Standard disclaimers as always, apply.
No Time For Epilogues
Chapter 19- Happy Birthday
September 19, 1998
Elizabeth and Ian glanced at Hermione several times during breakfast. She flipped through papers and mumbled to herself as she ate.
"Anything we can help with?" Elizabeth asked.
"Not unless you want to hike around the woods with a few Centaurs this morning," Hermione replied with a grin. She gathered her papers, finished her juice, wished them a good day and left the house.
"Liz, I don't think she even remembered that it was her birthday."
The telephone rang and Elizabeth rose to answer it. On the other end was someone who would definitely not forget that it was Hermione's birthday.
"Good morning Ron."
"Morning Mrs. Granger. Hermione there?"
"Sorry, no, she just left."
She heard him sigh on the other end. "Okay, I'll just catch her in her office this afternoon."
"Still have your dinner reservation?"
"Absolutely, the fanciest place in Diagon Alley. I'll be there at seven to pick her up."
"We'll see you then."
Hermione waved to Hagrid, teaching the sixth years Magical Creatures class, when she passed them on her way to the woods. Lina was waiting for her.
"Bane won't be joining us today, there's a meeting of the elders that requires his attendance," she said. "Today also, Dorn has the honor of accompanying the unicorns."
"Just us girls then," Hermione said and sat on a stump. She took out her pad of paper and a pen, then removed her hair from its band. She shook her head and Lina watched as it cascaded down and around her shoulders. She massaged her head for a bit.
"With a mane such as that, why do you restrain it so?" Lina asked.
"Out here in the the brush, it would just get caught up in branches and bushes," Hermione answered.
"May I feel it?" Lina asked.
"What? My hair? Uh...sure."
Lina stepped closer and gently placed her large hand on Hermione's head. "It's soft and smooth, quite like the mane of a unicorn," Lina said.
"It used to be a nightmare," Hermione said. "What about yours?"
"My mane is just...a mane."
She tucked her legs under herself so Hermione could reach her mane. The centaur's hair was thick and coarse.
"What do you wash it with?" Hermione asked.
"Wash? I merely submerge my head in a pond or the lake, or let the rain cleanse it," Lina said.
"Some shampoo and strong conditioner might make it smoother," Hermione offered.
"What is this...shampoo and conditioner?" Lina asked.
At the end of Hermione's explanation, Lina agreed to try it if Hermione brought some with her. "There's even a brand called Mane and Tail," she said with a grin. I cannot believe I'm discussing hair with a centaur!
"Something amuses you?" Lina asked, a grin on her own face.
"It's just that sometimes life takes you places you never thought possible, like talking about hair with a centaur," Hermione said.
"I could say the same," Lina replied. "I've never really been around humans. As long as I can remember, I have been taught to avoid them. Perhaps...our elders were mistaken. You're quite agreeable for a human, your mate must be pleased."
"I certainly hope so," Hermione said softly, fingering the ring on her hand then glanced at her watch. She took a second glance at the date on her watch and snorted.
"Is something in your throat?" Lina asked.
"I just realized that today is my birthday."
"Well, in that case, may the blessings of this day grow to many more. May you live to celebrate a hundred more days of your birth," Lina said.
"That's sweet, thanks."
"It's something my sire tells me on the day of my birth."
"If it's not an impolite question, how old are you?" Hermione asked.
"I am thirty two years of age," Lina said. "And you?"
"Nineteen today."
When Hermione sat down on a log to eat lunch, she realized that they really didn't do any work that morning. As she shared her trail mix with Lina, she realized that she wouldn't wish back that time for any price. The easy, curious and often amusing conversation with the centauress was priceless.
There would be so much more to her book than language. She rose to her feet rather suddenly, causing Lina to look at her curiously. Humans!
Her heart pounded in her chest and her eyes watered at her epiphany; the thought that possibly, a definitive work could be produced. At my age! A definitive work about a race known mainly through myth, suspicion and misunderstanding.
"Are you well miss?" Lina asked upon seeing the look on her face.
Hermione was back in her office answering intraministry mail when her mobile rang.
"Yes?" she answered absently.
"Happy birthday love, you sound busy," Ron replied.
She relaxed in her chair at the sound of his voice. "I can take a break."
"Long enough for me to pop in?" he asked.
"Sure, I'd like that."
"I'll be right there."
True to his word, he was at her office door minutes later, holding a cupcake adorned with a candle.
Later that evening, Elizabeth was in the kitchen when a quick knock was heard from the back door.
"Come on in Ron," she called.
The door opened and Harry poked his head in and grinned. "Will I do?"
"Of course, come in. You're always welcome, care for anything eat or drink?"
Harry stepped in with a wrapped box. "No thanks. Something for the birthday girl."
"She's in her room getting ready for dinner with Ron." She opened the door from the kitchen to the dining room and called out, "Pumpkin, there's someone here for you!"
"Okay!" was heard and Hermione came into the dining room. "Oh, Harry! Hi!"
Harry gave her quick peck on the cheek, a warm hug and gave her the gift. "Happy birthday! I've never seen your hair done up like that," he said.
"Neither have I," Elizabeth said.
"Someone I work with gave me a few tips, does it look awful?" Hermione asked.
"No, it looks pretty," Harry said.
"It looks quite becoming," Elizabeth said.
"Aren't you going to open your present?" Harry asked.
She eagerly tore open the burgundy wrapping paper, careful not to destroy the bow and gasped at a first edition, leather-bound Hogwarts, A History. She caressed the gold and ceramic Hogwarts crest on the cover.
"How did you get this?" she whispered.
"Open it at the bookmark," Harry suggested.
She examined the satin maroon Gryffindor bookmark to see a chapter entitled "Hogwarts Heroes, 1998." Turning the page, she saw a list of names of those who had died at the Battle of Hogwarts. The nexy twenty pages featured each of their pictures and a brief biography. Turning pages, she stopped at a full page picture of Harry, Ron and herself taken at the end of their sixth year after Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup. Turning another page, she saw a full page picture of Harry opposite a page with biography. "You can skip that," he said, gently turning another page and stopped at a full page picture of Ron, minutes after his Order of Merlin presentation. It took Hermione's breath away how handsome and proud he looked. Again, Harry turned a page and Hermione was looking at a picture of herself, smiling warmly at the camera. She couldn't believe what she saw.
"I almost don't recognize myself."
"We rarely see ourselves as others see us," Elizabeth said.
The next few pages featured the other Order of Merlin, First Class for Valor winners, Minerva McGonagall and Molly Weasley.
"Mum, looking at this picture of Mrs. Weasley, you would never know she's one of the best duelers you've ever seen," Hermione said.
"Knock, knock" in Ron's voice was heard from the kitchen. Elizabeth went to the kitchen. Hermione looked down at herself, still in jeans and a t-shirt. "I need to get dressed," she said, giving Harry a quick thank you hug for the book and retreated quickly to her room. The front door opened and Ian came in. Elizabeth appeared with Ron.
"I thought I heard that appearing sound from the back yard," Ian said and shook Ron and Harry's hand.
"I'm almost ready!" Hermione called from the back of the house.
Ron, Harry and Ian looked at each other pointedly, knowing what that meant in female language. "Care for a bit of brandy?" Ian asked and the three went to the den.
Twenty minutes later, Hermione appeared at the door to the den to find her dad at the computer, Ron and Harry next to him, bent over to look at whatever he was doing, which was most likely the Chelsea Football Club site.
"I'm ready," she said and the three men turned around.
"Blimey Hermione, you ought to warn a bloke when you look like that," Harry said affectionately and clapped Ron on the back, waking him from his sudden daze.
"You like? It's new," she said, twirled and winked at Ron. He nodded and cleared his throat. What have I done to deserve this? Her royal blue silk robe glistened and rippled around her body, and his gaze fell to the neckline dipping just low enough to show a hint of cleavage. His eyes then traveled to her face, her smiling lips accentuated by gloss and her beautiful honey-colored eyes, beaming at him behind lightly glittered eyelids. The couple apparated to Diagon Alley, appearing on the street in front of Avalon, the best, most expensive, fanciest resturant in Diagon Alley. Ron loved how her eyes shone in happy shock when she saw where they were.
"Nothing but the best for my girl on her birthday," Ron said and drew her into a kiss before they went in.
Across the restaurant, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy nodded at a waiter that brought fresh rolls to the table and left quickly. Draco sipped his wine and choked when he glanced to the front door.
"Is the wine not to your liking?" Narcissa asked, sniffing hers.
Is that Granger? he wondered incredulously. He knew good and well who Weasley was, so it must be Granger with him. Narcissa turned to see what he was looking at. "I see," she said quietly.
She now could find no fault in Hermione. Her testimony at their trial, in large part, saved their lives. Granted, Lucius was serving lifetime house arrest and probation, but he was not Dementor-kissed and languishing in Azkaban, nor were Narcissa and Draco. The two were on probation for ten years, with the proviso that if any of the Malfoys so much as stepped a toe out of line, they would be in Azkaban quicker than you could say quidditch. For many former well-to-do, haughty, Death Eater families, the threat of imprisonment, and a large chunk of their fortunes confiscated for reparations, took many families down a peg or two, the Malfoys included. They would be social pariahs for a good long while, but were grateful to be alive. So this night, Narcissa and Draco found themselves not seated at the best table in the restaurant, but in a booth by the kitchen. It could have been worse; they could have been told that there were no tables available at all. Ron and Hermione were being led to the best table in the place, a lavishly decorated table next to the dance floor and fairy fountain.
Hermione placed her napkin in her lap as soon as she sat down, so Ron did the same. A waiter glided to the table.
"Master Weasley, Miss Granger, welcome to Avalon," the waiter said and gave them a wine and amuse bouche menu.
"Would you care for a aperitif or an amuse bouche?"
"Ron?" Hermione asked.
"It's your birthday, you decide," Ron said. Besides, he really didn't know what an amuse bouche was.
"Hmm, this all looks so good," she said and scanned the menu. "I'll have a glass of your house red and the spicy peanut and chicken soup."
"Excellent, and you sir?"
Ron couldn't begin to wrap his head around some of the most unusual sounding combinations for food he had ever seen. Where were crisps when you needed them? He scanned the menu quickly for something familiar.
"Uh..the broiled shrimp," he said.
"Peppered?"
"No."
"Very well, wine for you as well?"
"Yes, what she's having."
"Excellent, your selections will be out shortly."
Ron looked at the table and couldn't help but wonder why there were so many forks, spoons, knives, plates and glasses. Is Hermione wondering the same? Probably not, she was raised with fancy stuff like this. I'll just do what she does.
Ron's questions were answered when the aperitifs and amuse bouche were presented. Hermion's soup was placed before her and the waiter deposited a steaming roll on a little plate above the soup. The waiter took one of the five glasses on the table and filled it with wine. He repeated the procedure with Ron's serving. Hermione thanked him, picked up one of the spoons to her right and began eating. He made quick work of the tasty shrimp and was content to watch her finish her soup. When she did, she placed the spoon in the bowl, sat back and took a sip of wine. The waiter again glided at the table. "Would you like to choose your entrees?" he inquired.
"Yes please," she answered. The waiter lightly snapped his fingers and two menus appeared in his hands.
"Take as long as you'd like, and I'm pleased to inform you that tonight's Chef's choice is the Beef Bourguignonne."
After just a minute, Hermione decided what she wanted. Deciding that he couldn't go wrong with chicken, no matter how adventurous it looked on the menu. He signaled the waiter, who again glided to the table and looked to Hermione.
"I'll have the Shrimp Scampi Tuscano."
He nodded and looked to Ron. "The roasted chicken with mango glaze."
"Would you care for more wine?"
"Yes, it's very good," she said.
"Wanna dance while they make the food?" Ron asked when the string quartet started playing.
"Really? I'd love that," she answered.
"Let's dance then," Ron said. He led her to the dance floor and held her close. He started a waltz. Hermione looked at him in happy surprise.
"Surprised?" he asked.
She chuckled and nodded.
"You didn't think I would take you to such a swanky place and trip over my feet, did you?"
"Ron, I had no idea, about any of this. It's all wonderful, thank you."
"Besides, I reckon you want to dance at our wedding, am I right? I figured I needed to learn."
"Aren't you just full of surprises?"
"Wanna hear another? I have an idea for the honeymoon."
"Oh?"
"What do you think of going to Egypt?"
"Did you enjoy it before?"
"Sure did, thought you might like it too. Isn't that where the Library of Alexandria is?" he asked innocently and gave her a gallant twirl.
Well, well, don't they look happy.
"Now now Draco, that look on your face is most unbecoming."
He grunted in response.
"Don't worry, some witch will catch your eye, I'm sure of it."
"Mother, no witch in England, Ireland or Scotland will have me, no matter how much money we have. Surely you know this."
"Then we'll have to look outside of England, won't we."
"Father won't stand for it."
She took a sip of wine, looked casually at her nails and sighed. "I'm well past caring what he will or won't stand for, and I've told him as much. Look where it got us- sitting in booth by the kitchen at the best restaurant in Britain. Half the family fortune gone, no social standing, with a permanent criminal records. You have no NEWTs to speak for. My mother must be turning in her grave."
Ron loved his chicken so much that Hermione promised to find the recipe and make it for him in the future.
"Never had fruity chicken, but it's great," he said. "How about yours?"
"Delicious. The linguini is made from scratch and the cheese is perfect."
She ate the last of the shrimp and pasta, placed her untensils in the center of her plate and settled in her chair with her glass of wine. A bus boy appeared and took away her plate.
"Why didn't he take mine?" he asked.
"You didn't indicate that you wanted it taken," she answered. "Put your knife and fork in your plate."
He did so and seconds later, the bus boy returned and took his plate away. "So I take it this fork and/or spoon is for dessert?" he asked.
She nodded. "All this formality can be tiring, but I do enjoy it every once in a while."
"They should have had formality classes at Hogwarts," he said.
Hermione tossed her head back and laughed. "Impossible. Mealtimes there were just a feeding frenzy."
The waiter appeared and inquired about dessert. Hermione spoke. "Let's make this easy. Ice cream?"
"Which flavor?" the waiter asked.
"Chocolate," she stated.
"Milk, dark, bittersweet, sweet dark, white, semi-sweet, or Gianduja?" the waiter prompted.
"Two scoops of milk chocolate," she answered.
"Same for me," Ron said. When the waiter left, he asked, "What's gee-en whatever?"
"No idea."
After the ice cream, Ron asked if she was ready to leave. "You do look kind of tired."
"No matter, I'm enjoying myself, this wine and sleeping in tomorrow," she replied.
He signaled the waiter. "I'm ready for the check. I don't suppose you sell the wine we had?"
"As a matter of fact, several of our wines are available for sale. The vintage your ladyfriend enjoyed is our best seller."
"Then I'll take a bottle to go."
"Of course, will there be anything else?"
"No, just the check and the wine."