Good afternoons, darlings. Here is your next chapter to enjoy. Thank you to those asking after my sister-in-law, she is home and on the mend. And the universe and divine powers have helped on the car front. My aunt needs money to move and has an extra car. I have money to buy the car. Win-win and no more sharing. This and other car are the only things herein I own.
Chapter 11
The gossip pages the next day speculated about Harry and Hermione's love lives while declaring Ron to be stupidly in love with his wife. Harry ignored them, Ron wondered how annoyed Veronica would be with being regulated to the last two sentences, and Hermione mailed each reporter, editor, and paper owner babbling beverages laced with truth serum baked into brownies. The third reporter to approach Marcus for a quote ran screaming. Leander vouched that all Marcus did was glare at her. "I mean, she did the prudent thing, I would have ran, too." Since none of them fed the fire, the story faded in favor of the next big thing.
After admitting to the breakup, Ginny moved back to the Burrow, since Malin occupied the spare room of Hermione's flat. To avoid her mother's badgering about getting Harry back, or bringing Jeffery around more, she continued to spend time at Ron's or out with Jeffery or her teammates. "We have to keep up the fake dating. Everyone needs to be telling him I've moved on. He's losing me. As it increased his chances of seeing Veronica, he didn't protest too strongly. But she forgot Harry avoided the gossip section. He had no clue about the wizarding world's newest hot couple. Or at least the only one they could get shots of. Harry and Malin used Hermione's privacy charms. Photographs were rendered fuzzy and useless, the muffialto charm prevented conversations from being overheard. It was impossible to spy on their public outings.
Hermione spent time with Marcus's siblings and their partners and often hung out with his friends. But she had yet to meet his parents. "No reason to hurry along the interrogation, Malcolm and Niobe aren't going anywhere," laughed Cassius. "I'd wait for at least the 6-month mark before the parental inspection."
"No hurry then, since, I'm not going anywhere, either," she agreed.
Just before Valentine's Day, the Dragon's Hoard, the art house above the Dragon's Lair announced a special event. Dinner amongst the Masterpieces. "Stole the idea from a place in London. Lots of displays to provide privacy from other diners, romantic pieces, and music for ambiance. Add a fixed menu to allow for a flat price. Justin suggested lunch and two dinner services the day before, the day of, and the day after. What do you think?" asked Dean.
"Put us down for the late service the day of, should I pay in advance?" Hermione pulled her purse forward.
Dean smacked his forehead, "We should make it reservation only, good thinking."
"Offer similar dining downstairs without the posh surroundings or reservation needs," she suggested.
"Another incredible idea."
During the week of the holiday, Hermione felt queasy most days of the previous week. Sometimes she felt better after she vomited, and other times not. For a few days the feeling eased as the day went on, and on other days it lasted all day. By the end of the week, she felt utterly exhausted. Valentine's Day landed on a Saturday meaning the spas would be packed. Not wanting to cancel, but not feeling up to dealing with the crowds, she arrived at Shell Cottage with a bag of crafts. "Tori, baby, Aunt Hermione feels sick. Can we stay in and build a paper dollhouse? I used to have several."
"Yes," the small girl clapped her hands in delight. She loved having things in common with her godmother. She ran to the kitchen table. Fleur and Hermione followed at a more sedate pace. Hermione set out the supplies and started Victorie on the first steps.
Fleur's frown of concern deepened as Hermione described her symptoms, "Ma cherie, have you considered you might be," she glanced at Victorie, who focused so much on perfectly cutting out the furniture that her tongue stuck out, then spelled out, "p-r-e-g-n-a-n-t?"
Hermione's eyes widened comically, and she paled instantly, "Not until this very second. Oh, my gods!" She leapt to her feet and began pacing. "What am I going to do? This is huge."
"Ma cherie, let's start with a yes or no, shall we?"
"Oh, that's smart. We should do that. How?" Hermione turned to her right, then whirled to the left.
"As a member of a fertile race married to a man from a rather fertile family, I know the charm." She waved her wand in front of Hermione in a simple pattern. "Gravis." The younger witch glowed from a golden life. "Now, you may panic." Hermione stared at her with horror-filled eyes. "No, please, do not panic, Hermione."
"I'm not prepared for this. My flat is too small. I work sixty hours a week if no one stops me. I don't have baby things."
"You have several months to work on those things. And you will not be alone. Bill, I, the twins, and Harry will be right there with you. Not to mention Marcus, do you think he would walk away from you or his child?"
Instantly she flashed on his confession in Norway, 'I'm more ready to have kids than I thought.' "He'll be over the moon," she whispered.
"There you go," Fleur encouraged.
"His parents will want us to get married."
"Is that a problem?" asked Fleur.
"No, but it robs him of getting to decide to ask, doesn't it?"
Fleur considered it, "Not necessarily. Just because the answer is yes doesn't mean he cannot ask. It just has to be sooner rather than later."
"Holy shite, this is huge." Hermione rubbed her hands up and down her arms.
"Look, maman, Tante Hermione, I made them," Victorie showed them the cut-out furniture.
"Wonderful, sweetheart, let me finish them." Hermione waved her wand and created 3D models from the 2D pieces.
"Oh, I love it!" declared the blonde tot.
"See, you are a natural." Victorie hugged Hermione, "You're the best."
"So are you," Hermione hugged her back.
Fleur advised her to go home and nap, she had a late evening planned and had already had a big day. But a sudden fear gripped her. She detoured to St Mungo's. She slipped up to the obstetric ward. A short whispered conversation with a young healer resulted in her waiting in a consultation room for the results of some quick tests. "Mrs. Rubble, nice alias, by the way, I am delighted to inform you everything looks great. Your levels indicate the baby is healthy. Most of the damage has reversed. I scheduled you with a follow-up next week and wrote your orders for a special prenatal potion. Any questions?"
"No, not at this time."
"Great, see you next week."
Hermione slipped in as silently and disguised as she entered. She popped into a shop and purchased a Valentine's Day present, avoiding rumors by buying a white bag. Only then she laid down and followed Fleur's advice.
Despite her best efforts, Hermione knew she seemed distant and distracted. She should have just told him first thing, instead of waiting for dinner. To compensate, she held his hand tightly and refused to let him pull away or close himself off. He kept shooting her concerned looks. Justin Finch-Fletchley sat them in the corner for optimal privacy. "As we did not accurately predict our waitstaff needs, we beg your patience. Someone will be along shortly to take your order."
"That's fine," Marcus assured him. Once he left Marcus turned to Hermione. "Would you please tell me what's wrong? I can feel your anxiety. And if I don't know what's wrong, we can't fix it."
She fiddled with the salt shaker. "I'm just afraid you won't like my gift today."
"You didn't have to get me anything. I'm sure I'll love it."
She placed the small white gift bag on the table. "Open it. Then I won't have to worry anymore."
"Okay," he said slowly. He pulled out the silver tissue paper. He pulled out the tiny t-shirt, "Hit Wizard-In-Training? I think this one is too small. And I'm out of training."
"You're not wearing it. You're putting it on someone."
"Too small for my niece or nephews," he looked confused.
"We haven't met them, yet. We won't for another eight months or so."
His eyes snapped up from the baby's shirt, "Are you saying what I think you are?"
"If you think I'm telling you I'm pregnant, then, yes." He sat stunned staring at her. "Are you upset?" she asked in a small voice.
"Upset? No, never," he swore. Their waitress arrived at that moment. Before she could start, he interrupted, "Please tell Dean Marcus and Hermione wish to start with dessert. But substitute sparkling juice for the champagne." The waitress gave him an odd look but hurried away.
Hermione protested, "We don't have to leave. We can talk about specifics later."
Dean arrived seconds later looking excited. He placed both champagne flutes in front of Marcus and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries in the center of the table. He stepped back next to a print of Waterhouse's Lady of Shallot. Marcus cleared his throat to regain her attention. "Hermione, while we've only really known each other for a short time, I can't imagine my life without you in it. I don't care how long we're engaged, but I want to know if you will be my wife?" He offered her a flute with a ring suspended in it.
Regardless of the conversation we just had, the answer is yes!" She magically summoned the ring. The Edwardian Peruzzi cut diamond resided within a two-tiered octagonal frame. Delicate filigree engravings added to the glittering appearance.
"My great-great-grandfather commissioned in for his second wife. Family, lore claims it was a love match."
"It's gorgeous," Hermione slipped it on beaming at him.
"Congratulations you two. Do you want the beef, goose, fish, or vegetable option?"
"Fish for me," Hermione answered.
"Beef, please," ordered Marcus. Dean left them. "We had to start with dessert so we both had all the cards on the table."
"You know my answer is yes, despite the baby, right?"
"Just like I planned to ask before I knew."
"I love you," she smiled.
"Good to know, since I love you, too."
"I have an appointment next week if you want to come. With my previous health concerns, the first thing I did was get a quick scan to get a clean bill of health, which I received."
"Do you know how far along you are?"
"Around eight weeks, I'm due September 12th."
"You and the baby nearly have the same birthday."
"Very true, I did the math, this occurred on the solstice, you know, our first time."
"What can I say, I have a magic penis." He laughed when she rolled her eyes. "Now, on a serious note, when do we tell people?"
"In the muggle world they advise not saying anything until 12 weeks, the end of the first trimester. The chances of miscarriage decrease drastically."
"Can we announce our engagement before that?" he asked.
"Absolutely, I'm telling everyone you proposed with drinks and strawberries in front of one of my favorite paintings. For your notes, I also enjoy the poem by Tennyson and the musical version by Loreena McKennitt."
"Noted." The waitress brought their meals. They ate and discussed the artwork surrounding them. They talked about Marcus's last case and Hermione's latest project. "My parents will want to meet you soon."
"I assumed. If you're sure no one will talk or be upset I'd like to get married in December. That gives us nearly a year to plan and tell my parents."
"I like the sound of that."
"We can discuss the other details later," she popped the last strawberry in her mouth. "Are you done here?"
"I believe so. What would you like to do now?"
"We could do get the poor cub reporter stuck outside on the night beat the scoop of their fledgling career."
"We could, let's see who it is."
Pavarti Finnegan stood outside trying not to shiver. She knew exactly who she hacked off to be assigned this shift. And honestly, she'd do it again. Stupid cow started telling outright lies again. She was going to hack off someone powerful again. But she complained to the dimwitted owner and he defended his "star." So here she was watching couples dine out for the holiday. Seamus brought her a picnic dinner earlier and promised to have a hot bath waiting. She watched Hermione Granger and Marcus Flint exit the Dragon's Hoard hand in hand. That would make a nice tidbit and extra advertising for Dean. She watched the two look around and then spot her. She gave a half wave acknowledging them but made no movement toward them. Hermione guarded her privacy fiercely. Unlike certain cows, Pavarti learned to let Granger approach her.
And that is exactly what Hermione did. She beelined for her former housemate, "Why are you stuck on the night beat in the Alley?"
"I made the mistake of calling Skeeter on her lies. She whined to the owner. Since they occasionally sleep together, I came out on the bottom."
"Want a scoop that will make her cry a little?" Marcus asked.
"Fuck, yes! Tell me you have one, cried Pavarti.
Hermione held up her left hand, "Marcus proposed with this ring in champagne flutes and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries. He got Dean to seat us in front of one of my favorite paintings. So romantic."
"To be fair I didn't know about the painting," he admitted.
"Dean did, so it counts."
Pavarti grabbed Hermione's hand, "Oh my gods, Hermione, that is gorgeous! Could I, could I get a photograph with your ring?"
"Anything to help a friend and spite my least favorite reporter."
She quickly snapped several shots. "I hate to seem ungrateful, but if I want to get the pictures in the morning's edition I need to go."
"No offense taken, go," Hermione laughed. "Be sure to rub it in Skeeter's face," she yelled after her. "Now, we go message every person we want to know before the rest of the world does."
"We should go tell my parents," he took her hand again, running his thumb over her engagement ring.
"Tonight?" she asked.
He checked his watch, "It's only 10:30, We won't be disturbing them."
"If you're sure. I don't want to impose." She smoothed her dress and ran her hands over her hair nervously.
"You look beautiful." He wrapped his arm around her for a side along. They landed in the front hall of Flint Lodge. The massive structure started life as a hunting lodge for a wealthy family. Then a younger son had taken it as a primary residence. Relief filled her that someone took down all of the animal heads that had once hung in the long central hall. The last thing she wanted right now was the feeling of being watched and judged by deceased animals.
A small house elf appeared before them, "How can Dip be helping Master Marcus?"
"Would you let my parents know I wish to speak to them?"
"Yes. They be in the smaller parlor."
He grinned at the small creature, "Thank you, Dip." He looked at Hermione. "When my family rescued him he insisted on the name." She nodded her understanding. "Quick tour, the right side of the house is my parents', the left is Ethan and Gemma's. They share the common areas on the ground floor."
"Will they expect us to live here, too?" she asked looking around. The central hall remained open to the ceiling. Two long balconies stretched along the length of the hall. Doors and hallways opened off of them. The house only had two wings.
No, my grandfather told me years ago he plans to gift an estate in Wiltshire as a wedding present. He thought three women trying to share one house would lead to war."
"Smart man," praised Hermione. "He's not wrong."
Marcus escorted her to a room with lush furniture. An older version of Marcus stood as they entered, "Son, to what do we owe this pleasant surprise?" His wife remained seated in a wing chair.
"Mother, Father, may I present Hermione Granger, my fiancee? Hermione, my parents, Malcolm and Niobe Flint."
She gave them a small wave, "A pleasure to meet you."
Malcolm stepped forward to greet her then paused, "Did you say fiancee?"
Niobe stood slowly, "He did. This is sudden," she said just as slowly as she rose.
"When you know, you know," Marcus shrugged.
"I agreed to marry you son because I agree we share a deep connection based on mutual respect and affection. We're planning on a long engagement."
Niobe's eyes narrowed slightly, "Define long?"
Hermione blinked twice, "We were thinking next December, month has some meaning to us."
Niobe relaxed, laughing, "That's nothing. My sister stalled so long that they had a rushed wedding because the eldest was going to Hogwarts."
"Goodness, no. Nothing that long," Hermione dimpled. "That's as far as we've planned. I gave a mate the scoop and we wanted you to hear it from us before the rest of the country."
"Much appreciated," Malcolm rumbled.
"I apologize for the short notice, but this let her scoop Rita Skeeter. And foiling Skeeter is always at the top of my list."
Her future mother-in-law smiled approvingly, "I can imagine." She moved the sofa and patted the cushion next to her. "Should I get refreshments?"
"Thank you, no. We came straight from supper."
"Tell us about yourself, dear," Malcolm.
Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip, "Beyond the basics you know from the media, I work for the Beings division at the Ministry. I lead several projects promoting equal treatment of sapient magical beings. That sadly is the sum of my life besides dating Marcus. I do have a goddaughter, Victorie Weasley, Bill's daughter."
"Will you be popping off to tell your parents?"
"My parents travel quite a bit for work. They aren't home at the moment. I'll call them soon. And write my family. I do want them to be able to attend the wedding."
"I'm sure we can find a way to accommodate that. The two of you need to start discussing what you do and don't want."
"We should have a family dinner tomorrow to introduce you to the grandchildren. Ethan mentioned you met the others at New Year's." Malcolm offered.
"Could we reschedule for next Sunday? I have plans tomorrow." Hermione asked.
"Certainly, we have a family dinner most weekends."
Niobe smiled wider, "Let's see the ring. Ah, Grandmother Cordelia's ring, how lovely." She beamed at her son whose cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. They talked of generalities for a bit before the elder Flints wished them a good night.
Marcus escorted Hermione home, "Want to stay?" she asked. "It's been a roller coaster of a day. I could use the cuddles."
"You're not wrong," he closed her flat door behind him. "Is Malin here or at Potter's?" Giggles from the living room answered his question. "Oi, Potter, coming through. I do not want to see your bare arse."
"Good, because I don't want to show it to you," Harry yelled back.
"We are clothed," called Malin.
Hermione rolled her eyes at their antics and moved further into the flat. "How was your night in?"
"Lovely," Malin answered. "Harry taught me how to use the VCR and DVD player." She looked at him, "Did I say that right?"
"You did," he praised, pecking her cheek. "Was that Dragon's Hoard nice?"
"They did an amazing job," Hermione responded. She pulled her coat off giving them a brief look at her left hand.
"Holy lord below, Hermione! That is stunning. Did Marcus propose?" Malin scrambled off the couch, kicking Harry in the process.
"He did," she confirmed. "We're planning a December wedding."
Harry looked thoughtful, "Are you telling the Weasleys at lunch tomorrow?"
"No, Pavarti Finnegan will tell everyone tomorrow morning. Skeeter got her stuck on the night shift, so I gave her the scoop," smirked Hermione.
"That was nice of you in a way," said Harry.
"Right? I will simply deal with the carnage tomorrow."
Marcus frowned, "Should I come with you?"
Hermione cocked her head to the side considering the options and possible outcomes. "No, in case someone says something stupid
and your presence escalates it."
"How would my being there escalate things?" he asked confused.
"Ron's mouth reacts without consulting his brain. He can be rather insulting when he does that. You take offense. He takes offense that you took offense. It snowballs from there. But stop fretting. I can handle Ronald Weasley."
"I know you can, doesn't mean I won't want to protect you or worry when you won't let me."
"I can appreciate that. Ready for bed?"
"Yes, ma'am." He followed her into her room.
She paused while changing to admire her engagement ring. He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. One hand gently caressed her abdomen. "This is so surreal," he said making eye contact with her in the mirror.
"You proposed," she whispered.
"I did. I think the bigger shock here is you're pregnant."
"We have time to prepare for that part," she countered.
"Because the wedding's tomorrow," he rolled his eyes.
"At some point, the baby news will hit me. But after Ron, I never imagined trusting anyone enough to get engaged again, let alone married. But I trust you."
"I'm sure we'll have issues related to your past at some point."
"I apologize in advance for my insecurities."
"Accepted even though you don't have to apologize. I'm sure we'll have issues from my insecurities, too."
She stepped out of his embrace, "Okay, we're getting weird. Into bed." Marcus pulled her into his chest and curled around her as the big spoon. He lulled her to sleep by playing with her hair. He drifted off imagining holding her like this for the rest of their lives.