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. I can't believe in this day and age we have to go back to making this disclaimer. Shame on you for exploiting other people's works!
For this one, we had to take inspiration from The Ministry of Magic song that we were given. I used part of the chorus as inner dialogue in this fic, so I hope I made it believable :p
Lyrics used:
Close my eyes (maybe I am only dreaming)
Try to lie (to myself you are only sleeping)
Close my eyes, I close my eyes
I'm setting this in the Regency era (which google claims is 1811-1820), so please excuse characters talking like they're from Pride & Prejudice or Bridgerton. Believe me, it's intentional XD
Side note for those not versed in Regency speak (because this was brought up during beta: "Ton" is a term of the regency era: Originally used in the context of upper class English society, ton meant a fashionable manner or style, or something for the moment in vogue. No, I did NOT mean 'town' :)
Thanks to Queenie, Sky, BeaWrites, Rose and Dora for the Beta!
Summary: After the death of her father, Hermione finds out that she has a choice of who she can marry, but only out of three candidates of her late father's choosing. Regency!AU, Muggle!AU
Triggers/Warnings: grief from death of a loved one
Word Count: 2777
Prompts:
QLFC Beater 2 Prompt:
"On The Other Side" by The Ministry of Magic
Additional Prompts:
3. [dialogue] "Can you please just… go?" - "Why would I do that?" - "I don't want you here right now."
12. [setting] Diagon Alley
Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Term 3 Assignment 4 - Due 21st June
Web Design Task 1: Layout: Write about an arrangement of some kind; arranged marriage
[June Monthly] Build-Your-Own Adventure
Choose Your Enemy: Daleks – historical!AU
Ongoing Challenge: Gather Your Party!
Ranger: Primeval Guardian: Historical!AU
WRITING CLUB - JUNE
Would You Rather? Hermione Granger
Quotations "I'm not a toddler. I can survive a few hours without attention."
Nifty & Swiftie Anti-Hero - (situation) Reading a will
"The Other Side"
Hermione's footsteps were light as she stepped out of Gringotts into the open air of Diagon Alley, her heart heavy with sorrow. She had just come from the will reading of her father, after his untimely death at such a young age of five-and-forty. He had taken such good care of his health after her mother had passed away a few weeks after Hermione had been born. He had never seen fit to marry again and instead had a litany of nurses and governesses to help raise his only child. And now, she was on her own.
At only seventeen years old, Hermione felt confident in having learned everything that she could have from her minders, and thirsted for more, as all teenagers did. With the loss of her father, however, she had to find a husband to take her into his household. She had gotten all of her father's assets, thankfully–him being an only child for generations meant there was no far-off cousin set to inherit their small country estate. She had played with many children of the ton when she was younger, and kept up correspondence with several, picking the brains of the boys on what they learned at Eton, and joining in social engagements with the girls.
They were growing, however, and already several of her same-aged lady friends were married and beginning families of their own.
Hermione had already been on the marriage market for two seasons, and now her chances of finding a husband of her own choosing were plummeting with every year that passed by.
"Hermione!" a familiar voice called out. Hermione quickly struck the tears from her face and put on a smile to turn just in time to be jump-hugged by one of her oldest friends, Ginevra Weasley. She choked out a laugh then quickly had to compose herself when the greatest urge to sob nearly overtook her.
"I'm so sorry," Ginny whispered as she tightened her hug, and Hermione returned the gesture in kind, clinging to her friend desperately. Losing her father had been hard–harder than she thought imaginable–but it was all made too real by the will reading today.
"Miss Granger, you are here to witness the will reading of Sir Richard Lionel Granger, on today, the fourteenth of June in this, the year of our Lord eighteen fifteen." The solicitor was a cold-looking man, short for his age with cropped hair. Had Hermione not met him several times over the years as he went over her father's affairs, she would have accused him of being a goblin-faced man, like in the scriptures of old. He was from a reputable firm, however, and so she had to trust him.
The will reading had started simply enough: bequeathments to friends of simple trinkets filled with memories, forgiven debts, and entreaties to not cry for him, but to celebrate his life having been filled with love, laughter, and light.
Through the parts that had nothing to do with her, Hermione couldn't help but think fondly upon her father, more than once closing her eyes in order to both stem the tide of tears and to better remember an outing or conversation that she now had to hold dear to herself.
Close my eyes, she thought to herself. Maybe I am only dreaming. How often did she try to lie to herself as she stared at his still body that he was only sleeping? He had laid there peacefully on his bed, just as he had the night before when they had parted for the night. He had been taken suddenly in the night, and the doctor she had called for merely said it had something to do with his heart.
Close my eyes, I close my eyes, she thought, trying so hard to will into existence her father full of life again. He hadn't even looked ill, he had–
"And to my only child, Hermione Jean Granger, I bequeath our humble estate and everything within it, including the staff and any worldly possessions not already disbursed. My wish is for you to find yourself a nice second son who would be willing to work the land with you, share in the woes of managing the books, and keep laughter light when entertaining our neighbors.
"I know you had wished to find a love match, however, our family needs an heir and you need a husband to help give you all of the advantages your fair sex denies you in society. Through some business contacts I have, I wrote up three agreements with business partners that would give you an advantageous match. These families are not unknown to you, however, they would not have been your first choice.
"First we have the Malfoy family, who has but one son. He is very good at handling the staff and handling the books, or so says his father. Young Mister Malfoy would fit you in the handling of the estate, since he will one day run his own once he inherits his father's Lordship.
"Secondly, we have the Flint family, who has three sons, but the first and third are already married. The second son, Marcus, I am told is used to laboring in the fields, and so would be great help in managing the workers and keeping the greenhouses well stocked. Sir Merrick Flint assured me that his son will be a great asset to you and our family.
"Lastly, we have the Nott family. Again, an only son, but his father's estate has fallen into ruin due to his father's indiscretions. Already Lord Nott the younger has distanced himself from his father and the seat of their family, only to pursue more academic inclinations, which would line up with your own intellectual regard. I've heard that his personal library very nearly has surpassed your own, my dear.
"It is up to you of the three you pick, however I need to stipulate that one of them must agree to marry you within the year. Otherwise, everything in the estate and your inheritance will be forfeit. You may, of course, marry for love anyone else of your choosing, but you will also find your inheritance out of your grasp in the face of such an unsuitable match.
"My dear, please do not mistake my words as harshness or punishment on top of the agony of my death, but as insurance that my only daughter and precious child is taken care of for the rest of her long life. You don't have to like the man to marry him, but I do ask that you respect him.
"All of my love to you, my darling, my most brightest of stars,
"Sir Richard Lionel Granger."
The offered names she knew well enough. And it stung to know her father didn't think her capable of finding herself a husband to help her with the estate.
She could have done just fine without one, to be honest, she couldn't help but think to herself as the rest of the will reading wrapped up and the bequeathments were parceled out. Close my eyes, I must be dreaming…
"Are you listening?!"
Hermione snapped back to the present to see an annoyed-looking Ginny standing in front of her. "I'm sorry, you were saying?" Hermione plastered as best a smile on her face as she could manage, considering the circumstances, and Ginny softened her look. Mrs Weasley hovered in the background, window shopping as she kept an eye on her daughter.
"I was telling you about Ronald. Warning you, actually. He seems to be gearing up to propose to you. Said something about now needing a man about your estate–"
Hermione's hollow laugh stopped Ginny in her tracks. "If only it were that simple. Then I would actually like my husband. Perhaps even learn to love him."
"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked.
"My father put together a few rudimentary business connections with partners of his. I'm to marry one of them. It's only a miracle that his final act lets me choose one of them instead of him picking for me," Hermione replied sourly. Ginny grimaced, knowing the pain of not being allowed to choose. She had six older brothers, who had a world of choice. As the seventh child and only daughter of the Weasley family, her choices were limited to family connections and anyone of a social standing higher than them.
Hermione could say that Ginny was her best friend in all of society and in any other circumstance, the two of them would have gone off down Diagon Alley talking of the latest fashions, ruminating on who would throw the next ball, and when the next round of militia would filter into the area.
Right now though, Hermione just wanted to be alone and wallow in her sorrow.
"Ginny, I hate to ask this, but…can…can you please just… go?" Hermione felt bad for asking it, but she had to part with her if she wanted time to cry by herself.
"Why would I do that?" Ginny replied, confused. She reached out and gently grasped Hermione's hand in concern.
"I just…I don't want you here right now," Hermione replied. Ginny snorted in response, startling Hermione. Ginny's gentle grasp on her hand tightened, and suddenly she was being pulled in a direction.
"When has that ever stopped me from being here for you, though? Come, you must drown your woes in laughter with me. Frederick and George have finally opened their little shop. Mother is rightly displeased. But I came here today to sneak away from her to visit them and see for myself just what they've gotten themselves into. Join me? So you're not mourning alone?"
"I'm not a toddler. I can survive a few hours without attention," Hermione pointed out, but not resisting as Ginny threaded their arms together as they walked.
"But do you want to be alone?"
Hermione scowled at her. "No…"
"Then come on! Let us find out what the two jokers of the Weasley Family have come up with! And who knows? If your prospective husband is particularly ghastly, you might even be able to find something to annoy him with."
"Anything your brothers come up with should be enough to annoy him with. We shall have to concoct a way for him to spend all of his time in town instead of the country! Pity I would have to see so little of him," Hermione replied with a grin.
Weasley's Wondrous Wheezes was a delightfully garish shop that held all manner of pranking items and joke books that the twins had created themselves. They did have the help of a friend or two, but the genius was all them. Entering the shop, Hermione couldn't help but marvel at the sight of the fully stocked shelves.
"Freddy! Georgie!" Ginny called out as they stepped out of the entrance into one of the aisles. "Your favorite little sister is here!"
Oh, how her father would have loved this shop. He dearly loved to laugh, and always loved the twins' antics whenever they would dine together.
Close my eyes, it's alright, this could be a dream–
"Our favorite sister!" Frederick exclaimed as he appeared from the end of the aisle.
"Our only sister," George added as he poked his head out from above a shelf across the way.
"Only little sister," Ginny corrected. "Bill married Fleur earlier this year, remember?"
"Right you are, favorite little sister!"
The two then launched into their practiced sales pitch for their store, causing the two girls to giggle at their antics. With their arms hooked, Ginny then dragged Hermione away from her brothers to let them greet the next group of people.
The two had been thumbing through a book of jokes and puns themed around animals when the clearing of throats caught their attention. With dread, Hermione turned in tandem with Ginny to find the three men she was so avidly avoiding thinking about. The two ladies dipped into a quick curtsy to the three lords as a courtesy, but not out of want. Hermione had to hide her look of distaste as the three men focused on her.
"Mister Malfoy, Mister Flint, Lord Nott," Hermione greeted them.
"Our condolences for your loss, Miss Granger," Lord Theodore Nott stated as he stepped forward to kiss the air above her hand. He greeted Ginny the same way, prompting a second curtsy out of the redheaded girl.
Mister Malfoy seemed to sneer down his nose at her, and Hermione bristled inside, his disdainful expression making him seem vain and proud upon first glance. Mister Flint was a hulk of a man, and Hermione already despaired at the thought of someone not intellectually on her level being shackled to her for life.
She grew up with these three and knew them well enough to already know who she would pick, if she had no choice of anyone else.
Mister Draco Malfoy had been her bully when she was younger. He would call her names and pull her pigtails when she still wore them, and then her curls when she did not. It was only when she started binding her hair up into tight buns and coifs that he stopped annoying her.
Mister Marcus Flint had been big into sports, rugby especially, and had once dumped one of her male best friends into a trash can just because he could. Hermione had sent so many displeased letters to the school for allowing that but had never gotten a reply back.
Lord Theodore Nott had the least amount of interactions with her, always wanting to play by himself or with his group of friends instead of socializing with Hermione and her friends. He had made no transgressions against her, so far as she could remember, and every moment of being in his presence just confirmed that she really didn't have a choice at all. Not if she wanted to be happy.
Breathe in, out…close my eyes, see Father there.
"We didn't mean to intrude–"
"Speak for yourself, Nott," Malfoy interrupted, Flint chuckling in the background. "I would like to get to know my fiancée a bit better–"
"As if I would allow you my hand, Mister Malfoy. Don't you forget you have competitors, and," Hermione stated with a scowl, dragging her eyes up and down him, "you are sorely lacking."
With Lord Nott and Flint chuckling at his expense, Malfoy whirled around and stormed out, very nearly knocking over a display filled with product. "And stay out!" one of the twins bellowed at his back from the front of the store. Flint followed after him moments after, after buying a deck of trick cards and a joke stick and hoop toy set.
Lord Nott then turned back to Hermione and looked at her expectantly, and she colored in confusion.
"And you? Why are you here?" Hermione asked after a moment's pause.
"Again, merely offering my condolences. And perhaps offer a shoulder to cry on. I do not wish to presume your wishes, but should you need my services, I will heartily offer them up," he replied with a soft smirk.
Close my eyes, maybe I am only dreaming, Hermione thought to herself as she flushed deeper at his attention. This morning she had no prospects. And now? Now she had three. It was all overwhelming, and she needed to not think about it for a while.
"Can you please just…go?" Hermione then asked, fully aware of Ginny hovering in the background, practically foaming at the mouth for Lord Nott to leave so she could dissect the conversation with her.
"Why would I do that?" he replied back a bit cockily. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Presumptuous indeed.
"I don't want you here right now," Hermione snipped back, and Lord Nott's grin only widened.
"As my lady commands," he replied. He bowed over her hand sans kiss this time, and bowed to Ginny before turning. "I hope to call upon you in the future, Miss Granger. At a more convenient time for you, of course. Good day, ladies." With a tip of his hat, he left, and Ginny descended with a giggle.
"What was that about?!" she demanded to know, dragging Hermione deeper into the corner. Hermione couldn't will away her blush fast enough.
"So I went to my father's will reading today, and–" And as she told Ginny about everything that had happened today, it felt like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She wasn't alone. She had her friends with her. And soon, possibly even a husband.
At least one of her possible choices wasn't too bad…