Hello, my freaky darlings! I am working again tomorrow. (Yes, I do occasional get days off, I swear. And this my easy job, don't feel too bad, most of the time I could stare at the wall if I wanted to. I don't, but I could.) But, I remembered this time, so your chapter is getting posted tonight. I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 15 Plans, Plans, and More Plans
Pavarti asked to include Lavender and make it a spa night, "We all know she'll raid her shop and bring the good stuff."
Hermione gave a fake sigh, "You're not wrong. See if she's available." She looked at her fingernails. "I'll get some polish, too."
Seamus tagged along under the guise of helping carry boxes. He confessed quickly he just wanted to see Hermione. He hugged her fiercely. "Getting a little thick there, Hermione," he teased, dodging his wife's attempt to smack him.
"Seamus Nicholaus Finnegan, have you lost your bleeding mind? You do not imply a woman is gaining weight. Hermione looks amazing."
"Though, I am gaining wait." Pavarti stared at her. "I'm three months pregnant with triplets." All four women and Seamus stared at her for three heartbeats before cheering and embracing her.
"That means no wine tonight," Lavender pouted.
"Well, not for me, but I don't care if you drink. I have plenty of juice." She held up a large wineglass. "I use this and you won't even notice." The other girls laughed.
Padma looked around Hermione's living room, "Is Malin joining us?"
"No, she's out tonight," Hermione answered casually, filling her glass.
Pavarti's eyes twinkled, "On a date?"
"She is," confirmed Hermione.
"Anyone we know?" asked Luna.
"Um, before I say, Parv has to promise to take off her reporter hat."
"Only if you promise to warn me when they want to go official in public."
"So long as I know, you will know. Someone with weaker ethics could out them."
"Beyond fair. My lips are sealed."
"She's out with Harry. They've been dating since February. And they are adorable."
Lavender's jaw dropped, "How has no one noticed?"
"They stay in, only go out with groups and only date in the muggle world," explained Hermione.
"Rather brilliant of them," praised Luna.
"Yes, yes, enough about Potter, we have babies to celebrate," declared Padma.
Her twin shot her a bewildered look, "You just told Mum you have neither the time nor interest to put the effort into finding a guy to have babies."
"My own children. I am beyond excited to spoil someone else's kids, so you can get on that, too. I'm going to need nieces to go with these nephews." The others chuckled.
Hermione noticed a brief flash of pain in Lavender's eyes, "Is something wrong?"
The blonde shook her head, "I don't want to bring everyone down, or burden you with my problems."
"It isn't a burden, and my nosey butt asked, so spill."
She sighed, "While arsehole male werewolves and partial wolves have no problem breeding, the dark magic makes it harder for females. Fucking Greyback. We're not actively trying, but just knowing hurts." She hugged herself, "Bruce says he doesn't care, but I think he does."
Hermione squeezed her shoulder, "I understand completely." She dropped her hand into her lap, refusing to look up from them. "The night Ron cheated we had just found out having children would require potions and effort." She took a deep breath and looked up. "I don't know if this will heal much, but it can't hurt." She took Lavender's hand and blessed her.
"Bitch, it is March! It has been nearly four months. You still have blessing to give?" shouted Pavarti.
"I've been selective. Please don't advertise. I still get the occasional entitled person who thinks their child must have my blessing."
"We won't," promised Luna.
Lavender stared at her hand, "Why? Don't get me wrong, I'm eternally grateful, but we never really go on. I was a horror at school."
"Because I wasn't?" Hermione shrugged. "We fought a war together. We grew up and moved on. I could help, so I did. And I would like to think we're friends now."
The other woman's face lit up, "Me, too." She rubbed her hands together, "Pop open that wine, time to relax and exfoliate."
Knowing the news of her pregnancy would spread, Hermione encouraged Marcus to inform Carter. She headed straight to Brooks's office Monday morning. She knocked on the open door to gain his attention. "Good morning, Mr. Brooks."
"Good morning, Miss Granger. Come in. Do we have a meeting I forgot about? I do that you know."
"I do know, but, no, we do not. But I do need a moment of your time if you're available."
"For you? Certainly." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "What do you need from me, my dear?"
"I wanted to let you know I'm three months pregnant with triplets."
"Well, isn't that delightful news? Congratulations."
"Thank you, sir. I promise I won't let this affect my work."
"I know you won't. But, I have a thought. Something I have been considering for some time."
"Okay, I'm listening."
"I would like you to finish your work with the goblins, then take a sabbatical to write some books. Perhaps not even a sabbatical in the end. Perhaps you retire and become a full time author. I have wanted to ask you to write books about the magical cultures you've worked with with. Most experts still write like outsiders documenting what they see. You worked to understand the whys. Those kinds of books will be invaluable to improving relationships and understanding."
"Are you sure?"
"I am, you trained everyone to your standards. As a sabbatical employee, you will receive a paycheck and can be called back to duty if needed."
"If you're sure," she replied slowly.
"Hermione, I've been trying to determine the best way to broach this subject since you got the goblins to sit down at the table. Minister Shaklebolt agrees. He suggested hiring Ms Bakken to be your research assistant. We want this and it seems like the best time to bring it up."
"There is a certain logic to all of that, I suppose. I accept. I'll try to finish up with the goblins, get my files in order, and prep my liaison replacement."
"I'll start working to select one. Suggestions?"
"Brent Welch has a good head on his shoulders. And Laureen Perkins has a good grasp of the goal."
"Excellent. I will make my final determination soon," he smiled at her.
"I'll go get started," she stood.
"Congratulations again, Hermione."
"Thank you, sir."
Marcus watched Carter's door waiting for a free moment. Leander bumped his shoulder as they sat together finishing paperwork. "Reason you're stalking the chief?"
"Need to talk to him," replied Marcus without looking up.
"Officially or unofficially?" pressed his partner.
"Personal."
"You're not quitting are you?"
"No," snorted Marcus. "What would I do, join my father at a business that doesn't need me?"
"You might transfer to the aurors," he said roughly.
"Leander, mate, chill. I just wanted to inform him that Hermione's pregnant."
Leander's face lit up, "Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Our kids are going to Hogwarts together!"
Marcus thought for a moment, Baby Richel was now two months old. "They will won't they? Brilliant."
"If you hurry, I'll stall Mansen and give you a window," Leander offered.
"Thank," Marcus stood and crossed to Carter's door. He knocked and entered when instructed. "Afternoon, chief."
"Flint, what can I do for you?"
"Just wanted to tell you before the rumor mill did that Hermione's due in September."
"Congratulations! When it gets closer keep me updated so we can keep you close to home."
"Thank you, sir."
Venue hunting left Hermione exhausted. Moor Park where her parents wed felt too gold and brown. Hedsor House could only host a hundred people and their conservative list was around two hundred and fifty. "We can't just hope one hundred and fifty people don't show up. Maybe we just have to cut down the guest list." She sat at her vanity arranging her hair in a French twist. "Or just have two weddings. I don't know anymore. We could just elope. My grandparents would be pleased."
"The ones you're having dinner with this evening?" asked Malin.
"No, my mother's parents. They're wonderful down-to-earth people. My mother began aping her in-laws' high society mannerisms after she married my father." She applied a thin layer of makeup. "The Grangers don't like my being pregnant outside of marriage. But I rarely see them, so who cares what they think? The irony is the Jenkins are the wealthier, better connected couple.
Benedict and Ainsley Jenkins sent a taxi to pick up their granddaughter and her fiance. "You don't need to be walking, or taking the Underground, in your condition."
"Warning," she cautioned Marcus as they rode through London, "they don't act like it, but they are old money. Like more money than they could spend in sixteen lifetimes, and they are trying to. Don't be surprised by gratuitous generosity. Ordering expensive bottles of wine, paying other people's bills, especially people celebrating something."
"Thanks for the warning, I guess, that could throw some people." The cab pulled up in front of the multi-business building. "Do you want me to pay the cabbie?"
She waved to someone on the sidewalk, "Wait for it."
The older man hurried to the front window, "What's the damage, my lad?"
"Ten pounds even."
"Excellent. There you are and a little something for yourself for delivering my granddaughter safely."
"Oi, there's two hundred here!"
"Yes, indeed, one cannot put a price on one's loved one's safety." Marcus laughed and exited the backseat, hustling around to open the door and help Hermione out. "Such manners, I approve."
Benedict Jenkins stood five inches taller than his wife. His wavy white hair suggested the origins of Hermione's curls. He wore a gray suit with a warm blue vest and matching tie. His wife wore a complimentary shade of green. Both beamed and greeted their granddaughter with tight hugs, which Ainsley extended to her fiance.
"Aren't you a strapping lad?" chuckled Benedict. "Nice firm handshake. I like that."
"A pleasure to meet you, Marcus. Hermione spoke highly of you in her email and on the phone," Ainsley told him.
The host rushed forward to open the door when he saw the Jenkins approach. "They own the building," Hermione whispered, "but not the restaurant." She followed them. "But the staff knows, and the owner likes to appease them because they've kept the rent low."
The nervous looking young man led them straight to a table promising their waiter would arrive presently. A fresh faced blonde appeared with menus seconds later. "Would you like to hear tonight's specials?" she asked calmly, her eyes betraying her nerves.
"Yes, please," Benedict answered. "Can't make an informed decision without knowing all the options."
"The chef prepared lobster diablo with seasonal vegetables, roasted pheasant with grilled asparagus and lotus blossoms, and chicken marsala with steamed green beans and roasted potatoes."
Ainsley looked at her husband, "Did you call ahead that we were coming?"
He looked smug, "Maybe. You don't expect me to bring my favorite girls to our favorite place and not get them their favorite meals." He looked at Marcus, "Piece of advice, spoil her even when she says she doesn't need it." Knowing they all wanted the specials they swiftly placed their orders.
Halfway through their meal an older couple passed, stopped, then returned. Benedict stood to greet them, "Niles, Igraine! How wonderful to see you. How have you been?" He shook hands. "You remember Monica's daughter, Hermione? This is her fiance, Marcus Flint."
Marcus stood and shook Niles's hand, "Pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise, son," Niles said.
Benedict gestured for chairs, "Have a seat. Let's catch up."
They spoke of children and grandchildren, making sure to include Hermione as much as possible. Mention of weddings, "Ruth's eldest and her husband decided to convert the castle into an event place instead of just a hotel."
Ainsley smiled politely, "Have they had success?"
"They haven't opened officially, yet. They're hoping to get a few weddings for a soft open and generate a portfolio for advertising."
Hermione perked up, "How many guests can they accommodate at the ceremony and dinner?"
"I think Lise said five hundred," answered Niles.
"May I have her number, please? We're still venue shopping. What little I remember of the castle it was stunning."
"Yes, of course, how wonderful." Igraine reached into her purse and pulled out a social card and pen. She scribbled down the phone number. "I'll let her know to expect your call. I'm sure they'll be delighted to hear from you."
"I'll call her Monday."
Ainsley gushed, "They're having a December wedding after September babies. Great-grandbabies at last. After dessert I have pressies."
Marcus laughed, "I see my mother has competition for baby spoiler."
"She does," promised the woman. Niles and Igraine excused themselves as Benedict ordered a variety of desserts, waving away Hermione complaining she was stuffed. "I remember these days, and you're eating for four, not two. I'll be hungry again soon. And if not, take them with you. And you never know what might strike you when you smell it."
His wife placed a cloth shopping bag on the table, "I doubt the contents surprise you," she told Hermione.
"Everyone gets a Gran Original, so how could it?" she pulled out the first quilted baby blanket. Burgundy and gold blocks surrounded a cuddly looking lion. The second blanket was emerald and silver with an adorable big eyed coiled baby snake. The last was cornflower blue and silver with a cartoon archer shooting an arrow into the sky. "Oh, Gran, they are simply perfect. Thank you," Hermione teared up, hugging the quilts. "Stupid hormones."
Ainsley handed her a handkerchief, "They only get worse. I sobbed over a toilet paper commercial. The puppy couldn't catch the roll. Chased it all over the house."
"That makes me feel better."
Monday morning Hermione sent a missive to Gringotts explaining her impending sabbatical and informing them if they wanted to come to the table with her it was now or possibly never. The choice was theirs. She then instructed her assistant to hold all memos and visitors. She pulled out her mobile, making a mental note to get Marcus one, and called Lise Jones.
"Hermione, darling! Grandmother said you would be calling."
"Good morning, Lise. How are things?"
"So-so. Not horrid, but they could be better. When do you want to come see the castle?"
"Right to the point. I always liked that about you. Unless something comes up, how does Thursday evening sound?"
"Perfect, we'll see you then." Hermione hung up, jotted down a note on the interdepartmental memo parchment, and sent it to Marcus.
Thursday after lunch she met with Brooks. "The goblins haven't responded. I suspect they are going to wait until the last minute. Which leaves little room for negotiations. Time they learned I am not playing. But other than that, I'm ready to train my stand-in/replacement."
"Excellent. I anticipated you would be ready sooner rather than later, so I focused my energy on making that decision. I choose Laureen. As you said she knows the end goal. Like you, she plays the long game. And will understand your sabbatical could end with your return and would be more prepared to step aside."
"She would also be more receptive of asking for help if it was warranted." Brooks raised an eyebrow, "The goblins might test her resolve, see if they can force her to bring me running."
"Which you do not intend to do," Brooks guessed.
"Correct. Should we have a last meeting I will be clear I am not above letting wizards and goblins alike know they are the reason we are not moving forward with improving relations. If they like how things are now we can forget all of this."
"If they suggest imposing restrictions on wizards in retaliation?"
"I, Harry Potter, the Weasley twins, the Malfoys, and various others close our bank vaults and refuse to use their wand services. Then Harry, Ron, and I would grant a candid interview to discuss why we had to break into Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. What was in there, how we did it, and how we would have all been slaughtered by Voldemort if we hadn't." She stared off into space for a moment. "They do not want us to be candid about that."
"Why did they back off after the war?" Brooks inquired.
"We told them everything. And offered to take all our beautiful money elsewhere. They decided to let bygones be bygones. And I am not above playing dirty. Also imposing those penalties would violate the third treaty and we would be within our rights to create a wizards bank."
"You are a cruel woman. Be sure Laureen is ready to go."
"I will," she promised. "She'll have all my notes and a list of ways to respond to each group. The goblins might not be the only ones that test her."
"Well, working with someone other than you is the first step towards the end goal. You have a nice evening."
"You, too, Mr. Brooks."