Hermione could sense that she was in very big trouble when she stepped through the door of her house. A few maids were working, getting ready for supper no doubt, and they looked at Hermione anxiously. They all knew she was in for it. Hermione went up the stairs and into her room, she carefully pulled out the wicked looking hat pins from her hair and put the fancy confection of bows and pearls onto her bed.
She went to the floor lengthed mirror and looked herself over. She looked awful, her thick hair was escaping its hair pins, the hem of her dress was soiled with dirt and when she held up one her hands, she noticed the offending dirt under her nails and in the crevices of her hand. She went over to the wash basin, which had cool water in it, a sign that she was at home later then she should of been. Quickly, she took some lilac soap (she could tell what it was by the lovely scent) and scrubbed her hands till they were a dull pink.
The water was now a mucky brown color, and Hermione turned away from it as someone entered her room. Hermione had hoped it was her maid, Mattie, who would have told her what was going on, but she wasn't that lucky. Instead of the sweet maid, Lady Albert stood in the doorway, looking very formidable indeed.
"Why were you out so late, Catherine," Lady Albert questioned her voice hard and loud to Hermione's ears.
"I went for a walk and I completely lost track of time," Hermione explained and Lady Albert's mouth became a very thin line.
"You were out with that boy, Jack, weren't you, Catherine Marie," Lady Albert said coldly and Hermione recoiled slightly.
"No, I was walking all by myself," Hermione said crossing her fingers that Lady Albert couldn't read her too well.
"You're lying, young lady," the older woman snapped and Hermione blushed in humilation.
"I'm sorry, Lady Albert. I only was talking to Jack for moment," She said apologetically," and it was entirely proper," She added as an after-thought.
"I seriously doubt that that was the case, Catherine," Lady Albert said severely and Hermione flinched.
"For being late you will spend tomorrow afternoon with me. You will recite the thirty golden rules for a young woman to live by four times and then you will cross-stitch a rule of your choice into a small pillow."
"Yes, Lady Albert,'" Hermione said bowing her head in comliance.
"Go to bed. You're going to be up at the crack of dawn tomorrow," Lady Albert said and she left Hermione in her room, staring out the window at the autumn moon.
"A lady must never find herself in the presence of someone who is a beggar. All men surrounding a lady must be well bred and proper gentleman. A lady must never raise her voice to more than a gentle hum. A lady cannot run, play or engage in any other rough pastimes. A lady must never show more than a quarter inch of her stockinged ankle and no one shall see her bare ankles unless they are her maid or parent..." Hermione droned on, reading each golden rule from the tiny book she had open in the palms of her hands.
She was on the twenty-ninth rule, when her mother entered the room.
"A lady must respect all elders, kin and otherwise. She may never back-talk or show any sign of malcontent at her parents' wishes for her."
"Lovely, Catherine. Lady Albert, those blueberry pies have arrived from the market. I was wondering if you'd like to partake in a sample with me in the dinning room," Mary said.
"I'd be delighted, Mary. From the dining room we can still hear Catherine's lovely reciting voice," Lady Albert said sweetly, although her words had a stinging quality to them.
"A lady never wishes ill on another person, no matter how trying their attitude is," Hermione said looking straight at Lady Albert.
The older woman ignored her pointed stare and walked with Hermione's "mother" into the dinning room, ajoining the small sitting room that Hermione was standing in the middle of.
"A lady has no wishes for herself, but is ready to fullfill everyone else's."
Hermione rolled her eyes at that one and kept on reading. She had already recited these stupid rules three times before. Once she finished this time she was free to sit down, finally, and pick a quote for her cross-stitch.
"...Or show any sign of malcontent at her parents wishes for her."
"Done at last," Hermione said closing the book for a moment and sinking into a bright blue arm chair.
She had been standing, stiff-backed in the middle of that room for over an hour and her muscles were screaming at her.
Hermione opened the little book again. She hated every rule in that ugly little brown book, but if she had to pick one to use, it was going to be the best one.
"A lady is elegance at all times, every blunder is treated as though it never happened."
Nope, not that one.
"A lady uses her wits and charm to get anything she wants, within reason."
Maybe.
"A lady is supposed to hope for the best. Worry does not benefit her personality, nor does jealousy."
Right, not that one.
"A lady must never forget who she is, or what her heart desires."
That's it. Not the best she could hope for, but much better than the rest.
Hermione place the book open on the little gold stand that sat beside her chair and picked up a needle from that same table. She grabbed the nearly metalic blue pillow she was supposed to use and stared at it. She wasn't exactly sure how to cross-stitch. She had never attempted it before. She bit the inside of her cheek and pushed the needle through the fabric. It was clear to her when she started that she needed to find a way to cover the knot that was sticking out. But she couldn't figure out how.
The first letter was a bit shaky looking, but the next went much better. Hermione was careful to use minute stitches, knowing that was a desirable chararistic. Fourty minutes later and Hermione had finished her first word. She stretched her arms and looked disparingly at the pillow sitting on her lap. There was no way she was going to finish this soon. It might take her days.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon and Lady Albert had finally deemed it wise to check on her captive. Hermione was hunched over her work, looking at hte fabric and needle with a keen and tired eye.
Her pillow now read "A lady must never forget who". Hermione was thrilled with it though, she was going faster than she thought she could.
"Why is there a big notty thread at the beginning of your A," Lady Albert asked aspaciously and Hermione felt like the older lady had hit her.
"I didn't know how to cover it. I've been working very hard on it though, Lady Albert," Hermione said feeling attacked, although the pillow was a part of her woe, she was quite proud of her work and didn't want it put down to nothing.
"I have to admit it's the best work I've ever seen you do, Catherine. Your stitches are usually huge and all over the place. This pillow looks halfway decent. It will be a lovely gift to your cousin, Madeline," Lady Albert said and she left Hermione to gape at her slate grey skirts.
"That woman," Hermione muttered going back to what she'd been doing.
Later that night, Hermione held the finished pillow out to Lady Albert. She was sleepy and sore from sitting in a chair all day and she rubbed her back through her corset.
"Good job. Now go to bed," Lady Albert ordered and she flounced off to gossip with Hermione's mother.
Hermione walked up the stairs, ignoring the queasyness that was riding through her stomach. She grabbed onto the oak banister and dragged her feet heavily up every stair. She was nearly at the top when someone came hurrying down them, not paying particular attention to where they were going. Hermione nearly went rolling down the stairs, but she quickly leaning into the banister and steadied herself.
"I'm so sorry, My Lady. It won't happen again," came a familiar and haunting voice.
Hermione spun around and looked straight into the emerald green eyes of Harry Potter.