Hi! Here is another chapter for you to occupy your time with. Enjoy!
"Your Majesty, Mr. Potter has just sent word that he is on his way from Liverpool." Ginny, another lady in waiting, said. Her long, ginger hair was swept into a formal bun, and her skirt was perfectly pressed.
She held out a deep purple, nearly black, suit, tucked into a garment bag.
"Thank you, Ginny. That will be all." Hermione said, smiling and nodding at the willowy woman. She smiled back and left, quietly shutting the door behind her.
Hermione changed out of her lounging clothes, still feeling the lingering effects of this morning's hangover. Harry would be here in under five hours, which meant that she still had time to do a few things.
She tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear, faintly humming a tune that she couldn't quite remember. She smeared on some make up and stepped out of the door, walking straight into Kingsley.
He immediately stepped back, cringing away from her. He seemed like he was waiting to be punished, and she felt cold inside. What had she done to make him feel that way?
"I'm incredibly sorry, Ma'am." He whispered, visibly starting to quiver.
"Do not apologize, it was my fault and mine alone. Am I needed for something?" She said briskly, and he looked up, his relief evident.
"Yes, Ma'am. The Duke of Wellington has requested a meeting, to address his family estate." Kingsley said.
"Bloody hell, first the Duke of Manchester and now him. Tell him I will meet him for tea here at 1." She said, watching Kingsley's face flash with amusement for a moment. He bowed, waiting for her to either leave or go on.
"Gather all, and I mean all the castle staff in the courtyard, please. I need to address them immediately." She ordered, watching his face flash with fear again. With that, she turned on her heel and strode down the carpeted hall.
She heard Kingsley whispering furiously with a few errant maids. A meeting with them is important. They need to stop being afraid of me before I get truly annoyed with their shaking apologies.
A half an hour later, every person that tended to the castle and its inhabitants stood nervously in the lush courtyard.
"You must stop being afraid of me. I'm not going to punish you for making a mistake, and you needn't apologize for mistakes that I make. I do not wish for you to be subordinates." She announced, watching them scurry closer together like frightened mice.
""Er, that's it. Just stop running away like mice and apologizing like scolded children." She said awkwardly. Slowly, they all started to laugh. She chuckled.
"Alright, off to work with you!" Hermione said, feigning rage. They all froze for a moment, and she let her expression melt into a broad smile. They guffawed and left.
"Mr. Nott, I understand you are here to discuss your family home. How may I help you?" Hermione asked impatiently, trying not to let it show, even as she checked her watch.
He was late by half an hour, and she couldn't help but become annoyed by his rabbity face. Theodore Nott's father had died about two months ago, and it seemed like he was trying to fix the mess his late father had created.
"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, Your Majesty. I wanted to ask for a personal grant from the Royal Family itself to restore the family Library. It's incredibly historic, you know, and I would like open approval from the Crown. I plan on turning it into a museum of a sort, you see." He said quickly, fiddling with the hem of his expensive suit.
Hermione softened for a moment; she did have a certain fondness for old books.
"I see. You'll have to allow me some time to think it over and discuss it with my advisors to see if we can spare that money." She said after a beat, already mulling it over in her head.
Nott nodded, smiling at her.
"Thank you, Ma'am. Of course, you are welcome to visit the Library, should you wish to. I understand that you have a passion for ancient tomes." He replied charmingly. She nodded once.
"I might just take you up on that, Mr. Nott. Enjoy the rest of your day." She told him, standing up and shaking his hand. He left, his long legs carrying him out the door quickly.
Hermione sat back in her chair, staring at the spot he had just vacated. Should she ever need a husband or a person to chat with, she had a feeling that Nott would be a contender.
She rolled up to The Goring at precisely 4:45pm, the sleek black car shining in the bright lights. The car was an old Mustang, having been brought in at her request. The Mustang reminded her of her father, who had taught her how to fix one up.
When Daniel Granger hadn't been at the family dental practice, he was sifting through junk yards with his daughter, trying to find the right pieces to fix up an old yellow Mustang. Mechanics had been a hobby of his.
She stepped out of the car, her black stilettos clicking on the pavement. The doorman jumped to attention, inclining his head respectfully with a murmured 'Your Majesty'. He held the door open for her with a tremulous smile, one that she returned.
Hermione shouldn't have been nervous to meet Harry, yet she couldn't help but be wary. She couldn't quite place why, but she trusted her instincts. She'd made sure to have extra security detail with her and had tucked a small pocketknife into a concealed pocket.
She strode in, ignoring the wide eyes of the high-profile quests and tourists. Men in black suits tailed her, their polished shoes tapping on the shining marble floors.
Hermione's amber eyes flitted around the tables, searching for the unkempt head of raven hair. Sure enough, there he sat, at a table beside the window. He looked up at the sudden silence.
Harry Potters emerald eyes shone, his lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. His face was stained with a light blush at the attention of the guests.
Harry had a slight five o'clock shadow on his defined jaw line and Hermione was pleasantly surprised at how well he had filled out. She felt her worries wash away at the sight of his smiling face.
She smoothed her black dress down over her hips, letting herself grin like the Cheshire Cat. She stepped over to him, ignoring etiquette and wrapping her arms around him. She breathed in his familiar scent of pine, treacle tart and snow.
"It's nice to see you, Mione." Harry whispered, hugging her for a moment before stepping back to duck his head in respect.
"Your Majesty," He said, though she could detect a small amount of mocking in his tone. His bright eyes glimmered with mischief.
Hermione rolled her eyes; Harry had always lacked respect for authority. He pulled out her chair for her before settling into his own.
"So, last I talked to you, you were going to a fancy Scottish boarding school. Now, you're the bloody Queen of England!" He laughed, not noticing how she momentarily stiffened.
"Yes, well. Hogwarts was wonderful, that's where I met Tom, after all. Where have you been, then? How did the scholarship ever go?" She asked, quietly shifting the subject. He didn't seem to notice.
"Oh, it was great! I'm playing for the home team back in Liverpool now, but I know you're not big on sports, so I won't blather about it to much." He said kindly. Hermione smiled at him.
The waitress came and nervously took their order, curtsying low to Hermione and staring at Harry for a moment, unsure if he was deserving of another low curtsy. He smiled at her and made some joke about not being important enough for a bow.
"How does that feel? Y'know, getting bowed to everywhere you go?" He asked curiously. She thought over his question for a moment. Perhaps a half truth and a lie would be a good way to respond to this.
"I do enjoy finally feeling important, but it also reminds me of Tom, which evidently makes me feel rather upset." Hermione said after a pause. Harry nodded.
"I'm very sorry about that, by the way. May I ask what happened? The tabloids seemed like they weren't allowed to say a whole lot." Harry asked cautiously. Hermione also thought about this question for a beat.
"He nicked himself with his razor. Apparently, his family has a history of thin blood. He came staggering out of the bathroom and tripped on that stupid carpet. I've always hated that bloody thing; it was not a very pretty carpet."
"Tom's head hit the corner of the table. I tried to stop the bleeding, but I think I knew that was the end. I called on the phone for help, but he'd lost to much blood." She explained dully, trying to seem numb.
In a way, she was. Even for herself, it was hard to tell the difference from the innocent schoolgirl and the hardened Queen she was today.
Harry reached across the table to hold the hand that was resting limply beside her finished plate. She let a tear fall from her eye.
"I loved him, so much. We didn't get enough time." She hiccupped for dramatic effect. She looked up to see Harry watching her with a pitying yet curious gaze.
"I feel bad for asking, Hermione, but if he had thin blood, why hadn't it been noticed before? I mean, if a nick from a razor was enough to make him lose so much blood, wouldn't a trip or fall from his childhood have led to a diagnosis?" He asked, and she nearly swore out loud. Why couldn't he have just left it alone like everyone else?
"I don't know, Harry! Would you like me to sort through his medical records!?" She snapped, trying to seem as much of a mourning wife as possible. The security guards stepped forward to see what the commotion was. The restaurant went quiet again. She waved them off.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to upset you." Harry said in a concerned tone, his eyes searching hers. Hermione let her eyes swim with tears.
"No, I'm sorry for snapping. I'm just not completely ready to talk about him so openly." She whispered. Harry squeezed her hand affectionately.
"Don't worry about it. Wasn't my place to ask anyway. You know how my curiosity can get the better of me." Harry replied, smiling feebly.
"No, it was a very legitimate question. I think, though, that his mother treated him like porcelain. From what he told me, she raised him to be overly cautious. Maybe she knew." Hermione said in a loving tone. Harry nodded and moved on.
"So, how much paperwork is involved in Queendom?" Harry asked in a lighthearted tone. Hermione snorted, feeling the tension shift away.
"Oh my god! You have no idea! They give me this massive red box to sift through every bloody day! The amount of bureaucratic paperwork I have to sort through is ridiculous!" Hermione cried, slumping back into her seat exasperatedly.
Harry smiled easily, chuckling.
"I don't even want to guess; I'd probably embarrass myself. Don't you have a maid or someone to do it for you?" He asked, smirking. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"You know, Harry, I wish I did. However, the entire stack needs to be signed off on or at least read." The Queen replied with a sigh. Harry nodded.
They finished up their meal, occasionally inquiring after the others life. After dessert, Harry left for the restroom. Hermione was left at the table alone, sipping her wine and staring out the window.
She could feel eyes on her as she scanned the room. She wasn't surprised to see almost half of the guests were staring unabashedly at her, but she noticed a lone man standing at the bar in a formal, olive-green suit.
He was watching her, and when she met his eyes, he smiled easily. She nodded at him, feeling a stirring inside her mind. That smile was familiar, though she couldn't quite place him.
She gave up after a few minutes of trying to figure out who he was. His handsome face was persistently pressing at her mind, insisting that he was known to her. You're the bloody Queen! Just call him over. She thought to herself.
She turned back to him, smiled, and waved him over. He looked startled for a moment but came over, nonetheless.
He came up to her, and suddenly she knew who he was.
"Neville! Goodness, I thought I recognized you!" She laughed. He smiled, his familiar blue eyes shining.
"Your Majesty, it's a pleasure to see you again! Though last time we met I think you and I were quite a bit younger." He chuckled.
Hermione laughed, taking in his appearance.
"Well yes, you've certainly grown up! I distinctly remember a quite a lot shorter, nervous and timid Neville Longbottom." She giggled. He rolled his eyes.
"Yes, well. I could say the same about you! You've gone from helping Ron, Harry and I with homework to becoming the bloody Queen of England." Neville chuckled. Before Hermione could reply, a booming voice came from behind her.
"Neville! Mate, it's great to see you!" Harry said, clapping the other man on the shoulder. Neville's eyes brightened even further.
"Harry, bloody hell! I haven't seen you in years, good God. I'm swell, you? Oh, Christ, I guess you're having dinner with Herm- Sorry, Her Majesty." He said, eyes widening. Hermione and Harry both snorted.
"Please, Neville, call me Hermione. You're welcome to join us for a bit before we leave. Would you like something to eat? Perhaps a drink or two?" Hermione asked, searching for an extra chair. Harry grabbed one from another table, letting Neville sit down.
"I'll have a drink with you two if its not terribly inconvenient." He said, settling into his chair. Harry sat back down, and Hermione called for a waiter. The waiter hurried over, bowing and waiting expectantly for an order. /
"Could we get a-. Neville, what would you like?" Hermione asked, cutting herself off to look at Neville.
"Scotch on ice, please." Neville filled in with a winning smile. The waiter nodded and hurried away.
The trio chatted for hours, only to be ushered out by an apologetic waitress, explaining that the restaurant had closed many hours ago. They all stumbled out to Hermione's car, Neville being the soberest of the three of them.
"So, Nev, wanna g-go to the Palaaaceee?" Hermione slurred from the back seat, crammed beside a nearly black out drunk Harry. Neville chuckled.
"Sure, Hermione. Harry, you alright?" He asked, watching Harry peel his lids open with his fingers. Hermione started cackling, only just realizing that Harry was indeed very tipsy.
In her drunken state, she did not register the flash of a camera in the distance as her car swung out of the Goring parking lot.
"Yessir, Mr. Long Butt. Haha, see what I did there? D'you got a long butt? Or maybe another long body part? Mate, I remember-." Hermione slapped a hand over his mouth before he could finish his sentence. Neville was roaring with laughter while Hermione blushed. Harry was chortling from behind her hand, squirming and trying to escape it.
"Yeah, mate, I think you'll need a nice long nap. Hermione, got any spare bedrooms?" Neville smirked, referring to the abundant amount of beds Neville was sure the castle had.
"Oh, nonsense! He can sleep on my couch. I've got one y'know? I kinda thought that becoming a royal would mean that I lost couches, but I got the best one! Tom and I actually had sex on it several-" Hermione giggled as Harry took a turn to slap a hand over her mouth. He mimed gagging, while Neville continued to lose his shit.
"Maybe not the couch, then." Neville said through chortles. The car pulled up to the Palace quickly enough, and Neville helped Hermione and their stumbling friend up the many stairs.
"The stairs-oh bloody hell, they're so bleeding annoying." Harry whimpered as they reached the top. Hermione wheezed, stumbling towards her door. Neville pushed it open for her, standing aside as Harry toppled through the doorway.
Harry made a beeline for the couch before stopping dead. He turned to Hermione and Neville slowly, his face poorly hiding a grin.
"You're bloody rich, but you kept the couch from the old apartment?!" Harry laughed, flopping back onto the squashy burgundy couch.
Hermione blushed and pressed a hand to her mouth.
"I couldn't just leave it on the side of the road!" She exclaimed, flopping down right beside him. Neville stood in the doorway, watching them fondly.
"Is it nostalgic for you?" He asked. Hermione peered through her drunken haze. Play your part and play it well.
"Harry, Ron and I have so many memories on it. It's hard to look at it now, though. T-tom liked it to, even though he would n-never say so out loud." Hermione said, hiccupping.
"Oh, Mione!" Harry wailed, dropping a heavy arm on her shoulder, and pulling her into a hug. She flinched a bit, and he stopped.
"Why'd ya flinch? Am I that ugly?" Harry asked nervously.
"N-no, sorry. Didn't mean to." Hermione mumbled; her eyes unseeing as memories of Tom's livid eyes flashed through her head. Memories of a fading, yellow-y bruise on her wrist in the shape of a hand, wrapping around it like a cuff.
She felt Neville look at her with a worried look. She waved him off.
"Only happened once, don' worry 'bout me." She said, smiling weakly. Neville and Harry's eyes widened.
Harry sucked in a breath, slowly tugging her into a hug. Neither of the men said anything as Neville joined the hug. They both whispered apologies.
Hermione laughed manically in her head. They thought she was a victim, didn't they? Victims don't often get away with murder. She wasn't weak. For all his pretty, flowery words, he wanted her to be, anyways.
"Alright, gents, I think it's time I head to bed. G'night, help yourself to whichever room or chair that looks comfy." Hermione said abruptly, standing and shoving them away. They both looked up at her, confused. She smiled again, though this time it was stronger.
This was her politician smile, her 'everything is alright' smile.
With a wave, she retreated to her darkened bedroom.
Welp. Thats all for tonight.