"Are you mental?"
I put up with a lot of bloody shit as Hermione's assistant. But this? This was taking it too far.
"It's not like it's real or anything," Hermione shrugged.
How was she acting completely nonplussed about this? "So, you're just going to expect me to abide because I'm your assistant? Don't I at least get an explanation?"
"Is it really necessary?" Hermione was dodging the question as she moved to fill her plate with food.
"You're bloody mental; you know that? In what modern existence would you need to pretend to be married to me? Surely you can't just go all 'lawyer' on his arse and get him to back the bloody fuck off! Honestly, it's not like you're being forced into an arranged marriage or something!"
I was so angry. Three years, I'd done the most bizarre favors and requests for her when she needed something at the last minute. But this was taking the proverbial cake!
"It actually is," she said quietly, breaking me out of my own mental tirade.
"Wait, what?"
"My mother is trying to set me up with an arranged marriage. That's what the phone call was about today."
"Fucking hell." No other words were coming to mind. I was a bloody git just now. But in my defense, I really didn't think arranged marriages happened in modern-day England, or France for that matter.
"I vividly remember her saying that she'd be arranging something if I couldn't find a husband for myself. And then that oaf shows up at my doorstep claiming that I was his future wife, and looking me up and down and...ugh!"
She banged her fist on the table, which was so unlike her. Even when she was frustrated, she always managed to keep herself together.
"Alright, alright, take a deep breath. Let's think this through. Why is your mum insisting on you settling down?" I needed some more information before I agreed to anything.
"She's always been like this! School in England wasn't good enough, so I was shipped off to France for secondary. I had to get into Oxford in order to return to England to study law. You'd think any other parent would be proud that their daughter was at the top of their class at the most prestigious university in England, but that wasn't good enough.
"You should have heard the phone call I received when she found out I was moving to London to begin my career. At least twice a year, I have to listen to her insist that Paris would suit me so much better, and I should move back home. The 'settling down' conversation really started to ramp up about two years ago." Hermione buried her head in her hands.
I stared at her as I processed her words. "As enlightening as all that information was, that still doesn't answer the arranged marriage question."
"I don't know! I don't understand it. I'm fully capable of being an independent, single woman. I don't need a man to complete my life! If he's out there and it's meant to be, then it will happen, but I'm not going to be forced into a loveless marriage to appease my mother! I swear if she's set up a dowry, I will scream."
Well, it looked as though Hermione Granger's life wasn't as perfect as she made everyone believe. Honestly, I felt sorry for her. I walked into her kitchen and pulled out a couple of wine glasses. Opening the bottle, I poured her a drink and handed it to her.
"Here, this should calm your nerves a bit, and try and eat. I know you're worked up, but it'll make you feel better."
"What am I going to do?" she asked desperately.
"Marry me, apparently," I retorted.
"I never said we actually had to get married. We'd just pretend," Hermione rolled her eyes as she took a bite.
I couldn't help but laugh at her incessant need to correct me. "And what do I get out of this deal if I agree?"
"What do you mean?"
"Wouldn't I be doing you a favor by pretending to be your husband?"
She scowled, knowing I had the upper hand.
"What are you thinking?"
"If we do this, I want a promotion."
Hermione froze. I could tell she'd stopped chewing as she stared at me. "You aren't serious."
"You don't honestly think I intended on settling as an assistant for my entire career, did you? Not sure if you forgot about my credentials, but I have a law degree, too, and I think you'd admit I'd do ten times better in Zabini's position than he ever did. Plus, unlike him, I've actually earned the position as opposed to having it handed to me."
Hermione let out an unbecoming snort. "Because this wouldn't be handed to you."
"I've spent three years trying to prove myself to you, Hermione. Give me a chance. Either that or I'll have to quit. I've passed the bar; I'm ready to be a lawyer, not just a lawyer's assistant."
This wasn't exactly the way I'd intended to bring up the promotion, but I needed some sort of collateral if I was going to pretend to be her husband. I sat there, facing her with my arms folded across my chest. She could think the ball was in her court, but really my answer depended on hers.
"Fine."
"Come on, Hermione, I swear I can do it. Just give me a cha—wait, what?"
"I said fine. You can take Zabini's position, but it's contingent on your performance. So you'll have a three-month probationary period to prove it's a good fit."
I couldn't help the grin that spread over my face. "Wow, thanks, Hermione! I promise you won't be disappoi—"
"You also have to see this fake marriage thing through."
"Oh, yeah, sure. How hard can it be?" I asked.
Her parents were in France. It wasn't like they would have anyone come up here and spy on their daughter to make sure she was telling the truth. That would be completely mental!
Before Hermione could answer, her phone rang. "Oh, here we go," she said.
I had a feeling I knew who it was. My suspicion was correct as I heard who could only be Mrs. Granger screaming through the phone before Hermione even said a word.
"HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER, HOW COULD YOU?"
"Mum, you said you'd arrange something if I didn't find myself a husband. That was deceitful."
"DON'T YOU DARE TALK TO ME THAT WAY. I'VE FOUND YOU A PERFECTLY SUITABLE HUSBAND! YOU WILL MARRY HIM."
"No, I won't. Mum, I've been—I've been waiting for the right time to tell you this, but every time you call, I feel as though I'm being berated. It's hard for me to want to share this happy news with you."
"What are you talking about?" I heard her mother hiss.
"I got married to a wonderful man a couple of weeks ago. We've been dating for the past two years, and we just decided at the spur of the moment to elope."
I had to hand it to Hermione. It was all I could do to not laugh at her story. While she sounded convincing, there was no way anyone would buy that, no matter how desperate her mother was to see her married off.
I heard hysterical laughter come from her mother's phone. "Hermione, darling, you know I love you, but I find this very hard to believe. Two years? You would have mentioned him in that amount of time."
"Well, I have mentioned him, just not as a love interest. I'm sure you can understand why I didn't say anything; what with your obsession in trying to marry me off and make me settle down."
Hermione had gone full lawyer mode on her mother, and I stifled a laugh. She was not one to mess with.
"Well, I'll believe it when I see it. I'll be coming to London this weekend to meet him and see if he's suitable for you."
Hermione gave me a horrified look. She mouthed, what do I say? As she covered the receiver with her hand.
"Tell her we're visiting my family for the weekend," I whispered.
She gave me a disgusted look, which I followed with mouthing, I'll explain later.
"Erm, sorry, Mum, but we'll be out of town this weekend. Visiting his family."
"How convenient. All this 'his' and 'him,' but no name. I don't believe you, my dear daughter, and I will get to the bottom of this. You will not fool me just to get out of a simple arranged marriage. Honestly, Hermione, there could be worse things in the world."
I couldn't help my open-mouthed stare at Hermione as she snapped her phone shut. "You know, I always thought I was terrified of you, but you're a puppy in comparison to your mum. I'm really sorry."
"Now do you understand why I moved to England?"
"Completely."
"Now, where am I going to hide this weekend? Can I stay at your flat? I could always drive to the countryside to get away…" I could tell Hermione's thoughts were already whirring.
"Er, I was serious about visiting family," I told her.
"What?"
"My Aunt Muriel is turning 90 this weekend. There's a big birthday celebration planned that I'm planning to go home for. I've got a train ticket for tomorrow."
"You're taking Friday off?"
"And Monday. I put in for it two months ago, and you approved it."
Hermione opened and closed her mouth, unable to come up with a response.
"So, would my dear wife like to spend a long weekend in Devon?" I asked with a cheeky smile.
"If it gets me away from my Mum, then absolutely," Hermione agreed.
I searched her face, attempting to tell if she was serious or not. She didn't look like she was joking. "We're really doing this?"
"Looks like it."
"Well, we should probably get our stories straight."
Hermione waved me off, though, and that surprised me. Normally, she was always one for planning. I looked at her confusedly.
"If we're traveling tomorrow, I need to pack. So let's finish eating, and then we should probably call it a night. We can hash out details on the train. It shouldn't be too difficult. Oh, and it might be best if you booked us both first class. I tend to get motion sickness on the Underground, so best to be safe. You can use my credit card, I guess."
"So, you're kicking me out, then?" I quirked an eyebrow.
"You're the one who sprung a family visit on me at the last minute," she quipped.
I rolled my eyes as I finally dug into my slices. This was going to be a very interesting arrangement, for sure.