Good afternoon, my freaky darlings. I lost my temper and did something crazy and quit my job in dramatic fashion. Yes, it was fun. No, you should not do it yourself. Fear not, I already have a new better paying job. I start Monday. I tell you this to share that I get four chapters typed up ready to go. Meaning not even my son's high school graduation will be slowing my down. Happy Mother's Day to those that celebrate it. As I've stated before, I own nothing. Enjoy!
Chapter 28 Christmas Tidings
Hermione visited the Ministry, inquiring at the desk for directions to the Department of Regulations. As usual, when she entered the hallowed halls of government, Corbin Yaxley appeared. "Are you stalking me?"
"Not quite, but I have left instructions to be notified when you arrive." He fell into step with her as she kept walking. "If you're going to work anywhere in the ministry, it should be with me."
"I'm here on a personal errand. One I do not need your help with, thank you."
"When you do need help you know how to find me."
"Sure, appear in the ministry."
"Precisely," he smiled.
A bored looking receptionist sat at the desk filing her nails are charming them different colors. "Excuse me?" Hermione started.
Without looking up the young woman interrupted, "If you wish to file a complaint use Form 32F to the right. If you wish to file for a change in regulation use Form 41H in the center. If you need an inspection use Form 26N on the left."
"No, I need to see someone."
Again without looking up, "Calendar on the wall, ink yourself in."
Hermione approached the large board hanging on the wall. "There are no openings."
"Exactly, we are a very busy department. Please fill out and submit your form. Should an official need more information you will be contacted."
"Balderdash," Hermione muttered angrily. "I wish to speak with
Percy Weasley, please."
"Mr. Weasley is a very busy man. Please fill out and submit your form." She held out her hand, appraising her handiwork.
"I don't need your department, I need to speak with Mr. Weasley. Would you at least look at me while we're speaking?"
The girl looked up, disdain painted on her features, "Look, sweetheart, I know you spoiled princess types expect everything to be handed to you because you demand it. But this is the grown up world, that doesn't happen. Run along and go spend all of Daddy's money."
Hermione looked over her absurdly short skirt and heavily made-up face and snorted, "Get over yourself. You are desperately trying to attract a rich husband. Keep dreaming, they might indulge in a good time with you, but you are just that, a good time."
Rage shot through the girl's eyes. "You have two minutes to leave this office."
"Or what?" Hermione narrowed her eyes, her hands rested on her hips.
"I will summon security."
"And tell them what exactly? That a tax paying citizen demanded a public servant do the job she's paid for?"
"I'll tell them you threatened me."
"So, you'll lie?"
"What of it? They'll believe me over you," she smirked.
"Keep telling yourself that," Hermione glared. The receptionist raised her wand. "You call security and I will make it worth my while. It'll take them what, fifteen, twenty minutes to get here? Plenty of time to mess up your face. Or perhaps you'd be more helpful to me as a chair?" She raised her wand.
Whatever might have happened next was lost as the department doors swung open. Thaddeus Carbottom and Percy Weasley stepped inside. "Natalie, why does Miss Lestrange have her wand drawn on you?"
"Because she refuses to do her job and threatened to perjury herself to security to have me removed for demanding she does it," Hermione answered without taking her eyes off of Natalie.
"She's lying!" protested Natalie.
"Why would she lie?" asked Carbottom.
"I, she, uh," stammered Natalie.
"I feel you should review the inner workings of your department before official complaints are made. I would focus on these forms and that calendar."
"I believe you are correct, Miss Lestrange. How can we assist you today?"
"I wanted to speak with Mr. Weasley on a time-sensitive matter."
"He's all yours. Percy?"
"This way, Miss Lestrange." Percy gestured towards his office. Hermione followed him. "How can I help you?"
"Are you seeing anyone?" she decided to skip social niceties and just jump into the fire.
"Um, no," he answered, clearly confused.
"Do you have plans for New Year's Eve?"
"Um, again, no, why?"
"You are my plus one to the Malfoy Masked Ball," she informed him.
"I'm what?" he yelled.
"My plus one. Before you panic, yes, Marcus knows. We agree you and a friend of ours would be perfect for one another. But she's nervous about meeting you. So, I suggested inviting you to the Malfoy event. Unable to identify each other, you can get to know one another without preconceptions getting in the way."
"Like the ultimate blind date?"
"Yes, exactly."
"Okay, I agree."
"Can you get formal robes on short notice?"
"I have black formal robes and can get a basic mask easily."
An idea occurred to her, "I'll get your mask, a black swan. She'll be a white swan. I will send you matching flower accessories so look for a white swan with a corsage to match your boutonniere."
"Sounds like a plan. And thank you, Hermione."
"You're welcome." She paused before leaving, "Percy, do you honestly like your job?"
"Off the record?" She nodded. "Not really. I know it is important, I know it isn't glamorous. It pays the rent and I remind myself of the importance of regulations. But the events around the tournament and the fiasco once they didn't need me to spy on Dumbledore had ensured it'll take decades to move up around here. It's lost its appeal, but I don't know how to do anything else."
"So if someone offered you something different would you take it?"
"It would depend on the job, I suppose," she shrugged.
"I'll keep that in mind." She opened his office door, "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Weasley, Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas, Miss Lestrange."
Citing her other children's lack of paramours, Alva Flint declined to invite Hermione to any family holiday events. In silent protest, Marcus changed his plans to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with Hermione. He would spend Boxing Day with his friends. Hermione put her foot down and demanded he spend Christmas morning with his family. His siblings deserved to see their brother. He returned to Lestrange Hall after lunch, joining Hermione in the library. "Is it me she doesn't like? Or my family?" she asked as they snuggled on a couch.
Marcus shrugged, "She hasn't said. If I had to guess, it is a combination of bitterness and jealousy. She's always been bitter over Father's treatment of her. And she's jealous my choice would be Father's choice if they were arranging things. She can be just as controlling and manipulative as he can, and knows. Which infuriates her, she then lashes out at the safest target. And I promise you she has never considered Merrick Flint the safe target." He took her hand and squeezed. "We talked about it, the four of us, and either she comes around and accepts our partners as they arrive, or she'll find herself out in the cold."
"Marcus, that isn't fair."
"Fair or not, we all agreed. She stops being so dramatic or we won't involve her in our lives." He silenced her protest with a passionate snog. "So, who will be at dinner?"
"Us, the Lestranges, the Malfoys, the Tonks, and the Lupins." Marcus made a small face, "What? Oh, yeah, meeting the whole family, as family. Don't worry, Remus and Dora are kind of in the same boat."
"They are already married, sort of different."
"Hush and stop arguing or I will light your new broom on fire."
He stared at her in horror, "Not my Firebolt Mark 2! That cost you a fortune! You wouldn't."
She raised an eyebrow, "Try me."
"You are a cruel woman."
"And, yet, you love me. What does that say about you?"
"I like them feisty and there are consequences to playing with fire. I'm also a quidditch player. I've taken numerous bludgers to the head over the years. Probably knocked some common sense loose."
"You're lucky I like you."
"Only like? What happened to love?"
"You called me cruel," she answered flippantly. Despite his best efforts his face briefly fell, uncertainty mixing in his expression. She continued, "Luckily for you, my good sense overrides my cruelty. We're back to love." She kissed him soundly. Softly, still in his embrace, she whispered, "Never doubt my feelings. The depth and breadth of my complete adoration of you scares me sometimes."
He tightened his hold, "Scares you how?"
"We've been together about seven months, that's not all that long, not really. But I can't imagine any future with you not in it. No matter what daydream you're there."
"And that's bad?"
"Scary does not have to mean bad," she sighed. "From the age of eleven to fifteen, no one but my parents called me any kind of attractive. Most barely noticed I was a girl. Ron never complimented me while we dated. The compulsion to date him, overlook his flaws, and take care of him tricked my brain into believing I loved him. I have similar thoughts and impulses now. Which makes me worry about moving too fast. But don't let my issues make you doubt us, because I don't."
"How fast is too fast?"
"I don't know," she huffed.
"Do you care what others think?"
"No," she rolled her eyes at the thought.
"So, we agree only our opinions matter?"
"Yes," she said slowly.
"Great. We met at twelve and fifteen respectively. Studied together for a year and a bit. Fell out of touch because someone made a judgment about someone else. We won't name names." He wiggled his eyebrows getting her to giggle at his antics. "At fifteen and eighteen you wowed everyone with a stunning gown. I discovered the beauty that went with the kindness, compassion, and brains. I graduated, you finished growing up. The universe brought us back together. I wouldn't say we're moving all that fast."
"You are manipulating the facts to suit your theory."
"So? I liked you when you were twelve. I wanted to rip you out of Krum's arms and keep him away when you were fifteen. And now that you are twenty I want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off to my bed and keep you there."
"Brute."
"All yours. Which is how you like it. My point is, that we both feel the same way. And sooner, rather than later, I will muster up the courage to ask you and Rodolphus some questions about the future. After you agree, Narcissa will plan one of the biggest weddings of this decade, while my mother complains about everything until your mother hexes her. Eventually, we'll have at least one child."
"I'd like at least two. Being an only child can be lonely."
"Okay, at least two kids. I'll teach them to play quidditch, and you'll teach them everything else." She laughed shaking her head. "Now, does any of that sound all that scary?"
"No."
"Good, now stop fretting. Want to put on your new jersey and go flying?"
"Hell, no!" she chuckled. "And your school quidditch jersey isn't new."
"New to you."
"Well, I intend to use them for sleeping and lazing about the house."
"When do you laze about the house?" he questioned.
"Boxing Day, I spend it watching television and doing some light reading."
"You know you don't have to wear them if you don't like them."
"I do like them. They are rather comfy," she assured him.
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck, "I had no idea what books you might like. I considered jewelry, but wanted something more sentimental."
"Sentimentality is more impressive than expensive. Not that I would refuse any gift, that's rude."
"So, you don't want to go flying, how can we entertain ourselves until dinner?" He pulled her onto his lap and began kissing down her neck on one side, across her collarbones, and up the other side of her neck. "Any thoughts?"
"Not a one," she whispered leaning back in his arms.
"Oh, for Salazar's sake! Knock it off. People are present," Draco stomped into the room.
"Go away, Malfoy," Marcus muttered. "Then there won't be people anymore.
"No, I've been commanded to appear and greet the returned family. If I have to be miserable, you get to be miserable." He dropped onto the couch, leaving room for Hermione between them.
She slipped off of Marcus's lap, "What's so miserable about Christmas dinner?"
"On one side of the table is my disinherited aunt, her muggleborn husband, their half blood daughter, her werewolf husband, and their half breed son. On the other side is her zealot older sister. Sounds absolutely fucking delightful."
"Mummy Dearest has promised to be on her best behavior."
Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Promised who?"
"Voldemort. He told her he expects her to be an example of reunification. We've discovered muggleborns are the descendants of squibs."
Draco's eyes grew wide, "Adopt them into the family and they aren't muggleborns anymore."
"As cadet branch members they will have family affiliations to help them network in their new world."
"Were you related to the Lestranges then?"
"No, my adoption was because Rodolphus and Rabastan liked me."
"Brilliant plan though," he remarked.
"Why thank you, Draco."
"Of course, it was your idea," he rolled his eyes.
"Don't hate just because I'm smarter."
The initial introductions before dinner were awkward until eight-month-old Teddy threw himself at Hermione, showering her face with baby kisses. His hair turned bright blue. "Hello, sweetheart. I'm happy to meet you, too." Teddy babbled her in response.
Remus chuckled, "I think I found Teddy's new favorite person." As if to prove this point, the baby cried when separated to eat until he realized his high chair sat straight across from Hermione.
Draco smirked, "Watch out, Flint, looks like you've got some competition."
"Good looking competition, to be sure. Lucky for me Hermione likes her men older. Sorry, mate," he told the infant.
Dora chuckled while Remus rolled his eyes, "Nothing wrong with that."
Ted addressed Hermione, "Thanks for the recommendation for the new Entertainment department. By turning down the initial offer, I've got money thrown at me to consult."
"Glad to hear it."
"They've got a good lead into television. But programming will have to be piggybacked from muggles for awhile."
"No ways around that?" Lucius inquired.
"Television recording and broadcasting are more sophisticated than radio. We will get there eventually."
"We?" asked Rabastan.
"The Wizarding World in general," Ted paused to take a bite. "With this increased interest in technology, the people who know more about how it works will be sought after."
"You aren't going to stick around for the fame?" asked Narcissa.
"No, I'm not a big tech guy. I just know more than the rest right now." Ted shook his head. "My interests lie elsewhere."
"If you could do anything, what would you do?" asked Hermione.
"Before learning about magic, I wanted to be a teacher." Andromeda patted his hand.
"Not many schools in the magical world," Hermione conceded.
Remus noticed the calculating look on her face, one the others might have misinterpreted for simply interested. "What are you plotting?"
"Me?" she asked innocently. "Why would you think I was plotting something?"
"I know you. I've seen that face, I know that face."
Draco perked up, "Me, too. You get that face right before something devious happens."
She looked at Teddy, "Do you see how I get treated?" He banged the table in front of him. "I agree, completely underappreciated. Thank you, Teddy." The baby flashed her a tiny toothy grin.
"So nice to see how much he adores his godmother, it's like he knows." Tonks smiled at Hermione.
"Really?" Hermione looked from Tonks to Remus and back again.
"Yes, we agreed around month eight of my pregnancy that you and Harry would be the baby's godparents, but we weren't sure an owl would reach you, and wanted to tell you in person."
"Oh, my goodness, thank you so much."
Draco leaned over to Marcus, "Want to wager who spoils him more, Auntie Cissa or Auntie Hermione?"
"Nana Andromeda will," his aunt informed him. Everyone laughed. At the end of the evening, Hermione made plans to meet Remus and Teddy at an indoor baby play place in two days.
Sensing her lack of attention Marcus seized the opportunity to speak with Rodolphus privately. "What's on your mind, Flint?"
"Hermione and I discussed the future earlier, and I wanted to fulfill my obligations related to that conversation, even if the traditions mean nothing to her."
"Oh?" Rodolphus raised an eyebrow.
"We agree that we're heading towards marriage. I wanted to ask your blessing." He swallowed nervously.
"You realize she won't like knowing this conversation took place?"
"She knows I intended to talk to you. She knows she has the final say in the matter. My proposal will be a question for her to answer, not a demand or a formality."
"Then for what it is worth, I give you my blessing," Rodolphus clapped him on the back.
"Thank you."
Rodolphus laughed, "You mean, wish me luck."
"Yeah, that, too."