Chapter Seven
The Comeback of Detached Relations
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Hope you like chapter seven, it's kind of unromantic, but still very important for the story! Harry Potter DVD out tomorrow in the States? Who's going to get it? I know I am. Enjoy.
"Hello, Hermione Granger."
"Hermione! Dear!"
My eyes widen, mouth falls open, fingers stop typing at the computer in front of me. I recognize that voice. I'd recognize that smoke-damaged voice anywhere. This voice that belongs to a woman, just a little over eighty years old, only 5"4' with a severe face and lifted eyes. This voice that goes hand-in-hand with the pressed dress-suits and the hair-sprayed bob of whitish-blonde hair. This voice floods my brain and I nearly have a nervous break down.
I clear my throat, finding my voice, "Grandmother?"
"How are you Hermione?"
"I'm fine, how are you?"
She makes a little exasperated noise, "I'm wonderful darling, a little disappointed I must say."
"Why is that?"
"Well, I've heard through the grapevine that you, my dear, are engaged!" she trills. "And why, pray tell, did you not tell me yourself?"
I feel as if I've been smacked in the face by a overall-clad hippo, that's how confused I feel.
I stare at my computer screen for several long seconds, my eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, frozen. Robbie looks over at me from his desk and gives me a quizzical look, but I'm so dumbfounded I can't even react to his gesture. He walks over to my desk and I put a hand to my lips.
Finally, I say, "Grandmother, we haven't spoken in years."
She scoffs, "And that's reason to isolate me from your life completely?" she pauses. "Honestly Hermione, I thought you were better than that."
"I'm sorry," I stammer. "I mean- I don't want to isolate you from my life.... I'm sorry I didn't call you, I should have."
Over the phone I can almost see her satisfied expression, "Well, I forgive you."
Robbie makes a face as if to ask me what is going on, I wave at him, signaling that I can't talk about it right now. He doesn't budge though, only stands in front of my desk making faces at me because I'm neglecting him. Normally I'd laugh at his insanity, but right now I'm too shocked to even feel humor.
I'm not sure what to say to my grandmother next, that is, until she speaks first, "Hermione, I'd love to have you over for tea this afternoon."
"But Grandmother, I don't think I can make it over to-"
"I'm in London for the month, I've been working on the Brown Ivy Committee."
As if I know what that is, "Oh."
Silence.
"Will you join me for tea this afternoon?"
I bite my lip hard and feel torn. I should feel obligated to tell this woman to shove off and hang up on her right now. I shouldn't feel guilty about it either. The woman who's neglected me as her granddaughter for nearly twelve years. Why should I have tea with her? Why should I have told her about my engagement either? She hasn't cared about my life, she hasn't worried about birthdays or holidays, she ignored me for benefits and balls in the English countryside. She's the one who missed out on my departure for Hogwarts because she was busy tra-la-la-ing in Paris.
If this is the case though, why do I feel as if I'm obligated to have tea with her?
As I scratch my forehead I wonder if Mum and Dad would be angry if I did go.
It's just tea though, it can't hurt anyone.
"Yes Grandmother, I'll go to your house for tea."
"Wonderful!" she replies. "I'll have my driver, Patrick, pick you up at four, all right?"
I nod to myself, "Okay."
"What's your address?"
I give it to her and, eventually, we hang up.
Robbie now sits on a filing cabinet as I fold my arms and hide my face from view in the crook of my elbows on the cool surface of my desk.
He asks, "What was that about?"
"Kill me."
"All right," he says. "Would you like to be pressed to death? or how about I dazzle you to death with my good looks?" he bats his eyelashes at me.
I look up at him, "Pressed to death? Where did that come from?"
"My theater group is doing The Crucible, I'm Proctor, the hottie adulterer!" he says, delighted with himself.
I say, completely stoic, "I'm so proud of you."
"So what'll it be?" he asks. "I think being dazzled to death would be easier, no mess."
"Oh it doesn't matter anyway! I'll be tortured to death by grandmother in about four hours anyway," I groan, hiding my face again.
Robbie is silent, and then he says, "Hmph. Psychotic granny?" he nods. "Sounds like it would make a good play."
"ROBBIE!"
He puts his hands up in defense, "All right, I'm sorry!" he taps me on the head. "Explain why psychotic granny wants to torture you to death."
I groan again, "You don't want to know."
"Of course I do!" he shoves me with his toe. "Spill."
And, of course, I do.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
My grandmother's car is a sleek black Mercedes with beige interior. I was actually expecting a limo, but I'm grateful it's not. Patrick, my grandmother's driver, is a young, good-looking man, with a toothy grin, chauffeur's uniform and matching hat. When he pulled up I instinctively slid into the back seat, remembering grandmother's rules from way back when.
The air-conditioner is keeping the car moderately cool and the radio is playing classical music, turned down low. I lean against the door and watch the scenery of the city pass me by. I clench my fists, feeling as if I'm eleven again. What have I gotten myself into?
The story of my grandmother's and my relationship is a complicated one. One I attempted to explain to Robbie in under five minutes.
Up until I was eleven, my grandmother had treated me perfectly fine. She would tell me to sit up straight or quiet down every once in awhile, but she also showered me with gifts and made sure my parents provided me with the best.
Grandmother was wealthy beyond my wildest dreams, just as my father would have been, had he taken on my late grandfather's business of owning law firms all across England. But, my Dad chose, instead, to be a dentist. Well, Grandmother and Grandfather weren't too pleased with that, so they cut him off from his inheritance money. He didn't care though, he wanted to be a dentist. And it was in school, studying for this field, that he met my Mum, and he married her, much to my grandmother's chagrin.
There's always been tension between my parents and my dad's parents, but she had always been involved with my life. She detested the fact that my parents weren't filthy rich, but she treated me just the same. I admired her, although she terrified me. She was always so well dressed and perfect, like a doll, and I wanted to make her happy. We were perfectly fine with one another. That is, until my Hogwarts letter came.
Finally, an explanation for all the strange things that would happen when I was angry or upset or scared. Discovering I was a witch felt right, it made sense. I wanted to tell the world, I longed to scream it at the top of my lungs, but at the same time, that seemed wrong and almost illegal. Little did I know, I was pretty spot on.
After visiting Diagon Alley and buying all my school supplies we told Grandmother I would be going to boarding school. This, of course, did not sit well with her.
"What boarding school?" she demanded. "What school?"
No one had responded to that.
Grandmother was beyond furious, "Do you think I need to be so isolated from your child that I shouldn't know she's being sent away, to some horrible school!?"
"Oh no, Grandmother," I had replied brightly. "This school is magical."
Not understanding my saying this literally, she demanded, "What school, John?"
Dad had suddenly looked tired, and he shook his head, "Mother, you wouldn't believe us if we told you."
She looked from my mother, to my father, to me, back and forth, waiting for an answer to be given.
"Hermione, maybe you better go upstairs-" my mother began, but was cut off.
"That's not necessary," Grandmother snapped. "John, explain to me what is going on."
Dad looked so miserable when he had finally told Grandmother the truth, but he did it anyway. He brought up all the strange things that could happen around me depending on my emotions, and for a brief moment I think Grandmother expected they were sending me away to a school for the mentally unstable, but she was soon proved wrong. He showed her the letter and told her it would be a great opportunity for me, that they refused to suppress my natural abilities, and that I would always continue my normal studies. For about an hour he babbled on, talking himself in circles. Mom looked as if she was worried for me, wringing her hands and fidgeting. I, on the other hand, smiled proudly, waiting for Grandmother to say how proud she was of me, waiting for her to ask me all I had learned so far about the magical world.
But that's not what she did.
"John Theodore Granger!" she had shrieked. "How dare you!"
I jumped, even more terrified of her.
"How dare you take me for some kind of fool!" she began to pace, shaking her head, trembling with rage. "Do you think I'm some kind of idiot?"
"Grandmother," I had squeaked. "It's true!"
She looked like she pitied me, "And you have your daughter in on it too?" she clicked her tongue. "I don't know what you're trying to pull over me, but this is disgraceful!"
She headed for the door, but before she left she turned around and eyed all three of us. I stood, frozen, terrified and wounded. I was so excited for my grandmother to ask me questions about magic, and for me to be able to show off all I had learned to her. Why hadn't she been as excited as my parents? Why hadn't she even believed me?
"Witches and wizards?" she had scoffed. "You, John Granger, are despicable! And as far as I'm concerned, none of you are my family any longer," and she had left.
On some level I think Grandmother knew we were telling the truth. I figure she just couldn't bring herself to believe it. Can I really blame her? If it hadn't happened to me I wouldn't believe someone telling me they were a witch. But we had all that proof, we're her family, I was only eleven, couldn't she have humored me? Did she really have to detach herself from me forever? I was only a little girl.
All of a sudden I feel regret and anger boiling inside me.
She didn't even try to contact me all those years. She could have called and said happy birthday, written a small card on Christmas? Nothing. And now she wants me to come see her now, when she finds out I'm engaged? Why now? Because I'm getting married? Why does she care about me now? Why not when I was thirteen? or seventeen? How come she skipped my whole childhood and wants to have tea now? When I don't even need her anymore?
What would she have done if I had told her to sod off? What would she have done if I had just hung up? Or what if I gave her a false address? Maybe I should have told Patrick the driver I was sick and couldn't go? For a moment I contemplate telling him to turn around and take me home, that I just can't do this. Or maybe he can just pull over and I'll walk. But, to my surprise, we've stopped in front of an elegant town house.
"We're here Miss Granger."
Great.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The second I walk into the entrance hall I'm attacked by several Pomeranians and pugs, all in assorted colors. The butler who let me in, a tall, stoic guy straight from Clue, ushers me through the hall and towards the winding staircase across from the door. Walking from point A to point B proves to be quite difficult, as the small, yipping dogs are trying to bite my ankles and I don't want to crush any of them. I try to shoo them away, sliding my feet across the floor as I go, but that proves to be pointless. Finally, the butler helps me.
"Away!" he shouts, and the dogs scatter.
I give him a grateful smile and follow him up the stairs.
The house is very beautiful and sophisticated. It's decorated, but not cluttered; bright, but not cozy. And it smells of Grandmother. I inhale the familiar mix of Chanel No. 5 and peppermint, with a trace of cigarette smoke. It makes me sick, bringing back all those memories of Grandmother, feeling like I had done something wrong to push her away. But I'm a grown woman now, and I know it wasn't my fault, it wasn't my fault at all. I can't help feeling nervous as I reach the top of the stairs though.
"Mipsy, down!"
My heart stops and I freeze, my feet planted to the ground. I feel my stomach dropping to my feet, and I'm surprised to find I can't swallow past the lump in my throat.
Grandmother is here, that was her voice.
I mentally slap myself.
No shit she's here, it's her house, she invited you over for tea, what'd you think you were going to chill with a hologram?
"Miss Granger?" the butler waits for me, standing outside of an open doorway. "Is something wrong?"
I swallow hard and shake my head, reaching his side. Looking into the doorway I see Grandmother shooing one of her pomeranians off the cream-colored couch. She looks the same, nothing has changed in ten years, not a thing. Her hair is pinned back and she's wearing a black turtleneck, with an Hermes scarf around her neck. This is paired with a tastefully tailored, red skirt and classic black stockings. Her lipstick is bright and caked on her lips, her eyes rimmed in mascara and eyeliner. She's also wearing chunky gold earrings I remember she wore to my tenth birthday.
Looking up, she smiles brightly and stands up, striding over to me. I resist the urge to flinch as she lightly embraces me, giving me a double cheek-to-cheek kiss.
"Hermione, my dear, you have grown into quite the beautiful young woman," she nods, satisfied.
I smile politely, "Thank you Grandmother."
She gestures toward the cream couch, "Come, sit with me."
I do as she says and we sit beside each other, a good few inches apart, and smile. After she commands the butler to serve the tea I'm enjoying a cup of the steaming hot liquid, feeling a little easier about the whole situation.
It's just tea.
"So Hermione, tell me what you've been doing for these past few years," she urges. "We have a lot of catching up to do."
What have I been doing? Well, let's see, I helped my best friend defeat the most evil wizard of all time. I nearly died a few times. I endured the single most brilliant man I've ever met dying. I went through a war. I watched the Ministry of Magic become corrupted and fall. I fell in love with my best friend. I ran away from him like an idiot. I tried to break up his previous engagement. I succeeded? I am now getting married to him.... And here you are Grandmother, I am now having tea with you.
I say, "Well, after I finished school I got a job as a social worker-"
"That's wonderful!"
She only thinks it's wonderful because it's not magic.
"And I'm now engaged to my best friend, Harry Potter."
She smiles, "Tell me about Harry!"
I clear my throat, "He's great- Really kind, intelligent-"
"And what do his parents do?" she asks, sipping her tea.
"Oh-uh- his parents actually died when he was a baby," I explain, not presenting the complete details. "He was raised by his aunt and uncle."
She frowns, "The poor boy."
I nod.
"And where did you meet him?"
I hesitate, "School."
She pauses.
"The school you left because of?" I offer.
Frowning, she looks down, nodding, "Hermione, I'm terribly sorry for that. Really, it was unfair of me."
I only nod as she looks up.
"I do want to make it up to you," she says.
I shrug, "It's fine Grandmother, really."
She hesitates, changing the subject, "Now, what does Harry do for a living?"
Oh God.
"Um- well, there's a profession in the magical world," I say softly. "It's called an auror, it's basically like a wizarding policeman or detective."
Except about a hundred times more intense- After all, these guys have wands to fight with.
She looks a little unimpressed, but she nods and continues smiling.
I'm about to ask her what she's been doing, but the butler comes in and says, "Excuse me Mrs. Granger, but Miss Colthart is here."
Grandmother stands up, excited, going over to the door, "Wonderful! Send her in!"
Who is Miss Colthart?
A tall, skinny woman with pin-straight black hair and large blue eyes walks into the room. She's wearing tasteful, black, straight-leg jeans, glossy red pumps, and a fitted, white button-up shirt. She's very pretty and very well put-together. In her hand is a gray portfolio and a beautiful designer handbag. She smiles at me and shakes Grandmother's hand.
"Hermione, this is Megan Colthart," she introduces us. "Megan, this is my granddaughter, Hermione."
Megan reaches over and shakes my hand and I smile, "Ah, the Bride-To-Be!" she says.
Excuse me?
How does this woman know I'm getting married?
I continue to smile, "It's nice to meet you."
"Hermione," Grandmother puts a hand on Megan's shoulder, "Megan is the finest wedding planner in London!"
I freeze.
What?
"Wedding planner?" I reiterate.
Grandmother nods excitedly.
I clear my throat, "Wow, that's great!"
Megan nods encouragingly.
I don't know what to say next, and before I know it I'm being swept up in ideas and photographs. Megan suggests a theme, Grandmother suggests a location. What is going on? I don't think I ever agreed to a wedding planner? I feel so dizzy and confused that I only sit back and smile, listening and nodding, making no promises on any suggestion.
"Maybe you'll like this-" Megan rifles through her folders. "It's a beautiful little church, right here in London-" she cuts herself off. "Now where is that photo." She searches for a moment, "I believe I left it in my car-" she stands up. "I'll only be a moment!"
And she leaves the room.
Grandmother begins to sip her tea again but I turn on her, "Grandmother, why would you get me a wedding planner?"
"Why not dear?"
I shake my head, "I don't want one!"
"It'll make everything so much easier though-"
"But I've already decided I don't want one! I want to do this myself!"
She smiles, "Megan can help you plan any wedding you'd like- And I'm paying for the whole thing."
"Grandmother I can't accept-"
"Of course you can! This is my way of making everything up to you!" she looks so happy, so sincere and excited that I don't have the heart to disagree with her. "Listen, darling, we'll just discuss some ideas with Megan now, and then you can go home and have a nice long talk with Harry about the wedding and the planning, okay?"
I guess that seems fair.
I nod, "Okay, but Grandmother, I can't promise I'll use this wedding planner."
She shrugs, "That's fine."
"Found it!" Megan calls, coming back into the room with a picture of a beautiful, grand church somewhere in London.
As I'm whisked away again by the wedding suggestions I mentally kick myself over and over.
Just tea?
Yeah right.
Author's Note: Hope that was nice and long for everyone! The drama will be unfolding shortly! Reviews are always appreciated! Thank you for reading!