Chapter Text
It was time for Hermione to become an adult.
Lord Ronald of the House of Weasley took her hand and placed a kiss on her cheek. The odor of sausage lingered on his clothing, churning her stomach more than it already was. Stain marks from verjuice dotted his robes. It wouldn’t hurt him to cast a teeth-cleaning spell as well. Still, the way he smiled, that boyish gleam in his eyes, and the fact that he gave Hermione attention no other man had given her were enough to forgive his faults.
Yes, she could see herself becoming an adult in Ronald's arms.
“Are you ready?” He held her hand tighter.
Hermione glanced at the hay scattered about the ground, ignoring the braying of horses behind her. A stable would not have been her ideal choice for a first kiss. As a child, she imagined her first kiss would take place at a ball surrounded by adoring well-wishers, all eager to celebrate her newfound love. Tonight’s ball would’ve been perfect for such an occasion. For reasons unknown to her, Ronald wanted to go into the stables for their kiss.
It was disappointing that Ronald did not want to spend time with her around his family and the other nobles of Gryffindor. His parents and brothers were always boisterous, hilarious, and entertaining. The other nobles of Gryffindor were quite enjoyable as well. Most of them told wondrous stories of their exploits in the Great Slytherin War and teased her with affection. Still, they all treated her like a little girl, often patting her on the head and telling her she would not understand the intricacies of their lives. Ronald was the first person to see her as a woman, even if the full implications of what that entailed were only now starting to sink in.
Taking a shaky breath, she leaned forward. With a gleam in his blue eyes, Ronald captured her lips.
A shudder ran down her spine, though she wasn’t sure it was from how slimy his lips were, the overpowering scent of sweat on hair, or the fear of being caught by Queen Minerva. Didn’t she deserve a romance, though? Didn’t she deserve a chance to live out her own life, just as the heroines of the pipers' melodies did? Didn’t she deserve a chance to grow up and no longer be the little girl everyone merely humored?
Before Hermione could think too deeply, Ronald pressed his lips against hers harder. Then, he began fiddling with the back of her dress.
She pulled away and gasped. “What are you doing?”
He smirked. “Claiming a kingdom for myself.”
She blinked.
“‘Mione, don’t you see? We’re perfect for each other.”
“B-but you haven’t so much as courted me. Should you not court me before," She cast her eyes downwards.
“Courting is for romance poems. This is how the royal court actually works." He kissed her cheek.
"But," her voice was soft, “I’ve always wanted to be courted.”
“And I’ve always wanted to be a firstborn and inherit my father's land. We don’t always get our way now though, do we?”
She bit her lip, the truth of his words sinking in.
“Don't be so upset, 'Mione, you could do much worse than me.” He tugged her dress tighter.
“I… I suppose I could.” She wasn't sure if her heart was racing in anticipation or terror.
“Exactly.” He jammed her against him and recaptured her lips, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Her dress began to slide off her shoulders.
“What on earth do you two think you’re doing?”
Hermione caught her breath before looking up. “Minerva, I, uh…"
“Out,” She hissed as she pointed her finger to the exit.
“Yes…” Hermione took a few steps forward.
“No, not you." Minerva glared at Ronald. “He must leave!"
"But..." Ronald whined.
"Depart from here before I allow Alfred to kick you in the head, as he’s wanted to do all evening.”
A few stalls down, a black horse let out an enthusiastic neigh, eager for the chance to show Ronald how little he enjoyed having his saddle put on wrong and being insulted during the joust.
Ronald gulped. “This isn’t…”
“Depart now before I throw you in the dungeon!”
Ronald scurried away, kicking hay and dirt behind him, some of which landed on Hermione’s white dress.
Hermione shuddered. “Please do not be upset with me. I…I can explain.”
"Oh, I understand very well what has happened. I understand it all too well.”
Hermione lowered her head, a tear threatening to escape her eyes. How could she go from the verge of adulthood to feeling like a scolded child in only a few seconds?
Minerva held out her hand. “Return to the castle with me. We’ll tell everyone you aren’t feeling well and need to rest. That will give you a chance to get out of that filthy dress and prepare yourself for bed. With any luck, you’ll be calmer in the morning.”
“I am not that excited."
"You appeared quite enthusiastic earlier."
"I know, but the experience was far from enjoyable."
Minerva hummed as Hermione looked at her.
“Nothing happened other than kissing, I promise.” Tears came to Hermione’s eyes as she took the other woman’s hand.
Minerva’s expression softened. “Did you want more to happen?”
Hermione twisted her lips, wondering if it was scarier to admit the truth aloud to Minerva or to herself.
“You’re lucky I came in when I did then.” Her expression hardened. “Were you physically harmed?”
Hermione shook her head.
“He didn’t force himself on you?”
She shook her head again.
“That is a relief.” Minerva released the breath she’d been holding. “Your comfort and agency are all I truly care about.”
“They are?”
“They are.”
Hermione relaxed.
“Let’s get you settled in for the night.” Minerva glanced ahead. “The ball has almost ended, and I need to write a few letters.”
“To who?” Hermione asked as they began exiting the stables.
“To someone who owes me a favor.” Minerva pursed her lips. “A favor that I’ve been meaning to collect on for quite some time.”
Hermione knew better than to ask any more questions.
***
A fortnight had passed since the incident with Ronald. Minerva had been silent about what had occurred, much too silent for Hermione’s liking. The only hint that anything scandalous had happened was that Minerva sent the Lords of Weasley away without any gifts, additional land, or royal favors. Hermione believed she’d heard Arthur mutter something about stinginess and now needing to ask for more in the dowry from the parents of Percy's betrothed. Ronald didn’t look her or Minerva in the eyes, opting instead to leave in silence.
When Harry had asked what occurred, all Hermione had said was that she and Ron had taken a walk and she fell ill. She didn’t dare tell him the whole truth, especially when she didn’t know the full consequences of her actions yet. Soon, she was able to distract Harry by playing a ballad on her pipe, one that told of love with a prince, one she despaired of ever meeting.
Now, Hermione had been summoned to Minerva’s chambers. Under most circumstances, there would be a pleasant discussion of books over wine. Today felt different, like the storm that had been brewing between them was about to cast its first bolt of lightning.
“Hermione.” Minerva sat at an ornate oak table with two golden wine goblets. “Thank you for coming.”
She smiled. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”
“Likewise.” Minerva pointed to the gold-padded wooden chair across from her. “Please, take your seat. We have much to discuss.”
Hermione tensed before sitting across from the older woman. Behind her, the door closed.
“I have been meditating on what occurred two weeks ago.” Minerva took a sip of wine.
“I’m so sorry.” Hermione folded her hands. “I promise, I haven’t even looked at another man since. Ronald and I only kissed. That was…”
Minerva held up her hand, silencing Hermione. “I believe you.”
Hermione exhaled.
“Still, the incident reminded me that you are not a little girl anymore. You are a woman, a fact I must acknowledge, lest a noble harm you.”
“He didn’t…”
Minerva raised her hand, silencing Hermione once more.
“It also forced me to reflect upon the current state of affairs. Before she died, I promised your mother I’d care for you as if you were my own flesh and blood. I took, and still take, that responsibility very seriously. What I did not understand at the time, and I more fully understand now, is that I’m meant to take care of you now as an adult, especially given how many claimants to the throne will begin to circle you now that you are of age.”
“Ronald isn’t the claimant to any throne.”
“As a sixth son, no, he is not. You, on the other hand, will become one very soon.”
Her eyes grew. “Me?”
“Indeed.” Minerva’s lips curled upwards. “I have decided to appoint you as my heiress. It will become official once I make a few final arrangements.”
“B-but I thought James of Fleamont and Lady Lily were to inherit the throne.”
“That was my original intention, but after witnessing some of their behavior, I realize that they will only create chaos. Neither of them has the temperament of a wise ruler, nor will they ever overcome their past prejudices to ensure peace between Gryffindor and Slytherin.”
Hermione swallowed.
“I need someone who is strong-willed yet compassionate, kind yet assertive, and someone who will always keep the needs of her people in mind when making a decision. James and Lily are incapable of that. You, on the other hand, are.”
Hermione’s heart raced. How could she be the heiress to the throne? Her parents were petty nobles, but their line did not extend as far as many of the other Gryffindor nobles. Even Ronald threw her blood status in her face at times, if only to vex her. For years she’d simply been happy that Minerva had agreed to raise her and that she wasn’t on the streets. An heiress to a large kingdom, though?
It was almost too good to be true.
“This creates tension between my promise to your mother and my desires, though,” Minerva continued. “Once this knowledge becomes public, and it will soon, people will attempt to seduce you. They will attempt to take your throne, or if you don’t give it up willingly, your life.”
Hermione inhaled sharply. “You don’t think anyone would kill me, do you?”
“They wouldn’t hesitate to do so, not if you were an obstacle to the throne as you are now,” Minerva warned. “You will need the most protection when you take the throne, something I cannot do forever.”
“You, you aren’t sick now, are you?” Hermione’s chest tightened.
“No, I am quite well.”
Hermione relaxed.
“That doesn’t mean I always will be, though," Minerva warned. "When the day I pass comes, you will need a protector, someone who will not take advantage of your position, who will treat you well, and who will always have your best interests at heart, even if it pains him to admit it.”
“I don’t understand,” Hermione drawled. “Who other than you would protect me?”
“Your husband of course.” Minerva sipped her wine as if it were the most natural thing in the world to say.
Hermione’s heart stopped. "Husband?"
"Indeed, you are to be wed soon."
Hermione's heart slowed.
“You are an adult now. It is time I stop treating you like a child and allow you to marry a good man, one who will not take advantage of your position.”
“B-but I don’t want to be married!" Hermione began to sweat. "I want to further my education, to become a scholar, and perhaps tutor others.”
"Oh, but you will.” There was a gleam in Minerva's eyes. “I found a husband for you that will be more than happy to allow you to continue your education. In fact, he may even help you advance it.”
“So I’m completely dependent on his whims.”
Minerva took a sip of wine.
“You said you’d allow me a choice in my own destiny,” she argued.
“And you will. It will just look different than what we’d originally planned."
“B-but…” the words died on Hermione’s tongue. Every saga she’d read warned her this would happen. Even the reality of all her friends was an omen. As beautiful as Lady Ginevra’s wedding to Lord Draco was, it was a signing away of her freedom, wonderful as he was to her. Why she thought she could escape marriage was unclear.
“Anyway, I have found you a husband, one who I know will take excellent care of you," Minerva spoke as if she were speaking about the weather, not Hermione's future.
“Who is he?” Her voice was soft.
“Severus, the King of Slytherin.”
"No." Sweat ran down Hermione’s forehead. “No, no, not him. Anyone but him!”
“Excuse me?” Minerva raised an eyebrow.
"Please, you can’t let me marry him. I…I’ll marry anyone you want, anyone at all. Just not him!”
“Why is he so revolting to you?”
“Because he’s a murderous freak!”