Objections

"Hermione Granger!" Zabini exclaimed. "That bushy-haired, buck-toothed, flat-chested, stuck-up, know-it-all bookworm? Why?"

"Why not, Blaise?" Theo countered. "We've been working together, and it's been a real pleasure. She's the only witch who could surpass my grades at Hogwarts, and she's keeping me on my toes even now."

"But –"

"And she's blossomed after the war," Theo pressed on without acknowledging Blaise's attempt to interrupt him. "What with the malnourishment during their time on the run, it was no wonder that she had no breasts to speak of, but it's been a few years and you should see the woman she's become."

"But – really? Hermione bloody –"

"Granger?" Archie repeated. "Granger… The name sounds familiar. Oh, now I know! A relative of Hector Dagworth-Granger, isn't she?"

"No, great-uncle," Neville replied. "She has no magical relatives, as far as anyone knows."

"No known – oh, the muggleborn girl!" Archie exclaimed. "Really, now, son, as the last wizard in one of the few existing lines of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, you would go for a witch of… questionable pedigree?"

"Archibald!" Augusta Longbottom admonished most sternly. "I must strongly suggest you stop talking right there."

"I would rather have a brave heroine by my side," Neville shot back, his tone cool, "than some stuck-up pureblood princess who's never lifted a finger in her life. And I am not your son."

"Can you believe it, professor?" Ginny more shouted than asked. "Of all the wizards to choose from!"

"Yes, I have seen it with my own two eyes, Miss Weasley," Headmistress McGonagall replied calmly, reaching for another biscuit. "And I believe that Mr Longbottom is quite the catch. Decorated, dedicated, well-mannered…"

She shot Ginny a long, meaningful look that went unnoticed by the young witch as she was quite busy noisily stirring heaps of sugar into her tea.

"But Neville!" Ginny repeated. "Our Neville! Good old Neville –"

"Longbottom!" Zabini shook his head, taking another generous sip of his firewhiskey. "You form a rare, powerful bond of magic in the most recent known triad since before Grindelwald's era, and you go ahead and muck it up by choosing someone like Longbottom!"

"I've been doing business with Longbottom," Draco interceded, although Blaise didn't pay him any attention. "He's done well for himself. Very capable. High-quality wares. Good instinct for business. Tough negotiator, but always fair. Firm handshake."

He shot a look at Zabini who was mumbling exasperatedly into his tumbler.

"And certainly less contemptuous and prone to random explosions of emotion than others," Draco added.

"You know what he certainly is?" Zabini asked, then added, not even waiting the required three seconds for a reply to his rhetorical question, "he's everything Theo is –"

"Nott! Now, that is a good name, and old name," Archie pronounced. "But I've seen the kid – a bit flat-chested, no?"

"That would be because Mr Nott is a wizard, Archibald," Madam Longbottom reproached him. "Now, personally, I prefer a wizard without a rack to speak of, but I can see why you would beg to differ."

Neville's snort went unnoticed in the noisy bout of coughing that followed as his great-uncle attempted not to choke on the biscuit he had just added to the other five that had been lingering in his mouth, half-chewed. It was difficult not to notice how his chest juggled when he coughed, though Merlin knew, one did their best not to. When he had escaped the danger of choking to death on his embarrassment over being called out on his sizeable pair of man-boobs, Archie Longbottom lifted his overweight body out of the chair and, soon after, out of the drawing room.

Even if one had never tasted a single one of Minerva McGonagall's famous ginger newts, one would have been able to tell they were delicious by looking at the way Ginny had to take a sip of tea because she had tried – and failed – to inhale a number of those newts at once.

"And Theo Nott!" she added. "That slimey slimeball of a sneaky snake, that –"

"And how is young Mr Nott these days?" Headmistress McGonagall addressed Hermione, who had been rather silent while Ginny was ranting about her lovers.

"Very well, thank you for asking, professor," Hermione replied courteously. "His input on the case of the Bulgarian Voldemort supporters we've been chasing was most valuable."

"Most val–!" Ginny couldn't have looked any more disbelieving if she'd tried. "Really, Hermione, is that a way of –"

"Now, would you look at that, Miss Weasley," Headmistress McGonagall exclaimed. "All the ginger newts must be gone. Now, I wonder… Would you be a dear and check my old Transfiguration office? There might be some left."

Ginny opened her mouth to object, but wasn't allowed to voice a single tone.

"Left upper drawer, in the biscuit tin. They might be old, but still good. Thank you, Miss Weasley."

And with that, Ginny was on her way. Even having been raised with six older brothers did not prepare you to deny a direct order from the formidable Scottish witch.

"Bulgaria, you say, Miss Granger," Headmistress McGonagall took up their recent line of conversation. "An on-location kind of job, I imagine?"

"Indeed, professor," Hermione confirmed. "Relations with the Bulgarian DMLE may be good, but there's something to be said for being there in person, sometimes."

"Relations," the older witch echoed. "Mh-hmm."

She took a most meaningful sip of tea.

Hermione eyed her questioningly, shifting in her comfy seat.

"Yes, professor?"

"Blaise," Astoria bustled into the study where the three young wizards were having their firewhiskey. "Say, is your mother still so fond of gardenias? We have planted a rare species, and they've just come into bloom."

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Zabini scoffed derisively. "I rarely see her, anyway. Don't even know where she is at the moment. Probably off on the continent, somewhere, with husband number – oh, I've lost count."

"Well, you must go see her," Astoria impressed. "Come now, help me choose a colour and then you can bring her a bouquet this very evening…"

Their voices became harder to hear the further Astoria dragged the loudly objecting wizard away from Draco's man cave. Silence reigned for a blissful minute or two.

"You know," Draco said eventually, "we used to talk about how we'd have a foursome with our respective partners, you and I, once we'd both settled down. But that appears to be quite out of the question now."

"Yeah," Theo drawled, eyeing Draco warily. "It is hard to have a foursome in a combination of a married couple and a triad. Two plus three so rarely equals four, after all."

"I don't really see that becoming a problem for us," the blonde waved him off. "It's rather the fact that Astoria might object to sharing a bed with her older sister in this way."

Theo went to take a measured sip of his firewhiskey, only to find his tumbler empty.

"I don't know what you're –"

"Oh, don't give me that crap, Nott, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Draco cut him off. "Theo, I've known you for ages, and there's never been another witch for you, even though the two of you have been very discreet about it. But say, what does Daphne say of this whole fake triad thing there?"

Theo, resigning, sighed.

"It was here idea from the very start. 'Find someone good enough to intrigue your parents, but objectionable enough for them not to press for marriage right away.' Triads, as Zabini already said, are exceedingly rare, and exceedingly powerful, not to mention prestigious…"

"…but bringing Granger and Longbottom into the equation sours the taste, I see. But why go to this whole trouble in the first place?"

"To buy us time," Theo explained. "Daphne is off overseas, pursuing her education at the Salem Institute, and I am making my own name as a lawyer. Both our parents are pushing for providing heirs sooner rather than later. She's escaped the pressure of early marriage by sheer distance, but I'm not so lucky in that aspect, so –"

"So you had to become creative, I see. Good on you."

Draco raised his glass towards his friend, then frowned, seeing Theo's tumbler empty.

"More firewhiskey?"

"I've been thinking of inviting the Abbotts over for tea," Madam Longbottom mentioned. "What do you think, Neville?"

The wizard in question shot his grandmother a long look.

"You've never consulted me over the guest lists for your tea parties before, gran," he said.

"That would be because you've never courted any of my previous guests' daughters before," the old witch dead-panned. "Given the circumstances, I thought it polite to ask."

"Courting?" Neville asked, and only the fact that he was not munching away on six biscuits saved him from choking in much the same way as his great-uncle had, just a few minutes ago. "Gran, what –"

"I've also taken the liberty of having our family's engagement rings brought up from the vault," Augusta Longbottom continued as if her grandson hadn't spoken. "I will not pressure you into anything, but maybe you would like to look them over when you feel that the time is right."

"Gran –"

"Oh, do you think I was born yesterday, my boy?" Madam Longbottom chided. "Give your grandmother some credit. I may be old, but I am most definitely not blind. Miss Abbott has been coming over with the most curious questions about our herb garden these past few months – quite frequently, I might add –, and even you cannot go into such great detail about plants as would be required to explain away the amount of time you have been spending with the girl."

"Gran, Hermione and Theo –"

"- are lovely individuals, Neville, of that I am well aware. But they are by no means meant to form a triad with you."

Augusta Longbottom took another sip of her tea while her grandson looked on, grasping for words.

"Now, I will admit that it is a clever publicity stunt, to draw attention away from whatever partners the other two may actually be pursuing, but that is all there is to it."

She added another biscuit to her plate before gingerly taking a well-measured bite in a way most befitting an old lady.

"Don't look at me like that, my boy," she admonished Neville who was still speechless. "Close your mouth or you'll catch flies. And offer your grandmother some more tea."

Neville swallowed thickly, and took a few moments to compose himself. His grandmother politely admired the beautiful view of their appraised herb garden which could be seen quite ideally from their drawing room window.

"More tea, gran?" Neville eventually offered.

"Thank you, my dear, that would be lovely. How very considerate of you."

She watched as Neville filled her cup to the exact extent that had been drilled into him as a young boy growing up with his grandmother, smiling benignly when he got it correct. She waited until he had taken a bite of his biscuit, before adding, "Speaking of tea, I thought we could have the Abbotts over soon. I believe you know their daughter quite well – what was her name again? Anna?"

Neville had freed his throat of crumbs enough to reply, "Hannah."

"Hannah, yes. How could I forget. Sweet thing, and a lovely young lady. Would Thursday next suit you?"

"Speaking of relations," Headmistress McGonagall continued, "I hear that Mr Krum has called off his recent engagement."

Hermione blushed without meaning to, as one often does.

"That was months ago, professor."

"Months ago, you say, Miss Granger," the older witch mused. "Certainly before your job in Sofia, is that correct?"

Hermione merely nodded.

"And did the two of you have a chance to reconnect while you were there?"

The younger witch blushed more profusely, although she tried to hide it behind her cup of tea, taking another sip before humming non-committedly.

"I see," the headmistress said. After a pause, she added, "I also hear that the Bulgarian national team will be coming over for a friendly game of Quidditch against my Scots soon."

"Is that so," Hermione asked in a higher-than-usual tone of voice. "I certainly wouldn't know anything about that. You remember, I've never been too fond of the sport."

"No, I remember," the older witch agreed, "you've never been too fond of the sport."

"Professor –"

"And nowadays, you're probably too busy with Messieurs Nott and Longbottom to meet an old friend over tea, I would imagine."

Hermione's face had reached a colour by now that could only be described as beet red.

"Minerva," she said, "please –"

"Although, with how much Mr Krum dislikes the media hype about his person, and with your supposed triad drawing all the attention, such a hypothetical cup of tea might go fully unnoticed if one was to be clever about it."

A defeated sigh was all that could be heard from the younger witch.

"But again, we both know that you're madly in love with the young Messieurs Nott and Longbottom – are you not, Hermione?"

Hermione looked at her former Head of House. The headmistress took a sip of her cup of tea in all too dapper a manner for Hermione's liking, meeting the younger witch's eyes without an ounce of regret.

Eventually, Hermione turned her eyes on another professor in the office.

"Does the omniscience come with the profession of heading a school, would you say, or is it rather a requirement for the position in the first place?"

When addressed, Professor Dumbledore's painting stopped acting as if it was sleeping, eyes twinkling.

"I don't think anyone could survive two wars, not to mention more than two years – or forty- of teaching a school full of teenagers, without the skill to see at a glance when somebody is trying to hide something, Miss Granger," he replied.

The current headmistress merely smiled at Hermione's exasperated, but resigned, sigh.

"Ah, and here is Miss Weasley, back with the ginger newts," Headmistress McGonagall pronounced. "Biscuit, Miss Granger?"

"You know me too well, professor," Hermione emphasized.

"That, I do, my dear," the professor agreed. Her eyes twinkled with a brightness that Professor Dumbledore's portrait simply could not picture. "That, I do."

A/N: This was written for Hermione's Haven's Roll-a-drabble. It generously exceeds the 1000-word-limit, though, but I hope you guys will forgive me. The prompt was a threesome between Hermione, Theo Nott, and Neville Longbottom, using the trope of fake dating. I hadn't written a thing in months before this, so I may have gotten a bit rusty. Please, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave a review. Thanks for reading!

xxx Marcella