Hermione Granger wasn’t a woman that was easily impressed. She found most young men pretentious and tedious, just as they found her obnoxious and opinionated “ at least after she opened her mouth in more than polite conversation.
She had seen it many times in her life. A man watching her, courting her even “ until she showed him who she was, told him her opinions. They rarely were very interested after that, and if they were, there were usually talk of taming or controlling her “ like that horrible Mr Smith last year. Even her father would see the disaster such a union could create, and so those courtships, too, tended to be short-lived. Her parents had spent many hours worrying, even more trying to talk some sense into her “ telling her that while opinions were nice, they weren’t a luxury an unmarried woman in her early twenties could afford.
“You can have as many opinions as you want once you’ve found a husband, dear,” her mother told her. Hermione knew better. She knew that any man that couldn’t live with a woman that had her own views prior to their marriage, wouldn’t be able to live with her having views after they were married either. To Hermione the notion that such a marriage could in any way be a happy one, escaped her. Besides, as much as she tried to please her parents, she couldn’t help her tongue from slipping, from saying the things she thought before she even knew she thought them.
Still, she didn’t like to disappoint her parents like she had the other day, and she had certainly noticed the disappointment in them the moment they left the Weasleys’. She knew her parents had had great hope for finding a good husband for her “ just as she knew they had hoped that husband might just be a part of the Weasley family.
They had been disappointed when the oldest one moved south to marry some French woman she couldn’t remember the name of and when one of the middle ones “ Percy “ had married Miss Clearwater. It had been a perfect choice giving his aspiration in politics and the Clearwater family’s good connections in Washington, but a disappointment to Hermione’s parents, nevertheless.
By the time the twins left town, after too many affairs with too many loose women for their reputation to survive, not to mention an especially tenacious rumour about Mr Fred Weasley and the young black maid that lived with the two young men, her parents had pinned their hope to the youngest Mr Weasley, Ronald, or Ron, whom also was the one Weasley save for Ginny that Hermione actually felt close to. For several months when she was younger, she, herself, had actually nurtured a hope of a future marriage between them. Life, however, had wanted things to turn out differently, and Hermione hadn’t felt the slightest disappointment when Ron had asked Miss Abbott from the neighbouring street to marry him instead.
Her parents, however, had been very saddened, and it didn’t help their feeling of despair, that the only other young man that actually knew and appreciated Hermione for who she was “ the young, rich, and well-known Mr Potter “ around the same time asked Ginny to marry him. The fact that Hermione didn’t want to marry either young man, didn’t stop her parents from feeling highly disgruntled at the turn of events.
The arrival of the only available and suitable Weasley that was left, had given her parents new hope, and she was well aware that they had pinned high hopes on her behaviour for their introduction. She, however, had “ as always “ ended up speaking first and thinking later. She didn’t regret what she had said, but she did regret disappointing her parents. But then again, Mr Weasley hadn’t seemed at all thrown off by her behaviour when she saw him yesterday. Running the silver brush she was holding through her hair she frowned. She really couldn’t understand him at all.
The day before yesterday he had seemed the perfect gentleman, polite, charming “ boring. Yesterday he had been different somehow. Relaxed, joking, a hint of a smile playing in the corners of his lips even when he wasn’t actually smiling. He’d even gone as far as let her call him a coward without it seeming to bother him the slightest. He’d rather seemed amused. Also, Ginny seemed very fond of him, as a person as well as a brother. Still he lived in the south, and owned a cotton plantation “ and she’d never heard of anyone doing that without owning slaves. A smile and a joke would not make up for that.
Sighing, Hermione ran the brush through her hair again, without even noticing her hair becoming wilder instead of calmer with each stroke. Her like or dislike of Mr Weasley wouldn’t matter anyway, she decided quickly. He would go back to his life in the south in a matter of days, and surely there were more interesting women to meet when he was up here than her. Probably she wouldn’t even see him again. She wasn’t all that pretty and even if he against all odds found her opinionated mind an amusement, he would surely not be interesting in wasting his time on someone like her.
“Miss Hermione, your hair!”
Hermione blinked and looked up at the angry face of the black woman standing behind her, and then at her hair, by now brushed so wild it would take forever to tame.
“I’m sorry Sally,” she blurted quickly, blushing at her mistake.
“Oh, Miss Hermione, you are hopeless sometimes,” the black woman complained, grabbing the brush from her and taking a steady grip of her hair as she began sorting out the mess Hermione had made. “How in the lords good name am I ever to sort this out, My Lady?”
“Don’t call me that, Sally!” Hermione said sharply.
“Then what do you suppose I should call you, Miss Hermione?” Sally said impatiently. “Queen of Sheba, perhaps?”
“How about Hermione!” Hermione replied. “I call you Sally, after all,” she added when the woman behind her frowned.
“Miss Hermione, you know something like that just would not due. Now stop with that silliness and sit still so that I can get your hair in order.”
“Then I shall call you Mrs Thomas instead,” Hermione said plainly, folding her arms across her chest. Disgruntled, she saw Sally roll her eyes at her.
“Miss Hermione, could you please “ for your parents’ sake if not for mine “ stop with that nonsense for today at least? It’s very important to your mother that you’re on your best behaviour today, and your hair is grief enough for one day!”
“What’s so important about today,” Hermione asked, surprised at the older woman’s nervous tone. Sally was usually much calmer than this.
“You’re having a visit from Mr Weasley, didn’t your mother tell you?” Sally answered, biting her lower lip as she tried to restrain Hermione’s impossible hair.
“What?” Hermione said, jerking her head up in surprise, causing Sally to lose the grip on her hair. “Which Mr Weasley?” she quickly added, when Sally grabbed her head and painfully pushed it back in position.
“Mr Charles Weasley, and your mother made it perfectly clear that you need to look your best and you would do your parents’ a horrible injustice if you did not try to act like a“”
“They didn’t!” Hermione exclaimed, turning around completely on her chair making Sally yell out in frustration as she dropped her hair again. Hermione, however, ignored her. “I can’t believe my parents would do something like that! Are they that desperate to marry me off? That they would invite someone they hardly know, just to present me like some, some“”
“Miss Hermione! Do hold your parents in higher esteem than that, young lady!” Sally interrupted her angrily, as always stubbornly refusing to hear the slightest ill about her employers. “Your parents did not invite the young Mr Weasley here today. He sent a formal request asking for the permission to call on you today! If you do not appreciate the action I’m sure you can give your father your objections later, but you will behave like a lady!” she said, grabbing her shoulders and promptly turning her back around on the stool. Another painful jerk to her head and Hermione was back in her original position, staring at Sally through the mirror.
“He called on us?” she asked quietly, her mind racing as she tried to figure out why Mr Weasley would want to see them.
“No, he called on you, Miss Hermione! Apparently you did not manage to put him off the last time you met. A wonder I’d say, so please be on your best behaviour this afternoon,” Sally said.
Hermione looked at the woman behind her, glad the older woman wasn’t looking back or she would have seen the slight flush to Hermione’s face. Hermione knew yesterday’s meeting with Mr Weasley was unusual and hardly abided by the rules of proper behaviour for a young unmarried woman. So far Hermione hadn’t even told her mother about the lengthy conversation she’d had with Mr Weasley when she was over to visit Ginny. Yet she wondered what he wanted from her. She had thought that yesterday’s meeting was a coincidence; that he’d been bored and heard her and Ginny chat from the hallway. Now, with him calling on them “ her “ today, it seemed too much of a coincidence for it to actually be one.
But that left the question of what he wanted. Hermione frowned and bit her lip. She had been utterly herself the day before, and far more herself, than her parents had wished her to be, the day before that. And yet he called on her. Why? No man, save Harry or Ron, had ever thought her opinionated mind to be anything less than annoying, and not even Harry or Ron had ever called on her in this fashion. Only men that didn’t really knew her had ever done that. Besides, when you considered it, both Harry and Ron were engaged to women far less opinionated and hot-headed than herself. Well at least Ron was. She sometimes wondered if Harry really knew just how hot-headed Ginny could be when she wanted too. But then he was Ron’s best friend so he probably did.
“Miss Hermione, it’s time to put on your clothes.”
Hermione jerked her head as she heard Sally impatiently calling on her attention. Casting a quick glance in the mirror, she wondered how Sally had managed to get her hair in such order so quickly. With a smile she got up and let Sally slip the corset around her waist and start lacing it up. Frowning when she felt her breath being pushed out of her body, she groaned in protest, earning herself another reprimand from Sally. Rolling her eyes she wondered if it ever took men this long to get dressed and ready to be seen.
Still, she couldn’t help but to be pleased with the results. The crimson fabric of the dress Sally picked out, went well with her complexion, and Sally had “ amazingly enough “ once more managed to tame her hair into a hairstyle of controlled corkscrew curls that hung from the back of her head and left her face alone, unlike the usual unruly wild curls that Hermione knew would claim their victory before the evening was over.
Thanking Sally, Hermione took a breath as deep as her corset would allow her as she left the room and walked down to the drawing room where she knew her parents would be waiting. Her greeting to her parents were, however, stuck in her throat when she saw Mr Weasley already sitting in a chair chatting with her parents, his presence one she hadn’t expected for another hour at least, seeing how this was a far earlier hour than was the custom for such visits. Flushing slightly, and far too easily for her own comfort, Hermione watched him look at her for a moment that was just a tad too long for propriety, before he broke into a wide smile and rose to greet her.