In the end, the expressionless young witch finally cracked under relentless pestering and gave Wayne a thorough scolding.
This, oddly enough, came as a relief.
The worst scenario between a boy and a girl was silence—no arguments, no outbursts.
It was akin to despair beyond grief. Once the heart died, emotions ceased to stir because nothing mattered anymore.
Arguing and shouting, conversely, could strengthen bonds. Once vented, the negativity dissipated, sometimes leaving the relationship even stronger.
At least, that was how Hermione worked. By the end of their spat, they'd somehow ended up in a messy lip-lock.
The young witch had begun embracing the 'might as well' mentality.
As Wayne had spun it, the wizarding world had no explicit rules anyway. This was just an engagement, not a marriage—why fret over distant concerns?
That evening, Wayne escorted Hermione home and broached the idea of her visiting his place for a few days.
Under Mrs Granger's pointed stare, Mr Granger reluctantly agreed.
Early next morning, Wayne collected the young witch.
The original plan had included inviting Cho, but further provoking Hermione now was unwise. They needed time alone to solidify their bond before he could relax.
...
Highclere Castle, located in Hampshire, southeast England.
Commissioned by the 3rd Earl of Carnarvon, it boasted over 150 years of history and had been passed down through generations of the Herbert family, now in its seventh.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, an eighth would inherit.
But 'unforeseen circumstances' had a habit of appearing.
With the World Wars, the Empire's rapid decline—shrinking into the 'Little Britain Almost Without Northern Ireland Can't Quite Unite Kingdom'—waves of old aristocracy had collapsed.
Incomes plummeted, compounded by a staggering 45% inheritance tax. These castles, symbols of aristocratic heritage and glory from bygone eras, had become financial liabilities—requiring millions in annual maintenance costs and hefty inheritance taxes with each generational transfer.
The Herbert family had initially managed by reducing staff from a hundred to just twenty servants to cut expenses.
But Wayne took an interest in the property. He casually mentioned to Humphrey, who happened to oversee the relevant department at the time, that inheritance tax compliance should be scrutinised more thoroughly.
Soon after, the Herbert family buckled under the pressure and sold the castle for £54 million to an offshore fund controlled by the Lawrence family.
Finally, the fund "leased" it back to Wayne for a mere £10,000 per year, becoming his summer residence—a masterstroke in tax avoidance.
Now, many would find Highclere Castle unfamiliar.
But two decades later, a television series filmed on its grounds would propel the castle to global fame.
That series was none other than Downton Abbey.
Wayne brought Hermione to the castle. With nearly all its former staff dismissed, the place felt vast and empty.
Yet this was precisely the effect Wayne desired. He intended to renovate the castle alongside Hermione, nurturing their bond in the process.
Later, he could casually remark:
"Hermione, you wouldn't want another woman living in the home you worked so hard to restore... while you're not even here, would you?"
True to form, the young witch grew intrigued upon hearing Wayne's plan.
Still, she put on a haughty demeanour. "How could just two people possibly complete such a massive project!"
"Of course we can." Wayne released various puppets from his suitcase.
"You just need to assign tasks, and they'll handle everything effortlessly."
"Though the finer details will still require our personal touch."
"Well... shall we try then?"
...
After spending an entire day touring most of the castle's rooms and outer grounds with Hermione, Wayne had identified the necessary modifications.
The changes required weren't extensive. Some vacant rooms would be combined to create laboratories for studying different branches of magic, while the former chapel would become the library.
Most importantly, they'd construct a large hot spring outside...
Heh.
Wiping drool from his mouth, Wayne continued watching the young witch cast protective enchantments around the castle with him.
Having signed the Round Table contract, Hermione's talents were finally being unleashed.
Previously, her mastery of numerous spells had stemmed purely from exceptional diligence and learning ability surpassing her peers. But in later years, that gap would gradually narrow until others overtook her.
Because Hermione's ceiling simply wasn't that high.
During her OWLs, she'd taken ten subjects - achieving nine 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations'.
The 'E' happened to be in Defence Against the Dark Arts... while Harry had scored an 'O'.
That was the helplessness imposed by innate talent.
Now, according to Wayne's estimation, her Transfiguration and Dark Magic defence aptitudes had reached S-rank, with other disciplines showing significant improvement too.
Given Hermione's work ethic, she'd inevitably realise all this potential to become a formidable witch.
...
Mr Granger's parting instructions were long forgotten as Hermione now woke daily in Wayne's arms.
The pair lived in their own little world - eating together, sleeping together, practically joined at the hip with inseparable companionship.
Seven fleeting days saw their affection deepen rapidly.
Even mentions of Astoria only elicited playful sarcasm from the young witch now, never strong reactions.
Sometimes there were reasons why scoundrels proved popular.
Wealthy, handsome, generous, even-tempered, considerate, and full of surprises...
Apart from his fractured heart being divided among different women, one really couldn't fault him.
By departure day, Hermione had transformed into an utterly clingy kitten.
"You'd better miss me," she warned from Wayne's embrace.
"Or just don't go," he murmured, kissing her forehead. "You've visited France so often already - one more trip makes little difference."
"I can't." Though longing to stay, Hermione had received twenty daily calls from her frantic father for three days prior.
She feared continued absence might prompt his personal intervention.
"I'll return to you after France," Hermione promised, glancing at their majestic castle.
In this brief time, she'd already come to view it as their 'love nest' - having designed and renovated many rooms herself, she'd grown deeply attached.
"Very well," Wayne sighed. "Without you here, this place holds little joy for me alone."
"Once I finish setting up the final protective spells, I'll be returning to London, too."
"See you next month." The young witch's soft lips briefly touched the boy's cheek before Ho-Oh carried her away.
"Phew..."
As the flames dissipated, Wayne let out a sigh of relief.
If Hermione hadn't left, Fleur would have arrived in two days' time.
...
Two days passed in a flash as a car pulled up to the gates of Highclere Castle.
The driver stared at the empty wasteland before him. "Are you sure this is the right place? There's nothing here."
"That's odd, I remember there being a castle here?"
"It's definitely here," the silver-haired girl in the passenger seat replied in a clear, melodious voice, though with a slightly odd accent.
The driver's heartbeat quickened, his weathered face flushing red.
He hurriedly stepped out to help unload the luggage.
Though his own daughter was older than this silver-haired maiden, he had to admit she was likely the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.
The only one who might surpass her was probably the young lady sitting in the back.
Fleur exited the car and opened the rear door.
Gabrielle cheered as she jumped out. Fleur patted the little girl's head in mock exasperation.
After one final confirmation that they hadn't come to the wrong place, the driver shook his head and drove off.
Carrying so much luggage to the middle of nowhere... typical French eccentricity.
"Sister! Where's big brother?" Gabrielle demanded impatiently.
"Be patient, Gabrielle. You'll see Wayne soon," Perenelle said cheerfully, tapping her wand against empty air. Ripples suddenly appeared in the space where nothing had been.
Pop!
With a sharp crack, Wayne materialised before them. "Nicolas! Grandma Perenelle! You came too!" he exclaimed joyfully.
"Big brother!" Gabrielle threw herself into Wayne's arms, pouting in pretend anger. "Why didn't you say my name? Aren't you happy to see Gabrielle?"
"Of course I'm happy," Wayne replied, immediately showering her with kisses before lifting her high, making the little girl dissolve into giggles.
Fleur watched the boy with shining eyes, fighting the urge to rush forward herself.
After just a few months apart, she noticed Wayne had grown even more handsome, exuding a strange new charm that made her pulse race.
Who's the part-Veela here?
Fleur found herself wondering again, just as she had when they first met.
The barren landscape suddenly 'jumped' to reveal a castle, its gates swinging open to admit them.
Handing Gabrielle back to Fleur, Wayne walked beside the elderly couple. "Whose idea was this surprise visit?" he asked happily.
"Don't look at me," Nicolas chuckled. "This was all Perenelle and Fleur's plan to surprise you."
Fleur explained, "We couldn't have done it without Madame Perenelle. My parents would never have let me bring Gabrielle otherwise."
"Thank you, Grandma Perenelle," Gabrielle added in her childish voice, making everyone laugh.
...
"This is quite the castle you have here."
In a tea room, Nicolas took a sip of strong tea and remarked after regaining some energy. Fleur and Gabrielle followed Gardevoir to arrange their rooms, while Perenelle went to admire the artworks within the castle, leaving only Wayne and Nicolas in the house.
"Quite nice indeed," Wayne smiled. "Just too big – feels a bit lonely living here alone."
"Alone?" Nicolas teased with a wink. "Not for long."
"It's already livelier now, isn't it?" Wayne pretended not to understand. "With you two elders here, plus Fleur and Gabrielle, the place has become much more vibrant."
Nicolas shook his head slightly. "We'll only stay a few days – wouldn't want to intrude on your newlywed life."
"Returning to Paris? So soon?" Wayne frowned.
For two elders with a combined age of over a thousand, travelling wasn't easy. Given Nicolas and Perenelle's current physical condition, they couldn't withstand the strain of long-distance Apparition or Portkey travel – they'd likely fall apart before arriving. This trip had been made via Muggle transportation: slower, but safer.
"No," Nicolas set down his teacup. "We won't be returning to Paris anytime soon. Nabby and the others are already preparing the Devon estate. Perenelle and I will be living there from now on."
Suddenly, Nicolas chuckled. "Might as well admit it – I've actually come to Britain to seek refuge."
"Refuge?"
Wayne's expression instantly cooled, magical power surging within him as the room's atmosphere grew oppressive. "Is someone targeting you and Grandmother Perenelle? Is it because of the Philosopher's Stone?"
"Don't tense up," Nicolas said soothingly, a touch of warmth in his eyes. "No one's after us at present. I'm just... concerned about the future."
He sighed. "Having lived this long, I've developed certain instincts. Something feels... wrong about the current situation."
"Recently, I performed a crystal ball divination. The world's about to become turbulent again, though the exact cause remains unclear. But the foreboding I felt was unlike anything before."
"Perhaps it's Voldemort. Or that resurrected Tom. Or some other unknown danger."
Gazing at the blue sky and white clouds outside the window, Nicolas mused, "Had this been a few years earlier, I might not have bothered moving. After five hundred years, one grows rather tired of living."
"As Dumbledore says, death is but the next great adventure."
"But now..." He turned back, eyes twinkling. "I find myself with new expectations – mainly to see whether you'll eventually crash and burn. And Perenelle keeps talking about wanting grandchildren."
"To live long enough for that, coming to Britain seemed prudent. The great adventure can wait."
"With you and Dumbledore here, Britain should be the safest place in the world moving forward."
Wayne felt genuinely moved, sensing the sincerity behind Nicolas's words. Though...
"Isn't it a bit much to be anticipating my downfall?" Wayne said dryly.
Nicolas laughed. "You managed to attract two young ladies during a potions competition. If anyone's destined for a spectacular failure, it's you."
The young man had no rebuttal, opting to change the subject instead.
"Britain's a good choice. Newt's here too, so you won't lack company."
"As for safety..." Wayne exuded quiet confidence, his voice steady:
"As long as I'm here, no one can threaten you or Grandmother Perenelle's safety. Even if Tom and Voldemort appeared together, I could crush them with one hand."
"I believe you," Nicolas said with a smile.
Age brought wisdom, and the old man could clearly sense the remarkable change in Wayne's demeanour.
Compared to their last meeting, the young man now carried himself with undeniable sharpness and an imposing presence.
Though Nicolas didn't know the specifics, such a transformation could only stem from significant growth in power.
If Wayne had been capable of defeating a weakened Grindelwald back then, what might he achieve now?
...
After their conversation concluded, Wayne gave Nicolas a tour of the castle.
The elderly wizard, with his wealth of experience in architectural modifications, offered numerous valuable suggestions. He even presented Wayne with a Philosopher's Stone to serve as the castle's power source.
During dinner, Wayne outlined Fleur's itinerary for the coming period.
Fleur and Gabrielle could stay in Britain for a total of twenty days, and since it was their first visit, there were plenty of interesting places to explore.
The most famous was undoubtedly Stonehenge in Wiltshire.
In Muggle legends, it was a prehistoric site, while in wizarding records, it was described as a large altar built by early witches and wizards, although its exact purpose remained unknown.
Gabrielle wasn't particularly interested in such things and was soon eating messily, her mouth smeared with grease. Wayne had no choice but to carry her in his arms, wiping the little girl's mouth while arranging their itinerary.
As for Nicolas and Perenelle, having seen it many times before, they planned to rest in the castle for a couple of days.
...
Late at night.
Wayne lay in bed, not asleep, but pondering what Nicolas had just said.
The future world would be turbulent...
Most likely related to Tom and Voldemort.
He just didn't know which of them would be the cause.
He wasn't worried—he just suddenly missed Tom.
He wondered which country Tom had gone to over the past few months and whether he was up to anything.
But given his current strength, he was probably still in the development phase.
Hmm?
Wayne suddenly looked toward the door. Two seconds later, it creaked open, and a slender figure tiptoed in.
"I knew you'd still be awake," Fleur said triumphantly with a light hum.
"I was about to sleep. What's wrong? Not used to the bed?" Wayne sat up and asked.
"No." Fleur shook her head, pushed Wayne back down, then straddled him, looking down at the boy with a smirk.
"Let your big sister take a good look at how you suddenly became so much more handsome..."