Hermione Granger and the Heir of Mumbelly
Disclaimer: The author of this fiction (my father, who is slowly but surely becoming the major contributor towards Grammar-Conscious Possum) owns neither the Austen estate or the Harry Potter Phenomenon.
Hermione's mind was a whirlpool of emotions as she dressed for the monthly senior's dance. Normally she looked forward to it, but since her pretty-but-dim sister Jane and her younger airhead bimbo sister Lavender had joined her for a visit at Hogwarts she felt a new sense of responsibility on her shoulders. Now, as she laced her Doc Martens and set her baseball cap at a jaunty angle, her mother's words were running through her mind.
"It is all very well for you to score A+ in all your school subjects, but think of your other responsibilities. Our fish and chip shop is entailed to your weird cousin, Mr Collins, and myself and all thirteen of you girls will be thrown out onto the street when your father dies. So you must do everything in your power to find husbands, for pretty Jane, for yourself (if you can), for Lavender, for Miss-I-Have-Read-James- Joyce's-Ulysses-Twice-and-You-Haven't Mary, and… and… for the other ones. And don't be too picky, it's not like we were royalty, the Grangers come from a line of rag and bone persons, so humble that your cousin Maude boasted for a month when she trapped that apprentice bicycle spoke polisher into wedlock. A Loss Adjuster or a banjo tuner would do just fine."
Her mother had stopped speaking then, having run out of commas, but the message was clear. Hermione needed to trap one or more husbands or she would be spending her early adult years sleeping under a railway arch.
Lavender gasped with excitement at the splendid assembly, the ornate robes, the shining track suits, the elegant hoodies. In a second she was gone, swept away into the arms of the handsome young Mr Malfoy.
Swigging alcopops elegantly by the neck, Jane and Hermione surveyed the assembly. Nothing here to repay the Granger credit card debts, she thought to herself.
"Look who has just come in," someone muttered beside her. It was Cho, nodding at the pair in the doorway. "It is Mr Potter, heir to Mumbelly, and Mr Weasley, two young gentlemen who have just joined us. Mr Potter is allegedly so rich that Gringotts had to dig a new vault merely for the interest on his interest, and Mr Weasley has become incredibly wealthy since his father was transferred from the Ministry of Magic to the treasury. They have rented the West and North wings of Hogwarts as their private apartments."
"Interesting indeed,' thought Hermione, and, dragging her sister by the elbow, she joined the entire female student body of Hogwarts in edging towards the pair. Soon they were close enough to hear what they were talking about. Which, as the DJ was playing death metal, was within three centimeters.
"What a delightful collection of ladies we have here at Hogwarts, Mr Potter," Mr Weasley was saying.
"Delightful, Mr Weasley? I have observed more attractive creatures pulling sleds for Eskimos. Put that lot in studded collars and they could guard any junkyard. Mr Wesley, I believe that your night vision has become impaired. A diet of carrots is heartily to be recommended."
"You are being very unjust, Mr Potter, look at the Granger sisters. Surely you have seldom seen more beautiful girls?"
"Perhaps. The younger one, alas, lacks that certain delicacy of decorum that individuals of refinement so highly value."
Hermione turned and groaned at the sight of Lavender, outright winner of the wet T-shirt contest, holding a pint of lager in each hand and balancing another on her head as she performed a Cossack dance.
Mr Weasley was unperturbed. "Well, Mr Potter, I do not care. Most people find Miss Hermione to be exceedingly beautiful, and I, for my part, intend to ask Miss Jane up."
In a moment he had approached, bowed to Jane, kissed her hand and asked her to dance.
Not letting a moment pass, she handed him a small drum, picked up her zils and begun one of the fifteen minute belly dance solos for which she had become notorious.
Hermione eyed Mr Potter. Tall, handsome, dressed with expensive good taste, he looked the epitome of the proud aristocrat as he set about one of the waiters with his riding crop.
She noticed him eying her with interest, and opened her mouth the speak, but was interrupted.
Someone appeared in front of her. Neville, clearly the worse for drink.
"Buy me a drinksh and I'll let you dance with me, hic."
"Get knotted," she replied gracefully.
"Well you can shag off then, hic," he retorted, lurching off.
She looked up to find that Mr Potter, who had been walking towards her, had sheered away.
When Mr Weasley arrived, hand in hand with Jane, he enquired, "Are you not going to dance with Hermione?" to be told, "I am not interested in women who have been spurned by other men."
Hermione clenched her teeth in rage, her hand closing on the knuckleduster in her pocket.
"Your sister has gone."
It was Cho.
"What?"
"Your sister, Lavender, has eloped with Mr Malfoy. They took his Vespa and left a note under an empty six pack. They intend to go to Las Vegas and get married by an Elvis-look-alike preacher."
Hermione and Jane embraced in tears. "This is the end of everything. We shall never now marry rich but elderly and infirm husbands, nor know the joy of flying business class and exploiting servants from third world countries. Instead we shall be evicted from our cosy fish and chip shop and spend our lives sleeping in cardboard boxes, a hissing and a byword before all society."
The two sisters met after Divination the next day.
"What news, Jane?"
"Our father's private eye has tracked them down to LA. Instead of marrying our sister, Mr Malfoy has bought a white suit and a pimped-out Vauxhall and put poor Lavender on the street as a crack ho."
Hermione grabbed her. "This cannot be true."
"I am afraid it is. Look!"
She held out her mobile. The words were crushing in their finality. "Mlfy pmpd vxhl, lder crk ho n LA"
"This means the end of all our dreams. Society can accept that we have call centre operatives and barristers in our family, but this, this means we forever shall be spurned by everyone who matters."
Hermione was near to tears.
"What ever shall we do?"
"Jane, I shall take a walk by the lake and consider matters. You text dear Papa and console him."
Jane's thumbs were busy as Hermione set off for the lake. At the same time, Mr Potter was bringing his Hippogriff in for a smooth landing on the far side of the lake. He beckoned for a minion.
"Take this damned animal to the stables, gently damn you," he swore, lashing out with his stick.
Flogging a serf is warm work, and afterwards Mr Potter slipped out of his clothes and dived straight into the cool lake.
Refreshed, he climbed out onto the bank, and was so engrossed in kicking loose the various toothed, clawed and fanged creatures that had attached themselves to his body that he failed to notice Hermione until the very last moment.
She watched, entranced, as he shook his tall, finely muscled body, showering her with stagnant lake water.
He noticed her and jumped.
"Why, good day Miss Granger."
"Good day Mr Potter."
For a moment he was lost for words, then he noticed one of the loathsome lake creatures creeping back towards the water.
It jogged a memory.
"How is your mother?"
"She is well, thank you."
"Oh." He seemed disappointed.
She smiled. "And your dear sister?"
"My sister is well and sends her compliments. And your own dear sisters?"
"All are fine. Well, except dear Lavender, who has run off to LA with Mr Malfoy and become a crack ho. Except now he calls himself "Prince Mal". And she has an offer of half a million dollars to sell her story to People magazine."
"This is terrible news indeed, Miss Granger. Pray excuse me. You, minion, bring my trousers at once."
He was gone, and mentally she berated herself. Perhaps she should have kept poor dear Lavender's problems a secret, at least until after the wedding. Best she leave Hogwarts and return home to console her mother.
"Poor dear Lavender," her mother wept, "Whatever shall become of her and you and poor Jane and... the others?"
She had been going on like this for several days now, and Hermione was beginning to contemplate the fire axe with a calculating eye.
"Miss Granger!"
"What is it?" twelve voices replied.
"Miss Hermione, your father has received a text."
He was walking in the orchard, "Read this Hermione, I cannot make sense of it."
The message read, "Ldr rhb, rfsd ppl offer, mrried mlfy, mlfy wrkng as wtr plnt hlyd."
"Lavender is in rehab, married to Malfoy who is working as a waiter in Planet Hollywood, and she has refused the offer from People. How can this be?"
"I do not know, but it may mean an end to some of our troubles."
They walked slowly back to the house, interrupting Jane and Mr Weasley who were emerging from the shrubbery covered in leaves.
"Mr Granger, I would like the hand of your daughter in marriage."
"Whatever,' replied Mr Granger, and the two ran off, hand in hand.
"It is a meeting of minds, I suppose," he mused, "albeit feeble minds. Two down, eleven to go."
There was a sudden crunching of vegetation and a hippogriff smashed into the same shrubbery, to emerge snapping angrily at its rider, none other than Mr Potter.
"This is not Mumbelly," he swore, turning his map over, "Oh, good day Mr Granger, Miss Granger."
Mr Granger bowed. " Good afternoon, please stay for tea while our coachman bandages your… er… creature."
After tea they took a turn in the garden.
"Mr Potter."
"Miss Granger."
"Let me speak. I believe, from your newly acquired and completely unconvincing American accent that you have recently been to the US, and are therefore highly likely to be that most considerate person who saved the reputation of our family from the scandal caused by our dear sister Lavender. If so, I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart."
"You do not need to thank me, madam, as the damage to your reputation was of my own doing. On mature consideration I feel that I would have done better to have informed you that Mr Malfoy was not a suitable companion for your sister, being a Death Eater and in league with the Dark Lord. Unfortunately I omitted to acquaint you with that somewhat important information, and therefore I felt I must take it upon myself to remedy the damage."
"You are too kind Mr Potter."
They walked for some time in companionable silence.
"Once before, you rejected my proposal of marriage."
She blushed. "Mr Potter, I cannot bear to remember that occasion."
He smiled. " I well remember the words you used; in fact, I have the text here."
He flicked his phone open. "Shg off, yr no gntlmn, nvr untl hll frzes over."
She blushed, prettily. "If only I could take back those words."
He stopped. "Then you would marry me if I asked?"
"With all my heart, Mr Potter."
"Then if you will please read and sign this pre-nuptial agreement, initialing pages 5, 11, 17, 23 and 34, and countersign the provision obliging your mother to remain at least 75 miles from Mumbelly, I will speak to your father today and soon we can be as one."
The End