Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’ve heard she’s working at MI6,” Prudence said. 

“I heard MI5,” said Bonnie. 

“Our Hermione?” Rory laughed at the two women over her glass of wine. “She never seemed the type—always had her head stuck in a book, I recall.”

“It’s been far too long,” Prudence frowned. “I think she was a young teen, last I remember—had just started at that private school Helen and Richard are so tight-lipped about.”

“Oh, I remember,” Bonnie said. “I’d ordinarily think they were hiding some sort of scandal, but Hermione seemed the last kind of child to be that sort.”

“You really think she was in some posh school in Scotland?” asked Marcus, sliding into the conversation with another glass for his wife. Prudence took it gratefully. 

“She must have been,” she said. “Noah mentioned what a bookworm she was this morning, that’s all he remembers from primary school. It’s not like she’s the type to be into drugs or anything like that. And Helen is so cagey about her job, it seems important.”

“Didn’t she go to Cambridge?” Rory frowned.

Prudence leaned in, blue eyes shining. “To me, it sounds like she didn’t go to university at all— jumped right into some fancy job.”

“Sounds like excuses,” Marcus chuckled. “I’d reckon she’s probably still living at home, and they’re ashamed. All they did was prattle on about how she was a prodigal child. They made it sound like she’d be the PM someday.”

“Don’t be cruel,” Prudence complained, lightly pushing his shoulder. “Besides, we’ll see today.”

The four of them were in the Granger’s large foyer. This house was different from the one they’d spent the past decades attending celebrations in. The couple had bought a new one after selling the old when they’d packed up on an impromptu midlife crisis move to Australia. It had been an irrational decision from a usually reasonable couple, but they’d been getting stranger and stranger after their daughter had all but disappeared to that boarding school they refused to name. 

Still, they were good company, and a reputed type in the London dentistry scene. Their practice was well known, and the room was filled with many alumni from dental school, where Richard and Helen had met and topped the class. Their one daughter, a precocious child with a Shakespearean name, had been a hallmark of their yearly Christmas celebration until all of a sudden she had stopped attending. 

They were certain she was alive, since the house was filled with pictures of her as an older teen and young adult, and occasionally her friends, children who looked just a touch strange. Perhaps what was strange was only that Hermione had friends—she’d been known to be a loner in grade school. 

Helen and Richard were rather avoidant when discussing their daughter, only saying that she did well and preferred to spend the holidays with her friends from school. They’d never seemed the most affectionate type, so it was odd but not entirely out of character for them to not insist their only child be home for the holidays. 

Helen had, however, mentioned at a brunch earlier in November that Hermione would be attending this year’s celebration. “She’s just moved back to London for work, with her fiance,” she’d said, “and she’s trying to settle back into the culture.”

Of course, it had been the talk of their crowd since. They were intelligent ladies, but after twenty-five years of gathering to discuss teeth and children, something new was bound to create a buzz around them. 

Hermione Granger was one thing— the idea of Hermione Granger with a fiance at twenty-two was startling. That was so young— almost all of them had been in school then! It was practically unheard of for someone of their ilk to not send their child to university; rather, conversation often revolved around if so-and-so’s child had gotten into Oxford or not, or what other education they were pursuing. 

“I’m interested in the fiance, myself,” Rory piped up, not-so-transparently eagerly swiping her eyes over the room to see if their person of interest had entered yet. “That could be an explanation for it— falling in with the wrong crowd. Love changes people.”

“It’s so good to see you,” Helen herself interrupted them, accompanied by Richard, and Bonnie’s husband. “How’s Noah enjoying his final year?”

Prudence partook in the idle chatter about her son’s aspirations to be a doctor—really, he wanted to be a Formula car driver or some nonsense, but she never took that seriously—as Marcus and Richard confirmed that the canapes were, in fact, delicious. After some back-and-forth, she could no longer help herself. “Is Hermione coming?” she asked. “I’d wanted her to meet Noah again, I don’t think they’ve seen each other in the past decade.”

“Well—” Richard started, turning to face her, but was interrupted as the door opened. In walked a single man with white-blond hair in a grey suit. “Excuse me,” he said and left. 

Helen gazed after him, a crease in her pale brow. “What a good question,” she said to Prudence after a moment. “They certainly should talk.”

“Is Hermione doing her dentistry degree? I recall she wanted to follow in your footsteps.”

“Oh, no,” Helen smiled in the evidently painful manner that Prudence had expected, and perhaps—secretly—coveted. “Hermione hasn’t attended university, she went straight to work.”

“And where does she work?” Prudence pushed, staring at Richard speak to the blond man in the corner of her eye. He looked rather young—perhaps a new protege? They were speaking in rushed, hushed tones. 

“The government,” Helen shrugged apologetically. “I can’t say more, I’m sure you understand. Did you try the red?” she gestured to Prudence’s empty wineglass. 

“I always thought Hermione would have tried to study literature or politics,” Prudence commented. She tapped her fingers against the edge of her glass and ignored Helen’s obvious diversion. “Is she single? Perhaps she and Noah would hit it off, they always got along in school.”

Noah thought Hermione was a dreadful bore with hair he’d once described as “like an old mop”, but Prudence knew what she wanted. 

“Unfortunately, she’s engaged,” Helen said through gritted teeth. She was always such an ice queen, with a star practice and good husband, and Prudence would be remiss to claim she didn’t enjoy seeing her suffer, just a bit, explaining that her supposed genius daughter was uneducated and likely engaged to some dud. 

“So young,” Prudence simpered.

“He’s fantastic, actually,” Helen said. “They met in school. Very well-behaved boy. He’s right over with Richard, I’ll go see what’s held Hermione up.” 

The small woman made her way to where Richard was speaking to the blond man, and Prudence was confused. She turned back to Bonnie and Rory. “That’s Hermione's fiance?” she gaped.

“He looks posh!” Rory said. “And he’s handsome!”

“Are you sure?” Bonnie said. “He—and pardon me— doesn’t seem the type.”

He was tall, and held himself with a delicate aristocratic grace. His suit was clearly tailored, his skin was pale and jaw sharp. He had his hand on Richard’s shoulder as they talked, obviously familiar, a large silver ring visible on his finger. 

“Helen said they met in school,” Prudence said, eyes blinking owlishly. The three of them couldn’t keep their eyes off the strange man. 

“Must have been one of those secret private schools where the rich go,” said Bonnie. “He looks rich.”

“I hardly believe it,” Rory sniffed. “Our Hermione Granger! What would she have to attract a rich man?”

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Just because you’re both in a shit marriage doesn’t mean everyone has to be. Love, as you mentioned. Perhaps they’re just school sweethearts who wanted to get married early.”

Before Prudence or Rory could reply, the door on the side of the room across from them opened with a loud crash against the wall. The twenty-or-so people in the foyer all craned their eyes to see what had caused the interruption, including the three of them. 

Out, of course, walked Hermione Granger, in a long, dark blue coat and soot striped across her forehead. She looked frazzled and not unlike she had as a child— her hair frizzy and uncontrollable, freckled and wide-eyed. She was a pretty girl, Prudence had always thought, but she could do with some more effort to her appearance. The baggy coat and dusty sheen wasn’t doing her any favors.  

The room quieted when she walked in, eyes searching, and they all watched in an awe-like silence as the blond man sprinted from Richard’s side to grab her waist and thrust her back through the door. 

Richard laughed awkwardly as it slammed behind them, and a few others gracefully joined him. It took thirty seconds of uncomfortable rumbling before the door opened again, loud and sharp like an opened bottle of champagne. 

Hermione and the blond man walked in again, arm in arm. Her hair was pulled into a half-bun, mahogany curls down her front, and she was free of soot, a slash of lipstick on her mouth. Rather than the robes she was wearing a long, dark red dress and poised elegantly, exactly the opposite impression she’d given barely a minute prior. It was shocking she’d managed to get ready so fast. 

Everyone was paused, looking in their direction. Finally, Helen turned to the woman at her side and made a loud remark about how nice it was to have Hermione home, obviously meant for the whole room, and everyone burst into titters. 

“They do look good together,” Bonnie said. “A study in opposites.”

“She looks so different,” Rory said. 

“How on earth did she get ready so fast?” Prudence said rhetorically. The other two women shrugged. Hermione and her fiance spoke to her father, and the young woman made a face before moving away to begin to make rounds of the room with the man at her side. The look was familiar —she remembered having Hermione over for a night as a child, the frown when she’d been forced to abandon the book she was entranced with to slumber. 

The three of them made idle smile talk, awaiting her to come say hi to them in the corner. They were taking their time, and Prudence was almost giddy in anticipation. Perhaps Hermione was working at MI6—she certainly had the brains for it— or perhaps she was now a housewife, if she’d trapped a clearly wealthy man, and the career-minded Grangers were upset their only daughter lacked real ambition— or perhaps this was all a show, and she was a drug addict—she’d certainly looked like one when she’d first appeared. 

When she did grace them with her presence, Prudence noticed she looked tired—a shadow under her eyes, hidden by a failing layer of concealer. The man by her side looked at them curiously, his grip strong on her waist. 

“Mrs. Webster, Mrs. Hall, Dr. Wright,” she greeted them. “It’s been so long!”

“Oh, it’s so lovely to see you, Hermione,” Prudence smiled. “And I assume this is the fiance!”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “This is Draco.”

“Dray-co?” Rory tested. “What an unusual name…”

His regal features twisted, and a smirk grew at his lips. He didn’t look rude, exactly, but just a bit cold—like there was a hidden callousness at the corner of his mouth. It was very aristocratic, and Prudence, who had grown up the daughter of a mailman and crawled her way to fancy brunches and balls, knew enough about it to be wary. 

“Yes, it’s a bit odd,” he said, and then his cruel mouth twisted into a genuine smile. It seemed out of character for the idea of him Prudence had generated in her mind. “My parents are an old-fashioned sort, you see, a bit eccentric. It’s a family tradition to be named after constellations.”

“How beautiful,” Bonnie commented. “Hermione, it’s been so long! I remember you as a child, you were such an adorable little bookworm.”

“Nothing has changed,” Dray— Draco said, smiling adoringly down at her. “She’s always been top of the class.”

“My son and Hermione went to primary school together,” Prudence told him. “I’d wanted you to meet Noah,” she said to Hermione, “I’d thought you two might hit it off now!”

Her hair certainly no longer looked like an old mop, and she had grown up quite pretty—she was tan and had long lashes, large eyes. Noah might not have been so upset at a set-up if he met this Hermione. 

“Oh, yes, how’s he doing?” Hermione said, a tight smile on her face. Prudence explained how well he was doing at university, and Rory and Bonnie followed by updating her on the going-ons of their progeny. Hermione ooh-ed and aah-ed where she was required to, and otherwise seemed half-in the conversation. 

After the requisite conversation was done, she made a move to exit, but Prudence couldn’t let her go without learning more.

“You two met in school, I recall Helen mentioning that. Childhood sweethearts?”

Hermione burst out laughing, and Draco stood at her side with a sheepish look on his face. “Not exactly,” he hedged. 

“He was awful to me as a child,” she said, a brightness back in her eyes. 

“She always beat me out for first in our year,” he said in explanation.

“He was a bully,” Hermione snorted. 

“I just wanted to get your attention,” Draco insisted. 

The women cooed. “Oh, how sweet!”

Draco put his arm over Hermione’s shoulder and gazed at her lovingly, and she leaned into him and smiled at them. “He had some mistakes to make before he found his way to me.”

“I did,” and Prudence’s curiosity piqued even more. “No, we started dating after the—after school. We met at work,” he said.

“Oh yes,” Prudence said. “You two are awfully young to work. Shouldn’t you be in university?” she asked plainly. 

“Our school was essentially an early college program,” Hermione explained. “For people who go into government, so you understand why we can’t explain.”

“You’re both in the government?” Bonnie asked. “What is that you do?”

“We can’t—” they both started. 

Prudence interrupted, “Surely you can give us a hint. Perhaps some organization that starts with an M…” 

Hermione turned red, but her fiance seemed confused, too confused. Perhaps they didn’t know what the other did?

“I can’t confirm or deny,” she said, reaching up to whisper in Draco’s ear. The din of the room covered the sound, though the women rapaciously tried to listen in. 

“I’m in government finances. Hermione has a much more interesting job than me, but I’m afraid she can’t let you know the details. But of course, she’s our little genius. Some call her the brightest witch of our age.”

“Witch!” Bonnie exclaimed. 

“Oh,” Hermione blushed again, “It’s the house I was in in school, just an inside joke— Draco sometimes forgets his audience. It was great to see you three, please wish Noah and Emma and Lola well,” she said and then swept away from them, her grip hard on Draco’s arm as he looked slightly chastened. 

“Well, what do you make of that!” Rory exclaimed as they watched the couple speak in the corner, Hermione’s short stature learning up to Draco’s ear. 

“I’m more confused than ever,” Bonnie laughed. “I do think it’s MI6, though, not MI5—it seems serious.”

“You think they’re really operatives?”

“Something certainly is odd,” Bonnie said, “but they seem sharp, just strange. A bit like the Grangers, to be honest.”

“Perhaps it’s contagious,” said Prudence, thinking she should appreciate her family and their comfortable ordinariness just a bit more. “You know, I wonder if being that smart is more a curse than anything.”

“Maybe that’s why they call her a witch,” Rory chuckled. The two women continued to theorize on what, exactly, Hermione Granger was— a spy? Informant? Desk worker? While Prudence thought long and hard about Hermione as a child, and how strange she had also been then. But there was a gap in her thoughts around Hermione, like a void of feeling.

It was almost like a memory had been erased, and patched with the reminder that Hermione was an odd bookworm. But that couldn’t be it. The wine was likely going to her head. 

“I’ll head out,” she told her friends. Walking to her husband, she swore she saw a sheen around Hermione’s arm, a glitter over the skin. But then she blinked and it was gone, and the only thing Prudence Hall wanted to do was sleep.