy seas of the North Atlantic fishing grounds."

"In 1902, we bought a steam-powered, iron-hulled fishing boat from the John Gullworthy and Sons boatyard. Named her the Melisende. Old Cap'n Helspen brought her back to Grobhaste in early December and then they added some extra winches, booms and lines to convert her for the January Plimpie harvest."

"Accordin' to our lore, and the Cap'n's logbook, the weather was good that night of the harvest. Yet, little was caught and the Family had to dip into its stored reserves to meet the potion base demands on our distributors."

Suddenly the easy-going, lanky man turned into a poised, sharp-eyed beader of men. "Remember, anytime a supply business suddenly can't provide to its customers or seems to be having money problems, the sharks start sharpening their teeth to bite part of the business off."

The affable story teller returned an eye blink later. "The experience was written off as a bad luck year. Poor harvests had happened before. That's why we keep a reserve."

The captain's demeanor shifted to solemn. "Unfortunately, the next years Razor Fin harvest was just as poor, if not worse than the year before. With a harvest of barely one-third of the amount needed, the use of the remaining Plimpie fluid reserve to supply our distribution network wiped our stocks out."

He looked at each member of his rapt audience. "Remember, this was back before the Nippon Empire practically wiped out their Plimpie stocks. Any shortage from us would mean we lost part of our market for a while. Whereas today, without our Razor Fin fluid harvest, many high- effective potions could become too expensive for regular people who need them in a hospital. And everyone will pay at least slightly more as extra ingredients are used to keep the current potency per dose if plain water has to be used."

His countenance became dark and bitter. "These scum are just old-fashioned pirates. They think nothing of killing our people, stealing our hard-earned Plimpie fluid, then selling it elsewhere for immense profit."

"Back to the story. Two bad Razor Fin harvests in a row had everyone worried. In fact, panicked would be a better description. After weeks of discussions and arguments, it was decided the problem was with the iron hull and metal engine of the Melisinde. You should know by now that magic does not work well around large masses of iron."

Sulstrude shook his head ruefully. "Our journals show that we became enamored with how this `new' mechanical crafting could help us catch more Plimpies and make our lives safer also. We were wrong, and magic pounded on us for our hubris."

"As fishermen, we should know that the ocean and magic never give up their riches easily."

"We just didn't think it through. After all, the highly magical fluid in the blister of the Razor Fin Plimpie, and the effect of a large quantity of iron, was something that should have been considered. And was not."

Lord Bulstrode now leaned forward and commanded everyone's attention. "I wanted Captain Sulstrude to give you this background story because it explains why we will be going out to harvest the Plimpies in the dead of winter, in a wooden, non-powered sailing ship, held together with bronze fittings and wood trenails"

"We will figure our final dispositions and plans after you arrive on Friday. Depending on the weather, we will probably sail late that night so we will be out of sight from land by dawn. Time, tide, and the lunar phase mean we will start the harvest at ten P.M., and the migration should finish about five A.M."

He looked around at his audience and with a small smirk said, "So, Friday we should finalize our plans, and we will be able to show you something that might be one Merlin-sized surprise for the raiders if they come calling."

Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO

A/N:

One: I have been using archaic forms of address throughout this story as I do not

believe the Wizarding World would accept any new-fangled notions that do not

immediately convey one's status in that world. i.e. Miss, Mrs., Madam, Madame,

Dame, Heiress, Lady. And Mr., Sir, Heir, Lord. I just cannot see wizards using Ms.

Probably should have just used Heiress Greengrass. See? Problem solved.

Two: Radar and Infrared (Heat) scanning. To butcher a famous quote, "Any sufficiently

advanced technology will appear to be magic." What do magical's call advanced technology?

This is Chapter 40 of a planned 12-chapter story. For me, it's been a long, full of learning,

trip. I want to thank everyone who has followed or favorited this story. I cannot convey

how touched I am that you managed to slog through my early, pitiful chapter efforts and

hung with me.

Special thanks to Alix33 for pushing me to improve my spelling and grammar.