"She was a woman of mean undertaking, little information, and uncertain temper. when she was discontented she fancied herself nervous"
"Pass the mint jelly, Arthur. Oh no it's empty, I'll refill it from the pantry."
Hermione watched Molly Weasley bustle around her kitchen, magically filling plates with lamb, new potatoes and spring peas for the assorted members of the Weasley clan who were seated around the dining table.
There was a standing invitation for Sunday lunch at the Burrow and as an honorary Weasley, Hermione often attended. She was sitting next to Ginny as they discussed Harry's successful meeting with Theodore Nott that week.
"Nott seems really keen," said Harry through a mouthful of potato. "We talked for a good two hours over lunch and he understood why there are so many positives to the scheme." Ginny squeezed his arm in solidarity as an approving buzz rose around the table.
"That's great news, mate," said Ron, nodding enthusiastically.
Hermione glanced at him, struck—as she often was—by how distant they had grown since school. There had been the brief romance directly after the war, but they'd broken it off—she'd been rather devastated by it until she realised it did not mean exile from the whole of the Weasley family. But they had never seemed to be able to rise to the same level of friendship they had enjoyed before.
And since then Ron had drifted a bit, struggled to find his path. He'd lived in Spain for several years and while he was gone they had just … fallen out of regular touch, other than through Harry and Ginny or things like these meals or holiday gatherings. It had been a long time since she'd sat down and talked with him. Now he was living back at the Burrow and working part time at Fred and George's joke shop. She was fairly certain that he expected Harry to give him a position in the Quidditch venture once it was funded. And Harry probably would.
Bill Weasley chimed in too, pulling Hermione out of her reverie, "Theo Nott is a well respected backer and he tends to pick winners—although some say he invests more with his heart than his head." Bill's position at Gringott's gave him access to the rumour mill that was the world of finance, so the table quieted briefly as he spoke.
His words gave Hermione, who was enjoying Molly's excellent homemade chutney, a flashback to Draco Malfoy's remarks earlier in the week about Nott's impulsiveness, and she vowed anew to sit down with Harry and Ginny and go over financials in the next few days. She didn't want Harry losing such a valuable backer due to sloppiness. Especially if Malfoy was breathing down Nott's neck. And that was two too many thoughts for a merely tolerable girl to have of Draco Malfoy on a pleasant Sunday afternoon, she scolded herself with a slight grin.
Hermione's attention was recalled to Harry when he mentioned that Nott had actually invited him to his country estate the following weekend to go over the proposal documents in detail. Apparently Nott was having a sort of weekend houseparty, but had some free time in the afternoons. The group exclaimed at this news, but Mrs. Weasley's voice soon rose above the din.
"Well Harry you'll have to get as much as you can out of this. Did you say you were only invited for an afternoon? You'll have to find a way to stretch that into an evening or overnight invitation!"
"Mum!" Ginny protested, "Harry does not need to push himself in like that. Theo's all right, but his friends are the worst sort of toffs. We all went to Hogwarts together and we know them. It will be the old Slytherin crowd—Pansy Parkinson, that whatsername Greengrass girl Dorothy or Daisy, ugh—Blaise Zabini and of course Mr. Arrogant himself, Draco Malfoy..." Heads nodded all around the table in agreement.
"Malfoy?" said Mrs Weasley with a look like a pointer scenting a rabbit, "I loathe his family of course, but he's done a good bit to distance himself from all that, and since Lucius died he's the sole heir to that extremely large fortune! He could probably finance the whole scheme without turning a hair!"
Hermione shook her head as the table erupted with ten different (mostly negative) opinions about this remark. Ginny flushed bright red and Harry sputtered, "really, Molly I don't need any more time than the planned meeting. And Theo did offer for me to stay the weekend, but Gin is right, mixing with that crowd does not appeal. It's definitely better that I just focus my attention on a successful proposal review with Theo alone."
Hermione agreed wholeheartedly. She frankly couldn't imagine anything worse than a country weekend with Pansy Parkinson and her ilk. Her few interactions with Pansy since school had shown her that the woman hadn't changed. The war may have made blood purity views déclassé, but Parkinson was still a snob and a bitch even without the overt bigotry. Hermione shook her head again and looked down-table where she caught a very shifty look on Molly Weasley's face. Ginny saw it too and jumped up, pointing her finger at her mother.
"Mum, don't you dare meddle in this! You could ruin the best chance Harry's had so far. And I'm going to be away for the tournament and unable to stop it! Dad, tell her not to interfere!" she pleaded to her father, who chuckled softly as Mrs. Weasley's mouth pursed alarmingly.
"Now Ginevra, no matter what your mother gets up to, Harry will carry the day. Wherever he goes, people will always think highly of him," he said. "Fred, pass me the radishes and tell Harry and Ginny about those investors you met."
Hermione raised her eyebrows in respect at the deftness of Mr. Weasley's deflection, watching as Fred further distracted Ginny and Molly from a showdown by telling Harry about his meeting with a property investment group who were looking to diversify. He and Harry agreed to arrange a dinner with them in the near future and Harry looked well-pleased.
During this conversation Ginny was shooting Hermione very intense glares and Hermione was sure she was going to be recruited to protect Harry from Mrs. Weasley's machinations while Ginny was away. Both of them knew enough about the extent of Molly Weasley's ambition for her children—including honorary and by-marriage children—to be concerned. Sure enough, right after lunch Ginny pulled her aside and demanded her solemn vow. Hermione gave it and mentally cleared her calendar for the following weekend, a bit alarmed, but hoping it would come to nothing.
~oOo~
The following Saturday morning at around 11am, Hermione was luxuriating on the couch and reading a trashy novel, when she was the recipient of a hysterical floo call. Suited up in her full Quidditch kit, Ginny looked murderous as she shrieked, "You have to help him Hermione! You have to get to Theo's and help him!"
"What. did. she. do?" Hermione said with deadly calm. Harry had been fine when he'd left the house not an hour ago. She'd checked him herself for traces of hexes and he'd been clear! She was trying to present a cool facade to pacify Ginny, but inside she wanted to KILL Molly Weasley. The woman was a scheming manipulator.
Hermione's demeanor must have helped, because Ginny stopped yelling and started speed talking, "I have to be on the pitch in two minutes, so I don't have much time to explain, but mum slipped him some kind of time-delayed puking pastille that allowed him just enough time to get to Theo's house before he started being sick all over the place."
"Also George told me she fucked up the dosage, so even though she planned for it to let up in time for him to stay for dinner, he's actually not going to be well until tomorrow or Monday. AND it's a new prototype that Fred and George were still developing so there's no counterspell! He's very dizzy and the healer said floo and apparition are too dangerous, so the only thing he can do is stay put in bed with a self-cleaning bucket and lots of fluids."
Ginny shook her head. "He's so upset, Hermione. Would you please go to him and stay with him and possibly talk Theo through the plan? I'm sorry to ask, but there's no way I can miss these matches and you know how strict team policy is. I can't get away until Monday after the match!"
Tears had gathered in Ginny's eyes and Hermione was quick to reassure her that she would leave within minutes. Ginny thanked her repeatedly then called, "Nott House, Greater Winchbourne!" as she was being pulled away by her teammates before vanishing back into the fireplace.
Hermione took a deep, centering breath then looked out her magical travel bag, a small duffle that was charmed to accio anything from her closet upon request. She slipped her copy of Harry's business plan into it and added her copious notes. Then she located her magical atlas of Great Britain and found the closest apparition point to Nott House. She'd still have to walk a mile or so, but that couldn't be helped. At least the area looks beautiful, she thought, searching for a bright side.
Although she was decidedly not looking forward to the house party, she was determined to salvage the situation for Harry's sake. Changing out of her pajamas and slippers into jeans and her sturdy hill-walking boots, she focused on the apparition spot then disappeared with a crack.
~oOo~
About an hour later Hermione found herself walking energetically up a lovely country lane in the Northwest Cotswolds. Hedgerows rose on either side, oak trees stood in the fields and birdsong trilled from all around. She was rather enjoying herself despite her unsavoury destination; she'd never been to this part of the country and it was breathtaking.
The village had looked charming as well. She'd have to make sure to walk back down and explore its winding lanes and promising shops. It had been a while since she'd gotten outside London and taken a long ramble in the country. She took a lungful of pristine air and came around a bend in the road to a pair of huge stone gates. This must be it.
After checking with the house elf at the gatehouse Hermione was admitted promptly. The elf offered to apparate her up to the manor, but she declined in favor of continuing her walk—and perhaps putting off the inevitable for a bit longer.
About a half a mile up the drive, the way had started to feel steep and she was regretting her choice when she heard an engine purring behind her. It sounded for all the world like a muggle car, and she whirled around in surprise. She couldn't have been more shocked when she saw that it was a muggle car, an absolutely gorgeous classic Jaguar coming slowly up the drive. She stood to the side, mouth open, to let it pass. But it slowed. And as it pulled up next to her, the window rolled down.
"Granger, what are you doing mountaineering up Nott's driveway?" said an indifferent drawl. Sunlight glinted off a shock of platinum hair.
She was too busy circling the car to respond.
"Malfoy is this a fucking 1966 E-Type?" she asked when she came back around to the driver's side window.
He tilted his head and pulled off his sunglasses. "Well yes it fucking is, Granger. How did you know that?"
She took in the car's gleaming surface as she eyed Malfoy speculatively. It was black (of course) but with a red leather interior. How was Malfoy of all people driving a muggle car? And how was it the car she loved most in all the world? What the actual fuck?
"My grandmother had one of these. She shot him a look. "I loved it. My father sold it after she died, and it broke my heart. Hers was racing green."
"Ah, the classic," he said. "Roadster or Coupe?"
"Coupe, of course. How did you learn to drive a muggle car?" she asked with narrowed eyes, "Isn't that against some pureblood rule or something?"
"Why don't you hop in and I'll tell you all about it on the way up to the house, since I presume that's where you're going? Looking up at you is giving me a neck cramp." He lowered the sunglasses - of course they were Italian and chic - and leaned over to open the passenger side door.
She hesitated for only a second, weighing being 'tolerable' against her sore feet, before she slipped into the seat. The interior smelled heavenly - like vintage leather and some indefinable but delicious thing.
Her shock over the car receding, she answered his first question. "I'm here because I'm joining the house party to rescue Harry." Malfoy glanced at her and she continued, "he came here earlier today to meet with Nott, but became ill and can't be moved. Nothing serious, but rather debilitating for the next couple of days, and since Ginny's at a tournament, I have to come play nursemaid."
"Well that's a creative way to beg an invitation," he said. "I hope whatever "illness" Potter has isn't catching."
She sniffed. Rude. "Please. And what are you doing driving a muggle car? It doesn't even look enchanted." She leaned over to peer at the steering wheel and study his hand on the gear shift.
"It's not," he replied. "Part of my self-directed rehabilitation program after the war was to pick some muggle things and learn about them. I discovered that I particularly like cars and driving, so I learned how. I have a bit of a collection now, but this one is my favorite."
"Well you have good taste," she said, rolling her eyes internally at, "a bit of a collection" as he pulled to a stop in front of the house. He gave a soft snort, and she also had to laugh at herself, in jeans and hiking boots, complimenting one of the most aristocratic men in the wizarding world on his taste. "Thanks for the ride." She stroked the leather seat. "It was a privilege."
Malfoy killed the engine and looked at her for a beat from behind his sunglasses before giving a brief nod and climbing out of the coupe. He disappeared into the house without a backward glance. "Uh, 'you're welcome'," she said to the empty car as a parade of house elves arrived to greet her properly.