Hello, darlings! Sorry, this is later in the day, but an incompetent sloth, I mean, a dear coworker ruined my evening and I had to finish typing this today. Any errors are due to an overworked brain just not seeing them. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 24 Social Interactions

"That's an interesting development." Marcus rubbed the back of his head. "Now what?"

"Andromeda and Ted are having dinner with Lucius and Narcissa Sunday, trying to build bridges."

He nodded, "Father's been on again about having you to dinner. Esme might be bringing a suitor home this weekend. Want to come watch the carnage?"

"You mean come help sow chaos because your father likes me best?"

"That, too."

"Do we not like her suitor?"

Marcus shrugged, "He's okay, I suppose. He's a little older than her and rather stuffy and self-important. He's a minor official at the Ministry."

"He called you a dumb jock, didn't he?"

"And worse, he referred to you as my latest jersey chaser."

"Hmmm, high road or utter destruction? How does he treat your sister? If he treats her well and she likes him we shouldn't ruin that for her."

"Spoilsport."

Feeling nervous about dinner, she popped in on Narcissa for a visit. "Hello, darling, how have you been?"

"Fairly well, thank you. How have you been?"

"Splendid, I am so excited to be moving towards getting my sister back. I've missed her."

"I suppose this also means, I'm getting another aunt."

"It does," Narcissa beamed. "Bella also mentioned you were having dinner with the Flints."

"I am, hence the panic visit. Mummy Dearest doesn't really care about social niceties, her answer to what to wear would be clothes. Are there any social rules I need to know? Just do whatever."

"Relax, darling, this isn't a high pressure event. What would you wear to a Sunday family dinner with your muggle family?"

"A nice dress with a cardigan maybe."

"Sounds perfect. If Marcus, or his father, gifted you with any jewelry, you should wear it."

"Should I bring a hostess gift?"

"Have Rabastan select a bottle of wine for you."

By the time they sat to eat, Hermione wished she'd taken Marcus on a shopping spree at Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Simon Mehville, Esme's beau, made Percy Weasley look relaxed and reckless. Before dinner, he droned on and on about his position in the Department of Magical Transportation. Hermione tried to inquire about the recent legislation proposed to allow flying carpets, only to have Simon dismiss her out of hand, and continue about his own importance.

Alva Flint joined them at the table, after snubbing them during cocktails Hermione attempted to engage her by complimenting the Consomme Olga. "This is delicious, have you tried the veal base?"

Alva sniffed, "I leave such determinations to the servants."

Hermione's eyes narrowed momentarily, "Too many decisions can be overwhelming for fragile minds."

Simon broke the following silence with more prattle about his job. Cressida rolled her eyes. In a moment of awareness, or perhaps a passive aggressive move to assert his superiority, he inquired after Hermione's employment. "I've been engaged in mostly independent research at the moment. Some things with the ministry, so most things I can't discuss. Oh, and a new treatment with St Mungo's."

"Anyone I might know?" his tone suggested his disbelief.

"Mostly with Corbin Yaxley." Simon eyes bugged briefly.

Marcus rolled his eyes, "That man would lock you in the Department of Mysteries if he thought Lestrange would allow it."

"Probably," she laughed.

Three courses later while the elves served cold asparagus vinaigrette salad, Malcolm made a bid to save them from more ministry induced boredom. "When will they be selecting the national team?"

"Second week of January."

Alva gave Hermione a cold, mean little smile, "Will you be attending the games to support Marcus?"

"Certainly."

"You didn't go to many of his games this season, nor practices."

"Mum," Marcus started.

"No, I did not. But sitting around the stands isn't my only means of support." Hermione smiled tightly. "I do not demand his attention when he is working. I do not behave in a manner that would bring him negative press. I don't play mind games or flirt with other players. I treat quidditch like the meaningful career it is."

Alva smirked, "What about Viktor Krum?"

"What about him? Viktor is a dear childhood friend. Neither of us appreciated Miss Skeeter's insinuations." Hermione turned to the elves in a clear dismissal, "These eclairs taste divine."

Alva looked annoyed at Hermione's slight in the protocol, but Merrick laughed. His wife glared at him, "Oh, stop it. You threw good manners out the window when you started questioning her like that. She's an intelligent girl from a good family. If both Rodolphus and Bellatrix weren't both dead set against it she'd have some kind of marriage arrangement with some scion with a higher social standing than us." He took a bite of dessert. "And we agreed to encourage our children to find love. So quit, this one has claws."

Simon exited as soon as the meal finished. Esme collapsed onto the sofa, "Alright, let's have it." She crossed her arms, "You all hated him."

"Hate is such a strong word," protested Marcus.

"Could you actually see yourself married to him?" asked Cressida. "He's old and boring."

"He isn't always boring," Esme cringed as she said it.

"Name one thing he can talk about that doesn't relate back to his job," demanded Malcolm.

"He's been to India and America," she retorted.

"For vacation?"

Esme's face fell. "Work trips," she admitted.

Hermione nudged Marcus. He looked at her. She gave him a strong look then tilted her head towards his sister. He gave her a pleading look, making her frown. Sighing, he spoke up, "Es, in the end, our opinions don't matter. Could you be happy being married to someone so old and boring?"

She looked at her brother, "I don't always find it boring. It's amazing to watch him be so passionate about things, even if I have no idea what he's talking about."

"I get it," he said quietly.

She glanced over at Hermione, "I suppose you do." She frowned, "I know he's rather older than me. But most guys my age aren't interested in settling down yet, or they are already married."

"Have you considered a slightly younger man?" Marcus asked.

She shrugged, "Why would he want an old woman?"

"Oh, good lord, you're twenty-four, you're hardly old," snapped Cressida.

"I was going to suggest someone my age." Marcus rolled his eyes.

Esme narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "Who?"

"A friend of Hermione's. And that's all I'm going to say right now. You think about it, and if you decide you want someone closer to your age, let me know."

She considered the idea, "He would have to be a pureblood. Daddy would never let me marry anyone less."

"Don't worry about it."

"I'll think about it."

Marcus accompanied Hermione home, "What friend do I have your age?" she demanded.

"Weasley."

"Percy?"

"Come on, don't tell me Mehville didn't remind you of him."

Her hands flew to her mouth, "Oh my gods! You're right."

"And a relationship with her won't hurt his career, her family is connected to the new regime."

"She's also quite pretty."

"Sure, sure."

"But it is her choice," she told him firmly.

"Of course."

A long-eared owl delivered a thick formal envelope to Hermione. It bore the Gringott's seal. Rodolphus and Rabastan stopped eating to watch her open it. She scanned the contents twice. She placed the envelope next to her plate and resumed eating. "A delegation from the Athens Gringotts will be arriving in London on the 28th of November. They hope I will find the time to meet with them to discuss the part of the Aegais legacy. Apparently, there are two estates, one on the Island of Ponza, and one near Mount Circeo."

"And once people know someone can access them be prepared for requests to be admitted to study them," Rodolphus told her.

"You mean demands," she rolled her eyes. "The wizarding world is so entitled."

"I think we should be warning them about her," muttered Rabastan.

"Nonsense, don't ruin the fun." Bellatrix smiled fondly at her daughter, "Give them hell, sweetheart. I want to review your memories of the more persistent fools," she chuckled lowly to herself, sipping her drink.

A second owl swooped in, landing on the table. Hermione took the proffered letter and offered the bird a piece of toast. This simpler note was an invitation to Longbottom Estate for tea that afternoon if possible. She quickly penned her acceptance and sent it back.

Armed with Varl's famous truffles, Hermione arrived for afternoon tea. She decided to err on the side of formal given the wording of Neville's note. He nodded in approval when she entered the front parlor. "I worried you might misunderstand."

She handed him the truffles, "As long as this isn't the beginnings of some archaic engagement ritual you are safe from my wrath for lack of warning."

"No engagements, I promise. Mum and Dad wanted to meet you, and I wanted to explain about yesterday."

"You don't have to explain anything, Neville," she assured him.

"Okay, then I need to unload this on somebody, and you're the only one who will truly understand how I feel."

"That is totally fair, and understandable. Fire away."

He gestured for her to have a seat. "You know Dumbledore urged Gran to lift the Fidelus charm before Mum and Dad were ready. It wasn't just to remove ideas that the prophecy could be about me, they learned some of his secrets and were going to expose him to the Order. They were always pushing for the Order to stop using only light spells. To stop fighting 'fair,' and start fighting back. When the Death Eaters were in disarray they pushed for more inclusion for muggleborns. We can't confirm he suggested attacking my parents for information, but it seems likely. Even with the Death Eaters in disarray, he couldn't have his secrets shared. And he didn't seem to want muggleborns to have an easier time. Dad and Mum are livid."

"I can't say I blame them. They lost two decades of their lives, of your life. You could have had siblings. You wouldn't have struggled for five years with a completely wrong for you wand." Hermione replied. She looked him in the eye. "It is okay for you to be angry about all of this. You know that, right?"

"I don't know, it feels wrong. I got my parents back, that's more than other people will get."

"Neville, a selfish man damaged your family because your parents refused to properly worship him or blindly follow his plans for his greater good. He used your grandmother to fracture your family. Be angry. Address it, feel it, so it doesn't fester and destroy you."

"What about you? Aren't you letting it fester?"

"Hell, no. I'm righting the wrongs I can. You, sir, were just the first. Then I am going to reshape our society to be everything Albus Dumbledore didn't want it to be. I might parade his portrait through my successes."

"Good to hear, Miss Lestrange. You can count on Longbottom support." Frank Longbottom entered the room followed by his wife. "Though, thank you for helping Neville first, for a variety of reasons." He winked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Hermione's face fell, "You're welcome, but it only feels fair to caution you, not all of this will be easy conversations and handshakes all around. After Neville, there are only three people left on my list. Well, besides Harry, but that feels like a lost cause. The Order cannot afford to stay hidden away much longer. And some will not be pleased to not have your support."

Alice patted her hand, "None of us are so naive to think the bloodshed is over. We just want the innocent protected. Now, let us partake of this delicious tea, lest Breezy decide we didn't like it."

Hermione and Neville spent the next two hours regaling his parents on their school adventures, the good and the bad.

As the first of December marked the beginning of the winter social season the invitations, both formal and informal, began pouring in. Given Bellatrix's complete disinterest in such events, unless her lover would be in attendance, Rodolphus deferred to her sister for advice on which events to attend and which to reject. The Malfoy matriarch sat at her small desk in the lady's parlor of Lestrange Hall with Hermione, reviewing the invitations. "How friendly are you with the Fawley girl?"

"I would at least consider extinguishing the flames if she was on fire."

"Not at all, noted. We'll skip that one. Who are Oakley and Nora Barrett?"

"Oakley is Marcus's teammate, his wife is becoming a friend."

"I'll put their party on the calendar."

The results, even after Narcissa's winnowing, looked exhausting. Every Friday and Saturday, and even a few afternoons and evenings through the week, were booked. Hermione color coded them for the formality of dress, then marked which she would attend with family, and which Marcus would escort her to.

Then came the deluge of gifts, or rather, tokens of esteem from unattached purebloods. Each expressed his hope of seeing her in the coming weeks. Hermione glared at the heaps of flowers, some sweets, and a few trinkets. Rabastan happened to wander past, "Trying to light them on fire with the heat of your glare alone? I'd say it could never happen, but you do seem to thrive on doing impossible things."

"One should try to do seven impossible things a day," she quipped back.

"Some advise?" he offered.

"Yes, please."

"Anyone you don't want to insult should receive a generic thank you note. Thank them for the sentiment and support. Nothing more. If Flint has a rival you can be warmer. Also, let me know when you plan on telling him and Roddy, I'm going to need some of that corn pop and a front row seat.

"It's popcorn," Hermione corrected, "and no rivals, known or otherwise." She noticed an arrangement from the younger Greyback.

"What if I want the sender to leave me alone and he's purposely not getting the message?"

"You let Roddy or myself know."

"I don't want to be seen as weak," she protested.

"Sadly, we are less progressive in some ways than our muggle counterparts. Any no not backed by a male relative or engagement is seen as the woman playing hard to get by some factions." He held his hands up in surrender at her enraged facial expression. "I am not one of them, neither is your father. No one in this house is going to follow those antiquated ideas. Look at all the shite an arranged marriage caused here."

She sighed, "I'm going to ignore it, no note, nothing. If he breaks protocol, I'll let you know."

"If you're sure."

"I am, I don't want to cause problems, so we'll do it your way. When that fails, I'll grab Mummy Dearest and we'll do it her way."

"I hope our way fails, I'll bring popcorn for the show."

A/N: I have purposely spelled Esme's boyfriend's name Mehville. This is intentional. Please do not tell me I misspelled Melville. Thank you for reading!