Chapter 5 - Dinner with the Grangers
A/N: Sorry, but pumpkin pie is not being served just yet (you know it's on the menu, though).
Disclaimer: These are not my characters, they belong to the extremely talented JKR, her publishers, Warner Bros, etc, etc.
Hermione didn't fail to recognize her location as saluting members of the Queen's Guard allowed access through the main gates of Buckingham Palace. From that point on she was in fairytale land.
Doormen rushed to open the door of their car and beefeaters sprung to attention as they walked up the Palace steps. Someone from the Palace staff introduced herself as Crookshank's hostess for the evening, and took him off for some feline pampering. A separate escort led them through the obscenely ornate main entrance and up the red-carpeted main staircase. Opulence was everywhere she looked.
"This is unreal," she told her parents.
"Well," said her father, "for a girl that has flown on a hippo-giraffe that is saying something, isn't it?"
Hermione giggled. "They're called hippogriffs, Daddy."
But even her parents took a moment to take in their surroundings. The room they'd been shown into had gold-trimmed walls and was furnished with eighteenth-century antique chaises and ottomans trimmed in gold. Two chandeliers, each at least ten feet long and ten feet wide, hung from a gold-trimmed recessed ceiling. The floors were carpeted in an antique Oriental rug large enough to cover the King's Cross meeting hall. And the artwork was stunning even if it was static; life-sized portraits of kings and queens throughout the ages, along with what Hermione recognized were works by Rembrandt, VerMeer, and Reubens.
Their escort left them with word that someone else would be with them shortly. Hermione walked into the room, expecting at any moment to have museum guards materialize and scold her for touching the furniture. There was a fire within a marble-tiled fireplace set against the far wall. Sitting on a gold high-back chair reading a book was someone who at first glance didn't appear out of place, given his formal attire.
It was the unruly mop of raven hair that shook her out of her every-girl-wants-to-be-a-princess mindset.
Hermione tore across the room with a shout and tackled Harry, who had stood to greet them. The force of her hug knocked him back down on the chair. Harry smiled; he'd been in worst places recently than lost in Hermione's hair.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said into his shoulder, "Where have you been? I was so worried about you when Tonks told us you weren't on the train."
Harry tilted his head sideways to get a partial view of Hermione's parents through her hair. With his arms wrapped around Hermione, he had to blow a sizeable chunk of her hair away from his face in order to clear his throat. "It's very nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," he said with a smile.
Hermione jerked her head off of Harry's shoulder and looked at him crossly.
"Oh….nice to see you too, Hermione," he said. The mock sincerity earned him a punch in the arm.
"Now Hermionikins," her father laughed, as he walked towards the pair. "How am I going to be able to shake his hand if you break the arm that's attached?"
"Shake it nice and hard, please," she replied. "And maybe squeeze some sense into him before he tries to take off again without his friends."
"How did you get here, Harry?" Mr. Granger asked as he shook Harry's hand. "Hermione told us you weren't on the train."
"I flew," Harry replied.
"Flew?" Hermione asked incredulously. "In broad daylight?"
"Yeah, it was brilliant," Harry said.
"On a broom?" Hermione asked.
"No, on a Gulfstream, silly."
Hermione frowned. "A jet? How did you arrange that?"
"Erm, a friend of Dumbledore's," Harry said. "All in all much more comfortable than the Firebolt…pleasant meal, comfy nap, and I didn't have to land every time I needed to use the loo. They even let me fly it for a bit."
"They did?" asked Mrs. Granger.
"Yeah, well, once we were in the air and cruising. Funny, the pilot told me that I was a natural at flying."
"Imagine that," said Mr. Granger with a laugh.
Harry laughed as well. "I wasn't too sure at first. Couldn't even think about magic, or else I'd have probably fried all of the electronics. But they let me dive, and move the rudders, and they explained all of the instruments for me…Mr. Weasley would have thought he had died and gone to muggle Heaven."
"Harry," said Hermione, "this is just too weird. Mom and Dad all dressed up with a car that takes us to Buckingham Palace, only to find you here in black tie after using an airplane to get home from Hogwarts? Will somebody please tell me what's going on?"
"You'll see," said Harry with a grin.
"Now that's just what we keep telling her, but will she listen?" asked Mr. Granger.
The French doors opened at the end of the room and a well-dress man approached them.
"Oh, Brian," said Harry. "I'd like you to meet my friend Hermione Granger and her parents."
He turned and grinned at Hermione. "Yes," he teased wordlessly, "I'm on a first name basis with the Palace staff as well."
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione's mother said, "but we've already met Mr. Willox."
It was her parent's turn to get Hermione's evil eye treatment.
"Good evening, Miss Granger, and welcome." the man said to Hermione. "Your mother thought that after your travel you might want to freshen up a bit, and perhaps - well, she gave us a few things this morning in case you might like to change..."
Hermione tried to articulate something but couldn't manage anything more than an open-mouthed "Huh?"
"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry. "just go with the flow…they did the same for me."
Hermione's mother grabbed her hand and led her out of the room. "Listen to your friend, dear, and flow with me towards the Palace powder room."
Harry and Mr. Granger spent a moment walking around the room examining the artwork. Harry felt more than a little awkward being alone with Hermione's father.
It was Mr. Granger that broke the ice.
"So how long have you known?" he asked.
"Erm, I don't really know what I know, sir." Harry replied. "For all of the teasing I was giving your daughter, I don't really have an idea what's going to happen much past dinner. How long have you known?"
"We got the invitation about two weeks ago, and Brian visited this morning with some more details," Mr. Granger replied.
"Two weeks?" Harry asked.
"Yes, does that mean anything to you?"
Harry paused for a moment. "Only that this visit was likely arranged by Dumbledore before he…" Harry couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.
"Oh, Harry," Mr. Granger said, "I'm so sorry for your loss. Hermione's told us how close you were to your Headmaster."
"Thank you," Harry replied softly.
"Harry…there's so much I'd like to ask you, but now is certainly…"
"No, that's alright, sir," Harry said. "As much as Hermione's done for me, as much as she's risked…you've risked….well, it's the least I can do."
"Thank you, Harry," Mr. Granger replied. "I hope you don't think I'm trying to go behind Hermione's back, but she's told us that owl mail can't be trusted anymore, and she's no doubt afraid we'd refuse to let her return to Hogwarts if she tells us too much."
"I understand, sir. She's very lucky to have two parents that care so much for her."
Mr. Granger thought for a moment. "We were told that Dumbledore died during an attack on the castle by the Death Eaters…is it true that he was murdered by one of your instructors?"
"Yes," said Harry, "Our former potions instructor, Snape. Dumbledore trusted him, even though he used to be a Death Eater. He'd been acting as a double agent- spying for us as he was pretending to spy for Voldemort….only he wasn't pretending."
"Was Hermione involved…in the fighting….was he there?"
"Not really," Harry said. "She was guarding a part of the castle away from the fight…stunned by Snape before she knew that he'd turned…and as far as we know, Voldemort wasn't directly involved."
"No, I'm sorry, I meant the one that tried to…well, the one that attacked Hermione."
Harry winced as he realized that Mr. Granger was asking about the previous years' attack at the Department of Mysteries - the night Sirius died and Hermione was almost killed by one of Voldemort's Death Eaters.
"Dolohov wasn't there," were the only words that Harry could push past his tongue.
"Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean too, well I guess I should have expected that and you should be proud tonight rather than despondent."
"I don't feel very proud right now, sir."
"Well you should, you know," Mr. Granger replied. "Hermione's proud of you, and we're proud of the way that you've shouldered what life's thrown at the both of you…"
"It's not fair that she has that burden. I….I was marked for this mission as a baby…it's a destiny I can't shake. But she doesn't have to…"
"Oh yes, Harry, she does. Hermione has made that quite clear to her mother and myself. Frankly, from all that I've learned about your world she's always going to be safer by your side… if you hadn't rescued her she'd have been a troll's Halloween snack, right?"
"Well that was Ron who clubbed the troll on the head…"
"Only after a very brave eleven year-old boy jumped on his back and stuffed his wand up his nose,
right?"
"Yes, but…"
"Enough with the 'yes-buts,' Harry," Mr. Granger replied. "Hermione's told us Voldemort
would kill all of the muggle-born witches and wizards if he could…was she right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then Hermione would be at risk even if she did nothing."
Harry thought about what Mr. Granger said.
"The girls will be back soon…let me just say that I hope that we get to see a lot of you this summer. And I hope that if there's any way that Emily and I can help that you'll let us. Fair enough?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you again, sir."
They returned to their artwork inspections as Harry thought about what Hermione's father had said. It wasn't as if Hermione hadn't told him that she was proud of him before, but what did it mean for her to tell that to her parents?
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Harry's jaw dropped when Hermione returned to the room with her mother.
Mr. Granger whistled softly. "Emily, where did my little girl go, and who is this Velo on your arm?"
"They're called Veelas, daddy," Hermione, said as she walked up and kissed him on the cheek. "But thank you, anyway."
It was déjà vu all over again for Harry…they were the same dress robes that she had worn at the Yule Ball. Except they couldn't be the same…that was two years ago, Harry thought, and she's grown taller since then, and…and filled out in ways school robes don't show...
Hermione bore in on Harry's reaction.
"So you remember?"
"How could I ever forget," Harry replied. All of the discomfort built up during his talk with her father melted away at his feet, and was replaced by a warm glow in his core and a lightness in his head.
"Erm…Mr. and Mrs. Granger, may I steal your daughter away for a minute?" Harry asked.
"You've had her for the past nine months and still need more time?" Mr. Granger asked with a smile. "Okay, you got a minute…just know that I'll be looking at the most beautiful witch of her generation the whole time."
"Oh Daddy, stop," Hermione said, as Harry led her to a different part of the room.
"How did your mother, I mean, they shouldn't have fit you, I mean…not that you're bigger now, well you are…but in a nice way, but…."
Hermione put one hand on her hip, raised an eyebrow at Harry and smiled as he desperately tried to talk himself out of his mess. She finally came to his rescue.
"They're the same robes, Harry…mom sent them to Madam Malkin's last week hoping to find the same style in a different size, but they only needed a resizing spell."
"Of, course," Harry said. "I'm sorry, Hermione - I guess it's hard…hard to talk when your breath's been… erm, speaking as a friend…of course…did I ever tell you that night that you looked beautiful?"
"You didn't have to," Hermione said sweetly. "Your eyes said it for you, just as they are now…as a friend of course. And thanks, Harry."
"I'm just worried that Krum's going to pop out of the fireplace and spirit you away…"
"Or that Ginny would show up?" Hermione asked.
Harry frowned, and Hermione kicked herself. She had only been trying to play along, and let Harry know that he looked handsome in his evening wear as well, but Merlin! How stupid and insensitive could she be?
"Or Ron?" Harry asked. "Maybe he should be here meeting your parents instead of me?"
Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Harry, I was stupid to say that."
"No," said Harry, "you weren't, especially now that you and Ron…"
"…you and Ron what, Harry?"
"Well, just that…"
Hermione grabbed both of Harry's hands. "Harry, you and I need to sit down and have a long chat about things. But not now…Mom and Dad are looking at us, and there's some flow we have to go with, right?"
"Yeah, guess you're right."
Hermione surprised Harry by kissing him on his cheek. "If whoever set this up had wanted Ron here tonight he'd have been here. But he's not, and that's fine, because there's no boy I'd rather my parents get to know more than you."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Now let's head back over there and let Dad dote on me some more."
Hermione grabbed Harry's hand as they walked back to her parents, who were trying (but failing) to act as if they wouldn't have paid anything for a pair of extendable ears.
+++++++++++
When dinner was announced they were led into a small but lavishly appointed room with a dinner table set for four. Atop the table were the finest crystal, china and silverware that any of them had ever seen. The meal that was subsequently served on this dinnerware was equal in sumptuousness, with main courses of roast pheasant, braised lamb chops and poached salmon.
Harry told them about his day in between the fork selection lessons that Hermione discretely provided. Not really knowing how much Hermione had told her parents about Hogwarts and the Second War, he spoke in general terms. He did say that had arrived at the Palace about an hour before they had met. Hermione talked about the train trip, and updated Harry about Ron, Bill and St. Mungo's.
Once they had finished eating, the staff silently poured them tea.
"I have to admit," Harry said with a chuckle, "that this was a far better meal with far better company than what I had a right to expect for tonight."
"No, Harry," Hermione replied, "you had every right to expect more than the horrible treatment you've been given all of these years."
"Speaking of horrible," Roger Granger said, "we didn't see the Dursleys at the platform this evening."
"Our hosts took care of them," replied Harry. "You'll see them in a bit, I imagine."
"They're here?" asked Hermione.
"Um, somewhere near here, I think," said Harry. "Brian asked me if I wanted them to join us for dinner, but I suggested that my Aunt and Uncle might prefer their own company."
"That's too bad," said Mrs. Granger. "Hermione's spoke of them…I would have liked to have seen if they really did sport cloven hooves and horns."
"Don't give your daughter any ideas," Harry replied with a laugh.
"Now, son," said Mr. Granger, "…erm, you don't mind if I call you that, do you?"
Hermione looked at her dad with saucer eyes. "Dad!"
"No, Mr. Granger, I don't." replied Harry, smiling at Hermione's embarrassment as much as to cover his own. "Although, it's a bit of a surprise given how little you know me."
"How little we know you?" asked Mrs. Granger. She chuckled. "Harry, some day you'll have to read the owl posts Hermione sent us during her first few years at Hogwarts. I've got them stored back home."
"Mom!" said Hermione, turning a shade of red that Harry thought complemented her periwinkle robes quite nicely. "You didn't! You can't!"
"Emily's right, young man" Hermione's father chimed in. "Took me three months into the first term before I realized that there were students at her school that weren't named Harry Potter."
"Uggh…" Hermione exclaimed with exasperation. "What's next…the photo albums?"
"Oh, no" Mr. Granger replied, "we've got those saved for when Harry comes to visit us."
Hermione scowled.
Mr. Granger continued with gleam in his eyes. "As I said before, Harry, I hope we have the opportunity to get to know you better this summer. Hermione's never had any Hogwarts friends visit her at home, and I'd love to get the real story about what she's been up to the past six years."
"Dad!" Hermione exclaimed.
Given the conversation pattern, Harry expected Hermione to follow up with some cut about her father's jokes scaring all of her friends away. But Hermione didn't; instead, she looked at Harry with some seriousness. He couldn't tell why, and before he had the opportunity to probe Brian entered the room to announce that it was time for the evening's entertainment.
As they left the table, Harry stepped back so as to give Hermione the chance to walk next to her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Granger, however, had different plans; they shooed him towards Hermione and let the two of them take the lead. Hermione leaned towards them and raised her eyebrows, giving her parents the universal teenager sign for "Mom, Dad, stop embarrassing me!" That didn't prevent her, though, from turning towards Harry and grabbing his arm with a sly smile.
"Harry Potter," she said, "if you aren't going to tell me where we're going or what's happening next, then I'm going to insist that you lend me an arm for comfort."
He laughed. "Hermione," he replied, "you know you never need a reason to ask for my arm."
Hermione looked into Harry's eyes as if to divine some meaning. This kept her from seeing the smiles on the faces of each of her parents, as they joined hands and gave each other knowing looks.