A/N: Not my sandbox, just my sand castle. I don't own anything from Harry Potter. Additionally, no one has permission to bind and sell my works, fandom or otherwise. Shame on you for exploiting other people's works!
With this having to stay within 3000 words, this story is DEFINITELY a truncated version of what I wanted to write. As such, you can keep an eye out for the longer version (that may or may not be adapted into original fiction). I also may have taken elements from the typical Hallmark movie formula. No Christmas Towns here, however there is an inherited flower field and cottage :3
I hope you enjoy! I definitely enjoyed writing this :)
Thanks to Dora, and BeaWrites for the Beta! (And HUGE thanks to them from getting me from 3972 words down to under 3k XD )
Summary: Hermione discovers her inheritance from her grandmother includes the house, the flower shop, the acres of land containing meadows and forests, and the exiled Fae Lord who made his home there. FairytaleAU, MuggleAU
Word Count: 2999
Prompts:
QLFC Beater Prompt:
Professor Quirrell: (Pick One)
(au) florist
Additional Prompts:
3. (action) dancing
11. (action) rolling on the ground
13. (plot point) making a deal
"Burned"
Dashing tears away, Hermione took a deep breath as she stood on the sidewalk in front of the tiny cottage that her grandmother had called home for the last twenty years of her life.
Where I'll call home for the next week, she thought to herself. Gripping the handle of her suitcase tightly, Hermione steeled herself before taking that first step onto the property. Nothing momentous happened, but a surge of emotions overtook her upon the realization her grandmother wouldn't be waiting for her at the door. Her grandmother wouldn't be nudging her out of the house into the flower fields in the back, gently tugging the book away from her to get her to see nature, to touch grass, to let the sun kiss her skin.
Hermione missed her terribly.
Unpacking her bags took longer than she thought. Everything in the cottage had been left as is, since Hermione would only be staying long enough to clean the house up and get it ready for the market. A sour expression crossed her face. There had already been interest in the cottage and the land, but none by private buyers. Two corporations were already trying to bully her into selling the flower shop, cottage, and the two hundred acres beyond that. How they had found her address in the city, she had no clue. She had already hired an estate solicitor to deal with them, and one of them had backed off, but Malfoy Enterprises…
Her eyes drifted to the legal letter that sat on the bed, sent from Malfoy Enterprises only days before she had to travel. She had read between the lines: they threatened to put her flower shop out of business, make it hard for her to live there, and even indirectly threatened her safety. She hadn't had time to go over it with her solicitor but had a phone call scheduled with him in three days.
The more push she got to sell corporate, the more determined she was to sell private.
"Can I trust the new owners won't cave under pressure, though?" Hermione mused aloud. Padding softly along the hardwood floors to the kitchen to start some tea, Hermione couldn't help but hurt at the thought of all of her grandmother's hard work being destroyed just so a warehouse could go up.
Twenty minutes later, she stood in the doorway leading outside to the back garden, gazing out at the well-manicured lawn. Benches were scattered around a gravel footpath, well-maintained herbs and plants nestled along the way.
Gardener must have been by, she thought, her eyes scanning the way. She could have sworn Mr Longbottom had gone on a sabbatical collecting rare plants in the South Americas a few years back, but he must have come home early.
Her eyes trailed to the flower fields beyond the garden, and the trees in the far distance encircling the entire property. Over two hundred acres of land on the property held thousands of different native species of plants, flowers, trees, bugs, and wildlife. Grandmother Granger had been very proud to help nature flourish as industrial life sprang up around them. And while Hermione had no plans to continue that dream for the rest of her life, she could at least ensure the property went to someone who would.
A shape moved amongst the flowers in the distance, something tall. The afternoon sun had her squinting to see it better, but she blinked and the form was suddenly gone. Rubbing her eyes, Hermione headed back inside to work on some paperwork for the flower shop. She would visit it in the morning and see how well it was doing. There was one girl who currently worked there part-time, and how Hermione understood it, her grandmother had been the one to take the flower orders and would cut the blooms to bring them to the shop. Hermione would take on that role until the new owner of the property took over.
Hermione slept restlessly under the hand-made quilt in her grandmother's bed…her new bed. The quilt was one of her favorites growing up. She would be taking it with her when she went back to the city. It was a comfort to her, usually, but tonight it only stirred up memories of her grandmother. She should have visited more, she should have traveled the three hours out here more…
Sitting up in bed, Hermione nodded to herself as she came to a decision. Throwing the quilt off, she got up to find her slippers. Her sleeping clothes–an oversized jumper and a pair of shorts–were fine enough to sneak out into her back garden.
And that's what she did.
When she was younger and had trouble sleeping, Grandmother Granger had encouraged little Hermione to go out into the flower fields and lay down in them to stargaze. They would find the Cassiopeia constellation, and follow it to find Draco and Cygnus. Lyra would always be the last to be pointed out by Grandmother Granger, as it was a favorite of hers.
"You would have been a Lyra, had your mother not insisted on Shakespearean names," Grandmother said. "She had agreed that your younger sibling could have been named after a star."
Shaking her head to dispel the thoughts of being an only child, Hermione noticed she reached the wildflowers. Sighing heavily, she laid down on top of them, just staring up at the cloudless sky. Stars burst into life before her, and she could trace the usual summer path of the constellations of her youth, her vision bordered by wildflowers that were mere shadows in the darkness around her. It was only a crescent moon tonight, not much light to go by, but it didn't matter. She would stargaze until she tired, and then she would go back in and sleep.
Her thoughts consumed her in her idleness, and Hermione rolled herself, first one way, then the other, and then back, flattening a larger area of space around her.
She couldn't help but giggle at the sensation of the flowers on her skin. The petals felt like velvet, so she rolled around again, careful to not crush too many.
It was the livelihood of the shop she now owned.
With that sobering thought, Hermione paused in her frolicking, her brain going into overdrive at all the things she still needed to do.
She still had to go down to the flower shop and check on the assistant. With her grandmother's passing, the poor shopkeeper was all alone, probably in over her head. Hermione knew a little about flower arrangement–from a weekend class she took as a teenager–but flowers had never stuck with her, not like how the literary classics had. Like it or not, until she sold the property, she was a florist now. And owning a flower shop couldn't be all that different to owning a bookstore, or a Café, or any of the other businesses she helped her friends start up. The only difference was, this time, everything was hers.
A yawn escaped her, and Hermione smiled sleepily, rubbing at her eyes. The stars twinkled so merrily above her, and she let her eyes slip shut.
"Just a few more minutes," she murmured.
When she woke up the next morning, she was confused at seeing the ceiling of her bedroom in the cottage. Sitting up, she noticed her slippers at the edge of the bed. She wracked her brain, trying to remember when she had woken up enough to walk herself back inside. She had, hasn't she?
But as she stood up, a faint echo of a feeling of strong arms around her, barely a ghost of a memory or a dream, and the fluttering of wings filled her mind.
And just as quickly as it was there it was gone, leaving Hermione feeling like a piece of her was missing.
Her stomach chose that moment to growl, so she threw the covers off of her to start her day, pushing that phantom feeling aside for reality. She couldn't afford to get trapped in a fantasy world today. She had too much to do.
Standing in the middle of the flower shop, staring at all of the familiar blooms, Hermione could see her grandmother's touch in everything.
"I'm glad you came, ma'am," the shop assistant, Ginny, stated. "I was getting worried Malfoy Enterprises would get everything."
"What'd you mean?"
"A Malfoy associate came into the shop the other day, waving paperwork in my face wanting to strike a deal," the redhead replied. "Said something about buying the land up in the hearing tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?! Their letter stated it was next week!" Hermione scowled.
"You're not going to sell to them, are you?"
Hermione leveled a stare at her employee. "Never." She looked around the shop with determination in her gaze.
"Ginny, I need a favor," Hermione stated, and the redhead perked up.
"Anything!"
Hermione was very succinct in her directions, slipping behind the counter to cover for her while Ginny went out on her errand. Ginny knew the townspeople better than her. Ginny could get into the town hall and talk to her brother, Percy, who knew the town laws better than anyone else. What Hermione needed was a guaranteed way to have her grandmother's property never be touched. What she needed was a conservation easement. And she needed it now.
With copied paperwork in hand, Hermione went late into the night pouring over everything she needed, making sure her i's were dotted and her t's were crossed. According to a document Ginny's brother had handed her hours later, her grandmother had already started the process of conservation easement years ago. Aunt Calliope had convinced her to not file the paperwork, but all it needed was Hermione's signature now that she owned the property. Before, the document had her grandmother's signature and the signature of a man named Theodore Nott. Hermione had no idea who this man was, and Percy had also been clueless as to his identity.
Choosing to ignore his involvement for now, Hermione focused back on the document in her hands.
She had an appointment first thing in the morning to get the document certified, per her solicitor's instructions, so she could have it with her for her late morning hearing she had never been told about. Already in her bag for the morning were the original documents sent to her by Malfoy Enterprises–as well as any documentation her grandmother had collected during her lifetime–including the most recent survey done of the property lines.
"Annoying ferrets," Hermione mumbled to herself. Growling in frustration, she tossed the paperwork down on the back garden table hidden in a small circle of flowers. The land trust paperwork was all straight cut and ironclad, but something in her gut made her want to go through the documentation with a fine-toothed comb. There was something she was missing! She just didn't know what.
Getting up from the garden table, Hermione headed back into the house. Moments later found her back outside with a small CD player and a black booklet of CDs. Selecting one from the stack–a mixed CD from one of her exes who had good taste in music–Hermione pressed play and let the music surround her.
Taking a steadying breath and closing her eyes as melodic music poured through the speakers, Hermione couldn't help but start humming along. She swayed in time with the music, letting the beat wash away her frustrations and rejuvenate her mind. Exercise always helped, and dancing was technically exercise.
Hornpipe from Water Music: IV played, and Hermione bounced to the balls of her feet. It was a short song, something to help break up her mood, and it never failed, this time no different–it's why it was the first song on the CD. A waltz from Swan Lake played next, and Hermione, her eyes still shut, raised her arms as if with a partner. Steadying her breath, Hermione began to twirl around the little clearing. This song was perfect for getting out her nervous energy and refocusing her brain. It lasted exactly six minutes and fourteen seconds, and usually by minute four, her brain settled and she could listen to the rest of the CD while finishing up her work.
As the three-minute mark crawled by and the music swelled into a crescendo, Hermione leapt, and suddenly a hand was on her waist, another grasping her raised right hand, a shoulder materializing under her left hand, the body toned and warm. With a gasp, Hermione's eyes shot open to see an attractive man before her, taking the lead in the waltz as the music continued on.
"Who–"
"Hello, Flower," he replied. As Hermione made to pull away, his grasp tightened. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned, his velvety voice making her weak in the knees.
"What do you mean? Who are you?" she demanded, letting him lead for now. His grip was tight, keeping her close to him but at a respectable distance.
"My name is Theodore, Lord of the Nott estates of the Fae Realm," he replied. Hermione gaped at him.
"Fae Realm?" she asked incredulously. A sudden breeze swirled past them, and Hermione gasped at how cold it was. The music seemed faint now, and Hermione turned to look for it, only to find the sky behind her. She startled, leaping forward into Theodore's arms, whose grasp merely tightened on her once more. She clung to his clothes as they lazily twirled in the air, and it was then that Hermione realized he was the one keeping them aloft, iridescent wings materializing from his back.
"That was you last night!" Hermione stated, staring up at him. He nodded.
"You had flattened my favorite patch of flowers, you know," he replied teasingly. As the song wound down, they descended toward the ground, and before the final note filtered through the air, Hermione's bare feet touched grass right before the back door of the cottage. She hadn't noticed when they had traveled so far.
"I'm sorry," she replied. "Do you live here on the grounds?"
"This is my kingdom," Theodore answered.
"Wait, that's why your name is on the paperwork! My grandmother included you on the paperwork for the land conservation to ensure nothing happened to it," Hermione said excitedly, her mind already trying to spin how to explain his existence and the legitimacy of his claim on the property. "I can sign everything away to you, so Malfoy Enterprises can't lay a single finger on the land!"
Hermione went to pull away from him only to be tugged back into Theodore's arms.
"Hold on, Little Flower. There are some ground rules we need to go over first, with you now living on my land," Theodore stated with a smirk that, had it been on a human man, would have had Hermione eager for him. On Theodore, Fae Lord, however, it thrilled her to the depths of her soul. "May I have your name?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, a scowl on her lips. "You may not have my name. However, you may call me Hermione," she replied, remembering now of the stories of the Fae her grandmother would tell her. It seemed her grandmother had to learn them somewhere. "And I own this property. You merely live here."
"Then how about a little deal?" he asked, his smirk widening. His hand raised to cup her face, and Hermione couldn't help but flush at his touch. "It seems like you think you're my landlady, but you also need muscle for this meeting you've been mumbling about all night. I know these Malfoy goons. They have no finesse, and what they lack in decorum, they make up for brute strength. I can help you with that."
"I'm listening." Hermione went to pull away and he let go this time, his smirk turning into a rakish grin as she took a few steps away to compose herself, clinging to the doorway of the cottage for support.
"I'll be your guard dog. You can do the talking, and if they seek to harm you, I take care of them," Theodore replied.
"And what do you get out of this deal?" she asked, curiosity piqued.
"Everything. The woods, the flowers, the land, the cottage, and everything in it."
"Everything?" Hermione asked. Theodore nodded, grin curling impossibly wider as she nodded back at him.
"Everything," he stated, and Hermione started as she realized what she had just agreed to.
"Wait, no, I-"
"And now, we seal the deal," Theo replied, stepping closer once more. Hermione held up her hands, touching his chest to keep him at bay, but he grabbed both of her hands in one of his, lifting her arms above her head and pinning her to the doorframe. Hermione squeaked in surprise, but as she braced herself for whatever he had planned, Theodore merely swooped in and placed a surprisingly gentle kiss on her throat before pulling away. Hermione stood there for a moment, stunned, already missing his heat against her body. A slight tingle pulsed through her throat, and Theodore grinned widely at her.
"My mark looks good on you," he replied nonchalantly. Hermione narrowed her eyes before swinging around to look at herself in the mirror, seeing a small tattoo of a daylily on her throat.
"What did you do?!" she exclaimed in horror, her hand brushing over the mark, hoping it wasn't permanent.
"The mark will fade by morning, but the promise will still be there," Theodore said. "I basically put my signature on you, so others will know to stay away."
"But why?"
"Because you, and everything here, is mine now. My kingdom. My home."
Swallowing thickly and flushing as Theodore tugged her into his arms once more, Hermione hoped this was worth it. Because if she left the hearing tomorrow with nothing to show for it, there would be no home to come back to.