Saturday 23rd April 2005
She wrapped up the heavy wet curls in a towel to keep them from dripping all over her before heading down to the kitchen for more tea. It was still early, just past five thirty, but she had had an early night last night after another exhausting week, and felt well rested despite the early hour and her run half an hour ago.
The opposition to the Repopulation Act has begun. Many pairings appeared to be well matched but there was a rising tide of those who felt disenfranchised by the law and unhappy with their matches. And as much as most of the public seemed to be in favour of the Minister's match and upcoming wedding, she was starting to get used to seeing spiteful articles from the Prophet once more.
The hate mail was no worse than it was during the Triwizard Tournament and Skeeter's spiteful reporting. Some were claiming she wasn't well matched for the Minister at all, others were calling her a young ambitious twerp. As her mum always encouraged her when faced with bullies, let the words come in through one ear and leave out the other without sticking around. She didn't dispose of the letters but rather kept them in a small black box in her study on top of her packed up moving boxes, just in case she needed to refer to them in the future. Working against pureblood factions has certainly taught her to keep all evidence of communication…
The worst to date had been the letter she received from Ronald last weekend. She could still recall the spiteful resignation in its tone… I thought we could try again but it's clear that you moved on. I hope you're happy in the bed you chose… The boy she once thought herself to be in love with has become a man she couldn't call her friend if she tried. At least some of the Weasleys were happy for her. Bill and Fleur had sent a beautiful congratulations card and a package with her favourite French earl grey chocolates. She would have to thank them in person when they came to the wedding.
She flicked the kettle on and was just trying to decide what to have for breakfast when her phone vibrated with a text message on the counter.
Are you awake?
She quickly typed in her affirmation and waited for a response, wondering what had Kingsley messaging her so early.
Can I floo call?
She looked at her grate and grimaced, realising she really hadn't kept the floo tidy enough for that.
Floo over, kettle's on, she invited and hoped he wouldn't mind coming to her flat for a change.
A few minutes later, her fireplace roared to life and Kingsley stepped through, looking fresh and ready for the day in a pair of black slacks and grey jumper that did very little to hide his fit physique. She was starting to prefer him in muggle attire as opposed to the draping magical robes that hid his solid shoulders. It was then that she realised she was still barefoot and had her hair towel on. Oh well, if they were to be married, he might as well get used to the hair beast and the amount of work it took her to tame it.
"Morning," she greeted, leaning against the counter that separated her open-plan living room and kitchen.
"Good morning," he greeted warmly, looking around the tidy spacious room and smiling fondly at the overflowing bookshelves. "You have a lovely home," he offered and walked over, leaning down to kiss her cheek in greeting.
She accepted the gesture and breathed in the vetiver notes of his cologne over the masculine musk of his skin. She pushed away the memories of hugging his solid build on the back of a thestral, the smell of ozone and charred flesh surrounding them as she fired off spell after spell to keep them protected. That was their past, this was in the now and he smelled lovely. She was getting used to his scent and having him in such close proximity as well, though she suspected it would take them a while to get fully comfortable in each other's space.
"Thank you. Tea or coffee?" she asked, chuckling at his raised brow before heading for the cezve. As much as she couldn't live without her tea cabinet, Kingsley couldn't go through his day without at least two double espressos. The De'Longhi in his kitchen spoke for itself. "I usually have Turkish coffee with cardamom, I hope that's okay?"
He looked intrigued. "I don't think I've ever had a flavoured Turkish coffee. I would like to try it," he agreed and settled himself on the bar stool at the counter when she was clearly sitting earlier with her tea and newspaper when he interrupted her. "Are you usually such an early bird?" he asked curiously.
"Not so early but I'm usually at least awake around this time. I would say I'm a morning person for sure. I get my best work done before twelve when focusing intently on research. Sorry I'm not properly dressed yet for the day, I just got out of the shower after my morning run," she explained. "What about you?" she asked.
He picked up the day's muggle Guardian with interest and started flicking through. "I'm a morning person as well, it's often the only time of the day I get to do my workout or just have an hour of peace to read," he explained.
She had been invited to have a look through the house on Wednesday and understood how he was managing to keep in shape. The basement was dedicated entirely to a training area split into two parts, one for a physical workout with weights and a couple of muggle machines, and the other half was a heavily warded training room that reminded her of the Room of Requirement during their fifth year - panelled safely, and one of the walls stacked with practice dummies. The difference was that the floor was lightly padded to be kinder on the joints and while some panels absorbed spells, others bounced them back for added difficulty. No wonder he was so fit if he had his own work out studio at his disposal at any time. It made her want to duel. She wasn't much for gyms but liked a run to clear her head and the rowing machine looked interesting so she looked forward to trying it out.
"I might join you in the mornings for a workout, I get restless without movement sometimes," she admitted.
He looked over her form as she puttered around and prepared their drinks. She was wearing a simple white cotton sleeveless dress that appeared to be something she was comfortable lounging around her home in, and the towel keeping her voluminous curls at bay only made her heart shaped face appear sweeter and those bright inviting eyes larger. He remembered her covered in blood and dust, scrapes and cuts, her hair a riot and clothes hanging on a much too petite frame. He was glad to see she looked strong and healthy these days, and wondered whether she would at any point agree to do some duelling with him for the fun of it. The image of her powerful petrificus cast from the back of a thestral hitting Rockwood so hard he fell off his broom, and at just seventeen years of age, was burned into his memory. She would be an excellent duelling partner.
"Has the Belgian Minister confirmed his arrival for today?" she asked by way of finding out why he was visiting so early.
"He confirmed his arrival for next week instead, they had to temporarily close the borders to investigate some poachers on their dragon reserve. Esme is arriving in two hours though, so I thought to give you a heads up in case you wanted to come with me to pick her up?" he offered.
"Oh, I thought she was coming tomorrow!" She set their drinks on the island and joined him in the adjacent seat, folding the newspapers to give them more space.
"She was hoping for Philippe to join her but he won't be able to come to Britain until next week, for the wedding. So she's travelling over early, she was impatient to meet you," he smiled fondly.
"That works out well. If she's not too tired, she can help me pick my dress today," she offered, summoning her Filofax diary and adding a few notes to the wedding planning pages. "I think nearly everything's ready for the reception as well. We're avoiding seating charts and formal eating by ordering canapés and making it a bit more leisurely with small tables and music. We'll have to endure niceties for a couple of hours and then we'll be able to disappear," she promised, knowing they were both likely not looking forward to the official reception part.
"That will give us enough time to catch our portkey then," he smiled, watching her for a reaction.
She hummed in agreement, eyes on her list before the words sunk in. "Wait, portkey? Where are we going?" she asked curiously.
"Anywhere you'd like, though I would appreciate sticking to Europe so the travel doesn't take away from the already short time we'll have," he offered. They weren't originally planning on a honeymoon but with how well things have been going between them, he thought it may be good for them to take even a few short days away from the press and settle into their new life together.
Hermione was surprised but a part of her was pleased that despite all of his responsibilities, he was willing to clear his schedule for some sort of a honeymoon for them to get to know each other as husband and wife, and have some semblance of a regular start to their marriage. "How long will we have?" she asked.
"Only until Wednesday morning I'm afraid. I have a hearing for the upcoming Environmental Act on Thursday that couldn't be postponed. I'm assured your schedule can be cleared for the full week though, if you want to settle in at home," he offered.
Three days and four nights, and they were on the cusp of May so the temperatures in the Mediterranean would be pleasant. "Italy?" she suggested, one of her favourite destinations.
Kingsley thought about it for a moment and nodded. "We have a townhouse in both Florence and Venice. Or we could rent some apartments in Rome."
Her eyes brightened at the name of the city that was at heart of the Renaissance. "I've always wanted to see the Uffizi and Boboli gardens," she admitted.
"Florence it is," he smiled, looking forward to showing her one of his favourite destinations as well. "I'll send word to have the townhouse ready for us," he promised.
"Thank you," Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand in delight before realising the move. He surprised her by gently holding onto her fingers and rubbing her knuckles with his thumb in a soft, affectionate gesture.
Unlike his public persona, he wasn't a man of many words in private, she was starting to learn that. But there were the small ways that he showed her she had his attention when she talked, or these little gestures that showed his growing affection towards her.
She felt heat rising to her cheeks and with a final squeeze pulled away. "I should get ready if we are to meet your sister. I'll be a few minutes, enjoy your coffee," she picked up her cup and headed towards the back of the flat to her bedroom to change and wrestle her hair into submission.
Kingsley hummed at the taste of the cardamom pods balancing with the arabica as he waited for her. He liked his espresso but that cezve thing was definitely moving in with her…
"Of course we'll have dinner together. Now shoo, we have a dress to pick and you have a robe fitting to attend," Esme kissed his cheek and they waited for Kingsley to apparate away with her luggage and a promise to spend time together later.
Hermione observed the siblings with amusement, seeing the close bond they obviously shared. Esme Moreau nee Shacklebolt was a patrician beauty, her cheekbones high, complexion clear and well kept, almond shaped dark eyes revealing her sharp wit, and her braids had delicate gold clasps adorning them along the length that was arranged into an elegant bun. Her outfit of royal blue dress and long sweeping grey coat was simple but probably cost more than half of Hermione's wardrobe combined. It wasn't that Hermione felt intimidated by her, their initial greeting at the airport was warm enough to appease her nerves somewhat, but she genuinely hoped that Esme was open to really get to know her.
"So, now that we're alone," Esme turned to her when Kingsley apparated away, "I look forward to some brunch, I'm starving," she admitted.
Hermione chuckled. "I wouldn't say no to some food, I was a bit nervous to eat so early," she admitted.
Esme grinned and twined their elbows together, the height difference between them pronounced a bit further by the heeled ankle boots she was wearing, easily a good five inches taller than Hermione. "I hope that wasn't on my account, my interrogation practises aren't nearly as tough as my brother's and you are a Gryffindor I hear," she teased. "Now, where would you recommend we eat?" she asked.
Hermione thought about it for a moment before smiling. "There's a small cafe not far from the boutique in Hackney," she offered. "They have a good selection of cooked breakfast, deli, and pancakes."
Esme hummed. "Oh I'm always up for a cooked breakfast when in Britain," she grinned and allowed herself to be side-a-longed to their destination.
Once they were settled and their order was placed, Hermione sipped her tea, allowing Esme's observant gaze to sweep over her. She wanted to be presentable for their first meeting but also have it easy to change in the bridal shop, so she had put on her good underwear, some hold up nude stockings and one of her comfortable grey a-line dresses that she tended to wear for shopping and errands. Her temperamental hair dried well this morning for once and it was thankfully a clear sunny day without the usual humidity, so she let it curl freely around her shoulders. She wasn't sure what Esme thought of her, but hoped she at least passed the basic inspection.
"So, I'm sure everything Kingsley told me is true but I would still like to start getting to know you myself before we go to see some dresses. Why did you leave it so late if you don't mind me asking?" she asked curiously, as shopping for a wedding dress was usually every bride's priority.
Hermione thanked the waitress as their orders arrived before focusing on the elegant woman across from her. "To be honest, I didn't know I was getting married three weeks ago," she offered a wry smile. "But I thought it would be important to arrange all the official bits first as that will be the public-facing part. Kingsley has his tailor who will have everything ready for him by the end of the day, and I'm not planning on getting a custom design so I was hoping to find something to my taste and use a local magical seamstress to do the fitting if there's a need to adjust anything. I suspect I'll have to at least shorten what I pick," he mused, her 5' 6" build not exactly conducive to couture pieces made for someone as tall as her companion.
Esme nodded. "That's fair and practical, I got the sense you'd steer that way. Have you checked the house dress robes and dresses in the vault? You may like some of them, we could always alter or adapt them with your seamstress. Or are you set on a new model?" she asked to clarify.
That piqued Hermione's interest. "There are dresses in the family vault?"
"But of course! After the passing of each couple, their wedding robes and dresses, and some of their favourite pieces were preserved as part of their nook of the vault. I personally think some of great-great aunt Cassiopeia's dresses would look beautiful on your shape. Your wild curls and gentle curves would make for an Edwardian beauty," she complimented. "Or some of mum's shorter sixties dresses, we could even modify those if you fancy showing off your lovely legs," she offered. "What would you really like?"
Hermione thought about it as she chewed her bite. "I don't really have an idea of what it's supposed to look like, you know? We're told every girl dreams about her wedding, but I never really had that. I guess I just want something I can feel pretty in, before I change for the official part. Something private for just us, and something suitable to wear for the masses. I have a couple of good friends who I thought could join me today but one is in Norway hunting for magical creatures and the other one just gave birth, she's still recovering. So I would really like your help," she offered, hoping Esme would understand her.
"Of course, that's why I'm here early. How about we go to the boutique and see if you like some of the models, and then visit the family vault and pick up a piece or two that you may like so we have a few options? There's no harm in having plenty to pick from. You haven't visited the vaults yet, have you?" she asked curiously.
Hermione shook her head. "Your house is ancient and noble. I have no doubt that every old family has a few items in their inheritance that may be dangerous to someone like me so I wanted my first time in the vault to be with a member of the family. I hoped to visit with Kingsley, but our schedules have been so busy, we barely had any time at all," she explained.
Esme smiled appreciatively. "Smart choice, though of course I expected nothing less of someone who has experience with the darkest of magic," she said softly to not be overheard.
Hermione's shoulders stiffened a bit at the war reference but she nodded. "I nearly touched a few books belonging to the House of Black that would have had unfortunate consequences for me. I learnt my lesson. But I would like to get to know your family history and traditions, I'm afraid as much as I can learn some of the more common pureblood customs, every house of the Sacred Twenty-eight is different, and our circumstances are…particular," she mused.
Esme raised an amused brow. "Hmmm how about a deal? I'll be your Shacklebolt family tour guide, and you'll in turn tell me all about yourself while I try a few of my products on that lovely skin of yours," she offered, ever the business woman. She had a feeling her future sister-in-law will be a great addition to her family, but the time for asking the tougher questions would come later.
"Deal," Hermione promised before they wrapped up their brunch and headed to the bridal boutique.
"Urgh," she groaned softly when the cart finally stopped in front of a large ornate family vault door, their hurtling ride to the belly of the beast that was the Gringotts cave system coming to a sudden end.
"I know, one doesn't really get used to that," Esme murmured softly beside her as they followed the goblin forth, their vault thankfully uninhibited by any dragons or other such beings.
Hermione used her key for the both of them to be admitted inside, as the goblin settled on the short stool by the entrance to await their return. Hermione was stunned at the sight before her. Her own vault wasn't exactly empty but it was barely the size of her living room, whereas this magnificent old vault was probably the size of half a Quidditch pitch.
A large ornate book sat on a podium by the entrance where they settled their spring coats, and opened on the greeting index page. "Ah yes, this is the family vault catalogue. Not many families have them anymore, or they never had one in the first place. It was easier to claim something was never there if there is no evidence to the contrary," Esme pointed out. "Our family of course had no such qualms. We pick the items we would like to see and tap them on the catalogue, and they will be brought down from their storage for us to peruse," she explained the process.
Hermione was fascinated and tried to curb her desire to explore the catalogue magic, her fingers twitching to touch it. Esme must have noticed and explained the connection between family magic and inheritance, and the catalogue not just as a book but as a magical object connected to the small labels accompanying the stored materials items. There was a section for all sorts in the catalogue - money, precious gems and jewels, jewellery, clothing and house dress robes, books, maps, paintings, documents, family bloodline archive… The bibliophile in her was just too excited.
It took them some time but they worked through the female attire section and pulled up several storage units dating back to the early 19th century. They discarded the dresses that predated the 1837 beginning of the Victorian era, and tried to find anything suitable up to 1900. Hermione wasn't sure how she felt about wearing a whale-bone corset so they were cautious with a lot of the designs that called for it. They moved to the Edwardian pieces from Esme's great-great aunt, feeling a bit more hopeful as the emphasis on a small waist with less firm structure wouldn't be a problem with her pear shape.
Hermione opened one of the garment bags gently and pulled out what appeared to be a lovely Edwardian dress. It was a soft cream-coloured fabric and hung down all the way to the floor. It was a simple design with a ribbon that tied higher up at the waist, a tall neck of delicate lace, and sleeves that would reach just below her elbows. The stitching was delicately done in true gold thread along the hems. It was simply stunning and would most definitely be considered vintage but traditionally fashionable, she thought. "What about this one? I mean there is a bit too much lace on the sleeves," she mused objectively but it would help cover her scars tastefully.
"That can be taken in and we can keep the lace base simple over the décolletage," Esme observed approvingly. "It looks like you have a similar build as well, there won't be much to take in and you can forgo the corset because the bodice is built in. I think we should definitely take it with us," she nodded and they carefully zipped up the garment bag and set it aside.
They looked through the 20th century dress selection, but nothing else spoke to them, so they knew it would be a choice between the simple muggle dress from the wedding boutique, and the vintage Edwardian style.
Esme also tapped several of the house dress robes from the previous century for their viewing to inspire Hermione for the official celebration part of the day. Some ancient and noble houses had several house dress robes and dresses tailored specifically to include their housecrest as a sign of wealth and power. The Shacklebolt family crest was simple and consisted of three crowns stacked in a neat vertical line. She looked through several of the beautifully tailored dress robes and found the crown trinity embroidered in gold thread with the most delicate hand on the chest of all of them.
"I see a lot of purple, there's lavender, and this deep plum is stunning," she motioned at another set of shorter, more modern house robes.
Esme smiled fondly and caressed the sleeve with a wistful smile. "These were mum's. Our family may not have been as famous as the Malfoys who were associated with many famous French rulers including the House of Valois, but we held court with many other powerful houses and royalty in Europe including Kings of Spain and Portugal, Holy Roman Emperors…several of our ancestors were members of the magical branch of the Templars and the Order of . Tyrian and Byzantine purple have long since been our colours, with no rival from the other members of the Sacred Twenty-eight who mostly veered towards the elemental colours that were chosen as basis for the Hogwarts house colours," she explained.
"Blue for water, red for fire, green for earth and yellow for air," Hermione automatically recited, the words almost a reflex after the many times she read Hogwarts: A History. "I've always liked blue and purple," she agreed.
"I think the warmer, deeper shades will suit your complexion beautifully," Esme agreed. "If you were to choose house robes in one of our colours and wear family jewels for the official reception after the wedding, it would send a very clear message of your status and family loyalty. That is always important no matter what the current political situation is," she pointed out.
Hermione nodded and settled on a lovely set of tyrian purple house robes that would accentuate her figure, but could be adapted with a couple of modern features. It took them another half an hour to get a selection of family jewels together - both for everyday wear and special occasions and balls that Hermione was sure to attend in the coming years.
She looked longingly at the incredible list of books, some clearly priceless first or second editions, and even some that she never heard of actually still being around. They had no time today, but she vowed to herself that she would ask Kingsley to come with her one day so they could add more books to the library. It didn't even register saying those words out loud, making Esme smile in approval.
Neither Esme herself nor Kingsley held blood purity to heart, it made no sense to limit their family pools without addition of new blood, especially if it came with the intelligence and talent such as the woman before her. She was young and already the 'brightest witch of her age', her full potential was yet to be uncovered. Hermione Granger was the future of the House of Shacklebolt and Esme knew she would be their pride. It was time to step out of the 'toujours pur' circle and into the 21st century. They would still remain British Wizarding Elite either way, of that she had no doubt. She couldn't wait to see the penny dropping with the rest of the families that managed to survive their allegiance to Voldemort when they realised what they missed out on such talent and power for their own family. Worth sticking around in Britain for a little while perhaps, she thought to herself as they headed up to meet up with her brother once more.