Unlike the previous summer when Hermione had been busy with her internship, this summer, Hermione was free to spend it how she pleased. She was hopeful she'd get to meet up with her friends multiple times over the summer, and hopefully see her coven often – she had a lot planned for them all to do.
However, being grounded brought any such plans to a screeching halt.
It was with frustration and dismay that Hermione owled her friends back with news of her grounding, saying she probably wouldn't be able to meet up for at least a week, maybe more. Her friends, to her credit, did not ignore her. Hermione spent the next week trapped in her room, to be sure, but it was with the windows open, owls from her friends frequently fluttering in and out.
Tracey was owling her several times a day, now, running campaign plans and slogans by her. Hermione still hadn't fully researched the Wizengamot or wizarding elections (and couldn't, until she was allowed to go to Flourish and Blotts again), so she wasn't much help. She told Tracey she was sure she would have excellent ideas that she didn't need to run past her, really, but Tracey kept closely in touch with Hermione anyway. Hermione wondered if Tracey just wanted to make sure that Hermione felt sufficiently involved.
Her letters to Blaise were a joy and comfort, as they had been last year. This time, instead of telling her ridiculous made-up crazy stories, Blaise wrote ridiculous made-up ideas of crazy things they could do over the summer once she was freed. Ideas so far included doing a ritual to make their eyes glow red to freak out the Gryffindors, running away to Italy without telling any adults, challenging Draco Malfoy to an honor duel for the hell of it, and attempting to make a gigantic wand that the entire coven could use at once.
His ideas were funny, and Hermione found it fun to pretend to take them seriously, either giving counterarguments about why they could not or what it would require to pull off such a feat. Despite the ridiculousness of the content of the letters, there was real affection and friendship written between the words, and Hermione knew that Blaise in particular was eager for her punishment to end so the coven could reform in person again.
A more atypical correspondence that had been taken up was one with Draco Malfoy. After the trial was over, Draco had written to Hermione to invite her to a Quidditch game he had tickets for (why did he think she would have any interest in Quidditch?), and Hermione had written back, explaining that her parents had grounded her. She remarked that her parents were not inclined to end her punishment unless they, personally, could talk to Draco and verify her story.
To her immense surprise, Draco didn't dismiss it out of hand. His following letter seemed very skeptical, asking if her parents would try and hurt him (no) or burn him at the stake (also no). Hermione had responded that it was just dinner, and all he'd need to do was come to Sunday dinner and chat with her parents to get them to let her go. Hermione was somewhat dreading whatever response Draco would send next. There was no telling what he thought.
Hermione also wrote to Tom.
Though she was loathe to do so, Hermione kept her word to Tom, draining her magic into the diary over the next several days. She'd figured out a way to multitask, draining her magic into the diary with her left hand as she wrote in it with her right. Given her grounding, Hermione ended up talking to Tom a lot more than she'd anticipated over the next week, often whenever she wasn't writing a letter back to someone else.
Tom had been proud of the way Hermione had danced around the truth in the trial. He disapproved of her wanting to save Rhamnaceae from Azkaban, but he acknowledged that if that had been her goal, she'd achieved it brilliantly. He was also impressed with her receiving an Oath of Loyalty from someone already (as well as some... other?... kind of vow); he disclosed he hadn't started receiving oaths of loyalty until he demanded it. Hermione had flushed at the praise, before worrying at her lip over liking it. Was it bad to be happy the future Dark Lord thought you did a good job?
Hermione told Tom of her plans for her coven, too. The first issue encountered was how to get them all to one place to meet up, and by random chance, luck had struck: the Weasleys had won a 700 galleon drawing from the Prophet and decided to visit their oldest brother in Egypt, and Hermione, in a flash of brilliance, had written to Harry, suggesting that he ask to be the Weasley's house sitter.
Hermione and Harry had needed to send owls quickly, given Ron had written them of the news at the last moment, but it had worked. Hermione had pointed out to Ron that their chickens were likely to starve or peck each other to death, to say nothing of the gnomes running amok in their garden unchecked for such a long time, while Harry had written Mrs. Weasley directly and begged to be able to stay at a wizarding house where he could be safe and visit with his friends.
Hermione suspected Mrs. Weasley had been moved more by pity than anything, but it had worked – Harry was to stay at the Weasleys' house for the rest of the summer, starting Friday. Harry had been so glad, his letter was a mess, overflowing with gratitude.
You don't understand, Hermione, Harry had written. My relatives are awful, and my Aunt Marge is coming to visit. I swear, she's even meaner than Uncle Vernon, and I can't stand her. Her dogs chased me up a tree once, and she laughed and wouldn't call them off for hours. That I don't have to stay here and deal with her is so great, Hermione, you have no idea. I am so glad you came up with this idea when you did.
Though Hermione was glad to help save Harry from the tyranny of his aunt and uncle, she had mixed feelings about Harry's letter.
If his relatives are so abusive, why does Harry have to stay there? she wrote to Tom, furious. Blood wards be damned, it's not right that he has to stay there when they treat him the way they do!
Familial blood wards are incredibly strong, Hermione, Tom had said. Though it's unfortunate, Dumbledore's probably correct in saying that staying with his remaining family within those wards is what's safest for him.
I shared blood with Harry in the coven ritual. Does that mean Harry would be safe in wards that protected those of my blood? Hermione theorized.
I don't know, but that's an interesting idea, Tom mused. Are you thinking you could set your own blood protection wards somewhere new to protect him?
Hermione's imagination came alive at the idea – of course she could work with her coven to set blood protection wards somewhere new! It'd have to be a set structure, though, of course, to solidify the warding, and it would have to be somewhere secret…
Hermione was sketching out a secret base for her coven, complete with a magical minifridge and Floo, when her father knocked on her door one evening, interrupting.
"What's that?" he asked, looking at her sketchbook from the doorway. "Are you designing a fort?"
Her father grinned at her, and Hermione's face flushed.
"A clubhouse," she muttered, her face red. "It's nothing."
"On the contrary, it's nice to see you interested in something normal for your age for once," he teased her. His eyes sparkled. "If you ever decide you do actually want to build one, let me know. My mates and I built a treehouse of our own when we were in our teens."
"It's fine, Dad!" She shoved the sketchbook and diary hurriedly under her pillow, embarrassed. "Did you need something? Is dinner ready?"
"Actually, this came for you in the mail." Her father raised an eyebrow, handing her a large, heavy envelope. "It looks important."
Hermione took the envelope, looking it over curiously. It was a heavy envelope, with her name written in beautiful calligraphy on the front as Miss Hermione Granger with no address included. She glanced up at her dad.
"This came in the post?" she clarified. "Not by owl?"
"Not by owl," her father confirmed. He smirked. "Think one of your little friends magicked it into the mailbox?"
"I have no idea," Hermione said honestly, "but it seems that they must have. But why bother…?"
She turned the envelope over in her hands, pausing at the heavy wax seal stamped on the back. The seal was a large serif 'M' in the middle with two spears crossed behind it, overtop of an intricate fleur de lis. Hermione stared at it for a long moment before carefully easing the envelope open, keeping the seal intact for later examination.
To her surprise, there were a few sheets of paper inside, the first of which was a small card that fell out of the envelope. Beautiful calligraphy decorated the thick card, and the calligraphy was of such a script it was almost difficult for Hermione to read:
Dear Mme and Mssr Granger,
I am delighted to accept your invitation to dine with you this Sunday evening, June 27th. I am looking forward to meeting you and calling upon your daughter. Is seven o'clock in the evening an acceptable time?
Humbly yours,
Draco Malfoy
Hermione snorted, passing the thick card to her father, whose eyes widened.
"What is this?" he asked, chuckling. "Is this the Regency Era, now?"
"Mum told me she wanted to meet the boy I saved before she'd unground me, so I asked if he'd come over on Sunday for dinner," Hermione said. "I honestly didn't think he would, but it was worth a try…"
Her father laughed.
"I'll go inform your mother we'll have company in three days," he said, his eyes sparkling. He started down the stairs. "She'll need to plan what to make early, or we'll need to change what time we're going to church."
"Wait, what?" Hermione called after him, astonished. "What do you mean, 'going to church'?"
Her father was gone, however, and it was with slight suspicion that Hermione settled down to read her next letter. It was written in beautiful calligraphy but printed this time, and it was clear the letter-writer had taken some time penning the missive.
Dear Hermione,
I am outraged that your parents have locked you up in your tower because you risked yourself to save my life. If it is within my power to help free you, I am only too happy to do so. The risk I face is far less than the one you faced when saving my life, and I will face it head on.
That being said, I have chosen not to tell my parents about where I plan to dine on Sunday evening. Blaise has agreed to the façade of me dining with his family that evening with the agreement that he comes along to dine as well. As this is the only way readily available to attend your family's dinner without drawing the ire of my father, I have made that concession. If you do not want Blaise present as well, please inform him as such, as I am sure your words will persuade him to allow me to come alone.
I am unfamiliar with muggle dining customs. Blaise has assured me casual robes will be fine to wear, but I do not want to fit in inappropriately. If he is deceiving me and I should obtain a leather tunic, let me know, and I shall endeavor to do so. Also, please let me know if I should bring a gift – Blaise says bringing a bottle of wine would be fine, but if your family is more accustomed to ale or mead, I do not want to embarrass them by bringing an overly-extravagant gift.
Thank you again for your invitation. I will do my best to help your parents understand the magnitude of the debt I owe you, convince them to set you free, and make a positive impression on your family for hopeful future positive interactions to come.
Yours truly,
Draco Malfoy
Hermione stared.
…what?
Hermione couldn't help but laugh. Draco's letter could best be summed up as 'I'm coming to dinner but lying to my dad about it, so Blaise is covering for me; what should I wear/bring?', but of course Draco couldn't just write that. Draco was always very dramatic about anything he could be dramatic over.
Shaking her head, she withdrew the next letter. She broke the plain seal and smirked, recognizing the handwriting immediately as Blaise's.
Hermione,
Draco says that your parents won't let you out until he tells them you saved him from the basilisk, and he asked if I would cover for him to his parents. However, Draco is also a nitwit, so I agreed on the condition I could come as well. Hopefully then, when Draco makes a faux pas or is unintentionally rude, I can help cover it up so he doesn't look like a complete moron. I anticipate this undertaking to be nearly impossibly difficult, and though the task will be hard, I am up to it, as I'd prefer your parents not to be insulted and develop a distaste for the wizarding world.
Also: please tell Draco that robes are fine. I made the mistake of telling him I wore tight slacks and a short tunic-like top when I went to the muggle play with you. He's since been throwing a fit, tearing up his manor looking for old clothes of his ancestors to wear so he can fit in with your parents, and he's determined to embarrass himself turning up like the Weasley Twins with their swords if it will endear him to your parents. He didn't believe me when I showed him the denims I got – he thinks I'm out to sabotage him in front of your family. Please tell him to just wear normal clothes? Please?
If this plan works and you get ungrounded, the full moon is Saturday, the 3rd. Do you think your parents would let you out late? Luna's said her father doesn't mind if we run around outside late at night, and I think the full moon would be the perfect time to do a ritual, given we couldn't on the solstice.
I'll leave the decision of what ritual we should next do up to you.
Yours,
Blaise
Hermione started snickering as she read Blaise's letter, Draco's confusing letter suddenly making much more sense.
Did purebloods really think muggles still lived in medieval times? Like peasants, tilling the land and subsisting on naught but bread and ale? Perhaps – Blaise's mother had warned him to beware of rats, as if the Black Plague were still a threat. If that was what he was expecting, Draco was in for quite the shock.
Though, it made some sense why purebloods were so opposed to muggles and Muggleborns, then, if that was what their mental image was. It made sense to fear an uneducated mob that you believed would burn you alive if they knew the truth of who you were.
It didn't really make sense to fear muggles now, though. People were far too preoccupied with their own lives, their occupations, and their own government to care what a bunch of people who didn't know what electricity was were up to. Most muggles would just scoff at the mention of magic without seeing proof, after all; there were plenty of muggles who called themselves witches and fortune tellers, after all. A real wizard would just be viewed as 'strange'.
Though, that made Hermione pause to wonder. What if muggle fortune tellers were actually witches - ones who had found a way to make a reliable living while skirting the edges of the Statue of Secrecy?
Hermione resolved to visit one and find out after she'd taken Divination.
Settling in, Hermione pulled out her own quill and parchment, wanting to respond to them both before dinner.
Dear Draco,
Thank you so much for arranging to come. I am incredibly grateful, and hopefully my parents will rescind my punishment once they hear from you.
Casual robes to are fine to wear to eat with my parents, and a bottle of wine would be an appropriate gift they would appreciate.
I look forward to seeing you on Sunday at 7pm. I will be waiting by the Floo.
Yours,
Hermione
The letter to Blaise was a little more detailed.
Blaise,
Harry's finally at the Weasley's for the summer starting tomorrow, so if my parents let me off house-arrest, a ritual at the full moon would be brilliant. I have a few in mind, so we'll have to see what everyone wants to do more. There's the Parseltongue ritual for Susan and Harry, of course, which I think we should prioritize, but there's also another one I've translated recently, and though it's kind of risky, I think it'd be brilliant to try. Just in case, is there any chance you can get a dozen or so moonstones and a bunch of crystal rocks? Preferably the ones that can glow in the dark, but if not, focus more on quantity – we'll need a lot of crystals.
I have not told my parents any of the details surrounding Rookwood whatsoever. They know I was called to court and had to testify; they know nothing of any of the finer details, other than I was there when she was caught. Please don't let Draco bring it up in conversation, and if he does, please help me gloss over it so my parents don't realize the impact of just what all I was involved in.
Do you think I should wear robes on Sunday as well to help Draco feel more relaxed? Or do you think he'll be fine and I can wear my normal clothing as I would any other day? My parents are likely to look at me oddly if I do, but I don't want Draco to be even more awkward than he's bound to be.
I am desperately looking forward to seeing you again. Hopefully all this nonsense will be over soon, and I can visit whomever I like.
Yours,
Hermione
After she was done writing, she frowned. The letters had come by post, somehow – and she didn't have an owl with which to send her notes.
Did every wizarding household really just own an owl…?
Hermione scanned over The Booke of the Beastes over dinner, hoping there was some note of how to communicate with owls, but there was nothing. She was scowling when her parents made her put the book away, insisting she be present at the table to spend time with them, but even as she discussed her friends coming to dinner on Sunday with her mother and father, her mind was pondering over the issue of a lack of an owl.
When she returned to her room, she felt a flare of hope over a possible solution.
You can summon an owl, Tom told her. The spell is 'venibis noctua'. The difficulty lies in communicating with the owl to go to the proper place after you summon one. Untrained, unmagical owls are much harder to use than a trained post owl.
How do you do it, then? Hermione wanted to know. How do you make the owl deliver the letter anyway?
I just implanted the knowledge of where to go in their heads. Even Tom's handwriting seemed smug. I was learning Legilimency as early as I could, and penetrating owls' minds was hardly a challenge.
Hermione groaned.
You've got to be kidding me, she complained. I'm not learning Legilimency so I can summon post owls.
Frustrated and defeated, Hermione finally went to her parents.
"I need to send instructions on coming over on Sunday back to my friends," she said, "and I don't have an owl to mail them back. Can I please go to Diagon Alley tomorrow to go to the post office? Please?"
Hermione's mother frowned.
"How have you been mailing them up until now?" she wanted to know.
"They all have post owls," Hermione said. "Their owls just stay until I write a reply. But this letter came by muggle post, so there's not a return owl for me to use."
"Why did it come by post, then?" her mother asked, and Hermione flushed.
"Umm. I think my friend wanted to impress you," she admitted, embarrassed. "I think he wanted you to think well of him because he replied the muggle way."
Her father smirked, and her mother's strict expression softened in amusement.
"Well, then," she said. She considered Hermione for a long moment. "You are still grounded, Hermione – I am not allowing you to go out to Diagon Alley where you might dilly-dally and meet up with your friends—"
"Mum!" Hermione protested. "I'll go and come right back! I promise!"
"—but I will go first thing in the morning and mail your letters myself," she conceded. Her smile was wry. "If I am the one insisting on meeting your friend, it's only fitting I help facilitate that meeting."
Hermione groaned. It was as good as she was going to get, she supposed, though she gave in with poor grace.
That didn't stop her from complaining about it to Tom that night, as she drained her magic into the diary once more.
If Draco doesn't manage to convince them to set me free, I swear, Hermione wrote furiously, I'll turn into an Animagus and escape from here myself.
I wouldn't advise it, Tom cautioned. You don't know what animal you might end up as, and part of the process is holding a Mandrake leaf in your mouth for an entire month.
That's disgusting, Hermione wrote, recoiling. People actually do that?
Some of them, Tom said. I imagine there's probably an easier way to do it, but if so, no one's discovered it or shared it yet.
Hermione sighed. So much for that, then. I guess I'll be trapped here alone forever if Draco fails.
There was a long pause.
I would suggest bewitching your parents to let you free— he began.
I am not bespelling my parents, Hermione wrote back indignantly, ink splattering her fingertips with her speed.
—but I know you would never. The only solace I can offer you is the knowledge that you are not alone, the only comfort I can give you my company at your side.
That's nice, but you're a book, Hermione complained. It's not exactly the same.
No, it's not, Tom agreed. But be patient, Hermione. In another three days' time, you will pull me from the diary, and I will be able to stand at your side for a time.
Hermione wasn't sure if it was supposed to be a genuinely comforting statement to her, or a subtle reminder that she had bigger problems to worry about than nagging parents once he had a body once more.
