Seasons of Love

A dazzlingly smile broke out on his face at her reply. “Excellent,” Lord Potter said. “I . . . I . . . I thank you.” He kissed her hand. “And now, you must forgive me. I have to leave. I have some preparations I must attend to.” He bowed to her and strode off.

Hermione stood there for several minutes. What she thought had happened . . . it could not have happened. It was impossible. Finally, she deduced that he was not serious. He could not be serious. He was merely teasing her . . . or perhaps setting up a prank on someone else . . . and that was it. Still confused at why he would single her out, she went back into the room and began to search for Ginny.

“Let us go home,” she said upon finding Ginny.

“Why? Did something happen?” the young witch asked. “No one could hear a thing, because—”

“Yes, I know. I taught him that charm back at Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “But I am tired, and I have a headache . . . and I would very much like to get back home.”

“Very well then,” Ginny said. “Don’t think that I shan’t ask again in the morning what happened.”

“At least by then, I should have a better grasp on it myself,” Hermione replied.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When she awoke the next morning, she had figured it out.

It had been a joke.

It must have been Ron’s idea, as she couldn’t imagine why Lord Potter would want to target her. Ron, on the other hand, probably thought it would be exceedingly funny to make her think that she had managed to get engaged, as her parents wished. Of course, he could not come himself as that would tip her off, but if he sent his best friend – well, then she would not have a single suspicion. Fortunately, she had not babbled to anyone about it and had salvaged her dignity. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do something about it though.

She was going to kill Ron when she saw him again.

Then she was going to tell Ginny and Mrs. Weasley what he had done and let them have a go at him.

Hermione nodded sharply to herself, pleased that she had come up with a suitable revenge so quickly. Noticing that it was approaching noon, she quickly got up and got dressed, not wanting to miss a meal, after having not eaten much last night. Hermione had just begun her daily wrestle with her hair when a loud knocking on her door interrupted her.

“Who is it?” she called out.

“It’s me,” came Ginny’s reply. “My father said that you are to come to his study immediately.”

“What for?” she asked.

“I know not why,” Ginny replied. She paused before continuing. “Though I would think you would know better than I.”

Her curiosity roused, Hermione quickly twisted her hair into a bun. She was not perfectly presentable, but she decided speed was of the essence as Ginny had made it sound important. She trotted downstairs and turned into the corridor that housed Mr. Weasley’s study. She knocked on the door, only entering after Mr. Weasley said, “Come in.”

Hermione was shocked to see Harry Potter sitting across from Mr. Weasley.

“Hermione,” Mr. Weasley began. “Lord Potter here has just told me that he asked for your hand in marriage last night . . . and that you accepted. Is this true?”

“I . . .” Hermione stammered. She had not expected to face this today. She had thought Lord Potter would already be on his way back to France to tell Ron how well the prank had went. “I thought it was just a—” she began. But then she caught sight of his eyes. He looked yearningly at her, his eyes full of desperation and hope. She knew then that it had been no joke. She knew then that he had meant it when he had asked for her hand, and that he was intending to go through with the marriage, for whatever reasons he had. She also knew that part of him expected her to rebut him, though it would almost kill him to hear her say no after her acceptance of last night.

And she would not do that to him.

She swallowed. “I thought it was just a dream,” she said meekly.

Once again, that brilliant smile – that could make the sun seem dark – appeared on his face. “I am sorry. I can see why since I was not prepared.” He rose from his seat and walked over to her. “Seeing as I did not have this with me last night.” He gently took her left hand in his and slid on a ring.

“It is lovely,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

“Not as lovely as you,” he said, kissing her cheek.

“If you both wish to get married, then you have my approval,” Mr. Weasley said, standing up. “As you know, Hermione’s parents have authorized me to function as her guardian in the Wizarding world. Still I must write to them to let them know of the good news.” He smiled kindly at the young couple in the room. “So if you will excuse me, I will leave you alone so I can write that letter.” With that, he left, leaving Hermione alone with her fiancé.

“Three months is a very long time,” Lord Potter said.

“It is,” Hermione agreed. Half of her was still in shock that he would want to marry her, while the other half was trying to figure out why he would want to do so.

“I could get a dispensation if you like. . .”

“Yes, that would be good,” Hermione replied automatically.

“So when . . .?”

“When?” Hermione repeated dumbly, before realizing he was asking when they should hold their wedding. She blushed furiously at the thought of actually getting married and all that it entailed. “I . . . suppose that a month would be a good compromise,” she said, still embarrassed at her train of thought. “That would be enough time to arrange everything, I think. But oh! I must tell Mrs. Weasley so we can start!”

“A month it is then,” he said. “I shall post the announcement right away.” He paused, as if considering his next words. “May I see you again tonight?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Hermione replied hurriedly. “Though . . . I do not know what our plans are.”

“Would you mind seeing a play? I have my own box, you see, and so we could go see A Winter’s Tale tonight,” he explained. “Would you like that?”

“Yes, very much,” she said.

“Excellent,” he said. There was another one of those pauses then, when they were both silent as if they were not sure of what they should do in such a situation. The silence was almost unbearable, when Lord Potter suddenly leaned in and kissed her.

Hermione kissed him back, her mouth eagerly opening to his questing tongue, her arms coming up around to embrace him as he reached down to hold her. She had never felt anything like this . . . so warm, so needy, and yet so loved. She did not want to kiss to end, and he was the one to pull away.

“That is enough for now,” he said, smiling once more. “Otherwise, a month will seem too long.” He set her down, leading her to wonder just when had he lifted her up. “I will see you tonight,” he promised. Bowing, he took his leave of her.

Ginny was waiting to pounce on her once she exited the study.

“I am very vexed with you!” she exclaimed. “How could you not tell me that you got engaged last night? Am I not your best friend?”

“You are, you are,” Hermione reassured her. “I was a tad confused last night, that is all.”

“That does not explain why you did not tell me this morning. You could have told me about your engagement when I came to get you earlier.”

“I . . . do we have to have this conversation here?” Hermione asked. “In the hallway?”

“Why not? ’Tis perfectly safe from any eavesdroppers,” Ginny replied.

“It matters not. You will not get another word out of me until I am safely ensconced in my room,” Hermione insisted.

“Be that way then,” Ginny said. She lunged for Hermione’s arm and started to drag her upstairs. “If you are going to be like that, then we will bloody well go to your room!”

“Ginny! Your language!” Hermione exclaimed.

“And here I thought I would not hear another word from you until we were in your room,” Ginny remarked sardonically.

“You’re just lucky.”

“I would say that you are the lucky one,” said Ginny. Reaching Hermione’s room, she pulled open the door and shoved her friend in. “After all, you are the one who is engaged. And not to just anyone, but to Harry Potter! You never told me there was anything between you!”

“There wasn’t!”

“Oh, there must have been, considering how he headed straight towards you last night.” Ginny sat on Hermione’s bed, eager to continue questioning her best friend. “He did not dance with anyone else, you know, and he left the ball after he had finished speaking to you on that balcony. Was that when he proposed? Or did that happen at Hogwarts?”

“How could he have proposed at Hogwarts? You were almost always there whenever he and I spoke. And if not you or your brother, then somebody else,” Hermione reminded her.

“But there is that rumor . . . of a secret door connecting the rooms of the Head Boy and the Head Girl ’Tis said that is why sometimes Head Girls have married their respective Head Boys, right after they’ve finished with Hogwarts,” Ginny replied. She choked on her laughter. “And usually, none too soon, as their first child is born only a few months after the wedding.”

“Ginny!” Hermione gasped, shocked at what Ginny had implied. She decided it would be best to ignore that part of her friend’s conversation, and speak to the less embarrassing portion. “There is no such passage, I tell you. Or at least, if there is one, I never learned of it,” Hermione said. “And may I remind you that it has been almost two years since I attended Hogwarts?”

“I hadn’t forgotten about that. I thought perhaps you two had a secret engagement, and that you wrote to him to say that it was now or never, and that was why he had come to London so abruptly.”

“Ginny,” Hermione said slowly, “I think you have been putting too much thought into this.”

“I would say that it is the opposite, as I never imagined this would happen at all,” Ginny replied. She clasped her hands together excitedly. “And here I thought you were so opposed to even the idea of marriage! Yet, here you are, only a . . . when are you getting married?”

“In a month.”

“You two cannot wait, I see,” Ginny said. “This is so romantic.”

“You are being uncharacteristically silly right now,” Hermione said harshly.

“Only you, Hermione Granger, could be completely detached by your impending nuptials,” Ginny complained.

“I am not! If you must know, I am dreadfully concerned about why . . .”

“Don’t start a sentence like that and not finish it! You are worried about what?”

“About why he bothered to ask me,” Hermione confessed. “Especially when he could have any witch he wanted.”

“Have you considered the possibility that he asked you because he wants to marry you?” Ginny suggested, lying down on Hermione’s bed and propping up her chin with her hands.

“No, that possibility never crossed my mind. The only reason I can come up with is that this is a cruel joke, fashioned by your brother and any day now, I will be made to look a fool,” Hermione said.

“No, it cannot be a joke,” Ginny said. “First off, my brother would not do that. Not if he knows what is good for him. Besides, Harry is not that type of a person. He has always been kinder to me than some of my own brothers. He would not do that to you.”

“If not that, then why?” Hermione all but wailed.

“For such a bright witch, you can be a dunce at times. I would say that he asked you because he loves you.”

“Impossible,” Hermione scoffed. “I barely know him. He barely knows me. We never had any time to fall in love with each other.”

“If you think you need time to fall in love with a person, Hermione, you . . . well, you should rethink that,” Ginny said, shaking her head sadly. “All it takes is one perfect moment for you to realize that you have found the one for you.”

“It sounds as if you speak from experience,” Hermione noted.

“I don’t. I have not fallen in love yet . . . my fancies have always been passing. But when Mother has told me stories about how she first met my father . . . about how she knew then and there that he was the one . . . and so I know it must be true,” Ginny finished, sighing whimsically. “And so I think that is what must have happened between you two, and that is why he asked you, and you said yes.”

“I never said I loved him, “ Hermione objected.

“Then why did you say yes?”

“Last night . . . because I was not expecting it. As for this morning . . .” She paused to consider her answer. “I do not know why. I . . . I did not want to say no and—”

“And she says she’s not in love,” Ginny muttered under her breath. “Perhaps you should consider why you acted more thoroughly, instead of only pondering the reasons behind his actions,” she said aloud. “When will you two meet again?”

“Tonight,” Hermione answered. “He has offered to take us to see A Winter’s Tale, and I accepted.” She paused. “I hope we did not have any other plans?” she asked timidly.

“No, we did not. Not tonight or tomorrow night,” Ginny said. “If he made you forget that . . . ”

“He did not make me forget that,” Hermione said, with a toss of her head. “It was all the circumstances surrounding this morning’s events.”

“If you say so,” Ginny said. “But if you ask me . . . the lady doth protest too much, I fear.”

“That is from the wrong play,” Hermione sniffed. “I did tell you we are seeing A Winter’s Tale, did I not?”

“You did,” Ginny said. “And enough of this. I can see that you have made up your mind to be stubborn. It will become clear to you in time. In the meantime, let’s decide what you will wear this evening!” She eagerly leapt from the bed and made her way to Hermione’s closet. Pulling out a gown, she said, “I think that this deep blue would suit you perfectly tonight.”

Hermione sighed as she gazed at the gown her friend was holding out for her to consider. It was going to be a long day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That evening, not only did they attend the play by using Lord Potter’s box, they used his carriage to get to the theatre as well. His carriage had arrived merely minutes before their own Muggle carriage was to be called to transport them there. There was a brief spatter of apologies, as Hermione realized that she had forgotten to discuss whose carriage would be used to take them to the theatre, but before too long, they all agreed to use Lord Potter’s.

Settling deeper into the cushions, Hermione wished once again that she had been able to convince her father that it would be worth it to spring for a Wizarding carriage, as opposed to a Muggle one. Of course, wizards had no need of their own brand of carriages, as any wizard worth his wand could Apparate to his destination. However, doing so would allow no chance to show off one’s wealth and status in society, and therefore, was looked down upon. More practically, one would be hard press to explain to any potential Muggle onlooker how one happened to arrive. Hence, Wizarding carriages were born, and they were far better equipped than their mundane counterparts. They were far more expensive as well. That factor, combined with the dismal pound to galleon exchange rate, had led to Hermione’s father vetoing any possibility of buying a Wizarding carriage for her season. That lack was soon felt by Hermione and the Weasleys, as the Muggle carriage they had was oft too crowded for a comfortable ride.

That was not the case with Lord Potter’s carriage. Though outwardly, it appeared to be only slightly larger than their own, once inside, there was plenty of room for everyone to sit down and stretch their legs. On either side of the seats, there were small panels, which when opened, revealed refreshments for the ride. In the background, one could faintly hear the sound of violins. All in all, every provision was made for a most comfortable ride. Hermione would indeed have been at ease if not for one thing.

She was sitting next to her fiancé.

This in and of itself would not have been so bad. Hermione had become accustomed to spending time with Lord Potter during her years at Hogwarts, especially during that last year, when they shared many duties. However, what she could not stand were the looks she kept receiving from the Weasleys, as if they expected to witness the two of them exchange longing looks and whispered words of love.

If Hermione had any talent at poetry, she would have composed a sonnet on the spot to her emerald-eyed love just to satisfy them. Maybe then they would stop this nonsense of staring but pretending not to. However, she had no talent for the craft, and she would not subject anyone to her attempts to rhyme. They would have to settle for Lord Potter holding her hand instead.

He held her hand all the way through the ride. Once they arrived, he let it go, only to offer his arm to escort her into the theatre. Much to Hermione’s surprise, it was a Muggle theatre, rather than a Wizarding one, given the fact that Lord Potter had a private box there. Hermione was not about to complain though. She had no wish to deal with Wizarding society at the moment, as she knew she would have to field all sorts of questions bordering on rude once the news of their engagement broke. Of course, the announcement would not be printed until tomorrow’s Daily Prophet, but Hermione thought that anyone with the slightest amount of brains would be able to figure out that she was engaged to him by the ring currently occupying the fourth finger of her left hand.

Lord Potter led them to his private box, and they all took their seats, with Hermione taking the central seat in front and her fiancé to her right. The curtains soon rose after their arrival, and she was entranced by the play. She assumed the play had a similar effect on her companions, as no one spoke a word while the actors were on stage.

All too soon, intermission came. Ginny herded her family out of the box, saying something about wanting to see how Muggle society interacted. Hermione had no doubt that was true for Mr. Weasley, but she wondered about the rest of them.

“Are you enjoying the play?” Lord Potter asked her quietly, after the Weasleys had left.

“Oh yes, very much so,” she replied. “It is my parents’ favorite play.”

“Is that so?” he said. “Then I take it that you are named for it?”

“Yes. Mama did not want to burden me with an ordinary name, such as she had. Papa . . . well, he said that he did not believe that it would be right for him to argue with his pregnant wife over the name of the babe she bore,” Hermione explained matter-of-factly.

“Your father must love your mother very much.”

“He does,” she agreed.

“My mother loved the theatre,” Lord Potter said. “That was why I have this box. My father arranged for it, once he learned of her penchant for seeing plays.” He paused. “And it’s been kept up, in our name, even though they have long since stopped attending.”

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, wondering what would be the right thing to say. “I am sorry for bringing up such unpleasant memories,” she said.

“But you have not,” he replied. “You did not bring up any memories, and the ones I spoke of are not unpleasant at all. It is comforting to know that my parents were truly in love with each other. And ’tis comforting to know that your home has been full of love . . . I would not wish for anyone to be an orphan, much less you.”

“I would say the same, except I fear my wishes would be in vain,” she said softly.

“Do not worry about me. I am used to it,” he told her.

“It would be easier for me to stop breathing than to stop worrying,” she said. “If I have caused you any sorrow this evening, please forgive me.”

“Hermione,” he said, “any sorrow that I may have felt from our conversation is far eclipsed by the joy I feel in the knowledge that you have agreed to be my wife.”

Thankfully, their conversation was interrupted there by the return of the Weasleys, as Hermione was too flustered to have come up with a reply. After the lights had darkened again, he reached out to take her hand. Hermione supposed that it had become second nature to him to reach for her like that, as they had been holding hands for much of the time they spent together since last evening.

She gasped as she felt him tug at her glove, pulling it off. He intertwined his fingers with hers, and she could feel how very warm he was.

Sighing in pleasure, she smiled. This was the first time that she felt completely at ease this evening.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was no rest awaiting Hermione once she and her party arrived back home. Though she had been able to make her escape from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, she was cornered by Ginny, who had invaded her room for yet another time.

“I believe your room is across the hall,” she greeted her best friend archly.

“Fortunate coincidence, is it not?” her friend replied. “That way I do not have to disturb too many people when I make my way back to my room after you and I have finished talking.”

“Then ’tis an even more fortunate coincidence that we have already finished, is it not?” Hermione said.

“Nay, you shan’t get away that easily,” said Ginny. “I have eyes you know. Which work perfectly. I saw how comfortable the two of you were this evening.”

“I fear I have no idea what you are speaking about,” said Hermione.

“You held hands all the way through the second half,” Ginny accused. “And it was not just that! You let him take off your glove!”

Hermione blushed. It had seemed so natural to hold hands with him like that at the time, but now she was beginning to regret it. “I was not about to draw attention to myself by protesting his actions loudly in the theatre,” she said.

Ginny laughed at her objections. “Hermione, I doubt you would have protested if the two of you were alone. Please, do give me some credit and do not deny that you were happy to hold hands like that,” she said.

If anything, Hermione blushed even harder this time. “It was not unpleasant,” she admitted.

“Which properly translated means you liked it very much indeed,” Ginny said. “Hermione, there is no need for you to lie to me or to yourself. Why do you not admit that you are overjoyed that you are marrying the man? You look so happy whenever you stop thinking about it.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Hermione questioned.

“What I mean is that when you stop thinking about what you should do next, or what he is thinking, or why is he doing what he is doing . . . when you are with him and not thinking, you look so happy. Everyone commented on it. We were all whispering about the two of you, not that either of you ever took notice. Too happy in being together was the consensus that we reached,” Ginny said.

“I did have a pleasant time this evening, and I shan’t lie about that,” Hermione said. “But I know where you are going with this thread of logic, and I tell you it is not true. I am not in love with him, and he is certainly not in love with me.”

“I always knew love was blind, but I never knew it was this blind!” Ginny sadly shook her head. “Alas, I have tried to get you to see what is so plainly obvious to everyone else . . . but I am afraid this time you will be the last to know.”

“You are being terribly annoying right now,” Hermione told her.

“Undoubtedly,” Ginny replied. “But there will come a day, when I will gleefully repeat this conversation, and you will be trying to hide behind your husband, embarrassed at how stupid you were.”

“You have gone beyond annoying and have cross over the line to being ridiculous,” Hermione retorted.

“Fine, fine. I shan’t mention it again . . . for today, that is. On one condition,” she said.

“And what condition is that?” Hermione asked suspiciously.

“That you tell me how he proposed to you,” Ginny said. “Honestly! Any other witch would have already been gushing about what he said and how it was so romantic. Only you, Hermione Granger, could go a full day without telling a soul how you came to be engaged last night.”

“How do you know that I have not told anyone?” she asked. “I could have told your father this morning when he called me into his study.” Ginny made no reply to that comment, alerting Hermione’s suspicions. “Don’t tell me that you were—”

“Do not worry, I shan’t tell you how I and all my brothers were eavesdropping in on that conversation.”

“Ginny!”

“What? Bill saw Harry Potter come in, asking for Father, and then I was sent to get you. We knew something was up, and we had to know what it was. Besides, we ended the spell once Father left the two of you alone,” she said.

“Something tells me that was because your mother found you eavesdropping in our conversation,” Hermione replied.

“Yes, that was a factor in our deciding to stop,” Ginny admitted. “But we would have any way.”

Hermione merely looked at her disbelievingly.

“All right, we probably would have . . . well, we would have stopped eventually,” Ginny mumbled, rubbing her hands together anxiously.

“The next time I speak with Lord Potter, I shall have to warn him how we need to use charms to ward against eavesdroppers in this house,” Hermione remarked.

“You know, it is really quite charming how you still refuse to use his name. You have a bad case of denial,” Ginny said.

“Is it not time for you to go back to your own room?” Hermione suggested.

“Not at all. You have not told me how he proposed yet,” Ginny replied with a roguish grin.

“There is not much to tell about that,” said Hermione. “I needed some fresh air, and he offered to escort me to the balcony. While we were there, he asked if I would give him my hand in marriage.”

“Sometimes, I wonder what happened to your sense of romance,” Ginny said, pouting.

“That is what happened,” Hermione said.

“Oh, of that I have no doubt, but you could be a bit more forthcoming with the details.”

“It was a lovely evening.”

“That was not what I meant,” Ginny retorted.

“ He said it was not as lovely as I . . . no, that’s not right. He said that about the ring.”

“He did? Oh! I knew we should have recast that spell once Mother had left!”

“Ginny!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Ginny said. “Please accept my apologies for having eavesdropped on you earlier.”

“It would be easier to accept them if I knew it would not happen again,” Hermione remarked.

“It would be easier not to do it again if you would agree to tell me everything that happens between you two. For example, what did you speak of this evening?” Ginny asked.

“Is there no end to your curiosity?” Hermione asked, a tinge of exasperation coloring her voice.

“If I find one, you will be the first to know,” Ginny replied.

“You are impossible,” Hermione informed her.

“It runs in the family,” said Ginny. “Please, Hermione, tell me! I want to know!”

“Why?”

“Because . . . well, if I can’t have my own romance, at least I can experience what it must be like by hearing about yours.”

“Ginny . . . I am sure that one day—”

“I know, I know. One day, the same will happen to me,” Ginny said, sighing. “I doubt it. If I am lucky, I will marry, but I do not expect love. Why set myself up to be disappointed? So please, Hermione, have some mercy and tell me what you two spoke of!”

Hermione nodded slowly. “It was what you might expect. He asked if I liked the play, and I told him that I did.”

“That could not be the entire extent of your conversation,” said Ginny.

“No,” Hermione said. “I told him that it was my mother’s favorite play, that I was named for it . . . and he spoke a bit about his parents . . .”

“Oh,” Ginny said. “He must feel at ease with you. Ron says he hardly ever mentions his parents of his own accord.”

“I suppose,” Hermione said. “There wasn’t much said after that.”

“Hermione!” Ginny protested.

“It is true. You soon returned afterwards,” Hermione said.

Ginny groaned aloud. “I will never get a word for word report out of you, will I?” she asked to the ceiling.

“No, probably not,” Hermione said. “And now, it is time for bed.”

“But we have not finished talking!” Ginny protested.

“Yes, we have,” said Hermione. “I want to get my sleep.”

“Fine, fine. I realize you need to look good for him. When will we see him again?”

“I believe he said that he will call on us tomorrow afternoon.”

“Splendid. But be warned, Hermione! This time, even Mother will not be able to put an end to the eavesdropping charm that we all will use.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“If we have too many more days like these,” Hermione said, “I swear I shall go mad!” She reclined back into her seat.

“Do not say that,” Ginny said. “Then even more people would come to stare at the mad bride of Harry Potter.”

It was several days after the engagement announcement had appeared in the Prophet, and the town house that Hermione and the Weasleys were staying in was still being flooded, every day, by curious visitors who came to gawk at Hermione. Many of them were merely inquisitive, coming for a cup of tea, some biscuits, and the chance that the wizard himself might drop in to have a word with his fiancée. That had happened, on occasion, and Hermione always wound up feeling sorry for Lord Potter, as he looked most uncomfortable being the center of attention and getting asked many a prying question.

Then there was the other type – the jealous type. That type came to look and stare and make snide remarks about how Hermione had managed to land herself the catch of the season. It was easy to tell when a visitor was of this type, for as Ginny had noted previously, they always asked the same thing first: to see the engagement ring. Hermione had commented that it was as if that type had to see tangible proof that she was engaged to Lord Potter, and that it did her heart good to see their faces fall at the sight of the ring. Many of these witches tried to cover their disappointment, by making cutting remarks as to how small the ring was. Hermione, who thought that the engagement ring was elegant and tasteful – and when pressed by Ginny one evening, had admitted that if she had a choice, she would have chosen one like it – would merely smile and inform them that it was a family heirloom.

It was getting hard to smile at those witches after four days of the same thing, day in and day out. Fortunately, the vast majority of the jealous girls would shut up there and resort to sending icy glares at Hermione whenever they thought she was not looking. There were some exceptions, however, such as Miss Brocklehurst yesterday afternoon. Lord Potter had joined them, after the obligatory ring viewing, and it was amusing to see her turn on the charm and flutter at Lord Potter as he entered the room. Miss Brocklehurst then proceeded to monopolize his attention, ignoring his polite attempts to end their conversation.

That was when she had rudely remarked how easy it was to break an engagement if one was so inclined.

Hermione had seen red and bit her tongue, trying not to respond. Ginny had later confessed to coming close to seeing if Miss Brocklehurst’s appearance would be improved by the addition of a pair of black eyes, while Mrs. Weasley had said that it was all she could do not to bring attention to the fact that the silly bint evidently had no breeding.

Lord Potter had trumped them all by asking how Miss Brocklehurst had come about having such knowledge.

That had effectively shut Miss Brocklehurst up, and she could not leave fast enough afterwards.

The strangest of all visits, however, had come earlier today. Miss Chang had dropped in with her mother. Hermione had expected Miss Chang to ask to see the engagement ring, but she had not. Instead, Mrs. Chang and Mrs. Weasley had led the conversation, with occasional inputs from Hermione and Ginny. Then, out of the blue, Miss Chang had said that she would wish Hermione well, but it would do no good.

It had gone downhill from there, with Miss Chang making increasingly bitter remarks about Lord Potter. Mrs. Weasley had wound up leaving the room, professing a headache, but both Hermione and Ginny knew the truth was she was having trouble being polite. Hermione could see why. Mrs. Chang had the grace to look embarrassed, as she tried repeatedly to put a halt to her daughter’s tirade, but the same could not be said for Miss Chang. If Miss Chang was always such a harridan, it was no wonder that her romance with Lord Potter had not lasted. She had managed to drive out the rest of their visitors for the day, before finally taking her leave, telling Hermione that she hoped one day Hermione would find happiness though she doubted it would be soon.

The sighs of relief at the sight of her leaving the room had been audible.

“On that subject, do you think Miss Chang is mad? She is obviously holding quite a grudge there,” Hermione said.

“Mad . . . depends on what definition of the word that you are using. She is definitely mad at him, but I don’t think she has cross the border between sane and insane yet.” Ginny paused. “If she had stayed here for another minute, however, I think I would have hexed her across that line.”

“Here, here,” Hermione agreed, lifting her cup of tea up in a mock-toast. “Pray tell, what did Lord Potter see in that witch? Or for that matter, what does any wizard see in that witch, as I know she is still madly sought after.”

“Determined to carry on the mad theme, I see,” Ginny said. “Oh well. I shan’t complain. As for attraction, you must admit that she is not only very beautiful but very exotic as well, compared to the typical English witch.”

“I happen to think that you are one of the loveliest girls of the year,” Hermione told her friend. “And you have the benefit of being entirely sane as well.”

“Thank you,” Ginny replied dryly. “I would return the compliment, but I am not sure how sane you are now after an afternoon full of visitors.”

“Hanging on to the shreds of my sanity by a thread, I assure you,” Hermione said, grinning. “I wish I had thought of the headache first! But I couldn’t very well use that as an excuse to escape after your mother had left!”

“I know! I am in perfect accord with that,” Ginny said. “It was very bad of Mother to abandon us like that.”

“Perhaps she thought we were safe as Miss Chang did not direct any invective towards myself,” Hermione suggested.

“Obviously, she did not consider our mental health,” Ginny said. “But at least that is over. I doubt Miss Chang will come back again any time soon.”

“I hope so,” Hermione said. “I really, really do.”

A small frown appeared on Ginny’s face. “Miss Chang did do me a small favor. She managed to drive Mrs. Longbottom away.”

“Mrs. Longbottom?” Hermione bit her lip as she tried to recall their visitors.

“Yes, you know, Neville Longbottom’s grandmother.”

“I do not recall her being here,” Hermione said.

“That is probably because you were dealing with your own visitors,” Ginny said.

“So she was here? How was she? And how is Mr. Longbottom?”

“Yes she was, she was in a meddling mood, and I am sure I do not care to know the last,” Ginny replied.

“Ginny!”

“What?”

“That is a horrible thing to say. Mr. Longbottom was one of the sweetest wizards in my year,” Hermione said.

“I know, and I do not mean anything against it . . .”

“I detect a ‘but’ in there.”

“I have this awful suspicion that Mrs. Longbottom was talking to me solely to determine my suitability as a bride,” Ginny said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at her friend. “And that suspicion is awful because . . . ?”

“Because I don’t want to marry Neville Longbottom!” she declared. “If he asks, I would have to refuse him.”

“And here I thought the whole point of a season was to get married,” Hermione said. “I would have thought that the idea of a proposal would be very palatable to you.”

“I don’t want to have a boring marriage! I’d rather be a spinster!”

“You must admit that Neville Longbottom is better than a wizard any of your brothers might bring home for you to meet.”

“Hermione! Have you gone mad? Neville Longbottom is exactly the type of wizard my brothers would bring home for me to meet! Because they figure that he is safe.”

“Let me guess,” Hermione said. “You don’t want safe.”

“No, not exactly . . . but I know I don’t want boring.”

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes I think I shall never understand you,” she admitted.

“Think on it, Hermione,” Ginny said. “Would you want to be married to him?”

Hermione considered that proposition. “No,” she said slowly. “Because I think I would be able to tell him how to live his life . . . and I might as I am a tad on the bossy side and he would listen . . . and he deserves better than that.”

“That is exactly what I mean. Boring! I do not want a wizard who will wait on me hand and feet.”

“That is news to me,” Hermione said.

“Well I do not,” Ginny repeated emphatically. “So for that much, I have to thank Miss Chang. While you hope that she will never darken our doorstep again, I hope the same of Mrs. Longbottom. Because I am not interested, and I would hate to turn Mr. Longbottom down.”

“Are you certain that you would turn him down if he asked?”

Ginny nodded. “I am. We would not suit each other at all. He needs someone a little less . . . someone quieter than me and someone more patient than me. It would be to neither of our benefits for me to agree.”

“Just as I thought. Deep down inside, you are truly a kind-hearted person.”

“You do know you’re embarrassing me.”

“Though one would not normally see that person given your penchant for eavesdropping and teasing your best friend.”

“But it is so fun to see you flustered, Hermione!”

“Thank you,” Hermione said. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that . . . compliment.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh well. At least, it will only be you and me for the rest of the afternoon, as ’tis too late for anyone to visit now.” She sighed. “Thank goodness for that small favor. I would go mad if anyone else dropped by.”

“In that case, I fear I must take my leave,” said a male voice from by the door. Both Hermione and Ginny were startled at the sound.

“Milord,” Hermione said, hastily rising and dropping a curtsey. “I did not hear you enter.”

“The same goes for me, I fear,” Ginny added.

“Your butler waved me in, saying he thought that I needed no announcement,” Lord Potter said.

“Um . . . if I might be so bold to ask, how long were you standing there?” Ginny asked.

“Not that long at all,” he assured her. “The first thing I heard was you teasing Hermione on how much fun it is to fluster her.” He grinned. “And I must say that I do agree with that sentiment.”

Hermione flushed. “That is exactly what I don’t need,” she complained. “Two people to tease me!” Both her friend and her fiancé laughed aloud at that.

“If that is the case, then I will take my leave,” Ginny said. “I am sure it is safe to leave the two of you alone.” She gathered her skirts and fled the room.

“That wasn’t necessary,” Hermione said, half to herself.

“No, it was not, but I appreciate it all the same,” Lord Potter said. He crossed the room and took the seat next to her.

“I suppose . . .” Hermione looked down, feeling self-conscious to be so close to him.

“And please forgive me for visiting so late. I merely did not want to—”

“It is of no consequence,” Hermione said. “And I know that you merely wanted to avoid all the other visitors. Frankly, if I could, I would as well.”

He laughed. “The secret to that, Hermione, is not being at home when they call.”

“Is that so? Perhaps I shall have to try that tomorrow.”

“Now you have me wishing that I never told you that. For how will I know where to find you then?”

Hermione grinned. “Especially as even I do not know where I will go, if I do wind up going anywhere tomorrow.”

He sighed. “I suppose there is only one thing for me to do.”

“And what is that, sir?”

Bringing his face down to meet hers, he kissed her. Hermione gasped, and he took advantage of it, snaking his tongue between her lips. She kissed him back, thoroughly absorbed by the way he smelled, by the way he tasted. He broke away from her, but this time, she fervently brought her lips to his mouth, not wanting the moment to end, truly enjoying the way her heart pounded in her chest . . . and how she could feel his heart match hers, beat for beat. His lips left hers, and he trailed soft kisses down the nape of her neck to her neckline. Then, before she knew what he was doing, he pulled down her dress, revealing her breasts and placed his mouth over her right nipple and kissed it.

Hermione moaned in pleasure, using her hands to draw him closer in. He paused to pull her on to his lap, before returning to her breasts. She could feel herself getting wet, as he sucked at her right breast while fondling the other. She could feel him, growing harder and harder beneath her, and that made her even wetter. She wanted him, and she did not give a damn to any consequence.

It was he who finally pulled away. “Enough,” he said. “Enough. And I can’t believe I agreed to a month’s engagement. The next three weeks will be hard to get through.”

“Yes,” she agreed breathlessly.

He softly cupped her cheek in his hand. “Does that mean you’re willing to elope?”

“Elope?” she repeated dumbly. His words were making no sense to her. What she wanted to know was why he had stopped kissing her.

“Yes, elope. As in get married tonight,” he explained.

“I . . .” she stammered, not knowing what to say. Throwing caution to the winds, she decided to stop speaking and do what she really wanted to do. She kissed him again.

When they came up for air, several minutes later, Lord Potter was grinning. “Does that mean yes?”

“Does what mean yes? And to what?”

He took a deep breath. “Did you just agree to elope? As I am having trouble believing that.”

“Elope?” Hermione said. Finally, her common sense caught up with her. “We can’t elope! What would everyone say?”

He sighed. “I thought that was the case. Oh well. We’d best separate before I lose . . .” He removed her from his lap, got up, and walked around the table to sit across from her.

“Why did you do that for?” she asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, my love, you did not. However . . . let me say that I am better able to restrain myself over here as opposed to right by you.”

“But what if I want you to sit by me?” she asked.

He laughed. “Love, once we are married, I promise you I will never leave your side. But for now, please understand . . . how hard it is for me to be by you right now . . .”

Hermione’s eyes widened, as she realized what they had been doing. “I . . . I . . .” she stuttered. “I can’t believe that we . . . that I—”

He smiled at her. “I can.”

“Somehow you always make me so reckless!”

“I seem to recall you telling me that before.”

“Yes, I did. But it was very reckless of us to go in to the Forbidden Forest by ourselves,” Hermione said referring to the time when she and Harry had led a group of prefects into the Forbidden Forest to search for a pair of lost first years.

“But Hermione, those first years were terrified when we found them. And we were Head Boy and Head Girl . . . and there were no professors to be found.”

“No reliable professors,” Hermione corrected him.

“Right, right. Trelawney is a lot of things, but she is not reliable.”

“No, she is not,” she agreed.

“Ron thought the same as well,” Lord Potter said.

“Ron?” Hermione repeated. Somehow she was reminded of something . . . and it was important. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “Ginny!”

“What about Ginny?” Lord Potter asked. “She left the room before we—”

“But we used no silencing charm! And she has such a penchant for eavesdropping.” Hermione searched frantically for her wand.

“Here, let me,” her fiancé said as he pulled out his. One gesture and a few words later, the charm was cast. “Next time, we will have to do that right away.”

“Yes, we will.” Hermione sighed. “Especially as it seems that we seem to be lacking in any sort of privacy.”

“I am sorry,” he said. “That is my fault. It is because of who I am.”

“Please do not think that I hold that against you,” she said. “And you should not apologize. It is not your fault. It is everyone else’s faults for being busybodies.”

“You are absolutely charming,” he said. “I hope you never change.”

Hermione did not know quite what to say to that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was inevitable that later that evening Ginny visited Hermione’s room. Hermione was expecting it, but not looking forward to it. Usually, she enjoyed their evening conversations, but at times, Ginny pressed her too hard to admit that she was in love with her fiancé. For she was not. She cared for him and thought that he was adorable and charming and kind and . . . lots of other things, but that did not mean that she loved him.

“Someone had fun earlier today,” Ginny said by way of greeting as she entered Hermione’ bedroom.

“And that must be you as you look like a cat who has broken into the cream,” Hermione said.

”No, no, that you be you. And Lord Potter. Or are you on a first name basis now?” Ginny observed Hermione’s blush. “I guess not. Surprising, considering that the two of you—”

“Nothing happened,” Hermione declared.

“It did not sound as if nothing was happening.”

“Ginny! Must you intrude so much on my private life?”

“I would give you some privacy if you told you were in love with him,” she said.

“I am desperately in love with Lord Potter,” Hermione said.

“I know,” Ginny replied. “But you don’t.” She pouted. “I do wonder when you will come to your senses. After all, a few more kisses and you would have agreed to elope with him!”

Hermione blushed. She seemed to be doing a lot of that today, and she cursed her propensity to color whenever she was the slightest bit embarrassed. “I . . . must admit it was pleasant being with him.”

“Why not be completely truthful?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that you love him, but you’re afraid that he doesn’t love you . . . or at least I think that’s why you are in such a state of denial, as if pretending that you are indifferent will help, though it’s plain that you are not indifferent.”

“I am not indifferent to him,” Hermione admitted. “It would be stupid for me to say that I do not care for him.”

“Then why do you try to act indifferently towards him?”

“Since when have I done so?”

Ginny paused. “Actually, you do not act indifferently when you are around him. But when you are not . . . you try so hard to seem as if you do not care how he feels.”

“Of course, I care how he feels,” Hermione said. “I would hate for him to dislike me, or to think that I am inadequate or that—”

“What if he told you that he was in love with another witch?” Ginny asked suddenly.

Hermione’s eyes widened as tears welled up in them. “He . . . he would not. That would make no sense . . . for then why would he ask me?” She brushed away the tears from her eyes. “So that is . . . that is . . .” She could not go on as a large lump had arisen in her throat.

“Completely ridiculous, and I am sorry I even suggested it,” Ginny said. “He does love you, and I wish you could see it. You have nothing to fear at all.” She received no response to her words, however, as Hermione continued to mop away at her tears. “Oh Hermione! I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I am not crying!” Hermione protested, even as her tears fell down her cheeks. “I only got something caught in my eye. I am not crying, and you did not upset me!”

Ginny could only watch in silence as her best friend denied both her tears and her love.