Even though Ginny had come around the next day with a surprise of the red-velvet cake the next day in hopes of wiggling out of Hermione who her matches- match was, Hermione kept her lips shut. She had briefly considered leaving the country to escape the prospect of marrying Harry Potter but had decided against it due to her familial ties and how the ministry depended on her.
She had taken the cake though.
By the time Monday rolled around, Hermione had managed to piece herself back together enough to show up at work. Upon arrival, she immediately threw herself into her work, and managed to piece together the entire Wizengamont procedure for approving, passing, or rejecting a law. She started work on Saint Mungo's, which proved to be thoroughly difficult because all the experienced Healers had been tried and found guilty of poisoning muggles, muggle-borns, and half species during Voldemort's 2nd reign of terror. The wizarding world needed their hospital and the only healers left were the trainees who had not even gained the titles of Healers. In an effort to convince students at Hogwarts to become Healers, the monthly wage had been increased, but when they didn't even have a single qualified Healer, there was no way to get others. They were combing the country up and down for one, but to no avail.
At precisely 12:00, her Head, Mafalda Hopkirk, came in with a bright expression. Hermione immediately took that as a bad sign. She set down the umpteenth file she had been going through on top of a towering stack of maybes. "Yes, Mrs. Hopkirk?" She asked politely.
"Ms. Granger there is someone here to see you, immediately."
Hermione frowned at Mafalda's jumpy expression and glanced at the clock. "It's time for my lunch break." She said. "Can't it wait?" Mafalda stared at her like she'd grown an extra head. "Of-Of course not!" She sputtered. "You can't just put off Harry Potter!"
Hermione wasn't anticipating her reaction. She jumped back from Mafalda's gaze and stared with wide eyes. "Of-Of course." She forced the words out. "I'll go get him then…" She pushed her chair back with shaky hands and held onto the desk for support as she stood.
For a split second, she wondered why he was here, and then she remembered. Lunch on Monday, he had said. She followed Mafalda Hopkirk down the hall. She reached a door and then turned around to face Hermione. "Now Ms. Granger, we all know how frustrated you get with Mr. Potter, so remember to not get angry and try and get whatever he wants done done, M'kay?"
"I'm pretty sure it's not like that at all, Mrs. Hopkirk."
"Oh of course it is, why else would he be down here? Now come on, shoulders back, chin up, and you can go through."
Hermione took a deep breath and felt her head clear. She could do this. She could see him, meet him, talk to him. Her hand landed on the doorknob and she stopped to think about this moment. This pinnacle moment in her life. She was meeting her husband. Not seeing him in passing, but actually meeting him.
Then she turned the handle and opened the door.
Her eyes shot to the ground and she pretended to be brushing her jacket off before letting her eyes float upward.
The first thing she saw of Harry Potter was his shoes. Muggle shoes, she noticed. Cowboy boots. He was wearing blue jeans and a green plaid shirt. The sleeves were rolled up, his hands tucked into his pockets and his thumbs hooked into his belt loops. He was wearing a black belt and a black watch, and smelled like muggle cologne.
When her eyes drifted up toward his face, she had to stop herself from gasping. Sure, she'd seen him before, but never like this. His eyes were green. She had always thought that the witches of Witch Weekly had overestimated exactly how green his eyes were, but now she was sure they were underestimating them.
The famous lightning bolt scar graced his forehead, and his hair, notoriously messy during his Hogwarts years, was neatly combed and cut. She suddenly felt subconscious about her own appearance but swallowed and managed a smile.
"Mr. Potter." She said with an outstretched hand. "How are you today?"
She was aware of everyone in the office staring at her. Girls especially glaring daggers into her back that he was here to see her.
"Ms. Granger." He said, holding out the 's' at the end of Ms. He shook her hand and smiled at her. "It's nice to finally meet you."
She felt the hate of the other girls begin to ebb. But she just smiled and said, "You as well."
He dropped her hand and gestured to the door. She nodded and turned to Mafalda, who was waiting anxiously in the doorway. "I'm going out for my lunch break. See you later." She waved a little, then let Harry Potter lead her from the room.
As soon as the door shut, she noticed him let out a breath and glance at her. She didn't say anything but only waited until he started walking down the hallway. She followed at his side. They went down several hallways and the tension grew thick as she waited for him to break the silence. Judging from the way he swallowed thickly every few seconds, she guessed he could feel it too.
The hallways ended and they stepped into the Ministry Atrium. Like the old one, it was bustling with people and paper airplanes. Unlike the old one, this one was based on a distinct muggle type of architecture. All white, with grooves in the wall and decorations like glass bottles and pictures of previous Ministers gracing them. She stepped half a step closer to Harry so as not to lose him and was shocked when he took a step away.
She stared for a second, then scowled and turned the other way. Just as she expected. Petty.
He swallowed uncomfortably out of the corner of her eye, and then they were caught up in the traffic toward the doors. Most people were leaving for their lunch breaks now. Hermione followed him toward the doors and outside. He stepped off the sidewalk and she got the distinct impression he wanted her to follow him without saying anything or touching her. She rolled her eyes, and the tension grew exponentially.
"Erm," Harry said quietly. "So… Do you have any requests? Favorite place or food or whatnot?"
"I distinctly remember someone saying that the guy is supposed to figure this all out beforehand." She replied coolly.
She expected his face to go red, but he just shrugged. "I just wanted to know if you wanted some input. I do actually have a place in mind, but if you wanted to go somewhere I'm open to schedule changes."
"Oh." She said softly. She felt her face flush just a little, but she pushed the embarrassment to the back of her head. "I don't get out much actually. Wherever you want to go is fine." He nodded agreeably and gestured to the sidewalk. Most people walking out of the Ministry were disapparating, but she and Harry just started walking down the street.
Hermione felt the tension return a little before Harry asked: "So what's your favorite color?" She raised an eyebrow at him. He flustered for the first time since they'd properly met and stuttered. "Erm… I mean, I meant to get to know you… since we're getting married. I kinda figured it was a good way to start talking."
She shrugged and tried to relax. "I don't know. I really like blue, and red is a nice color too. Either one I really like- what?" She stopped talking as his face contorted into something like a frown, a scowl, and a disappointed face all at once. "Do you have a problem with those colors?"
He scowled a little and muttered. "Yeah. A little."
"Why?" Hermione demanded.
Harry's eyes took on a new light and seem to spark dangerously as he stared at her. She had heard stories of meeting these eyes on the battlefield, but they didn't scare her now. "Red." He spat. "Is the color of blood. It's what makes you think faster and jump to conclusions and anger. And it's the only color you see when you hit someone with a spell and the blood seeps through their clothes. When one of your friends gets cut down in front of you." His voice cracked, and his eyes took on a different, more broken light. "And blue is the color of sadness. And tears. And eyes that bore into your soul that you never forget."
He trailed off a little, and Hermione realized her mouth was hanging open. She tried to think of what to say, and then said "But red is also the color of love. It's sunrises and sunsets and flowers. It's hearts, and nails and hair too." She thought of Ginevra Weasley, with her flaming locks. "And fire." She added as an afterthought.
Harry was staring at her curiously, but he stayed silent. "And blue." She continued. "Is the color of the sky and the sea. It's also bluebirds and bluebells and also the color of little boys."
Harry nodded absently. "Yeah. I can see that. But I still don't like the colors." She was quiet for a few seconds, scuffing her shoes on the cement walk. "I also like green." She said absently. "I like green too," Harry said, clearly relieved for the change of conversation. "It's the color of new life and trees and my mom's eyes."
"Yet you hate red even though it was your mother's hair," She said flatly. A thought crossed her head: Wasn't the killing curse the same vivid green the reflected back in Potter's eyes? Instead of going defensive, he rolled his eyes and said "Whatever." Her mouth crooked up at his gestures and how he brushed past her weak sarcasm. "What do you like to do for fun?"
He gave her a grateful smile for the subject change and said "Flying, experimenting with magic here and there, reading and such." She felt the light enter her eyes. "Experimenting with magic? Like what?"
He smiled a little, then said "Wands, lately. I'm looking into how the cores react with each other."
"Oh!" She said. "I dabble a little with that! I could totally help you!"
He flashed her a half sort of smile and said "Yeah that'd be cool." With the sort of enthusiasm that meant he'd really rather not. She sighed a little and glanced in the other direction.
Harry turned the corner on a street and started walking down it. His boots hit the concrete with a solid 'thwack!' every time he took a step. She rolled her eyes at his arrogance and let herself fall a few steps behind him. She bit her lip, well aware that the ball was in her court, and asked "What do you like to read?"
Harry smiled a little and closed his eyes for a split second. "Recently, lots of fiction. There's a dystpotarian craze in America, and I'm afraid I'm rather catching onto it."
"Dyspotarian?" She asked. "Like war and lust and such?"
"Like emotions." He said firmly. "Like reality and a beautiful illusion of safety and how people react and think."
Hermione shrugged. "I really only focus on Nonfictional stories."
"That's okay." He said kindly. "I won't hate you for not liking my genre."
He opened the door to a decent-sized muggle diner for her and let her sit down in the only available chair in the waiting space. He peppered her with small questions, like "When is your birthday?" And "Where did you grow up?" She held the tact to answer them, but never got the opportunity to ask him any. Everyone knew Harry Potter's birthday. Everyone knew he'd lived with his mother's family until he turned 17 and was legally able to buy a house. Though she had never followed the gossip at Hogwarts, she was well aware that he had been involved in the Chamber of Secrets incident in his second year and the Triwizard Tournament and his life work was devoted to conquering Voldemort and vanquishing evil.
Hell, she was even aware that he had received special permission from Professor McGonagall to join the quidditch team as a first-year. She'd been furious at McGonagall for that. She had seen(and still saw) Harry as a strong-willed boy who got whatever he wanted.
Harry never ceased in his question asking. "What's your favorite song?" "What's your spirit animal?" "What was your favorite subject in school?"
She pushed a hair wearily through her hair and said "Paris, I don't know, and charms."
"You don't know your spirit animal?"
"No. Never bothered to learn it."
"Well then, what's your Patronus?"
She turned to look at him then, her eyes boring holes into his forehead. "Why are you so insistent?"
He shrugged a little. "I'm just trying to get to know you."
Hermione stopped him with a hand. "That's wonderful. There's a difference between 'getting to know' and 'badgering'."
He was silent for a few seconds, then asked again: "What is your patronus?" She rolled her eyes and rubbed at her head. "A doe. Are you happy?" She sighed dramatically. He raised an eyebrow. "Oh well mine's a-"
"Stag." She interrupted grumpily.
His shoulders slumped, finally. "Why do you have to be like that?"
"Like what?" She looked up and met his eyes. He stared straight back. "I'm trying my best here, but you're not even giving me two cents worth."
She tried to think of a good reason, and when she couldn't, tried to figure out why she was so insistently shooting him down each time he tried. That, at least, she knew why. "Oh for goodness sakes, stop pretending you even care. You know nothing about me, you're arrogant, self-righteous, pompous, and selfish."
"Maybe you know nothing about me." He shot back.
How could she not know about him? Everyone knew about him. Everyone knew him. It was all in the papers for crying out loud!
She scoffed loudly and turned away. Other customers were staring at their obvious annoyance, even though they couldn't hear the conversation.
She felt a hand graze the fabric of her jacket collar. "Hermione," He said quietly. She turned around and met his gaze slowly. There was nothing in that green gaze of his.
"Yes?" She asked coolly.
He swallowed, and looked away, refusing to meet her gaze. "Nothing." He said firmly.
She turned and met the eyes of a waitress across the room. The girl blinked in surprise at the steel in Hermione's back. 'Come here.' She willed the small thing. 'I can't stand here with him any longer.' Luckily she seemed to get the message and walked diagonally across the room to lead them wordlessly to a table.
She was grateful.
For several minutes, they sat in silence. Glaring down words on their menus and refusing to look at each other. Then Harry cleared his throats in the awkward silence and put his menu down. "What are you getting?" She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and look exasperatedly in the other direction and asked bitingly " So we're talking now, are we?"
She felt his discomfort.
"People are staring." He said quietly. That got her attention. She set her menu down and took a quick glance around. Several people glanced away when her gaze strayed near them, and a couple turned red. She sighed, and closed her eyes, biting her cheek. "Just a sandwich, I think." She told him.
"Okay." He said. "I think I'll go for the Steak and Cheese melt." She stayed quiet. She had been considering the Steak and Cheese Melt herself, but decided for pride's sake she couldn't order the same thing as him. She promptly switched her meal choice. "I think I'll settle for a BLT." She said simply. He nodded and said "Okay." And she almost missed the barrage of questions she'd been subjected to on the way here in the awkward silence that followed his statement.
Harry stayed silent, and then Hermione noticed the concerned states other customers were sending and spoke up. "So, how is this going to work? With the ministry and…" she swallowed. "Our match."
He flicked his gaze back to her, then focused on something along her collarbone. "Umm, I don't know yet. What do you think?"
She subconsciously moved to make sure there was nothing on her neck and then said "Well, I expect you'll be busy with press parties and being a public figurehead, so-"
"Why do you do that!" He threw his hands up, cutting her off. "Holy hell woman! It's like you've got a grudge against the world! What did I ever do to you?!"
She slapped her fist down on the table, then hissed "Just stop. You with your outrageous demands and I-defeated-the-dark-lord-give-me-whatever-I-want attitude."
"What attitude? All I've tried to do is be nice and you keep shooting me down! I'd say it's you with the attitude!"
"Oh don't you even go there, Potter! Oh my gosh, I can't even believe I thought this might actually work! I can't believe- ugh!" She screamed in frustration. Unable to bear the tension and stress any longer, she pushed herself up and out of the bar. She heard Harry Potter call her first name once before she pushed open the door and left the restaurant. She disapparated and reappeared in the ministry atrium. She stormed down the halls for a good half hour before she finally returned to her office at the end of her lunch hour. She saw the other girls in the office, the ones who had previously been staring openly at her as she walked out with Harry Potter, whispering and passing notes back and forth. Whether they were actual work notes or bits and shards of gossip she couldn't bring herself to care. She wretched open the door to the hall and disappeared into her office.
She slammed her office door with a bang, and a cursed glass figurine from the previous ministry's Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts fell off her desk. The new department, Non-Magical coordinations, which included mass-memory-charms, working with the muggle government, and basic problems with the Statute of Secrecy was one of the many problematic items sitting in color-coded files on her desk.
She slumped down in front of her desk and put her head in her hands. As she did, she caught the faint scent of bacon and bread in her office. She glanced up and saw a wrapped parcel on her desk. She was sure it hadn't been there before. She leaned forward to inspect it, and then spotted some writing on the corner of a napkin securing the bundle.
"Sorry, Harry." It read.
She stared blankly for a few seconds, unsure of what to feel. Anger, disgust, guilt?
She picked up the sandwich and unwrapped it. Inside was exactly as she had asked, a BLT sandwich. She looked at it for a few seconds, considering. Then she leaned over and dropped it in the trash.
Thus ended her first date with Harry Potter.
She didn't see him for a month, but thought about him every day. She thought about him when she saw his name in the paper, when she heard people talking about him, when she went to explain to her mom about her match.
Ginny had started dating a few of her matches. A few she had immediately agreed to stay friends with, and others she had decided to give them a serious chance. Hermione could tell she had immediately connected with Dean Thomas though, and had a feeling he was who she'd eventually end up with.
Almost a month after meeting Harry for the first time, she received a letter. Short, sweet, and to the point.
"Hermione," it said. "We should get together to discuss wedding details. Thanks."
She actually didn't blame him for the small note the first time. She sent back a small one without much thought that said. "Yeah. Monday good?"
The next morning she got a letter back that said "Okay."
The short word pissed her off then. Never mind she'd sent him three words, he couldn't be bothered to sent two!
She went and cried a bunch of pointless tears in her bedroom before taking an index card and writing 'm-hmm' on it.
Hedwig gave her an exasperated look, but accepted the card. Two hours later she was back with a message from Harry.
'?'
A simple punctuation mark. She glared at it, and handed a blank index card to Hedwig. As the white bird flew off, she couldn't help thinking it was like a game of mail cold shoulder.
Later, Hedwig returned with a different, equally blank card, but when Hermione tried to hand her a new one, she pecked her hand and flew off. Apparently Hedwig felt carrying blank notes was beneath her.
Thus ended the game of mail cold shoulder, as decided by Hedwig.
Hermione's parents were none too happy the day they all decided to meet up with Harry to discuss the wedding. They knew their daughter was upset about her match, and understood all the aspects of the law. They weren't happy, but both had agreed to support Hermione.
Harry met them in another muggle restaurant. They had arrived first, about 10 minutes early and ordered lunch without him, but a menu was placed in front of his spot until he showed up. Five minutes to the time they had agreed to meet up, the raven-haired man appeared in the doorway of the diner. He looked surprised to see them there so early, but smiled and acted like it was perfectly normal.
Harry ordered in private while Hermione and her parents each pulled out notebooks. They had already gathered a background account of their savings and a basic idea of how the wedding could go. Hermione had pulled out a notepad filled with simple, standard, blocky handwriting. Littered with to-do lists, assignments from the ministry, a monthly overview of her account settlings, and a small list of things to include in the wedding. Harry stared at it for a second, thin-lipped, then reached into his coat and pulled out an identical notebook. She glared silently at it, and thought about applying a simple charm to hers simply so that it wouldn't be like his, but remembered they were in a public place and withheld.
Hermione's parents, Jean and Dan, simply looked over the notebooks and noticed they were similar. They didn't realize how exceptionally awful the similarity was for Hermione.
"Well." Hermione's mom said tentatively. "My name is Jean, and this is my husband, Dan." Dan leaned over the table to shake Harry's hand. Harry smiled at them, and said: "My name is Harry."
He sure sounded confident.
Jean cleared her throat and picked up a paper, "So, based off what we know from our own wedding, we know it's extremely important to set a budget and try to stick to it. Dan and I are willing to help pay for part of the wedding, if you aren't as financially stable…"
Harry smiled and quickly cut in. "That's very kind of you Mrs. Granger, but I don't think money will be an issue. Umm…" He looked towards Hermione. "If you like I was thinking I could easily cover the cost of everything."
A fire erupted in her breast and she glared at him. She was well aware that he had claimed the Dumbledore accounts, the Potter accounts, the Black accounts, and the Peverall accounts upon the end of the war. Hermione scoffed. "I don't want your war spoils." She said. "In fact, I could pay for the entire thing myself if I wanted to." That was a lie. Despite her importance to the ministry and how she was basically tied to every single detail and was part of the team managing the overall running of each of the departments and coordinations, she got paid the same as every single standard employee. The ministry was still getting on its feet, after all, and only paid what it could afford.
Harry held up his hands. "I'm sorry, I was just offering. I know you can more than take care of things yourself."
Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath. "You're right. I'm sorry. You were only offering." She opened her eyes and pretended she was in a meeting with people she hated. The situation was similar, at least. "However I feel this should be a team effort, and I don't want you paying for everything."
Harry blinked a little in minor surprise. "I see." He told her after a minute. "I suppose I didn't think I would be offending you. I figured since you would be connected to my savings after the fact, it wouldn't be that much of a problem. I apologize."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Diplomacy, she told herself. It almost always works.
Dan burst into a fit of laughter and put his hand over his face. Harry and Hermione looked over in confusion. "I-I'm sorry." He spat out through fits of laughter. "I-It's just… You're so serious about this!" Hermione's mother was smiling fondly at her husband. She turned and addressed her daughter: "You're getting married, not signing a law into order. Cool down, you don't need to be so formal."
Hermione stared. Harry said nothing.
A waiter approached their table with a tray laden with platters. He set down an omelette of sorts in front of Dan, and a vegetarian dish for Jean. He then set down two identical dishes in front of Harry and Hermione. Two identical drinks soon followed.
Harry was glaring at the drinks and the food. Everything, down to the way the mashed potatoes on the side of their plates were styled, was identical. "Well." He coughed. "Some sort of a coincidence, huh?"
Hermione stared at the platters, and then at their notebooks. "Yeah." She said quietly. "Some coincidence."
Dan and Emma were chortling with laughter at the two's dismayed faces. Harry glanced sideways at them, then moved his glass to the opposite side Hermione's was on. He switched his mashed potatos with his vegetables, and then looked up at Hermione for approval. His plate was messier, but different now from Hermione's. She stared for a second, then abruptly burst into laughter. Harry looked absolutely shocked. Hermione felt like someone was tickling all her insides with a feather. Harry looked over at Dan and Emma for help, and Hermione just started laughing harder.
Slowly but surely, Hermione got herself back under control. "I-I'm sorry." She choked. "It's just- we're so ridiculous. We do the same things and don't even realize it."
Harry shrugged. "I guess." He said. He cracked a soft smile and flipped his notebook open. It was as equally filled as Hermione's. She spotted a few words: Gringotts, New Minister, Hogwarts. But then he flipped open to the page he desired and she put the glimpses she'd seen aside. Chances were that she'd find out when he barged into her office demanding they get done.
In the end, they divied up tasks and agreed to meet up a month from then to check in. Dan and Emma took food and invitations. Hermione took scheduling and agreed to coordinate with Harry for all the supplies he needed. Harry, finally, had asked specifically for the dress and decorations to be put under his care. He promised she'd have a say, but didn't give a reason for wanting those tasks. She didn't pry.
Before they left, Harry had stood in front of Hermione, and bowed a little. He then nodded to Emma, and shook hands with Dan. Hermione felt he was on better terms with his in-laws, her parents, than her, his fianceé. It broke her heart a little as he apparated away. She hated his guts more than ever. He liked her parents more than her, the woman he was marrying.
Back in elementary school, she had read an abridged version of Romeo and Juliet for the first time and found it frustrating and gloomy. She couldn't understand Juliet's parents in the whimsical idea that marrying their daughter to Paris would take away her sorrows over 'Tybalt's death'. Wouldn't that just, in theory, push her troubles back? That could make her an extremely unstable woman, full of grief and sadness over an event that happened years ago.
Now, she considered Juliet a lucky woman. At least she wasn't marrying someone universally known throughout the wizarding world, though she was marrying a prince. At least her husband tried to know her as a person and wasn't a presumptuous, arrogant little brat.
Then Hermione winced. At least she wasn't already married and being forced to marry again, as Juliet had been. Maybe there was some light in her dark tunnel.
Thus ended her Parent's meeting with Harry Potter.