The Dowager Baroness of Longbottom, Lady Augusta, was a formidable woman. Her severe demeanour could impress silence upon many loquacious souls unfortunate enough to displease her. Her face was etched with deep ravines, testaments of the sorrows of her life. She dressed expensively, although she had stopped following fashions at the end of the previous century, just about the same time as she lost her husband, her son and daughter-in-law in a house fire, the circumstances of which had never been shared with Hermione.
She had raised her grandson, Baron Neville Longbottom, at her nearby estate, Lavington Hall, less than nine miles from Elston. Lady Minerva and Lady Augusta had been acquaintances for as long as Hermione could remember. The two families often came together, and every letter from Neville, while he was away at Eton, was shared assiduously, if sternly, over the many contacts between the two ladies.
Today saw Lord Neville, Lady Augusta, Lady Minerva and Miss Hermione together in the garden of the McGonagall women, enjoying the last of summer around afternoon tea. The sun was warm, holding back the approaching autumn. The garden was still lush with the last of the season's proceeds, birds and insects hard at work to collect its bounty.
"I have come today most specifically to extend an invitation to Lavington Hall for Samhain." Lady Augusta announced as they settled down at the table and chairs set up on the lawn. "As you know Neville has decided to take his birthright at the House of Lords come November. It seems as good a reason as any to host a dinner. I've also heard that the Malfoy heir was back from his Grand Tour, I shall see that the family is invited as well."
"Augusta, that is most kind of you." Replied Minerva. "Thank you for your invitation. We would be delighted to celebrate Samhain with you. It will bring back memories from my native Scotland to be sure."
They spent the hour most pleasantly. Young Lord Neville, while of a natural shy disposition, could prove to be a captivating orator when the topic of Botany was called upon. His brown eyes lit up, his countenance altered with the vibrancy of his passion for plants. He became a man of confidence and charisma, capable of holding the attention of those around him.
As children, Hermione and Neville had seen a lot of each other, the Ladies socialising often, bringing their lonely charges together. But as any aristocratic young boy would, Neville had attended boarding school from the age of eight years old, limiting their contacts to the summers only. More recently, since finishing his schooling at Eton, Neville had hesitated between continuing his studies at Oxford, or attending a fellowship with the most enlightened Botanists of the ages such as William T. Aiton and Sir Joseph Banks at the recently created Royal Horticultural Society. After some time spent in London, revelling in the wonders of Kew Gardens, he had just decided to pursue his botanical passion.
"Miss Hermione, I was hoping you could accompany me to take a turn about the garden?" Neville enquired once the conversation had lulled, a rosy tint to his cheeks.
"With pleasure, My Lord." Hermione rose from her chair to take his offered hand, a mischievous smile on full display.
"I wish you were to stop calling me 'My Lord'. We've known each other for too long for you to call me so. Neville would simply do." The young man replied as he led them both towards a wild patch at the end of the garden, in full view of their company.
"As you wish, My Lord." Hermione's laughter could no more be contained than her curls to a bonnet.
Neville wasn't amused, he looked out of humour upon his friend, apparently wounded by her willingness to erect a wall of deference in their relationship, even if only in jest. Hermione could see from his downcast eyes that, while never intending to, she had pained him truly nonetheless. She decided to make amends, and to distract herself from the reasons that could have caused Neville's upset in the first place.
"Alright, I relent. Do not be cross with me, I apologise, for I only intended to make a light joke of it. Please Neville, do forgive me by telling me more about your time with Sir Banks at the Chelsea Physician Garden this summer since my own sex will forever bar me from visiting it."
"Oh Hermione! I am certain you would like the man." Some of his brilliance came back to Neville. " While he is suffering from a lot of ill health, he is still as knowledgeable as ever, full of stories from his travels. The Garden itself is a treasure trove of medicinal plants, it reminded me of you at every turn. It is immaculately kept by the gardeners and supplies apothecaries throughout the country!"
Neville stopped walking to turn fully towards Hermione. "I hope to share a few books I collected in London with you when you visit us over Samhain. One volume especially about fungi and their uses in medicine I believe will be of interest to you." He paused for a short while, looked her in the eyes for the briefest moment before continuing with a small cough.
"But tell me about our friends and acquaintances. What news do you have to share?"
Hermione was about to answer Neville's question with the biggest news of recent weeks in their little community, that a militia regiment had elected to winter in nearby Wilton. When it would just happen that two red coats were seen standing in the garden, bowing to Lady Minerva and Lady Augusta in greetings.
She took one look at the pair, instantly recognising the mop of red hair sported by the taller gentleman.
"Ronald!" She cried from her corner of the garden. Then proceeded to walk back to the little group briskly, Neville following her closely behind.
"Ronald Weasley! It is you! It is so good to see you again. Tell me, what are you doing here?" Hermione greeted her friend warmly.
"Miss Hermione, it has been too long indeed." Ronald Weasley gave a short bow to Hermione and acknowledged Lord Neville with a formal nod of the head. "I am here with Captain Potter to give my regards to Lady Minerva before surprising my mother. Potter, you see, was kind enough to vouch for me to my commanding officer, enabling me to take a short leave to visit my family." He turned to his companion, a handsome young man, no older than Hermione herself, with the most striking green eyes, and dark thick hair barely kept together by a tie in the back of his neck.
"But let me introduce the man first. This is Captain Henry Potter, from the Somerset Militia. Miss Hermione McGonagall."
"How do you do?" Captain Potter bowed gracefully at Hermione. "I was telling Lady Minerva that I have come with a letter of introduction from my benefactor, Mr Severus Snape, who wished to express his regards and recommend me to your acquaintance since I am to be posted in Wilton for the winter."
"How do you do, Mr Potter?" Hermione curtsied briefly. "Now tell me, are you here to defend us from the French? I would have assumed that with Napoleon safely exiled on Elba, we would be quite safe for the foreseeable future." She enquired, her eyes sparkling in the fading sunlight.
"I truly hope so Miss." Captain Potter answered kindly but in all seriousness. He didn't rise to the humour in Hermione's question. "While the French are still a concern for the Regulars, I wouldn't deny that us officers are wary that this relaxed outlook will be detrimental to our troops. We hope to set up regular training exercises in the area to keep the army fighting fit in the event of a renewal of the hostilities."
Minerva had taken the opportunity of the young people greeting each other to quickly read through the short letter handed to her by young Master Potter. It was written in Mr Snape's slanting hand, a handwriting she was very familiar with, for the two of them had been acquainted since before her move to Wiltshire.
They had remained constant friends throughout the years, albeit over letters exclusively, with this missive announcing his upcoming visit to the area over the Yuletide season when he hoped to be able to call upon Minerva, finally in person, after so long as correspondents only.
"Potter of Somerset you said?" Lady Augusta meekly asked the Captain in the most unlike manner. "Would you be related to James and Liliane Potter of Godric Hollow by any chance?"
"Yes indeed your Ladyship, they were my parents." Captain Potter inclined his head in respect, or simply to hide the grief in his eyes brought about by the use of the past tense in reference to his parentage.
The Dowager began to breathe very heavily, took out her kerchief, mopping her brow in a distracted manner. Hermione grew alarmed instantly as she was well acquainted with the aging Lady's febrile heart.
"Lady Augusta! Are you well? Pray tell me do you require valerian tea to help with your palpitations?" Hermione crouched next to Lady Augusta to observe her more closely.
"Thank you dearest, I am quite well." Lady Augusta patted Hermione's hand hastily. "I was only taken back to the past for an instant." Looking back to Captain Potter, she added.
"Pardon my emotion, Captain Potter. For you see your parents were very good friends of my Francis and his wife Alice. Through my grief all these years, I was sadly unaware that they were no longer of this world."
While still visibly shaken, Lady Augusta rallied nonetheless, then turned to her grandson. "Neville, if you could be so kind as to call for our carriage. I think it is time for me to retire." Before turning back to the Officer.
"Captain Potter, you would do me the greatest honour to accept an invitation to our home for Samhain. You and young Master Weasley will bring colour to our party. And I hope to be able to converse about your parents then, if you would be so inclined to indulge me in recounting cherished memories for a while." Lady Augusta rose to take her leave assisted by Lord Neville.
"And that my friend, is why I have more luck with the fairer sex than you have! Good lord, you've never known when to keep quiet. And to have been chastised by a humble farrier? I would have paid good money to see this!" Master Theodore Nott's laughter could be heard throughout the eastern wing of Malfoy Manor, thankfully reserved exclusively to Draco Malfoy's sole use.
"That humble farrier, Weasel something, looked like he could have wrestled a dragon!" Draco grumbled irritably while pouring them both more Armagnac using his only good hand.
He continued, half retelling his story, half justifying his impropriety. "Laugh all you want, insolent friend. How was I to know she wasn't an easy win? Besides, no Lady would have known how to help me as she did. She was so sure of herself in her healing, at one point I suspected witchcraft. No seriously, even you must admit, you would have been hard pressed to think of her in any other way at that moment."
The young Masters were gathered in the Game room on the ground floor of Draco's wing. The rest of the staff had long gone to sleep, to be roused again for their daily toil in but a few hours. They were casually enjoying their evening of fine French liquor and billiard, albeit only Theodore was able to play since the stick required two functioning hands. Draco's injured shoulder was still recovering, his arm bandaged to his chest. It left him with no other option but to be drinking instead, the activity being easily accomplished with only one hand.
"And tell me, how do you think of her now?" Theodore looked up from the game to observe his friend.
"Nott, in all honesty, she is the most alluring creature I have ever beheld." Draco was lost in the amber liquid in his glass, its golden colour recalling vivid eyes and riotous curls.
Theodore knew he was the only one in this room aware of the silence following Draco's admission. "What is holding you back from seeking her acquaintance then? Orcheston St George is within easy reach by good road. It would take you no time on one of your stallions."
"You cannot be serious, surely?" Draco sneered the words out. "We must run in completely different spheres for we had never crossed paths before. And while modest, her behaviour that day was not that of a proper Lady nor could she ever claim to have acted like one. No, she is beautiful enough to tempt me, but not lowly enough for a seduction to be without risks. She is decidedly off limits."
Theodore shrugged, either in agreement or opposition, neither were obvious, both were possible. He then returned to his game and said. "Come on old boy, let's drink to all the other women yet to be had. And let's rejoice that come November our fathers will have to return to town to take their seats! And a good riddance that will be."
"Actually speaking of fathers puts me in mind. Are you acquainted with Mr Riddle? How would you qualify him? Your father receives him as well, does he not?" Draco asked his childhood friend.
"Do not remind me. Father has been a different man since Mr Riddle has come back into his life." Theo set the billiard stick aside permanently, settling in the armchair opposite Draco by the fire. "Do not mistake me, my father has always had his fair share of eccentricities, but he has been acting particularly odd recently. He appears most subservient to that Riddle character, started calling him 'My Lord' even though that man has no claim to any peerage. Just the other day, I overheard them converse about my mother as if she was still alive. It was the most bizarre exchange I've ever heard."
"Yes, there is something afoot. I am keeping an eye on him and would recommend you do the same." Draco said. "I cannot quite explain it, but mark my words, I can feel his duplicity like a brand on my skin."
Theo attempted to shrug, but the Armagnac combined with the warmth of the fire were fanning his natural indolence. "Maybe we ought to make our way to London sooner rather than later. We will be better positioned to observe the man. It will also please Lady Narcissa to have you with her during the Season."
Balancing his glass on his knee, Draco was rubbing his face with his one good hand. "Good grief, speak of a rock meeting a hard place. My mother's heart is set on finding me a wife this Season, and I am running out of excuses to postpone the whole damn thing."
"Fear not, my maimed friend. You can count on me to keep debauching you … until you are safely bound by the shackles of matrimony, that is!" Theodore promised as he downed the last of the Armagnac.
I can only just imagine Theo Nott let loose at the Almack's in Regency London ... what a sight that would have been! Do you think Draco will end up with a wife, as per his mother's wishes? 😏