The funeral for Lord Daniel Granger was nothing like the one for his first wife. The burial ceremony-a simple walk, tolling bells and speeches-could only be personalized so much, but what happened afterwards was more of a dinner party than a wake. The four Granger women stood in a line to greet their guests and receive their condolences, the Widow at the front, Hermione at the back. The guests were served hors d'oeuvres, people hung about in groups, chatting and laughing, making the atmosphere seem relaxed.
Hermione was disgusted at the behavior of the people around her as well as the amount of beans and cheese the henchwomen must have had the night before. How she kept her eyebrows intact she would never know. She could clearly see, even though their mother had more restraint, that the girls were tired of holding up the grieving charade. They'd begun to make cow eyes at the some of the attractive and richer looking men. Respect and social norms required that the family be left in peace soon after the funeral and yet here these people were joking and tittering in their black clothing as if this were only a midnight themed party.
The only people who truly seemed to be grieving other than Hermione were the Duchess and Marquis Black. Because the event was open to anyone who wished to offer their condolences, and the Duchess and Marquis were higher profile than the Widow, she couldn't forbid them from coming to the wake without making a fool of herself. It irked her greatly, but made Hermione exceedingly glad. They could be my way out, she thought.
When the stream of well-wishers slowed to a trickle, Hermione slipped off to find the unlikely duo. They stood in a corner of the sitting room speaking with each other quietly, the Duchess sporting her severe bun and stern face. The Marquis looked on the verge of a smirk regardless of how he felt. When he spotted her, he caught her in a tight hug.
"I'm so sorry Hermione," he said in her ear. "For your father, this batty woman, and for not coming for you." He held her at arm's length and looked her up and down. "You look terrible."
Hermione gasped out a short laugh. "You have no tact, you mean old man," she told him, hugging him again and laughing at his indignant shock. I almost forgot what humor sounded like.
The Duchess was next, giving her a short hug, then fixing Hermione's dress and hair. "That woman is mad, there's no doubt about it." She looked around and moved her two companions further into the corner, casting a notice-me-not charm. "How are you, dear?"
Tears welled in Hermione's eyes. "She's taken everything. She poisoned my father and I can't prove it. She's taken my wand. She's probably had all my inheritance transferred to their vaults. I barely have my dignity now. She's making me do all the housekeeping." She sniffed and wiped her eyes. That last bit sounds trivial, but it's still demeaning! Hermione admitted to herself. The Duchess pursed her lips, giving her a pitying look. The Marquis put a comforting hand on her shoulder, offering her his monogrammed handkerchief.
"Duchess," Hermione started hesitantly. "You were my mother's best friend. You've known me for years. If anybody had claim to me, you do, more so than the Black Widow wreaking havoc, one vault at a time. Is there any way that you-"
"No. Absolutely not." Hermione's heart jumped into her throat before sinking into her bowels. She felt it might slither out and spoil the back of her dress if she wasn't careful. The Duchess saw her face and quickly amended. "I can't take you away while a legal guardian still lives."
"I don't look like her, act like her, and I most certainly didn't exit her womb," Hermione hissed. "She's been keeping me as a servant and a bit of entertainment. Merlin's saggy bollocks! She's my tormenter not my bloody guardian!"
"Hermione Jean Granger! Watch your mouth! You may be displaced but you are still a lady and you will act like one!" the Duchess hissed back. "And keep your voice down. It's a called Notice-Me-Not, not Make-Everyone-Blind-Deaf-and-Stupid."
Hermione glared at her, not because she was angry with her, but out of frustration. Once more, her situation was futile. The Duchess pursed her lips and forced a breath through her nose. "It's not that I do not care, Hermione. I do. I've been thinking of this day and night, looking for a way to get you out of this mess. I just need a little more time, Hermione."
Hermione felt tears build again and stared up at a light fixture trying to make them go away. The heart-slithering-out feeling she couldn't get rid of though. I don't have time, she thought morosely. Sirius cleared his throat, asking for their attention.
He smiled sadly. "I can't take you away from this place, but I could make it a little bit easier on you."
"What could you possibly do?" Hermione asked, suddenly tired. She watched as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, brown leather backed book. It made a glimmer of interest light in her eye. "What is it?"
"You've heard of wandless magic before, haven't you Hermione?" Sirius asked. The Duchess spluttered.
"Sirius, you can't be-"
"Serious?" he cracked a devilish grin. "Why yes, Duchess, yes I am." The Duchess huffed. "You know it don't you Hermione?"
"Of course I do, all the Heads of Houses can use wandless magic," Hermione snapped. "You brought me a bit of light reading instead of an escape route, Uncle Sirius."
"I thought you would like to learn to do something new, my dear," he said not at all deterred by Hermione's demeanor.
"To do? To do what? Only the Heads of Houses and the oldest of warlocks can practice wandless magic. It would take me years of practice to light a fire much less do anything useful! What am I supposed to do with this bloody book!"
"Hermione! Your language young woman!" the Duchess admonished again.
"I'm trapped in this disgusting web and all you're worried about is my language? What in Merlin's-"
"Hermione, dear, Duchess, please," Sirius rested a hand on Hermione shoulder in an attempt to calm. "Just listen for a moment. Everyone witch's and wizard's first bit of magic is wandless. Wands as a way to channel magic were introduced first as a style, just a fashion trend, but soon it became the only way to control magic turning into a crutch. Just like a crutch, we can be weaned of it. Being able to control your magic without a wand will even make you more powerful since you don't have to use some of the power dedicated for a spell to force it through a piece of wood with a mind of its own."
Hermione looked at him skeptically, but the interest back in her eye. "Will that book teach me?" Having magic is always a step up.
"Hermione," the Duchess began, sounding much calmer. "Only the Heads and the oldest work wandless magic for a reason. It requires a lot of strength and power, stamina that you haven't had the time to build up yet. Trying this unprepared could leave you weak and susceptible to anything Lady Granger plans."
"She would win," Hermione said quietly. From their corner, Hermione could see the Black Widow speaking to a man, a little to intimately for a newly widowed woman. "And she gets to keep going." How old is she? I could always wait until her wrinkles outnumbered her stolen galleons. All 280 years of the average lifespan-310 for witches. "I have to learn."