A Most Advantageous Match
Chapter 3: Dinner Guests
A/N: I hope this chapter answers a lot of your questions. Also, thanks to Bingblot for taking the time to beta this story for me.
The next morning a letter arrived over breakfast from Mr. Ronald Weasley, a good friend to Harry during their time at Hogwarts and, by association, to Hermione as well (although indeed a bit less to Hermione - she had always found him a bit crude, to be truthful, but because Harry, with his unfailing good judgment of character, respected him, Hermione did as well). As it happened, Mr. Weasley was currently in London with his sister, Miss Ginevra Weasley.
Miss Weasley was a charming and beautiful girl of sixteen years, but unfortunately for her, those were the only inducements a gentleman might have to marrying her. The Weasleys were a family of no rank and so little money that they were nearly impoverished. Their father was employed with the Ministry of Magic, but he lacked the social standing to obtain a position that would provide for his seven children - the youngest of which were the two mentioned above.
As a result of their situation, Ginny had long been in pursuit of an advantageous marriage, and had set her eyes on Harry the moment she'd learned of his wealth and his inclination to marry for love. Hermione wondered if she might have succeeded, had circumstances allowed her more time to use her womanly wiles on Harry.
"Where are they staying?" Hermione asked as Harry perused the letter.
"The Leaky Cauldron," Harry said. "They're stopping a few days on their journey home."
"You should invite them to dine with us," said Hermione.
"But it is our honeymoon. Should we not be languishing in each other's company for the time being?"
"On the contrary, I daresay you'll tire of me prematurely if you languish too much," Hermione remarked wryly, although she recognized a small part of her heart that asked for reassurance with such a comment.
"Nonsense," Harry replied. "I could never tire of your company. But I should like to see them before we go to Godric's Hollow. If you do not mind, I would like to extend an invitation."
"Of course I would not mind," she said, somewhat appeased.
~
The Weasleys accepted their invitation, and Harry and Hermione passed the rest of the day quietly in the library. Usually a voracious reader, Hermione found herself lacking focus this day, taking in little of the volume in her hands. Her thoughts were not on the book, but rather, the young man no more than five feet away that she'd married yesterday.
The entire event and following hours had been so quick and surreal that the reality of Hermione's new life had not struck her - until their wedding night, when her new husband had turned her away from his bed.
Hermione had not thought much about making love to her husband beyond the usual anxieties that attend every virginal bride - of not knowing how to behave, of having to bare one's body to a man for the first time, of the pain that might accompany the act. So consumed was Hermione by these concerns that it had never occurred to her that she and Harry might not undertake the act at all. Now she had to wonder why.
Harry had given his reasons, and they were quite difficult to contradict. Hermione had no doubt that he genuinely did not want to cause her pain, but she felt sure that was not the whole truth. After all, they would have to get it over with eventually - Harry'd as good as said so himself. Why, then, did they not go ahead and do it on their wedding night like every other married couple?
Perhaps Harry was postponing the inevitable not solely for her sake, but for his as well. Perhaps he dreaded it as much as she.
Or at least as much as she ought to have, as a proper young lady, but as much as she'd worried over the idea, she'd been…excited. That highly guarded act was the stuff of whispered conversations and subtle innuendo - how could a curious young woman like Hermione not wish to have that forbidden knowledge?
Nevertheless, the extent of her disappointment had been disproportional to her curiosity, and Hermione could no longer attempt to hide from herself the reasons for this. In the darkest recesses of her heart, Hermione had held on to the hope that she would find passion in her husband's bed, even if she and her husband admittedly did not love each other. To be truthful, she'd imagined that an act so intimate could lead to love. This could never happen, however, if her husband did not wish to touch her…if he did not find her at all attractive…if their relationship was forever restricted to the platonic realms of their minds and never allowed to touch the physical.
Therein lay Hermione's disappointment, and she could not have felt more ridiculous. As a woman who prided herself on her rationality and despised the over-emotional, histrionic behavior of many ladies, Hermione could not stand having such an irrelevant train of thought taking such firm hold of her mind. It did not matter, after all, if her husband did not find her attractive, for she did not find him attractive, either - did she?
Hermione glanced over the top of her book at Harry, who seemed as usual so infuriatingly calm in the face of her confusion. He did have a very striking countenance, with his startlingly green eyes and jet black hair. She supposed she did find him handsome, in his own way. His hair was never tame and he bore a jagged scar on his forehead from the attack that took his parents' lives, but he had a strong jaw and rather elegant features. In growing up with him, she'd hardly noticed. She'd first seen him as an underfed child swimming in the secondhand clothes of his cousin, but he'd long since grown into a man…a handsome, amiable man who could have easily swept her off her feet if he'd ever tried.
Yes, there was the rub, Hermione realized with a sigh. Harry had never once tried to win her. He hadn't wanted to, and it was possible that he'd never needed to, either.
~
Eventually Harry and Hermione went their separate ways from the library to dress for company, and shortly after, a house-elf entered the drawing room, where they waited, to announce the Weasleys' arrival.
Harry and Hermione stood as they entered, Ronald with his usual bow that always came out looking rather whimsical to Hermione, and Miss Weasley with a graceful curtsy. Hermione immediately realized that the two did not share the same purpose in visiting - Ronald looked as he always had at school, resigned if not satisfied with the shabby clothing that was the bane of his existence. His idea of the visit was a friendly call. Miss Weasley, on the other hand, looked to Hermione rather like a peacock in search of a mate, even if that metaphor was for the wrong gender. Although her garb was, too, a little shabby, it was clear to Hermione - if not to the men - that she had made every effort to be as noticeable as possible.
Hermione bristled inwardly as she outwardly exchanged the usual pleasantries. What was the girl thinking, dressing in such a manner to visit a married couple? She would find no eligible bachelors here - which suggested she meant to steal a husband instead.
Did she mean to become Harry's mistress? Even through her insecurities, Hermione knew Harry would never dare consider an annulment or - even more unthinkably - a divorce…but could he be tempted to take a mistress? And what an insult, for Miss Weasley to presume Harry to be in want of a woman other than his wife the day after his wedding! Did Miss Weasley really believe Hermione as unappealing as that?
In an angry haze, Hermione went with the others into the dining room, where she seated herself across from her husband, and where Miss Weasley seated herself beside him.
Harry, in the usual habit of males, was completely insensible of the battle being waged over him, as was Mr. Weasley, who was generally oblivious to all but food, sport, and fine bosoms.
The first course was served quickly, and before everyone had so much as the opportunity to pick up his or her silverware, Miss Weasley took control of the conversation.
"I hope, Mr. Potter, that you aren't finding married life too dull. I mean no insult, of course, but I can't imagine there being much room for conversation with a wife who lives with her nose in a book."
Hermione bristled at this comment, but was determined not to show her discomfort. With such apparent disdain on Miss Weasley's part, it was hard to remember a time when they had been close to friendship. Indeed, there'd been great talk of affection and sisterhood - until Miss Weasley had come to understand that Hermione could not be persuaded to humor the odd fancy Mr. Weasley had taken to her at the time (which had long since passed) or to give up her strong friendship with Harry. Their acquaintance had gradually decreased from intimacy to civility to cold formality, and had upon Hermione's marriage to Harry turned to open hostility.
"Quite the contrary," Harry replied coolly. "Mrs. Potter's reading provides her with such a wealth of information on such a variety of subjects that we never want for conversation. I'm glad to have such a wife. So many young ladies these days seem to have nothing but gossip and ball gowns in their heads."
Hermione alone could be capable of perceiving the true anger that lay beneath Harry's composed response, and this knowledge was deeply gratifying to her. Although she cared little about Miss Weasley's opinion of her suitability as a wife, Harry's respect and esteem were essential to her, and that Harry showed no signs of agreeing with Miss Weasley or favoring her in any way was deeply reassuring.
"I know exactly what you mean," Mr. Weasley contributed. "Why, I wouldn't mind having Mrs. Potter as a wife at all if I didn't hate libraries so much."
"I'll be generous to your character and assume you meant to make a compliment," Hermione said archly.
"Oh, you know me well enough to know I meant no insult," he said. "I was only trying to say that your intelligence and knowledge are very amiable qualities to have in a wife."
Before Hermione could respond, Miss Weasley attempted to turn the conversation in her favor once more.
"If intelligence is such a superb quality in a wife, why is it that you young men do not chase after Ravenclaws instead of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs you're always flirting with?"
Harry smiled thinly. "We may act irrationally, but let me assure you, most men do not want silly wives."
Miss Weasley quickly changed the subject after that remark.
~
Harry and Hermione wearily mounted the stairs after bidding the Weasleys goodnight.
"What on earth was the matter with Miss Weasley this evening?" Harry asked. "I thought you had been friends."
Hermione pursed her lips. "I suppose I had been convenient to her at one time, before she realized I wouldn't help her, but never friends, not really."
Harry frowned. "Help her with what?"
"Getting you, of course."
"Me?" Harry said with some alarm. "What can you mean?"
"She meant to have your hand - and your fortune, I'm sure - in marriage. Don't tell me you never noticed her behavior around you - every girl in Hogwarts knew what she was after."
"I had no notion of it. Are all young ladies so conniving?"
"Of course not," Hermione said with a small smile. "Some just have…different priorities…and some are more desperate than others."
"So Miss Weasley is angry with you for marrying me. Seems a little petty if it was my fortune she was after. There are plenty of rich men to marry."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, Harry, really, how many rich men do you know that would have a woman with no fortune and no connections?"
"That is a good point. But Miss Weasley will have to withstand her disappointment. I've found my wife."
At this point, they had reached Hermione's bedchamber door, and Harry turned to her with a smile. "Goodnight."
And then he surprised her very much indeed by doing something he had never done before. He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
With befuddled thoughts, Hermione watched him walk away, and she would have given anything to know what was in his head in that moment.