Chapter 25: Bitched the Pot
Draco had set up the human-sized cottage in the centre of the elven village as an office for her. She appreciated the thought but was hesitant to shift her whole life onto Malfoy property and the surrounding areas.
"Listen to this: Golden Girl Granger departs ministry in a shock move that has the sitting administration reeling." Harry read the paper aloud from the sofa with a grimace "the ministry is abuzz with worry over Miss Granger's next move. Some insiders believe she's distancing herself from the Minister's camp to mount an opposition." Harry chuckled and popped a pretzel in his mouth "you planning a coup without me curly?"
"No, I'm not, Speccy." She responded flatly as she skimmed the article in the Observatory. "Dylan Cooper thinks I'm an idiot, and I'm throwing my privilege in the face of all the brave children who didn't get the opportunities I did." Hermione pointed at Mr Cooper's article before chucking it across the room.
"Cooper's dad is in Azkaban for trying to keep a family of Muggles as slaves, a situation Dylan benefited from. He's not in jail because he was seventeen, so he should fuck off." Harry harrumphed.
"Excellent argument, council," Hermione grumbled and picked up another newspaper. "The Quibbler's actually writing about the Elves rights and not me, so that's nice." She tapped the magazine she'd been subscribed to since school and looked over at Harry, reading the prophet with a grin.
"Chase Parks says Malfoy couldn't keep his eyes off you through the hearing and an inside source says you've connected with him over the elves." Harry teased, waving the paper above his head, his watch beeped, and he groused, "I have to go back to work."
"Are you coming here every lunch break?" Hermione questioned with a raised eyebrow as she flicked her wand and sent the papers flying into a pile in the corner of the room.
"we've been having lunch together since we were eleven, Hermione. It's our thing." He nodded sagely.
"Fine, but you bring your own next…." There was a knock at the door.
"If that is my weird neighbour, will you pretend to be my boyfriend?" Hermione gasped, eyes wide with hope. "He's always offering to come over and look at my plumbing, and I have no idea if he means the sink or my vagina," Hermione whispered as she walked from her living room toward the main door, pulling Harry with her.
"Don't call it your vagina!" He gagged loudly as Hermione yanked the door open.
"What should she call it, Mr Potter?" Narcissa Malfoy stood with a tilted head and a smirk Hermione now realised was not a Malfoy trademark but a Black speciality.
Harry retched again for good measure.
"Well, Mr Potter, you've certainly assuaged any notion I had that you two were secretly in love." The lithe woman narrowed her eyes and pointed between the pair.
"Hello Mrs Malfoy, it's nice to see you again. Must dash," Harry finally said, bowing his head before scuttling back toward the living room. He and Narcissa had a very strained relationship, they both felt they owed the other something, and we're never sure how to overcome their mutual indebtedness.
"Mr Potter, heading back to the office?" she nodded in his direction, lips pursed so tight nobody would be blamed for thinking she had replaced her mouth with a cat's rectum.
"Yes, criminals to catch." He declared, then winced, instantly regretting it. Hermione let out an involuntary groan of discomfort, hearing but not seeing Harry Potter freeze as the implications of his verbal blunder struck him. Criminals like your incarcerated husband.
Narcissa let the awkwardness hang for a moment, revelling in it. "Please do pass my regards on to your lovely wife. I have a rather large bet on her catching the snitch in the first ten minutes." the lean, very tall and very blonde woman tugged at the fingers of her fox skin gloves. "Miss Granger, are you going to invite me in or am I to speak to you from out here like a door-to-door broom salesman?"
"Sorry, Mrs Malfoy, I wasn't expecting you." Hermione opened her arms wide in a welcoming gesture and tried to smile. "Please come in."
"My visit is a pleasant surprise, I'm sure." Narcissa removed a long and very sharp pin from her hat, the ornate head décor followed soon after. "I thought it only right we speak given your recent… activities." Narcissa turned her shark eyes onto Hermione again as she locked the door, forcing her feet not to flee.
Harry gathered his things hastily, threw powder into the fire and singed himself, so quick was his getaway.
"activities?" Hermione asked in the smallest voice, leading Narcissa to the sitting room Harry had just vacated.
"With the elves?" Narcissa smiled, all innocence as she shrugged herself out of her cloak.
"Can I take these for you?" Hermione reached for the outerwear like a person who had a cloakroom and wasn't just intending on throwing the things haphazardly on her bed.
"No," Narcissa waved a wand, and a tea set appeared. "I assume you're not set up for taking tea with guests?" she began setting Hermione's dining table for said tea, with a complex little wave of her wand and a spell Hermione had never heard before.
"I have a kettle and a mug that says 'Witches Brew' on it." Hermione retorted smartly, unwilling to wilt under the woman's stare. "None of my other guests have complained."
"I'm sure they wouldn't dare. Sit." Narcissa commanded the girl in her own home as she gracefully slipped into a chair. Hermione considered not sitting just out of sheer belligerence. "We'll use my set. I like things done the old fashioned way." Narcissa's large pot filled with steaming hot water and the most delicate leaves from the highest mountains of India.
"I'm sure you do," Hermione spoke carefully, slumping with far less grace into her own seat.
"When tea first came to these isles, it was only found in the wealthiest and most powerful witches parlours." Narcissa spoke as she watched the steam rise from the pot's spout, "Women weren't allowed in the coffee houses of the day, so tea became a ladies drink." Narcissa finally lifted the large pot and poured a cup "A woman who hosted others for tea would be called a 'standing bitch', and when she poured tea, they would say she 'bitched the pot', if she did so gracefully her friends would comment that she was an 'excellent bitch'." Narcissa poured her own cup second. "I've been called an excellent bitch on many occasions."
Hermione couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips. She remained silent, mesmerised by Narcissa's calm tone and easy hands.
"Though not always with a pot in my hands. milk or sugar?" Draco's mother observed Hermione as if her response to this question said something profound about her.
"neither, thank you." Hermione wasn't sure why Narcissa was smiling. All she knew was that sugar rotted her teeth, and Narcissa certainly didn't have the brand of oat milk she liked in the gold-rimmed jug.
"as it should be." The woman sipped her own tea, black with no sugar and stared at Hermione over the brim.
"How's Paris?" Hermione finally asked when the silence became stifling.
"Very French." Narcissa responded tartly and clicked her tongue, "I see you abhor small talk like me. Let's get to the guts of my visit, shall we?"
"If you like." Hermione's rear end clenched so tight at the prospect of what was to come.
"I want to be chair of the committee." Narcissa finally laid her cards on the table. Hermione choked. Why was the Malfoy woman not scolding her for doing illicit things with her son, next to priceless first editions, in their ancestral home?
Hermione's brows furrowed. Narcissa was already the chair of the fundraising committee for the Wolfsbane. Hermione had started the action but didn't have the time to devote as a leader. "Pardon?" was all she could manage.
"The elves. I'm assuming your new endeavour will need funding for lobbying, press, awareness and the like." Narcissa placed her cup down and looked thoughtfully at Hermione, "The elf's land borders Malfoy land. My son is their 'king'." Narcissa framed his royal title in disdainful finger quotes. "There hasn't been a gala nor a ball at Malfoy manor since Draco's 13th birthday. If there is to be one, I ask that you look into that large heart of yours, Hermione and see how important it is to me that I organise it."
Hermione blinked furiously. This visit was about Mrs Malfoy's need to host a party? "Of course, Mrs Malfoy, you were top of my list." Hermione nodded earnestly. "I would have asked you properly, you know when we were set up. I quit the ministry two days ago," she explained, eyeing Narcissa carefully.
"the early Jobberknoll gets the worm, Miss Granger." Narcissa raised her cup to her lips. "Thank you." The woman's eyes softened for a second as she scrutinised Hermione Granger. The girl was wealthy. It was well enough known if you associated with the right kind of goblins. Hermione didn't flaunt her wealth like some other young people. She was understated about it. Bought good quality clothes to last and sturdy furniture, Narcissa Malfoy knew that meant one thing, Hermione had been raised in at least a moderate amount of money. "Your parents are medics?" Mrs Malfoy asked conversationally, now that her position as queen bee of the elf's charitable board had been secured.
"They work in dentistry, which is a field of medicine focussed on the teeth, though my parents are more on the cosmetic side of it all." Hermione smiled fondly as she spoke of them.
"oh, muggles put make-up on their teeth?" Narcissa asked as politely as one could when faced with a horrendous prospect.
"No!" Hermione chuckled, "You can get your teeth whitened, straightened, or completely replaced. They use technology and chemistry, like potions, to make people's teeth pretty and healthy." Hermione tried to explain a complex job to a woman who grew up in a world where the mother's used a spell to extract decayed teeth from their children then packed the hole with skele-grow, and the only cure for crooked gnashers was tight lips.
"How utterly fascinating, if you'd not gone to Hogwarts do you see that as a profession you'd have taken up?" Narcissa asked politely.
"I think it would have made my parents very happy. It's a good career."
"But not what you see for yourself?" Narcissa could see Hermione's non-answer for what it was.
"Probably not. I think politics or ethics would have still been on my cards." Hermione felt herself relaxing into the conversation, a fatal error.
"My son was right about you. You're very interesting. " the way the woman said 'interesting' the way her lips quirked, and her eye's narrowed, all said, I know you're sleeping with him. Bloody stupid momma's boy, Draco. Hermione blushed furiously.
"I thought it was boy's night?" Ron groaned at the sight of James.
"James is a boy! Could you be a little less disappointed at the sight of your nephew, please?" Harry hissed at his best friend as he slumped back into the sofa. "Ginny's back to training, her first match is next week, so I'm on baby duty." The bespectacled boy who lived gave Ron a tight-lipped smile from his almost prone position on the settee.
"I just wanted to get shit faced, is all." Ron groaned again, and Harry had to force his eyes not to roll.
"What's happened now?" Harry patted the open seat beside him, and Ron flopped down.
"Carrie dumped me." He grumbled.
"Who the hell is Carrie?" Harry pulled a beer can from the secret pocket-dimension Hermione created between the cushions to store drinks. The can was cold and perfect. Ron had brought a half-eaten bag of chicken pakora. Hermione was the better friend. He passed a can to Ron.
"We've been seeing each other for a week. I thought she was the one." Ron cracked the tab slowly and took a slurp. James babbled up at the pair.
"after a week?" Harry's pitch shot up an octave with incredulity.
"If I want a lecture, I'll go to Hermione's, yeah?" Ron bit out through gritted teeth.
"Sorry, mate, just seems a bit sudden." Harry tried to placate the redhead.
"While we're on the subject of my crazy ex, what the hell is she playing at with that ministry stunt?" Ron asked as if he was the one who had it all together with his barely professional Quidditch career and a string of one night stands that lasted too long.
"She was quite right. You would've flipped your lid if you'd been there. Marcus…"
"The big guy with the pelican?" Ron asked, popping a ball of lukewarm chicken into his gob.
"it's a falcon, I think. Anyway, he called her a mudblood and then his bird went for her."
"I'll kill the prick." Ron ground out. "I only knew she'd made a scene and quit."
"She didn't' make a scene, Barlow and Ashford whipped up a court to try and shame her with a bogus dirty letter they claim they found!" Harry stared at his friend in wonder. "Do not read newspapers?"
"No!" Ron laughed. "I literally read as little as I humanly have to."
"This is why you and Hermione would never have worked." Harry chuckled and grabbed for a piece of chicken.
"Don't say that!" Ron wailed as he tried to snatch the bag of battered protein away. Harry was too fast. "There's still time for us, once I've got all the wild out of my system and she'd done with being a work-obsessed cat lady." Ron smiled as he peered into the future he'd imagined for them. A future where Hermione would be grateful that he picked her.
"That's never going to happen." Harry Potter crushed Ron's dream with a giggle, not fully realising the earnestness at play.
"Course it will, Potter. It's like our destiny. We're like you and Ginny, meant to be, written in the stars all that shit." The redhead tossed the final piece of chicken in the air and caught it between his teeth, immensely pleased with himself.
"Oh, so you won't read the Prophet, but you'll read the stars?" Harry laughed nervously. This was going to be worse than he imagined. "Have you clued Hermione into this little plan of yours?"
"No!" Ron shifted in his seat to better look at Harry and took another glug. "She'd put a timeline on it, nag me… this way I can do it all at my own pace."
"And what if she meets someone else in the meantime?" Harry was dumbfounded. How had this man survived basic life, never mind a war?
"HA!" Ron was giggling. "She's Hermione. She's plain and homely. Nobody is chasing her."
"Ron, she's dated the captains of the Scotland Quidditch team and The Bulgarian national team," Harry exclaimed, indignation bubbling on behalf of his best friend, Hermione.
"That was a publicity stunt for both of them, Wood's told me as much," Ron explained away quickly.
"There's a toilet wall in Hogwarts where nearly every boy in our generation wrote about how much they wanted to bang her," Harry heaved at the idea.
"That was a joke!" Ron was staring at Harry as if he was mad. "Cause she was so prudish. I mean, look at you, you can't even imagine her having sex with her without wanting to vomit!" They'd never discussed Hermione's looks before. It had seemed inappropriate given their dynamic. Harry was only just realising, this had been a mistake given Ron's complete blindness when it came to the girl they both loved dearly.
"have you ever imagined Ginny having sex?" Harry asked, opting for a more drastic tactic.
"NO!" Ron gagged and winced and shook his whole body, trying to dislodge the thought.
"That's why I gag. Hermione's my sister Ron." Harry lowered his voice, realising that James was quietly staring at them. There was always the possibility that he'd be one of those genius babies who remember everything they heard and repeat it in adulthood. "Hermione is beautiful, and I don't mean it in a way that a brother or a friend would say it. I spend at least one tea break a week in the ministry fielding questions about her from men and women of all ages and backgrounds, trying to get in with her. Hermione's single because she chooses to be, not because she's plain ."
" You think she's seeing someone?" Ron had a panicked look in his eye. Thoughts clearly whirled through his brain as he reframed how he looked at Hermione.
"Why does it matter? You don't actually fancy her!" Harry wanted to jump out of his chair and slap sense into his friend.
"I do, just not in a conventional way! She's like one of mum's jumpers, I complain about them, but I always look forward to getting them." Ron tried to explain.
"Please, never say that to her face."
A/N: The stuff about Bitching the Pot was real!