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Her mother stares at her, then recalls something. She laughs.
“And plushies, really? I was willing to humor you to a certain extent, but now that we’re finally discussing things openly, what a laughable thought. I’m amazed you thought it’d be a good idea to actually suggest we commission the creation of hundreds of custom stuffed animals for your sister’s wedding. Asides from the childishness, which I might almost forgive, had you considered the fact that the ceremony is in less than three weeks? Your father and I would have to conduct so many negotiations, pull so many strings, just to ensure they might all be neatly prepared, at an acceptable state of quality, and distributed on time for the dinner. Perhaps you hadn’t realized, because your pathetically weak older sister had been hiding it from you, but our hands were already completely full with the negotiation regarding the merging of that family’s assets with our own, in addition to the wedding planning.”
It was just meant to be a light-hearted suggestion. Nothing serious, something to break the ice. Of course she knew, Hermione thinks. Of course she knew all of that. But she can’t say a word to defend herself.
Her mother stands, looking at the thin watch on her wrist. “I’ll need to have a chat with Aurelia. Your father was always too soft on the both of you. I’ve had enough of it. That dreaming girl, with her idyllic stories, she needs to be straightened out.” Seemed her mother still held a distaste for the childhood romance novels Hermione had mentioned. “For her to disclose any amount of weakness to anyone, let alone her younger sister, with such garish words, is completely unacceptable. It seems she still needs far more training before she can become any proper sort of heiress.” Her mother smiles down at her. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Hermione, dear.” She begins walking off. “Dinner is in thirty minutes. Don’t be late.”
Hermione stares down at her hands.
>…Probably best to get cleaned up.
