Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches

Chapter 44: Hermione's Quest - Part 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text
Fate raised a warning finger at Harry. "Remember not to let house rivalries detract you from strategic necessity. There are Gryffindors it would do you well to bring to your side.

"...Granger."

— Chapter One

— DP & SW: NRiCaD —

[19th September 1992]

"Happy Birthday, Hermione!"

"Thank you."

"Congratulations on your thirteenth, Vassal Granger."

"Tim, that's not really a title that you give her."

"Sorry."

The Great hall was packed. It was lunchtime and people had been approaching Hermione all day.

"So, er, Miss Granger, will you accept this as my declaration of intent?"

Hermione took the package from the older Ravenclaw boy and examined it critically. She opened the box and looked inside. It was full of Ferrero Rocher.

"That's okay, isn't it?" the boy asked nervously. "My grandmother is a muggleborn, and she said you might feel more comfortable with this sort of thing than something more traditional."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, thank you very much, mister...?"

"Oh! Fairbanks, Timothy Fairbanks."

"Then yes, Mister Fairbanks, I accept your gift."

Timothy bowed and hustled off.

Hermione turned back around in her seat and added Fairbanks' gift to the pile. Intention gifts with extremely muggle origins had been a running theme so far.

On Hermione's right, serving herself a portion of green peas and mashed potato, Daphne smiled. "That's fourteen so far."

Hermione's smile faulted. "Yes."

"That's more than many girls get all day."

"I know."

"It makes sense though. Many families who wouldn't bother going after the daughter of a noble house seem to be more comfortable encouraging their sons to go after you. Even if their muggle gifts are borderline insulting."

"I'm okay with them."

Daphne gave her friend a sideways glance. "And yet, you do not seem to be bursting with joy."

Hermione hesitated.

Daphne smirked. "Maybe you are waiting for one gift in particular?"

Hermione said nothing. Instead, she stared at the tangerine bowl and remembered an exchange she'd overheard over a week ago.

Harry had been talking on the sofa in his trunk while she, Hermione, had been reading a book in a corner. She'd been mostly ignoring Harry's conversation with his guest until he said something that reached straight through her occlumency shields and activated the part of her mind labelled, 'utter dread.'

"Tracey, I can't marry everyone."

Tracey was sitting opposite Harry with her hands on her knees. She had her head down and was staring at the floor.

"There are lots of wizards out there," Harry continued. "And what I have committed myself to, is already... pushing the bounds of social respectability."