The rules for a female pureblood's first soiree of the new season are similar to those of a patient pre-surgery. No food or drink 8 hours prior, including avoiding tobacco, drugs, and alcohol. If you have children, arrange for childcare. Be advised to keep your scheduled consultation for any last-minute changes. Wear adequate attire and make sure your affairs are in order. You never know what could go wrong in a wink of an eye or a clink of a drink.
With the big event comes many trials and no room for error. Now you can't choose your family, but you can select your friends. It pays to have a companion in a world ruled by bloodlines, bank accounts, and all things beautiful. And for one, nervous, careful witch, it benefits from having four of them. The Rosemont sisters have been practicing, preparing, and pouring the rules of pureblood etiquette into Hermione. Throughout the hot months of July and August, the ladies have strived to do their best work with Marcus's lady love.
While one sister worked on social graces, another labored on the art of first impressions. While one Rosemont witch toiled on beauty, highlighting the inner and outer, the other devoted effort to dining etiquette. So the older ladies sought to develop Hermione's necessary skills and personal strength through practical principles. These are applied by refining character, poise, and charm, which all pureblood girls are supposed to have.
More than once, the younger witch mentioned, "They should teach this to all first-year witches and wizards at Hogwarts. Everyone needs a little polishing, especially in manners." She couldn't help but think of Ron and his bad eating habits. It made her stomach a little queasy in disgust.
By the time of the first fall soiree, the sisters believed Hermione was ready. Whatever she lacks, the four of them will be there to guide her through the turbulent waters. The week before the social gathering, Idalia (who was in charge of the beautification side of things) accompanied her soon-to-be niece shopping. Together they went from store to store in search of the perfect afternoon luncheon outfit. Everything Hermione thought would work or look lovely, Idalia wrinkled her nose in distaste.
The fun, sophisticated woman reminded the young lady, "One does not need to look like a peacock in order to command attention. Less is more. Did you not listen to Cecilia when she covered that in the art of first impressions?"
Hermione remarked, putting back a jeweled top, "I did pay attention, but this is just so pretty." Her hand lingered on the gem neckline.
In her smooth, crystalline voice, Idalia shook her head and reminded, "It may be pretty, but that's not for you. Everyone at the garden party will be watching you and expecting you to fail. What you wear is a part of that. So we cannot leave any doubt. The goal is for these peahens to see the outfit but focus on you more, understand?"
She gently nudged the girl away from the sparkle and onto the tweeds. The older witch began rummaging racks of tweed outfits and matching suit separates. The lady picked through color after color until she made a choice. In an ironic twist, a green tweed jacket and skirt were declared the winner. All shades of green were woven with black and cream to boot, each a stand-alone Slytherin color.
Even though the selection may have seemed stuffy and like something a middle-aged woman would wear, it really was not. The jacket had flirty fringe detailing at the sleeve and at the opening, which kept it youthful, like the skirt with a black leather side stripe. Underneath, Hermione would wear a creamy sleeveless silk shell. The jewelry would have minimal gold bangles, a long necklace, and diamond earrings. As for shoes, a pair of iridescent green high heels were paired with it, also making the tweed less formal.
Hermione feels quite put together, but she wonders, "Does it truly make a difference that I wear this?"
Again Idalia told her, "Yes. What you wear is very important, especially to the older witches in attendance. It is a way to say who you are and what you're all about without speaking. So it's worth doing well. And the best thing you can wear is confidence and a smile."
After handing the younger witch a red leather portfolio clutch, Idalia prompted, "Remember when I introduced you to the more senior purebloods at the summer party? There's a reason for that. Most people your age forget about their elders, but they matter most in the pureblood realm. If every witch your age or Narcissa Malfoy's age hates you, it doesn't count. All you need is one good old witch to approve, and poof- you're in the circle. Lucky for you, Dear, you have four old witches with friends. Life will be much easier if you're welcomed, so do you want that?"
As Hermione twirled in the store mirror admiring the suit, she admitted, "Yes. I want that."
Approving, Idalia told her, "Good. Then we're getting the tweed."
She made Hermione go change. While the young witch was in the dressing room putting her regular clothes back on, the older woman stated, "I want you to notice all the girls your age at the party who wear sparkles or flashy patterns. It's not for making an impression but for attention. And then you can laugh to yourself because their mothers have not taught them proper pureblood dressing etiquette. I promise the old witches will consider that much and will not find it amusing. When they look at you, they will see a young woman ready to take charge of one of the prominent sacred twenty-eight families. And that is one of the reasons we've been aiding you, besides the fact that we love you."
Just like that, the weight of Idalia's words hung around Hermione's neck like a chunky diamond chain choker. It's not that she's never thought about being Lady Flint because she has. Rather it's that she will be Lady Flint. Little old Hermione Granger will be the female head of one of the oldest families in Wizarding England. All the duties, responsibilities, and things she's been not thinking about hit her full force, and she had to take a seat on the dressing room chair.
Sure, Marcus has mentioned them. Yes, Ms. CC has discussed them, but not at length yet. There's so much she has still to learn and little time left to do it. With the wedding in the spring and the NEWTS in December, time is slowly slipping away. It's like that American soap opera her Nana watches- Like sand through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.
Interrupting her thoughts was Idalia's voice again. "Are you alright in there, Dear?"
Standing up, Hermione took her purse and draped the outfit over her arm. Opening the door, she tried to put a smile on her face and shared, "I don't know. Everything hit me like, whoa! I have until the spring wedding to learn all about being Lady Flint. I don't know the first thing about ladyship duties. You're right. They're all watching and wanting me to fail, especially my mother-in-law. I feel so whelmed, not overwhelmed, just whelmed."
Idalia took hold of her companion's arm, and they walked to the checkout. She encouraged her young charge, "On the bright side, you're not addicted to drugs or liquor. So, you've got that going for you, unlike several ladies of certain sacred twenty-eight families. Besides, you know my sisters and I are not done teaching you about overseeing the household."
The petite brunette latched onto the drugs and liquor, completely ignoring the part about furthering the ladyship training. Hermione's eyes grew large with surprise, and she stopped dead in her tracks. "Oh! Do tell! Who's an alcoholic and druggie?" she whispered.
With a smile, the older woman regally sniffed and said, "A lady must never tell her real age or gossip on Sundays. Luckily today is Thursday."
So, Idalia began telling the girl what she knew regarding certain wealthy ladies, and if Hermione was surprised before, that was nothing when she found out Idalia's intel. Never underestimate your enemy, especially when they come with secrets. What's gossip without secrets, and these could work in her favor at a later date. The two women left the store a little more enriched.
As the soiree fast approached, the sisters had Hermione in pureblood boot camp. Day and evening, she practiced different techniques and prepared for the first outing as the future Lady Flint. Amelia had her walking with grace. That, combined with Cecilia's first impressions, was more challenging than it seemed. Standing up tall, not slouching, remembering to smile and look happy to be present while not tripping over her own two feet was a trying task. Hermione managed only to sway and wobble twice- high heel problems.
So, Cecilia reminded her, "To be Lady Flint, you must first believe that you are Lady Flint. You have to think like her, act like her, and walk like her because you will be her. There's a fine line between who you think you are and who you can be. You're a wonderful, lovely person. All we're doing is polishing what's already there, making it shine more clearly. Now, allow yourself to make the journey from here in your heart." She pointed to Hermione's heart. "To here in your head." She pointed to Hermione's head.
Ms. CC finished by saying, "You can do this. Take heart and have courage like the true Gryffindor that you are. And above all, ignore my daughter. She's the Dowager. You're the up-and-coming Lady Flint."
The Gryffindor pondered those words while Natalia smacked her hand away from a spoon. As Hermione shook her hand out, Natalia announced, "I'm sorry, but you were about to make a huge mistake. That is the soup spoon. You don't eat sorbet with the soup spoon! Now pay attention and follow my lead. Always follow the host's lead, or in your case me."
The reviewing went on and on until past dinner time. When the young lady finally made it home, it was with a stack of notecards in hand. Stumbling out of the floo, she brushed herself off and strolled to the library, not wanting to talk to anyone (if there happened to be company around).
It's there Marcus found her, feet propped up and mumbling to herself. He sat beside her on the sofa and let his eyes admire her many attractive features. In doing so, the athlete realizes she seems more tense than usual and figures it must be due to the upcoming wealthy lady's luncheon. Pointing to the notecards, he asked, "What's that?"
Looking up from studying with intensity, his fiance' replied, "Notecards. They have the names of the noteworthy older ladies attending the party tomorrow. You see, their name and picture are on the front, and information about them is on the back."
She handed him a card and continued studying. Marcus examined it and looked at her. He recognizes just how seriously his girl is taking this event. It baffles him because those women are nothing but well-trained assassins underneath their delicate, prim, and proper exteriors. However, it did make him wonder, "Why are you doing this? I've known these old bats my whole life. They're not that great, and some of them pure evil."
After retrieving the card that she had given him, Hermione explained, "That's just it, Marcus. You're Lord Flint, and I will be your wife, which makes me Lady Flint. I know you support me as I am, but I need to be prepared and ready to take on my role and obligations pertaining to that position."
Her honey eyes caught his dark ones and held his gaze before elaborating. "In order to do that sufficiently, I need these old bats. I may fail if I don't have their support, and you know I hate failing. Sure I have your aunts and grandmother in my corner, but I need more than only them, especially since your mother hates me. So, I have to be able to identify these women correctly. Here quiz me."
She passed him the stack of notecards, which he happily took. Before the quizzing began, her chaser related, "I know you hate failure. You could never fail me, frustrate, sure- but never fail. You're beautiful and wonderful just the way you are, with or without the aid of the old crones. I appreciate the effort that you're trying to understand, respect, and support the role of Lady Flint."
He flipped through the cards and then put them in his lap. Taking Hermione's hand, he explained, "I love you and have no doubt you'll be an excellent wife and an even better mother one day. You already do a fantastic job of taking care of me. Plus, you kept your two idiots alive during the war, but you're right. Lady Flint is different. There are additional responsibilities than those of the wife. I honestly don't care about it all, but I know my Gram would faint straightaway if I said that out loud. I'm still trying to navigate this new role myself, and I was born into the family. I can't imagine what you must feel, and I apologize for neglecting that side of things with you."
His words made some of the weight come off her shoulders. They meant a lot. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, then snuggled into his side. He began quizzing her and the two spent time going over each woman. By the time they were done, Hermione only missed one lady- Lady Trippleton. That was because Marcus had distracted her a lot.
Sometime after the first few cards, her handsome guy had the brilliant idea to play a card game. This particular game notes the removal of clothes. Every time Hermione got a lady wrong, she had to remove an article of clothing. Conversely, if she got one right, then he had to remove his. It was a brilliant idea for her but not so much for him. Marcus had lost all his attire, including the navy boxer shorts with red hearts. Everything was on display, and it diverted her attention, which caused the witch to say, "Lady Tifton, instead of Trippleton."
"Finally, you got one wrong," Marcus remarked. He then motioned for her to remove something.
But Lady Trippleton was the last card, so even if she did take something off, it wouldn't matter. Hermione would still be practically fully clothed. Instead, a deliciously wicked idea entered her mind. She turned to him with sparkling eyes and a secret smile and stated, "I have a different thought."
Looking utterly unashamed of his nudity, the toned wizard raised an eyebrow and asked, "What is it because you have to remove something? The rules say so. It's only fair."
Hermione stood and grinned. "You're right, but I'm ready to play a different game," she admitted. Before he could complain, she shushed him by saying, "You have to sit there with your eyes closed. You cannot open them until the timer goes off. Then you have to come to find me. I'll be waiting." With that, she ensured he closed his eyes before scampering off to a secret spot.
Marcus stewed in frustration until he heard a buzz and Hermione's playful voice filling the room, conveying, "Come find me."
Getting up, he pulled his boxers on because there was no way he was walking nude in front of the elves. Marcus thought this new game would be a load of "Crap. It's her shirt! I was wrong," he said loudly to himself. Grinning like the Grinch from that story his girl had read him one Christmas, the chaser used his skills and began chasing his fiance'. Every so often, another discarded item of clothing would come into his line of sight, making his pulse speed up full throttle.
As he followed the trail of clothes, the elves whispered and giggled in the background. It's been a long time since they've had a Master and Lady who loved each other and enjoyed spending time together. By the time Lord Flint found his lady, he had amassed a rather large pile of clothing.
One of the final pieces was her pink lace bra, which sent a jolt of fire throughout his body. By now, the chaser had roamed the bottom floor of the house, which led him outside. From there, the clothing path went through the gardens and rose walkway, which took him under the canopy of oak trees to the quiet spot Hermione loves best.
Sprawled out on a blanket in all her naked glory was his Gryffindor. He would chuckle if he weren't so aware and wound up because only a Gryffindor would throw caution to the wind and seduce their lover outdoors- reckless and brave. But she makes a pretty picture with the fairies twinkling around and the fireflies glowing in the distance. A more enchanting scene Lord Flint would be hard-pressed to find. Without haste, Marcus dropped the clothes from his arms and released his boxers too. Slowly, like a dragon stalking its prey, the chaser made his way to the prize.
As he came closer, his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. Hermione's sweet voice spoke, and his undoing began. "I hope you don't think this is too shameful. I wasn't sure about the outdoors," she told him.
Too shameful? Sure, this display and game might cause the society ladies to have the dithers, but what does he care about that? Nothing because they're not a part of his relationship. To have his precious, lovely fiance' do this for him makes his throat dry and knots form in his stomach. Moving closer still to his love, he reached a trembling hand out to her. And seriously, when was the last time anyone made him tremble? Never, that's when. It's usually the opposite.
He hovered over her, placed his fluttering hand on her shoulder, and slid it down her silky arm. He felt her quiver at his touch, and Merlin save him. It aided in his self-control snapping. Marcus kissed his love's full lips. No, that's not quite right. He gave her his breath. No, that's not it either because she stole his breath away the minute he saw her laid out bare for his eyes only.
Pulling back, he looked at her and ran a hand over her cheek. "When I first set my eyes on you, I recognized you. You were the woman who was going to bring me to my knees. You held my heart in your delicate tiny hands and didn't even know it. I no longer believed in love at first sight or soul mates. I began to believe I would never meet the one who was right for me. But I knew the second I met you there was something about you I needed."
He kissed her forehead. "But I didn't need something. I just needed you." He placed her hands on his heart. "This is yours. Only yours."
She nodded, leaned in, and placed a kiss where her hand rested over his heart. Then Marcus devoted his time and body to his beloved in the gardens, which, unknown to them, the elves had warded with their magic in case their Master's silly friends happened to floo over. Every touch, every gasp, every breath was a symphony of sweet lovemaking. Everything burned brighter around them, alive and flourishing like the two lovers consumed with a need for each other. Their love always leaves the other feeling content, confident, and cared for; this time was no different.
The security and assurance that only the commitment to true love brings stayed with Hermione even as the day of the soiree dawned. In the master suite, she awoke in the arms of love, even though those strong arms, which Marcus had wrapped around her waist, left to go to work. After sipping some coffee and refusing the breakfast Toffee prepared (much to the elf's dissatisfaction), Dotty began helping her get ready.
The tweed outfit, pressed and ready, was laid out on the bed. Hermione suggested, having come from the shower with damp hair wrapped in a towel, "Maybe we can put my hair into a low, sleek chignon."
Dotty tugged at her ears and looked nervous as she spoke. "No, no, no. Missy Idalia said no upsies." Hermione sighed. Of course, the radiant, older witch would request such a thing. Instead, she went into the walk-in closet to put on underwear. The moment she exited, Dotty snapped her nimble, spindly fingers, and in an instant, Hermione's hair became brilliant and fell in loose waves. A cream-colored headband secured it. Then fresh, simple makeup appeared on the witch's face with a red lip. Next came the tweed outfit, the green heels, and the finishing touch, jewelry.
With her big inquisitive eyes, the tiny elf asked, "Missy Mione likes?" She wrung her hands in anticipation.
Hermione twisted and turned around, inspecting herself in the mirror. With a bright smile, she twirled and stared kindly at Dotty. Then exclaimed, "It looks great! Thank you, Dotty, for everything."
Everything looks outstanding: the hair, makeup, ensemble, and jewelry. But there's one thing that stands out from all the rest: the piece that sits on her ring finger. It's not the diamond or the ring itself. Instead, it's the promise of Marcus's love, and his morning reminder came with it. "Some people don't like you, and there's nothing you can do to change their opinion. A lot of them will be at the party today, so ignore them. Don't let their negativity bring you down. Be yourself, have fun, and know that you're a much better person than the majority of those purebloods. You're a diamond. They're cubic zirconia. Be the badass babe that you were born to be."
As she gave herself a final glance, those words gave her the boost she needed. Dotty handed her the red portfolio clutch and tugged Hermione's hand to the floo salon. The elf wished her luck as she flooed to the lair of the elite ladies: Sugar Vine Society. Just as the men have their club, so do the women.
Like the Garden House restaurant, Sugar Vine caters to the wealthy of the wizarding world, except it's the epicenter of women's affairs. Founded in the eighteen hundreds, the Sugar Vine Society began with the help of two prominent witches. Lady Elvira Lumpkin and Lady Cornelia Burke served as vice president and president, respectively. The society aims to give back to the wizarding community.
As active citizens, societal women take charge of their role in the community and constantly strive to make the wizarding world a better place. By participating in philanthropy and service events, Sugar Vine members make an impact in the community and become more creative, caring, and empathetic witches. But really,
this place is where they plot, plan, schmooze, make alliances, and rule from their gilded perches.
So when Hermione's feet landed on the marble floor from the floo entrance, her nerves ratcheted up full speed. Her hand clasped the red leather clutch, which offered some measure of comfort. Taking a deep breath, she encouraged her feet to step out and get moving, putting her in the path of several older witches. Even though her heart beat wildly, the younger one smiled and greeted them. She spoke kind hellos to Lady Spencer and Lady Foxglove, who gave her a glance over until they greeted the young woman in return.
Continuing the walk to the main area, Hermione expelled a breath she didn't know she was holding. Relief flooded, having made it through one pair of old bats. Unlike the Midsummer Night's Party, she did not have to enter the room via a staircase. But like that night, all eyes were on her the minute she appeared, holding the clutch. Hermione's honey-colored eyes scanned the room for one of the four sisters or a friendly face. The faces she noticed were far from pleasant. First, there's Marcus's mother with her constipated expression (must the woman always look down her nose). Then there's the disgust of the girls her age, which is not surprising (jealous shrews). That leaves all the rest- eyes wide with wonder and skepticism, but no sign of one of the faces she wants to see. That thought only made the knots in her stomach more pronounced. Surely the sisters wouldn't have canceled without telling her, would they?
As she stood there fretting, a gentle hand rested on her arm. An even more delicate voice spoke. At first, Hermione wondered if this finely dressed woman would be a friend or foe. But the elegant lady dressed in white tweed confirmed she was indeed a friend by her words and voice.
"I have wanted to meet you for some time now. My son speaks very highly of you. He won't stop talking about how kind, forgiving, and good you are, especially for Marcus. I apologize for not making your acquaintance sooner. I'm Elanore Montague, Graham's mother, and I sincerely hope we'll become good friends."
Noting the lady's sincerity, Hermione responded, "It's so lovely to meet you, Mrs. Montague. I've enjoyed getting to know your son. He's rather wise and witty. You've raised a great person."
Graham's mother told her, "Please call me Elanore. My son and Marcus have been friends for years, long before Hogwarts. I remember the teasing Marcus endured from many of the girls in this room. I'm glad he met someone nice who won't take advantage of him. So, whatever these false flatterers say, don't give them any mind. Keep your head up high. I'll be around if you need a friendly face to lean on."
She kissed Hermione's cheek and walked off to a group of preening older ladies. When Lady Montague walked away, two of the upcoming Lady Flint's four companions joined her. Cecilia took the young girl's arm and commented, "Are you going to stand at the entrance all afternoon? Let's mingle."
So, Cecilia, Natalia, and Hermione made the rounds throughout the room. They kissed cheeks and greeted many women. When they finally sat at their table, the Gryffindor's face hurt from smiling. Amelia and Idalia, who were already seated, welcomed them. Idalia leaned over and whispered, "Hermione, have you observed the younger girls?"
Glancing around the room, taking heed of the guests, the junior witch at the table detailed, "They're either wearing ostentatious patterns or gaudy sparkles." The pureblood princesses are wearing bejeweled dresses, blazers with sparkles, or ridiculous-looking prints. Regardless, all of their outfits scream: look at me; I'm more tasteless and tacky than you.
As Idalia opened her mouth to respond, a hush fell over the room. A tinkling of a glass resounded, and all eyes turned to the podium at the front. Standing there were the ancestors of the Sugar Vine Society's founders, Lumpkin and Burke. The current Lady Lumpkin and Lady Burke gave the introduction and thanked everyone for attending. Then the club president Rosemary Burke announced, "Lunch will be served, and our keynote speaker will address the society afterward. Lady Lumpkin and I are honored to have-"
Hermione didn't hear what Lady Burke was saying due to the applause. However, she didn't need to because this year's keynote speaker stood on the stage for all of London's witches to see. She could not believe the audacity because it was none other than "Pavonia Parkinson, honored mother to Parry Parkinson, grandmother to Pansy."
Oh, how the vitriol rose in Hermione's chest. She wanted to vomit! Of all the people in the wizarding world, it had to be someone closely associated with the Malfoy's addressing the audience. Plus, it's wretched Pansy's grandmother. Turning to Amelia, she quietly asked, "Surely some other woman could have spoken?"
But the older witch patted her hand and kindly stated, "Not everyone is what they seem. If I withdrew my friendship or didn't speak to those I deemed unworthy, my address book would be empty. It would make for a shorter Christmas card list."
Hermione trusts Ms. Amelia's opinion but a Parkinson?! Really! She muttered, "Her granddaughter was allied with death eaters."
Cecilia whispered, "Don't be a snob. Listen to what she says."
But as the Gryffindor raised her head and looked across the way at a particular table full of prissy princesses... Well, Pansy cut her eyes and smirked Hermione's way. That is when Hermione had a massive influx of vibes that made her regret she was in a room full of people. It's safe to say her PDA took over; that's not those sweet nothings she shares with Marcus. No, this PDA is different. It's pretty damn angry.