Deus Ex Machina

Gamay





THIS FIC IS NOW OFFICIALLY RE-NAMED! NAME SUGGESTION FROM VORACIOUS READER: DEUS EX MACHINA. Hats off to Voracious Reader for her suggestion – the title is explained further down.



WARNING: I had a lot to get into this chapter: Hermione’s innocence in life; her reaction to her family’s deaths and her rapport with the house elves of the Grangier Chateau. So, it’s a bit miserable in places, but certainly not dark. Its rather funny in places too.



I know in the beginning I said that there would be 18 chapters (give or take an epilogue or two); however, that figure might just double, as most of my chapters are just too big to post as one unit – and are being split in half. Today’s chapter was half a chapter – and it is huge (4’000 + words) in its own right!



It is a down side of my attention to detail and going into depth! So, there is a lot more than I thought there would be! My plots are just bullet points – but expanding those little points in this fic exploded into massive chapters to get everything in!



This coming chapter is a lot more domestic and I’m bringing in a new character that I absolutely ADORE! In fact, this chapter was re-named at the last minute to have the title Gamay, as Gamay is the new character I brought in!





In answer to reviews:



Voracious Reader I think Beaumont is used because it is rather common and Microsoft Word doesn’t put a wiggly red line under it! Lol! It is also a rather common name outside of France too. I had a girl in my class at high school called Beaumont – but no, I wasn’t thinking of her during this! It was just the first French-sounding name that came to my head!



Grangier is the French equivalent of Granger, though – and I found that out by accident when looking through ‘Behind the Name’s’ surname search engine. They have little notes about famous people and characters that have the name you searched for – and Granger was hyperlinked to something else and then hyperlinked to Grangier. I could spend hours on that site looking at names! Lol!



You asked for Hermione’s Middle name, well, in the books it was actually JEAN, but most people use JANE (because that’s what JKR started off using, before she changed it to Jean). So, I use Jehanne, which is a Medieval French form of Jane.



It is HOW she stops Voldie that really made me giggle – more to come! Lol! *giggles like a maniac at future plot* She’s very subtle with what she changes in time, and most of it is accidental! Lol!



Deus Ex Machina… oooh, clever, VERY clever (after I found something on the internet explaining what it means!).



In some ancient Greek drama, an apparently insoluble crisis was solved by the intervention of a god, often brought on stage by an elaborate piece of equipment. This "god from the machine" was literally a deus ex machine.

Few modern works feature deities suspended by wires from the ceiling, but the term deus ex machine is still used for cases where an author uses some improbable (and often clumsy) plot device to work his or her way out of a difficult situation. When the cavalry comes charging over the hill or when the impoverished hero is relieved by an unexpected inheritance, it's often called a deus ex machine

Quoted from: http://andromeda.rutgers.edu/~jlynch/Terms/deusexmachina.html

I’m not certain weather to take the meaning as an insult or not – I thought my plot device was rather good! If not stolen from so many authors who’ve been and gone before me with Back in Time fics… Tell you what, I’m going to ignore the ‘clumsy’ reference!

The problem in the opening chapter IS insoluble – the human gene pool has been decimated, and Voldie’s killing everyone who isn’t a pureblood! The crisis IS solved by the intervention of a God (or two); And if time travel ISN’T improbable, then I’ll eat my hat! The cavalry isn’t going to charge in, though, our heroine does have quite an inheritance…

Yeah… I’m liking the title idea – and thus it is re-named.

meankitty69 Glad you like it!



werewolfhime I’ve told you, missus, I WILL tell Sev you’re stalking him – and you just confessed to stalking Lupin ASWEL! Share the wealth, Luv, leave some for the rest of us!



Heidi191976 Glad you liked it!



maddie50 Without an alternate universe, this plot has absolutely no chance! Voldemort doomed the other universe to extinction! I’m glad you like it!



Debby You’re a Rosseau? I honestly chose the name from a list on the internet because I liked the sound of it! You’re not a doctor too are you? That would be rather spooky! Lol!



bubblegumdego Flames are a fact of fanfiction life, I’m afraid. I think everyone has been flamed at least once in their fanfic career. It is mostly pathetic individuals that can’t actually write constructive criticism in a constructive manner – others are just plain rude. I think it really comes down to people who can’t express their opinion politely. I’ve only ever had 2 flames – and they shook me up. There are much better authors than me out there – and they’ve been flamed too!



Non-canon is so much more fun! Canon’s been done by JKR! (lol) – fanfiction is for us to take the characters and situations where WE want them to go! Don’t get me wrong, there are some BRILLIANT canon stories out there that fill in gaps that JKR ‘missed’… but in the LM/HG section, canon goes out of the window! (as it does in just about every pairing on here!)



I’m glad you like it so far – updates are on Monday afternoons!



LaBib I always think of Death and Mother Nature as partners, and in this case they’re lovers as well as creators/destroyers. They say opposites attract – well, you can’t get more opposite than life and death!



I always think of Death as handsome – I think it would be better to walk away into whatever comes next with an aesthetically pleasing man than with an actual skeleton!



Charon’s worked enough overtime thanks to Voldemort – he’s having a break from being the ferryman! Plus, Hermione’s too important in their plans for Death to let anyone else transport her!



I’ll remember that one, left and right aren’t my strong points on a good day! Lol!



I’m not certain if the fish are actually dead – they’re just there! It shows how clear the water is! Dragonflies are very picky about water quality. I think it’s a bit of a metaphor that Utopia isn’t quite as perfect as everyone thinks (and I’m on about the place – not me, flipping heck, I KNOW I’m not perfect!)



How many ‘Os’ did that good have? Wow! I’ve not had a multi-O good in ages! Lol!



Ooops, beta missed a whoopsie – I’ll go back and edit that one.



I’m a definite LM/HG shipper – its GREAT to see so many stories about my favourite couple – this is one of the few places on the net where you can find LM/HG! But DM/HG and SS/HG are easy to get hold of elsewhere! LM/HG is one of those pairings that not as many are comfortable with.



By sending her into the blaze, she’s altering time sooner and getting herself established in the alternate timeline. Damien does have a ‘role’ (well, kinda, seeing as he’s dead) but there’s more of that much later – but he is there to tug on heartstrings (but whose heartstrings is he tugging on?)!



Someone isn’t after HER, just her muggle-born and squib-loving parents who are nice to their elves. Hermione’s parents might be Lord and Lady Grangier – but they don’t act all high and mighty with it. Her parent’s attitudes singled them out.



They [the Grangiers] are also filthy rich, owning lots of property and land – if you remember a distant cousin tried to challenge the will to sell the land and property – and he’d have passed the money onto Tom Riddle! By living and the French Wizengamot taking her side, she’s already deprived Voldemort from much needed funding. That little snip of an idea has actually come to me from the coverage of the US election stuff on British news – those political campaigns use up a LOT of money! I think Tom would start of rather tame and actually try to be properly political with his ideas… and he needs money to do that. And in this universe he hasn’t actually gained anything from the arson, eh hem, I mean completely-accidental-fire-that-couldn’t-be-put-out.



Wine, they say you should write about what you know… well, I’m tee-total, so I know stuff all about wine! I drink alcohol-removed wine, and there’s only a few brands readily available. I think they’ll brew red, rather than white – but I’m not sure past the colour of grape! They might brew all sorts! There might even be magical grapes that gives blue wine or something equally odd!



Oops, another whoopsie in there. Not bad though, my beta spotted most of them!



HermioneMalfoyFan Hermione’s biological parentage is not known, but is discussed in a later chapter. We’re looking at somewhere in the region of 1972 (ish) – and an era where unmarried mothers were not looked upon kindly – Hermione was adopted from a French Home for unmarried witch mothers. Her Mother went in, gave birth and left Hermione behind to be adopted by the Grangiers at a few days old. I doubt she’s muggle born – as a muggle single mum wouldn’t know about the home.



AU, AR, Alternate blooming EVERYTHING! Lol! This is an alternate universe WITHIN an alternate universe, with another alternate universe in the footnotes after she’s changed time… and if THAT makes any sense, then I’ll be impressed with your mental skill! It’s one giant headache for me! Lol!



She’ll have really odd dreams with Harry and Ron in them; but yeah, she’s forgotten about them. LM/HG is so much easier to write with Harry and Ron out of the way. I don’t have to worry about them being OOC if they’re not even there! *Slytherin thinking in my plot*.











* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *





It was five weeks before the healers removed the tube from Hermione’s nose and gently woke her from her coma. Her muscles were weak from disuse; the skin over the healed burns shiny, pink and pulling tightly over the wounds; her lungs were fully healed, but rather frail. Healer Rosseau had remained with her constantly after they had lessened the sedatives, waiting for the young witch to come around.



“Where am I?” Hermione croaked, breaking out into a coughing fit. She had no recollection of her out of body experience from over a month previous. There were a few hazy snippets of information: smoke, a people talking, the smell of honey…



“Shhh… nice deep breaths, I’ll get you some water to sip.” Said a female healer, pressing a straw to her lips.



Hermione glanced around the room at the dozen-or-so flower arrangements of so many different colours; and the Get Well Soon cards tacked to the wall with a sticking charm. There was a framed photograph that she had taken of her parents holding her squirming little brother between them on a park bench placed on the table at the bottom of the bed.



“What happened? Why am I here?” Hermione asked as the healer assisted her into a position reclining against the bed’s headboard.



“Hermione, There was a fire at your Chateau, you were hurt badly. You are at the Healing House in Paris.” The healer busied herself with diagnostic charms and visual analysis of the healed burns on her arms, legs, torso and face.



“Paris? But that is so far away! Why bring me to Paris to be healed? Did you bring my brother too? My parents?” she asked, smiling at the thought of Damien giving the healers a run for his money; the little scamp was a nightmare when he was sick; well more of a nightmare than he usually was, the nine-year-old had boundless energy.



The young witch took some time to admire the room she was in again, it was light and airy; huge bay windows were situated opposite Hermione’s bed, starting at about a foot from the floor and ending a foot away from the majestically high ceiling. The view was of a clear, aqua blue sky with small whips of thin clouds floating past slowly on a gentle breeze that fluttered the lemon-yellow drapes (she was obviously quite a few floors up).



In one corner there was a well-padded chaise lounge, the upholstery a hideous shade of mustard. Blankets were neatly folded at the ‘foot end’. The walls were a pale yellow – the same colour as the lemon icing on her Mother’s famous lemon sponge cakes. The only thing that insulted the calm of the room (other than the shade of the chaise) was the chemical scent of far too much disinfectant.



Hermione’s attention was drawn back to the healer as she finished inspecting the healed wounds and spoke: “We have the most highly qualified healing skills for burns victims – it is why you were apparated here… your parents and brother are not here…” the healer trailed off, examining a vividly pink mark on the back of Hermione’s hand.



“… Where are they? Are they not here to be treated also? Can I see them?” Hermione asked, mustering as much excitement as she could with her disused body.



The healer sighed slightly and sat down in the chair next to the young woman; Healer Rosseau took the seat next to the patient and carefully took her hand, sandwiching it between her two palms – hoping her touch could would soften the devastating blow she was about to deliver.



“Hermione, the fire raged out of control – your parents did not survive; your brother did not live either… I am so very sorry for your loss.”



Hermione blinked, not believing what the healer was saying, but the tears in the older witch’s eyes provided all the proof she needed to know that what she spoke was not a lie.



“They’re dead?” she whispered.



“I am afraid so, Hermione. Healers in your own town tried to resuscitate them when they were pulled from the fire – they tried over and over… but they had already gone.” The healer’s voice was soft, calming, resigned.



“Did…” Hermione sobbed… “Did they feel much pain before they…”



“No. No they didn’t. Your parents were in bed when the explosion occurred – they never woke up. You had tried to save your brother – but he had died before you got to him. He was crushed by a beam – but he would not have felt any pain because it was so sudden. Do you not remember crawling to him?”



“Damien was hungry, he wanted to have a midnight snack and he woke me up as he tried to sneak down the hallway… I followed him to tell him off – Maman does not like us eating in the night… I cannot remember more.” Hermione whispered, her eyes dazed, wincing as she squeezed the healer’s hand, the new flesh pulling even tighter with the motion.



“Keep nice and still of you can, nice and still for now, your skin is too sore for fast movements.” The Healer soothed, “You had crawled to your brother, and wrapped yourself in a very strong bubble charm. The aurors had to break the charm so the healers could pull you and your brother out – it was very well cast!”



“I was top of my class in charms last year.” Hermione whispered.



“I know, your teachers have all been to visit you here – they sung your praises; as did all your neighbours when they visited. Three of your eight Chateau elves survived; all forty-two of the vineyard elves are perfectly healthy.” Healer Rosseau kept talking – trying to resemble a reasonably normal conversation.



“Where are they now?”



“Who, Hermione? Your family or the elves?”



“Both, I suppose. I should know where everyone is.” She whispered. Tears trickling silently down her cheeks and neck, soaking into the pristine white nightgown she wore.



“Your parents and brother are in your local town’s morgue; their bodies have been tended to and are being kept under stasis until you are ready to go to the funeral. The elves that died have been prepared for whatever comes next by their own kin.” Hermione nodded and the healer continued, “Two of the elves that lived, Nocera and Roriz, have been looked after on the elf-ward. The third, Gamay, has not wanted to leave you for a moment. We had to force her to return to the elf-ward at first, but in the end we brought the chaise in for her to sleep on.”



“Gamay was my nanny when I was little, Maman was a very good Mother but sometimes she needed an extra pair of hands with two of us and the tenants, Gamay was always on hand to help. Gamay became my Lady’s Elf as I grew older.” Hermione said with a slight smile.



“She’s been helping to bathe, dress and groom you even when she herself is injured. She would not rest in the ward until she could help in your care.” The healer replied, noticing said elf pop back into the room.



“Oh! Gamay!” Hermione gasped, seeing instantly that the elf had lost one of her long green-grey ears entirely, and part of another; one eye was covered with a bandage; and the little creature limped with every step.



“Mademoiselle is being awake!” The elf squealed, hobbling to her, the usual Grangier Lady’s maid dress replaced with a miniature version of hospital robes. Healer Rosseau lifted the elf onto the bed to sit beside her mistress.



“Mademoiselle has had Gamay being so very worried!”



“Thank-you for looking after me, Gamay.” Hermione whispered, sobbing harder as small, slim green-grey fingers gently wiped away the tears.



“Gamay is always looking after Mademoiselle. Is what Gamay is being for.” Hermione gently pulled the elf into a hug, rubbing the little creature’s back as they both cried. After a little while, the elf stepped back. Without further ado, Gamay gently un-braided the two French plaits at both sides of Hermione’s head; a silver brush appeared from thin air at a click of Gamay’s fingers, and it was carefully pulled through the waist-length mahogany waves of the young witch.



“I’ll leave you two be for now. If you require anything, pull the cord above your bed – it will alert me.” The healer said as she moved to leave the room.



“Healer, wait!” Hermione said, tears in her eyes, “W-what happens now?”



“There is a great aunt in England who will be your guardian until you turn seventeen; you will have to move to England, and attend a school over there – its called ‘Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’. The funeral has been arranged by your home town – they are just waiting for your presence.” The healer paused for a moment, remembering anything of relevance to the witch “Your distant cousin has, pardon me saying this, been an utter imbecile! He challenged your parents’ will – but do not fret, the Wizengamot threw out his claims yesterday – everything has transferred to your parents’ solicitor – who is keeping everything in trust for you. I think the locals are already working on re-building the Chateau.”



“England is such a long way away.” Hermione whispered, “I will not know anybody – I’ll have no friends or neighbours.”



“Mademoiselle is being brave! Mademoiselle is going to being fine! Mademoiselle is going to be taking Gamay with her to England. Gamay is being looking after Mademoiselle.” The elf said, gently weaving the long waves effortlessly into a four-strand plait that hung over Hermione’s left shoulder.



“I can take you with me?” Hermione squeaked, tears still trickling from her eyes.



“Gamay is not leaving Mademoiselle! Gamay is going to England too! Gamay not leave Mademoiselle alone!”



Hermione looked ready to protest something, but the Elf spoke before she could.



“Mademoiselle not worry about Gamay, Mademoiselle has many more things to being worried about. Gamay will have new Madame to serve, Gamay will be happy with Mademoiselle’s Great Aunt. Gamay is being looking after Mademoiselle until she is going back to school, and when she is coming home from school for holidays.”



“What would I do without you, Gamay?” Hermione asked with a whimper.



Healer Rosseau was about to leave the room, but stood gobsmacked as the injured elf turned to her mistress, one hand on her hip, the other waving the silver brush in her mistress’s face.



“Without Gamay, you is having awful hair and crinkled clothes! Without Gamay Mademoiselle is looking a fright! All knots in hair, not being shampooed proper, wrong conditioner being used! Not using lotion after being bathed! No powder between toes! Ha! Hospital elves is not knowing how to be a Lady’s Elf!”



The little green-grey creature popped from the bed to the little cupboard by the bed, pulled out a pair of pale green knickers edged in fine lace and matching bra. The socks that emerged from the cupboard were the same shade. She reached in for another smock, huffed before snapping her fingers to change the plain white smock to the exact same shade of green.



“Ha! Thinks they is good enough to being dressing Mademoiselle! They is not being good enough to be dressing Gamay! They is putting Gamay’s smock on inside out! Hospital elves should being ashamed! They is not dressing Mademoiselle in matching underwear and smock! Pink knickers with green brassier, blue socks and yellow smock!”



“Gamay, does it really matter that my knickers don’t match my bra, socks and smock?” Hermione asked with a confused smile.



“Is it mattering? Is it mattering?” Gamay looked horrified at the suggestion, “Mademoiselle is not coordinating!”



“Gamay, is it really so important that my unmentionables match when I’m in hospital?”



“More people is seeing them! Of course it is mattering! More people is looking at Mademoiselle’s unmentionables than has ever looked! Mademoiselle is being mad to say matching is not important!” The elf snipped, her hands on her hips as she told her off before clicking her fingers to pull back the bedcovers.



“I is bringing warm water that is being asked for.” A hospital elf said as she arrived with a warm basin of water. She bobbed into a curtsey at Hermione, turned and bobbed into a smaller curtsey at Gamay before winking out.



Gamay reached into the cupboard for half-a-dozen Egyptian Cotton flannels and two thick, fluffy towels. The elf blended a provided healing potion with a soft infusion of lavender and chamomile before beginning to bathe and re-dress her mistress.



Healer Rosseau had never seen an elf so loyal as Gamay, nor seen a Mistress take a dressing down from an elf, and not demand they punish themselves for its impertinence! Though, Healer Rosseau had never seen a sixteen-year-old have their own Lady’s Elf!



The older witch shook her head and left the young witch and Gamay alone; Hermione was evidently in very capable hands (and matching clothes).



*****





The day after she had woken, all of the Grangier’s neighbours, workers and tenants had been to visit the witch to offer their condolences and support. Hermione’s parents had been incredibly fair employers and landlords, and they were well respected among the local community. It had been a very long and upsetting day for the young witch, who suddenly found herself as the head of the household, at the helm of a business in tatters and Landlady to thirty properties.



“If there’s anything I can do for you, anything you will tell me – won’t you?” asked Madame Courtemanche, one of the poorest tenants to live on Grangier land, and the last visitor of the day – or night to be accurate. The elderly squib was crippled with arthritis of the hip and was one of the vineyard’s ‘paper pushers’, with a much reduced rent rate, and a wage a lot higher than others doing her job in the wine sector.



“Madame Courtemance, thank-you for your support, and if there is anything I can think of, you will be the first to know.” Hermione said, she’d lost count of how many times she’d said that phrase since ten o’clock that morning (it was half-past-ten now) – everyone was determined to help, even though they didn’t necessarily have the means or ability to do so.



“Oh, dearest child – well, not such a child anymore, are you! All grown up in all the wrong ways!” The old woman was once more close to tears. “Your parents were the kindest, most generous, most fair people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet! Oh Merlin, they will be missed by our town! And your little brother was the most lovable little rascal I’ve ever seen!”



“They are missed already.” Hermione whispered, tears falling once more.



“Oh! Look what I’ve gone and done now! I’ve upset you even more! Oh me! I’m sorry, Mademoiselle Grangier, so sorry.”



“Do not worry, Madame, you brought back wonderful memories for me just then – it is only when I remember they are truly gone that I become upset; it was not your fault.”



“If you’re sure, Mademoiselle, if you’re sure…”



“I am certain, Madame…” Hermione took a deep breath, “There are many people who wish to speak at the funeral, would you like to join that list of speakers?”



“Oh! Oh Mademoiselle, what an honour! I’d be proud to say a few words at the funeral! Oh!” the old woman fanned herself with her hand as she blushed.



“Thank-you, Agathe, if I may call you that; thank-you for your support and help in this; and for helping the town in organising the funeral.”



“Oh, Mademoiselle, call me all you wish! I’d be a beggar on the street if it weren’t for your parents! Nobody wants to employ an elderly squib! If it weren’t for you being as good as them I’d have no roof over my head!…”



“Agathe, call me Hermione, please.” Smiled the young witch.



“Hermione, Merlin bless you dear.” Said the older woman as she was helped to the floo by a healer.



“And blessings on you, and all the community who have kept strong for me.” Hermione whispered, turning onto her side on the bed and letting all her sudden despair, misery and heartbreak pour from her.



Gamay appeared after a moment, re-dressed in her customary Persian-grey, knee length, wide-skirted pinafore dress over a pristine white, cap-sleeved blouse. A white beret with grey pinstripes radiating from the centre tuft hid her damaged ears from view, but the bandage was still over her eye. The Granger crest was embroidered on the centre of the chest of her dress in shimmering silver thread.



“Mademoiselle! What has been happening?” she panicked, limping faster towards her mistress.



“Nothing bad, Gamay, it was as if everything suddenly fell on me, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see… it hurts, Gamay, it hurts!” she sobbed, shaking violently.



“I is being back in a moment.” Gamay said, only to have Hermione grab her wrist.



“Don’t leave me, Gamay, don’t you leave me too!” Hermione cried, clinging to the elf.



“I will be staying, I is pulling the cord for healer Mademoiselle – you is making yourself sick with this crying!” the elf pulled the cord, and Healer Rosseau came running; administering a calming draught.



****



“Gamay?” Hermione croaked after an hour of small hiccupping sobs.



“Yes, Mademoiselle, what is you wanting?”



“Can you go into t-town and p-purchase some… m-mouring r-robes for me? Please?”



“Madamoiselle is not wanting to pick her own out?” Gamay asked, stroking her mistress’s back.



“You’ve been buying my clothes since I was out of n-nappies – why would t-that change now?” Hermione asked, sniffling and about to wipe her nose on the back of her hand. Gamay groaned, and shoved a delicately embroidered handkerchief at her.



“Ladies is not wiping their noses on the backs of their hands! Ladies is knowing better than that! What is they being teaching you at Beauxbatons?!”



“Sorry, Gamay.” Hermione chuckled through a hiccup; trying to blow her nose in a more ‘ladylike’ way.



“I will be going into robe shop to be getting you mourning robes, Mademoiselle, shall Gamay get other robes while she is there?”



“I hadn’t thought about that – I haven’t worn anything but hospital smocks for five weeks; I don’t have any clothes left, do I?” Hermione’s practical nature crept through her grief.



“No, Mademoiselle, nothing left. Shall Gamay organise Mademoiselle a full wardrobe? Outer robes, underwears, nightwears, stockings, shoes, slippers? And Gamay being buying school uniform for Mademoiselle’s new school too, only a week away!” The elf paused in her verbal list, “Shall Gamay find formal gown for Yule, and another for New Year? Gamay will also be getting Madamoiselle’s school books – Gamay has list of things needed for school, Gamay takes care of it.”



“Oh, Gamay, what would I do without you organising me?” Hermione whispered, pulling the elf into a hug.



“You not be being dressed proper, your hair would be being a mess, your unmentionables wouldn’t be matching and you would being wiping your nose on your hand!” said the elf in a kind-but-still-patronising-manner.



“I’ve never been very good at being a Little Lady, have I?” Hermione asked with a grin.



“No, Mademoiselle has not… but Mademoiselle must stop being Little Lady and now being Lady of Chateau. Mademoiselle is remembering her lessons and being real Lady.” Gamay spoke as she set about helping her mistress to change into a clean smock, snapping her fingers to change the bed linens.



“Oh, why did you have to remind me, Gamay?”



“Gamay reminds you because is true. You is Lady of Chateau now.” The elf said gently, stroking one green thumb over the bright pink flesh of a scar on the back of Hermione’s hand.



“I know Gamay, I hope I don’t disappoint. I’m not ready to be the Lady of the Chateau just yet!”



“You is being Lady ifs you is being ready or not, Mademoiselle.” Gamay said, gently pressing her fingers under her young mistress’s eyes to reduce the puffyness. “You is not disappointing peoples. Peoples that is mattering to you is not worried abouts future with you being Lady Grangier; Madame Grangier has being teaching you well and the tenants is trusting you already… you is not going to disappoint anyone, Mademoiselle! Everyone is knowing this is not being easy for you.”



“There is so much expected of me! I can’t manage the business, all the tenants, the Chateau – once it has been rebuilt, and school in another country! I don’t know how I will manage it all! There’s so much!” Hermione’s voice cracked as she sat up, pulling her knees to her chest, hugging them.



“You is not being expected to be doing everythings! Yours parents’ legal wizard is looking after whats he can. Your parents is trusting him, you is trusting him too!” Gamay un-curled the young witch and helped her stretch out beneath the covers. Her tone was sharp.



“It’s all so much! I don’t know where to start, what to do. I don’t know what will happen, I don’t know how to step into my parents shoes and do as well as they did. I don’t know how I will manage!”



Hermione whimpered pulling a small, charred-but-repaired silken teddy bear to her chest, rubbing one well-worn ear. One of the tenants had pulled it from the rubble and repaired her infant comforter for her. She’d long since out grown the need for the bear, but it was at times like this that she needed the familiarity of rubbing the fabric of that ear.



“You is takings on too much at once!” Gamay snapped, she stood on the bed next to her young mistress, hands on hips with a stern expression, “You is not having to do everythings that is needings doing! There is peoples who is wanting to help! Lets them help! Gives them the jobs to do untils you is being out of school and back in France! Madamoiselle’s neighbours is being trusty, is being nice, is not going to be bad! Lets them help! Lets them be doing the worrying!” Gamay was obviously in a snit with her worry-wart of a mistress, and Gamay in a snit was a force to be reckoned with.



“I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll talk to them after the funeral and see who wants to help with what. I’ll let Maman’s and Papa’s solicitor keep an eye on everything while I’m in England. Thank-you Gamay, remind me to talk to them, please.” Hermione yawned.



“Covers your mouth with your hand when you is yawning!” Gamay huffed, taking Hermione’s hand and gently rubbing the tender scar on the back of it.



“Sorry, Gamay. Sorry for making you cross with me. I’m just so scared!” Hermione slurred as she slowly drifted towards sleep.



“Gamay is not being mad with you, Mademoiselle, just cross withs you trying to do too much all at once! Mademoiselle must be calm and get well. There is being much for Mademoiselle to do before going back to school next week, and Mademoiselle is trying to do even more than needed!”



“Ca’ hel’ it, G’may. Lots t’ do.” Hermoine yawned (from behind her hand).



“Madamoiselle cannot be doing it all.” The elf repeated, still holding Hermione’s hand as she drifted off. “Sleeps well, Mademoiselle, sleeps well. Gamay not being far away, Gamay looks after you.”



The elf’s voice had softened, and she let go of Hermione’s hand to gently smooth the covers on the bed. “Gamay is helping where she is able to, Gamay make sure new Lady Grangier is being what is expected. Gamay not let anythings happen to Mademoiselle.”



Gamay gently kissed the young witch’s forehead before popping from the bed to a chaise that had been brought in for her to sleep on. Gamay slowly undressed, folding her clothes expertly before donning a nightdress similar to that of Hermione and climbing under the covers. With a click of her green fingers the candles all winked out, plunging the room into calm, soothing darkness.



*****







A/N:



The elves of Grangier Chateau are named after different types of grape, I thought it was better than the names JKR came up with! ‘Dobby’ and ‘Winky’ are such childish names! ‘Kreacher’ is better, but not too brilliant. The family own a vineyard – so their elves are named after grape varieties.



You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that the plan for this chapter ONLY says: ‘Hermione has own elf to help her dress, and is nice to elf’. That bullet point spiralled away from me into this! But I like what came out with this chapter.



I love Gamay! She’s so assertive for an elf! Gamay won’t take sh*t from ANYONE (including her Mistress). She’s also a bit more educated and trusted by the family. She gets away with behaviour that most other elves wouldn’t! She’s only got Hermione’s best interests at heart.



I also think Gamay’s attitude shows how the Grangier’s respect that their Chateau and business wouldn’t be so successful without their hard-working elf-staff. Hogwarts is reported to have over 100 elves to look after the school; I think the Grangier Chateau and vineyard probably has 50 to keep it ticking over; 8 in the main house – 4 being personal servants (So, 45 elves survived).



I’ve researched a bit into Lady’s Maids for the occasion – and Gamay’s “I’m better than you” attitude to the other elves comes from how a Lady’s Maid was seen among other servants. She’s also more highly skilled than an ‘average elf’. A Lady’s Maid was the equivalent of the lady of the house among the servants – and everyone else would refer to her as Miss/Mrs. . (Hence the hospital elf curtseying to Gamay too).



Lady’s Maids were the most well-dressed servants – as when a Lady’s maid went with her Lady to another house, it would give the best first impression to the other household staff. That’s also why Gamay’s not in a tea towel or a pillowcase and in a quite snazzy outfit.



Though, I don’t know what to dress the remaining Grangier elves in. So – answers in a review for a house-hold fabric product that an elf could be dressed in, that hasn’t been worn before. (Hogwarts elves in tea-towels, Malfoy elves in pillow cases). And what would the vineyard elves wear? Can anyone think of wine-related textiles that are suitable?