It seemed that this was a waking nightmare, though. It was an entire week before Hermione came to terms with her mother's death, and another before she stopped expecting to see her mother's brightly smiling face at the table during meals. She'd taken to sitting in her mother's chair in the sun room, fiddling with her belongings as if she could squeeze the essence of her mother out of the fabrics and baubles.
Her father was not much better, she could only guess. He wasn't a very talkative man by nature, but he was not a recluse. Since the funeral, she'd seen hair of him, but not hide. He wouldn't look her in the eye when she did see him and he quickly, abruptly left the room when she entered.
Finally, the Duchess came to visit. She was naturally not a patient woman. She'd agreed to giving the Granger's their two weeks of grieving, and agreed to Hermione's short missives begging off one more week three times, but this was getting ridiculous. She understood that the grieving process often took much longer than the allotted social time, but there were things that must be taken care of, and if rumors were anything to go by, things were most certainly not being taken care of.
Hermione was rudely yelled awake by one of the maids. Three were in her room bustling about, one of them leaning over her speaking quickly into her face. Hermione's groggy mind was not receiving what she was saying and she stared at her stupidly, before covering the maid's mouth with her hand. She raised herself up painstakingly slowly and glared at the maid. The woman shrank back, the other two oblivious as to the goings-on behind them.
"What are you babbling about Eloise?" Hermione asked the maid.
"The Duchess," she said, her voice high. "And, and the marquis! They're here and they want to see you and your father and neither of you are ready to be seen in public and they want to see you right now!" Eloise's voice got higher and higher and more panicky and panicky as she explained the situation and all the problems.
In a burst of annoyance, Hermione silenced her with a charm. The other two maids finally noticed what was going on and stood rock still with whatever task they'd been doing partially done in their hands. Hermione had a growing urge to send them all away and to tell the Duchess and marquis that she would not be joining them for a social visit today. She knew however, that the Duchess would march up the stairs and scrub and dress Hermione herself until she was ready to receive company.
Hermione sighed and released the charm on Eloise, glaring at her as she almost re-started on her tirade. She threw the blankets off and asked, "Has a bath been drawn?"
Half an hour later, Hermione was dressed in a simple white dress with blue embroidery of flowers. Her hair was down in a low braided ponytail. Her face, however, nothing could be done for; she glowered indiscriminately all the way down the stairs and into the foyer where she received her guests with a perfect curtsy and a stormy face.
"Fix that expression, Hermione," the Duchess snapped. "One never receives guests with such a scowl on her face."
Hermione let her scowl recede into a tight lipped frown. The queen sighed. The dark haired man beside her, Marquis Sirius Black, chuckled. "How are you my dear?"
"I'm doing as well as can be, sir," Hermione answered quietly, a bit icily, "And you?"
"All the better for seeing you, my dear," he replied still chuckling. "You always make me smile, no matter how much you glare."
Hermione had a childish urge to stick her tongue out at him, but was saved from the embarrassment of succumbing by her stoic father. He looked as stiff and elegant as ever, hair combed, clothes unwrinkled, a face no more unwelcoming than normal. He bowed slowly, surely to the Duchess and nodded to his friend the marquis. He did not look Hermione's way.
"Your Grace," he said, "You look lovely this morning. How are you?"
"You look well yourself, Lord Granger. Marquis Black and I are very glad to see you." Hermione's father nodded., and then silence fell. It seemed to Hermione that it had a strangling hold on her throat. Am I supposed to say something? A moment after the pause was too long to be called pregnant, the Duchess looked sharply at Hermione. "Won't you invite us to the sitting room, Lady Granger?"
That was mother's job, Hermione thought stiffly, but said, "Yes! My apologies your graces. Please join us in the sitting room."
The air loosened around her throat a bit as her father offered his arm to the Duchess. She thanked him and they began to leave Hermione and her godfather behind. Marquis Black held his arm out to Hermione and patted her hand. She looked up at him and managed to give a small smile in return for his toothy grin. "You'll get better at it."
After everyone settled down and Hermione ordered tea from one of the maids, there was another awkward silence, where Hermione felt she was supposed to be saying something. Finally the Duchess cleared her throat and started a conversation herself.
"What have you kept yourself busy with, Hermione? Something indoors, no doubt, you look pale as a ghost."
"Reading and the like, your grace," Hermione responded offering no chance for added conversation, but the Duchess was an expert conversationalist.
"Studies as well?"
"No your-"
"She turned her tutors away three weeks ago," her father broke in gruffly, shaking his head at Eloise, who was offering him tea. Everyone else took a cup.
"Turned her tutor away?" the Duchess said slowly, sounding more surprised than she felt. She looked at Hermione from under her graying eyelashes as she wandlessly stirred her sugar-two spoons, no more-into her tea. "Why ever would you do that?"
Hermione did not answer; she simply ignored the question, though she knew it was bad graces to do so, worse to do it to a guest, much worse to the Duchess. But Hermione didn't particularly care. She was not her mother, not nearly as gracious and welcoming as her. Not nearly so beautiful, nor adept at side stepping questions.
"I think Hermione might have begun teaching her tutor," the Marquis said nervously, trying to introduce a chuckle into his voice to lighten the mood. "She's clever enough to do it."
Hermione calmly sipped her tea, not even looking at her godfather. "Well what have you gotten on to, Lord Granger? I trust business as usual?"
"Yes, your grace, always." He seemed just as unsocial as Hermione was. The Duchess was beginning to get annoyed. Her eyes flashed slightly, though her demeanor did not change. How long are they going to wallow in self pity? She wondered. No matter. I only came to deal with one thing.
"Anything new? I heard you were looking into land in the Carribean. What do you plan to do with it?" The talk matured into business, far beyond Hermione's interest thresh hold, as it always was. Marquis Black joined in and they all chatted animatedly about what could be bought, grown and sold from on what island.
Hermione observed the conversation around her, like she always did, staying in the background, content to watch and understand. The Duchess oozed icy regality, as a royal should. Everything from her stately looks to her precise, ever questioning, ever interested speech made her the perfectly intimidating. Her name was Minerva McGonagall, but "the Duchess" sounded so much more intimidating and the name stuck. No one was immune to her charms and she was practicing them now, getting Lord Granger to stay in the conversation. His ever present scowl was softening as he talked about business plan. The one flaw with her father, in Hermione's opinion, was that he would not look at her. It was a recent flaw only appearing five weeks ago, after that miserable day. He would not even glance at her.
Once he did, on accident. She walked into the dining room, two days after the funeral. He looked up expectantly and then froze, eyes roaming her face. The lines in his face became pronounced, the furrow in his brow deeper, his frown more sullen and his eyes seemed to glisten. Suddenly they hardened and his face became emotionless. He stood abruptly and left the room. He didn't even make accidental eye contact with her after that. And he refused to do so now.
"What do you intend to do with Hermione, while you are gone?" the Duchess asked. Hermione sat straighter, hearing her name. "Surely you have plans for your daughter?"
Her father had no answer. His face fell into that emotionless wall, she saw less than five weeks ago. "Hermione," the Duchess said though she never took her eyes off Lord Granger. "I heard some new horses came in a few weeks ago. Marquis Black has expressed interest in seeing them. Why don't you take him to see them, maybe try them out, hmm?"
Hermione knew when she was being dismissed. "Yes, your majesty." Hermione led the Marquis to the stable unhurriedly. As they left the mansion behind, Sirius slowed their pace, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder.
"She means well, you know that right?" he asked. His demeanor had lost its chuckle. "She just wants to make sure that you and Daniel are alright. That's all."
"Why does she care?" Hermione asked. "I'm sure she has other courtiers to attend to."
"Now Hermione, that's not fair, and you know it."
Hermione huffed. "You know that she and your mother were best friends. She cares for you, even if she doesn't show it well."
"I wish she would go away," Hermione muttered, as they reached the stables. "I wish everyone would."
"Oh but you can't possibly mean that!" the laughter was back in his eyes. He clutched his chest, feigning a wound. "You wouldn't want to send your favorite uncle away would you?"
That made Hermione giggle a bit, allowing the conversation to lighten. They talked about his godson, Harry and his friend, Ronald as they watched the stable hands try to break in one of the new horses.
"They miss you dearly," Sirius said, relaying a message. "They say to come horseback riding with them before they leave for the Academy again."
Hermione nodded. "Tell them next week." Sirius nodded and the fell into a comfortable silence, watching the hands make try after try to mount the large tawny stallion. Sirius suggested they go back to the house a while later, assuming the Duchess and Lord Granger would be finished with whatever private conversation they were having. It turns out, however, that the conversation was not finished; in fact, it sounded to be right in the middle.
"-need to re-marry!" the Duchess was saying, quite loudly-she never yelled, only spoke loudly. No! Hermione cried in her mind. Father can't remarry!
"Why? For the sake of looks?" Her father bellowed. "I don't want to get married again! It is too soon."
"And who is to look after Hermione, hmm? And when you're gone? What about then?"
"I can look after my own daughter! She can come with me!" He'd take me with him? Does he actually care?
"Take her with you? This is her first Season! You can't take her with you? How is she to marry if she's off sailing seas with sailors and pirates and the like?"
"I don't want to get married now," Hermione whispered to Marquis Black. He grimaced and shrugged, then knocked on the heavy wooden doors.
They heard the Duchess growl, "This is not over, Daniel. Come in!" Hermione and the marquis entered slowly, wary of the two occupants. "Hermione, dear!" the Duchess exclaimed, clasping her hands together. The redness in her face could be excitement, but Hermione knew it was frustration.
"I have good news," she said. "Your father will be hosting a ball this Saturday."
"I did not-" The Duchess cut off his obvious refusal with a stinging glare.
"I know it's short notice at all, but I'm sure the turn out will be very large. You have a ball gown, haven't you dear? No? Well, we must have one made, haven't we?"