Her mother had cried a little bit longer then excused herself to go fix them all a cup of tea. Father and daughter both watched as she walked out of the parlor, knowing it was an excuse to compose herself privately.
Leeroy leaned over and took a deep breath to compose himself. He was a man, a father, a husband, a doctor, and a Duke. He had responsibilities and he took them on, one by one, head on. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took another calming breath. He looked at his daughter sitting sadly in her favorite sitting chair.
"Give your mum a moment. Will we be able to at least watch you while you train?" he asked, fixing himself back in the chair.
"I'm not sure, but it wouldn't hurt to ask," she replied softly.
He nodded at his daughter's answer.
They heard Abagail blow her nose followed by some soft clinking and running water. A few seconds later she came back into the room with a tea tray, and a small smile. Both husband and daughter smiled at her. She grabbed her own cup and sat down gently.
"Okay," she sighed, "What else? House-elf, war, training and not hiding, life debts. Are we missing something?"
Hermione smiled at her mother, "I'm pansexual apparently. I just found out myself this term. I kissed a witch who is part veela and I liked it. Nothing is going to happen, it was a heat of the moment thing, but it was very pleasant."
Her mother blinked at her daughter and laughed. Out of everything they had been told, her daughter's sexuality was the farthest thing from her mind. It was one of those conversations that she knew other parents had with their children and it made her so happy that under all of this, she was still her daughter. She may not need her for protection, and she couldn't go to them for guidance in terms of magic, but she could go to them for guidance concerning plain matters. At the end of the day, Abagail was still her mother and no war or magic could change that.
Leeroy looked at his wife and smiled crookedly at his daughter. "Was she pretty?"
Her mother giggled next to her father.
"I kissed Fleur Delacour," she replied looking her father in the eye with a small blush.
Her father's eyebrows rose and he mouth moved down and he started nodding his head in an impressed manner. They had seen the blond witch in the paper. She was as pretty little thing, and quite strong.
"I had some pictures taken of my date and I. I had some wizarding pictures and some stills as well. Thankfully the photographer was Colin Creevey, who's a muggleborn, so he understood," she laughed good-naturedly.
Her parents both smiled, this would be the first picture they would have of Hermione at school. Well, one that they could show off. They knew she had a scrapbook and that sweet Creevey kid gave Hermione quite a few copies of the pictures he had taken of her and her friends.
They looked at the petite witch expectantly.
Hermione raised her eyebrow at them and moved her head slightly.
"Thimi?"
Thimi popped into the parlor with a folder in her hand and curtsied at the muggles, "Thimi is being here, miss. And Thimi is having the pictures you h-had… taken for your parents, miss," Thimi looked at the young witch in hopes of approval.
"Thank you, Thimi! And I see you've been practicing, I'm so proud of you!"
Hermione leaned over and soothed Thimi's hair with a smile. The small elf smiled and danced merrily in place while her ears flapped.
"Mum, Dad, this is Thimi. Thimi-"
"Is pleased to meet Mistress Hermione Granger's parents of the Ancient and Noble House of Granger!"
The Granger parents looked at Thimi bewildered by what she had said, "Ancient and Noble?" Abagail murmured.
"Yes Mistress, Granger family is being very old and honorable for muggles! It has earned itself title of Ancient and Noble with Mistress Lady Hermione beings a witch."
"Schematics," Hermione mumbled under her breath with her arms crossed.
"We are pleased to meet you Thimi, I'm Duke Leeroy and this is my wife Duchess Abagail. We are the Granger's and we are glad to have you as part of the family. We understand there will be things happening soon that we can't help with. We know that you serve her and take care of her needs, so when we can't, please take care of Hermione for us," Leeroy spoke gently, looking into the house-elf's huge brown eyes.
Thimi's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, "Thimi would be most please, sir!"
Abagail smiled at her husband. Whenever he made small speeches like that it reminded her that he was a leader at heart, and his words moved people, and house-elves apparently.
"Well let's see those pictures then!" Abagail said, with a small clap to her hands.
Thimi quickly handed the folder to Hermione, who kindly handed it over to her mother who was waiting eagerly.
"Oh Hermione, these are beautiful! I love the moving ones. They're classically done, and nothing in the background gives anything away that it's a school of witchcraft and wizardry. The still ones are just as good and will look perfect in the living room. We should send one to your Aunt Carol, so she can eat it."
Her mother leaned over her father, both of them looking at the pictures together while she was talking.
"Your Aunt Carol called yesterday to tell your mother that your older cousin Pheobe is getting married soon. She bragged that they were looking at prospective dresses costing near 500,000 pounds."
Hermione made a noncommittal noise of understanding. Aunt Carol always bragged about everything her lovely daughter Pheobe did. She was pretty, she was popular, she was well off, she had a lovely man to call her fiancé now, she wasn't all that bright, but she was smart enough to get through school. She could never top her mother for marrying her father and becoming a Duchess, so she tried not to visit often, but instead invited them over at her leisure. She also used to rub having a child in her mother's face, but when Hermione was born, she could only brag about Pheobe's achievements, most of which were exaggerated.
When Hermione went off to Hogwarts, Abagail could only brag about her being in a private gifted school; a school that was so private they signed papers so they weren't even allowed to tell other people the name of the school since it was invitation only.
"Who did your hair, dear?" her mother asked.
"Thimi did," she replied.
"Thimi you did a wonderful job! It looks gorgeous and so natural."
The small house-elf blushed and gripped the hem of her dress tight, "Thank you, misses."
"Hermione why don't we call it a night and solidify everything in the morning after we've slept on this," Leeroy said.
It sounded like an option, but was an order.
"Yes, sir. Good night, Daddy. Good night, Mum. C'mon Thimi, let's go to bed."
"Thimi can have the 3rd guest room next to yours in the family wing," her mother called out as they were leaving.
"Yes, ma'am," her daughter called out.
Hermione stretched out across her bed with her book Wards and Their Keepers. She was almost finished with it, and would soon be reading Safekeeping Between Spheres.
She was glad with how the night proceeded and instead of overthinking about that, she would rather over think the intricacies of wards. She was a natural apparently, not the original, but an original. She didn't have a master or someone to guide her, she had less than a paragraph to work off of where she was now, and she was decent for a beginner.
Tomorrow would be a day of respite before her Professor Moody and real Moody came to the chateau. The rooms were already aired and ready for company. The tea room would be used for training she decided. They ballroom would have done nicely, but she wasn't too keen on falling on a wooden floor when she could land on plush carpeting given the chance. She wasn't completely sure what they were going to be covering, but she knew it would be physical and remembered being told to practice her dodging. She had been doing stretches twice a day: once when she got up, and once before she got into bed.
Hermione only hoped that it would be enough. Knowing the pair of Moodys though she wasn't sure.
Hermione hoped Harry was having a decent holiday. Normally she would have stayed but she needed a break from Ronald Weasley. Even after the letters she received he was near unbearable.
'I told you so, Hermione. You shouldn't have annoyed Skeeter.'
Skeeter would wish she never wrote a single thing about her with her acid green quill. She would have told her parents about it, but she knew that they would have seen the trash in their papers. She knew if she didn't bring it up, they wouldn't either. They knew better than to trust one source of media, and they always checked the journalist's name of every article. In this instance she was glad for the Quibbler for not posting any such love triangle nonsense. However she still got sent hate mail, if she didn't know how to handle that she could have been seriously injured. She wouldn't have even known.
'That pest won't know what hit her,' Hermione thought vindictively.
She hummed to herself as she leafed to the next page in her book. It was quite a fascinating read. Wards could continue existing even after the caster passed away and she was on the chapter on the different types of wards that had long lifespan. They fed on the ley lines hooked into a corner stone of sorts, and were self-sustaining through the earth's natural magic. It was simply fascinating.