Chapter Text
Unraveled
2004
The Wizarding War of 1998 had grave impacts on the magical community beyond the battle epicenter of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the United Kingdom, and even the whole of Europe. Fear, skepticism, doubt, and suspicion infiltrated personal lives as well as business, commerce, and politics around the globe. Diplomatic doors that had been open were slammed shut. Travel became tightly controlled with people getting stuck behind border wards due to red tape and lack of proper visas. Even once allied states were constricting their borders to one another. Governments were becoming nationalistic at the same time they were struggling to reopen trade routes.
Six years and one month after the end of the war, Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, venerated witch, and stubborn Scot slammed through her office door, fuming.
“'A’m amazed a'm allowed tae apparate o'er Britain wi'oot getting arrested. Who decided a pre-approved visa wid be a requirement fur a sojourn tae France? Of all th' imbecilic, short-sighted, xenaphobic tripe..."
“Problem, Minerva?” The steady voice of Albus Dumbledore cut Minerva’s rant short.
“Aye, there's a problem. Th' borders ur impassable wi'oot th' 'proper paperwork'. Ah wis tae attend th' wedding o' Miss Granger 'n' Mr. Weasley in France t'morra, bit a'm denied a travel permit. Apparently, th' travel department does nae view weddings as an emergency 'n' wull nae endorse mah papers last minute. A've naught tae dae bit miss th’ wedding.”
“This wedding was planned well in advanced, was it not?”
Minerva’s angry glare could have stripped the paint from Dumbledore’s portrait. “Ye ken 'twas. Ah forgot tae apply fur th' visa. 'twas on mah calendar, bit ah wis distracted by th' balgan-buachair pox epidemic that spread thro Hogwarts that munth.”
“Ah. I am sure a well written note explaining your predicament will allay any misunderstandings inferred by your absence.”
“A note wull nae allow me tae see Hermione as a bride.” Minerva pouted and threw herself down across her old Chesterfield in front of an empty fireplace. She pulled a worn tartan throw over her head and withdrew into a self-pitying sulk.
“Perhaps you would benefit from a personal assistant?”
Dumbledore barely escaped the painting before the frame exploded into splinters.
A note was written, sent, and received. The young bride nervously waiting for the start time of the ceremony broke the embossed seal with shaky fingers. As whisky-brown eyes scanned the slanted handwriting the glow of excitement and happiness across her visage dimmed.
The sudden change in energy was felt by the small group of women waiting with her in her hotel suite. Sharing looks around the room, Hermione’s mother bravely joined her daughter on the end of the bed and gently removed the parchment from her grasp. Glancing quickly at the note, she frowned and sighed with resignation. Wrapping an arm around slender shoulders, she pulled Hermione in for a consoling hug.
“Oh, my darling girl. She obviously did not cancel out of spite. She’s a very busy woman and simply overlooked the new travel requirements. I can read in her letter how upset she is for missing your day.”
“It’s ok,” Hermione whispered, shaking off her disappointment and returning her mother’s encouraging squeeze. “It’s fine. Like you said, this is my day. I have my family and dearest friends to share it with. If all we’re missing with these stupid travel restrictions is one headmistress, I am going to count myself very lucky, indeed. Now, who has the champagne?”
2009
Minerva entered the shop with wide eyes of excited expectation. The smells of parchment, ink, and bindings suffused the musty air of the storefront. Pausing in the doorway to take in the innate serenity associated with her favorite obsession, she cast her eyes about and thrilled at the enormity of the collection. With a smile of satisfaction, she softly closed the door behind her and immersed herself in the welcoming atmosphere of Hogsmeade’s newly opened bookstore.
The tinkle of the bell hanging above the entry summoned the proprietor from the storeroom. An unassuming gentleman with a cheerful smile and sparkling blue eyes slowly approached his latest patron.
“Might I be of assistance, Madam?”
Minerva’s sharp green eyes scanned the man from head to toe with interest. The Scottish brogue layered under his words caught her ear. Slightly shorter than she with thinning hair contrasted by a full, well-trimmed beard of greying auburn hair, a solid, stocky build, and large hands that were soft from a lifetime of tending books instead of a plow, he exuded no discernable threat.
“I have nothing specific in mind.” Minerva dismissed him politely.
“Very well. Please, take all the time you require. And help yourself to a refreshment, if you would care to. Tea or coffee, and some biscuits.”
“Thank you, Mr…”
“Dalrymple. Geoffrey Dalrymple, at your service.” the man bowed his head in greeting. “May I have the pleasure..?”
“Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts.”
“Ah, yes. ‘Tis very nice to meet you. The school’s reputation is one of the reasons I chose to settle here.”
“Was it, indeed?”
“Aye. I have already had several students explore my humble shop. Very bright children.”
“Mmm. They have their moments.” Minerva agreed reluctantly.
“Right, well, have yourself a look around. I’ll be in the back, should you need anything.”
Seven weeks later and as many visits to the bookstore, Minerva was scouring the shelves in the Transfiguration section when Geoffrey emerged from the back.
“Oh, hello. I did not hear you enter.”
“Hmm.” Minerva barely registered his greeting. “Mr. Dalrymple, have you a copy of Briggard’s Arythmantic Interpretations of the Universal Transfiguration Equations?”
“I do, I do…in the back..” he turned to go back the way he came.
Minerva followed, eager to get her hands on the latest textual arguments involving her specialty. She pulled up abruptly as soon as she stepped through the curtain shielding the view of the storage room from customers. “Mr. Dalrymple.” she gasped.
The room turned out to be a cavern magically expanded from a closet. The innumerable stacks and piles of tomes, ancient and new, were astounding. Minerva had never in her life experienced such an enormous collection of books, periodicals, and scrolls. If left to her own devices, she could lose herself amidst the vast acquisition.
“Oh, don’t mind the mess. It may appear chaotic, but I know where every single title resides.”
Minerva slowly wandered into the space, her eyes dancing about in wonder. She started slightly when Geoffrey suddenly appeared in front of her.
“Here you are. Fresh from the shipping container.”
“Oh, thank you.”
Before releasing his grip on the requested copy, Geoffrey nervously cleared his throat and, with a slight stutter enquired, “Madam McGonagall, I was wondering if you would do me the honor of attending the Ministry Spring Gala with me?”
“Oh, Mr. Dalrymple, I…” Minerva began to decline the offer, but noting the hope shining in Geoffrey’s eyes, she relented, “would be happy to.”
“Oh, splendid.”
Tugging the book from his hands, Minerva gave a terse smile and head nod, before turning on her heel and striding out of the storeroom with Geoffrey hot on her heels.
Hermione entered the ballroom on Ron’s arm, followed closely by Ginny and Harry. The spring fling was her favorite formal gathering of the year. She and Ginny adopted it as their personal annual event. Multiple day trips for shopping over the weeks leading up to the dance were most of the fun. Dressed to the nines, she and Ginny competitively vied for the most compliments.
“I am so glad Molly took the kids tonight. After missing last year due to pregnancy, I am ready to party.” Hermione gaily announced.
“I hope you didn’t forget how to dance.” Harry teased.
“Oh please. Like I ever stepped on your toes.”
“One time, and you’ll never let it go.”
“Never.” Hermione scrunched her face at Harry.
The friends found their extended family already encamped around a group of tables in a prime location by the dance floor. Raucous greetings were exchanged and drinks soon followed. By the time the music began, the Golden Trio was feeling no pain.
Half an hour into the dancing, a minor disruption from the area the Hogwarts staff had taken over caught Hermione’s attention. Turning with an amused grin at the sound of a muffled cheer, Hermione’s face froze with shock as she tried to discern what she was seeing. It appeared Minerva McGonagall had actually decided to attend the gala and was implausibly accompanied by a man.
“Who is that?” Hermione demanded without thinking.
“Who’s who?” Ron asked.
“That man.” she pointed out with distaste.
“Huh, no idea.” Ron dismissed the scene.
“What’s up?” Ginny asked when she returned with hands full of glasses and passed one to Hermione.
“Do you know who that is with Minerva?”
“Where?” Ginny searched. “Gosh, I have no idea. I’ve never seen him before. Wow, you think McG has a beau?”
“I can’t imagine…”
“What are you two on about?” Harry inquired, handing another beer to Ron.
“Hermione wants to know who that guy is with McG,” Ginny explained.
Glancing over, Harry nodded with recognition. “Oh, that’s Geoffrey Dalrymple. He has a shop up in Hogsmeade.”
“How do you know him?” Hermione asked.
“Had to do a background check on him for his merchant license. He’s Scottish, but he’d been living in Australia for years. So, we needed to investigate when he applied to open his new shop here.”
Hermione was about to turn away from the spectacle that had captured her attention when she witnessed Minerva lean in close to Geoffrey to hear what he was saying and then pull away with an ebullient laugh that lit up her entire aura. Swallowing the bile that suddenly churned up, Hermione fought to suppress the conflict of emotions pressing on her heart. With iron-willed control, she plastered a smile on her face and rejoined her friends.