Bearings
Disclaimer/Author's notes: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter. And now a chapter through the eyes of my favorite character. Any reviews are welcome.
I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don't let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories
Sarah McLachlan
I Will Remember You
Chapter Two: Retrospect
April 2002
Hermione Granger pushed open the door to her house and was immediately assaulted by the smell of cooking chicken. She inhaled the scent as she crossed into the foyer, pushing the door closed behind her and hanging her coat up on the hook.
"Hermione, is that you?" Jane Granger called from the kitchen.
"Yes, mum," she replied, setting her work briefcase on the small table. She slipped her shoes off and padded down the hall into the kitchen. Her mother was moving around the room busily, preparing for what was most definitely a late dinner. Her father was nowhere to be seen.
"How was your day, honey?"
"Fine, mum. Why are you eating so late?" Hermione asked, glancing at the clock on the wall. It read 7:30 pm.
"Your father had to work late tonight," her mum responded, opening the oven and taking the chicken out. "I know how late you always get home, so I thought it would be nice for us all to eat together for once."
Hermione sat heavily into a chair at the table, sighing as she did so. She did indeed get home late, just about every day, and the weariness that spread through her indicated that. She had gone into the Ministry around eight that morning, and had left just a half hour ago. Eleven-hour days weren't unusual, nor were longer ones.
"You look terrible," her mother commented, setting the chicken and some smashed potatoes on the table.
"Thanks, mum," Hermione said, dryly. She brushed some of her bushy brown hair away from her face, resting her chin in her hand after. Before their conversation could continue, however, the sound of the front door opening and closing reached their ears, as well as her father's voice.
"Bloody kids…" Hermione heard. She looked to her mother, who just raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly.
"Something the matter, Dan?" Jane called out to her husband. After a moment, the man in question came into the kitchen, with a decidedly sour look on his face. He pecked his wife on the cheek, which Hermione eyed.
"Just a hold-up…longer than expected," he said, face brightening up when he saw his daughter.
"Hermione, you're home!" he said. She nodded, giving him a smile.
"Busy day?" he asked, probably noticing her slouch.
She shrugged. "No more than normal."
"Well, if every day was like today, I'd go bollocks," her dad said, earning a short chuckle from Jane.
"Well, you're home now," her mum said.
"Yes; we all are," he said, grabbing some vegetables and setting them on the table. He then sat down, and Jane soon followed.
"Well, this is nice," Jane said. "We're all here for once," she continued. The next few minutes were spent serving themselves food and starting in on their meal. Hermione was eating slowly, reflecting on just how busy she had actually been that day.
"What's the matter, Hermione? You look sluggish," her dad said.
"Just tired is all, dad," Hermione replied, ironically holding back a yawn as she did so.
"You have been working awfully hard for quite some time now, you know," he said. "Don't you deserve some kind of break soon?"
"At this point, with all of the things I've got lined up?" Hermione asked, with a raised eyebrow.
Jane looked at Dan, who nodded, and looked back to Hermione. Hermione didn't like that one bit; they had obviously talked about whatever it was they were going to say to her beforehand.
"Surely it wouldn't kill you to cut down on the hours some?" her mum asked.
Hermione shook her head. "I can't do that. Not now. The competition for that position I told you about is heating up. I have to keep at it as much as I have been, or else it would look like I was slacking or something."
"Really, Hermione, cutting down to forty-five or fifty hour weeks from sixty would be seen as slacking?" her father asked. None of them were eating anymore, their food forgotten on their plates.
"That's not the point. I have momentum. I don't want to lose that."
"You just look…so tired," her father said, in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. Hermione didn't argue with him on that one; she was bone tired. There was little she could do about that, though.
"They'll announce who they're appointing to chair position soon. If I get it I can cool off a bit," Hermione replied.
"And if you don't?" her mother asked.
Hermione didn't want to consider that. All of her hopes and plans had been resting on getting that position, which would put her in charge of the Muggle Liaisons office. Arthur, the Vice Minister, and Amos, the Minister, would be the only ones above her. She had come so far in the Ministry in a very short amount of time, with almost no setbacks, so she was one hundred percent sure she would get this appointment.
"I will," she said, refocusing on her parents. In doing so, she missed the look that passed between them.
There was another silence as the three concentrated on finishing their meal. Sometime during the previous five minutes, it had started raining, and Hermione could hear the cold, windswept drops pattering the roof and windows. The wind could be heard sighing through the eaves of their house, creating a melancholy atmosphere that perfectly fit her current mood.
"Oh, has Harry written back yet?" her mum asked. Hermione looked up, hoping that there wasn't too much disappointment showing on her face at the mention of her old friend.
"No mum, not yet," she said.
"When did you send that letter?" her dad asked.
"About a month ago," she replied. She was hoping that a reply of some kind would come any day, but as each day passed and April crept toward May, the hope was slowly being washed away by sadness. She missed Harry a great deal, and it seemed like he had forgotten about his home.
"It could have gotten lost in the mail," her mother said, hopefully.
Hermione shook her head. "I charmed it to return to me if Harry hadn't gotten a hold of it within two weeks." The fact that it hadn't returned to her told her that Harry had at least received it, which led her to wonder why he didn't respond…which in turn led to that sadness.
"Well…couldn't you call him?" her mother asked.
"He doesn't have a mobile, and I don't know his local number," she replied. This whole conversation was depressing her.
When she was at work, she usually kept busy enough to avoid thinking about Harry. Ever since he had left, after they had graduated, she had worked many hard hours to keep her mind firmly in Britain. Before he'd left, she had done everything she knew of to hint to him that she…well that was water under the bridge now. He was over there, and she was over here, and he seemed to not care about her anymore.
Now that her parents were bringing it up, however, she found herself returning to those same futile thoughts. She really did miss Harry, but what difference did it make if he wouldn't keep in touch with her? And as far as she knew, he hadn't kept in touch with Ron or the others either.
"This Harry bloke doesn't impress me too much, Hermione," her dad suddenly chimed in, totally catching her off guard.
"Come again?" Hermione asked.
"Well, you know, we didn't really get to know him when you were at Hogwarts," he continued. "We were looking forward to meeting him after you were all done with that place, since you always seemed so fond of him growing up…" he trailed off, and she tried to hide the blush that crept to her face. She had gushed occasionally, hadn't she?
"Anyways, he just left? And now you can't get a response from him? Just doesn't impress me too much," he finished.
"You didn't know him like I did," Hermione said. "He defended Ron and I, and countless others, with his life. And I know he'd do it again," Hermione said, unsure of why she was defending him, but doing it anyway.
"How do you know that, dear?" her mother asked, surprising Hermione even more. Why were they both being so obstinate about this? She knew Harry; she knew what he was and wasn't capable of. Some part of her, deep down in her heart, knew that he wasn't capable of just forgetting her, but that was a part that had little weight in her well-ordered mind. So, she just lived with the fact that Harry would hopefully return to Britain when he graduated…
"I lived, studied, worked, fought, and bled with him for seven years, mum. I might even know Harry better than himself," she said, raising her voice a little. She was beginning to get frustrated with this line of questioning, not only because it was pointless but also because it was freeing up long-buried feelings.
"The Harry from four years ago," her father corrected. Both her mother and her father were staring at her now.
"Look, why are you doing this?" Hermione asked. Not only was she frustrated, but also she knew she was going to burst into tears soon, and that was something she didn't want her parents to see.
"It's just…" her mother started, but faltered. Her father took over.
"We're just worried about you. You're 22 and you're still living at home. You work ungodly hours and you have no social life," he said. She winced, and dropped her eyes to the table. Everything he was saying was true.
"We're worried that life is just going to pass you by, and you're going to miss it." He paused; she looked up. "And we think Harry is the reason."
Hermione blinked. "What?!"
"Now Hermione, listen to your-"
"No!" Hermione said, loudly. She stood and brought her plate to the sink. As she started rinsing it off, she said, "Regardless of what you may think, I'm perfectly happy with my life right now. I'm saving up for my own apartment, but if you want me to leave, I can. I have a lot of friends at the Ministry." She turned off the faucet and started for the door of the kitchen.
"Hermione, wait-"
"You've said enough," she overrode her father, and continued on her way out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and to her room. It wasn't until her door was closed and locked that she let the tears come…and come they did. She slid down her door and drew her knees to her chest, silently sobbing so that her parents wouldn't hear it. A soft yellow glow came in through her curtains from the streetlight outside, and the rain cascading against her window threw streaked patterns across her room.
She rested her chin on her knees, watching as her tears left her face and dropped onto her legs, and then went rolling down toward the floor. She pulled her legs tighter against her as an involuntary shiver passed through her. She sniffled once, willing her tears to stop, but they would only slow.
She wondered what Harry was doing at that moment, as she leaned against her door wallowing in her sorrow, all alone in her room at her childhood home. She wondered what kinds of friends Harry had made, if there was anyone he loved…she wondered why he wouldn't write back, after all they'd been through. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, about herself and her life and the people they both called friends, but that was impossible to do with one-sided letters.
She rarely saw Ron anymore; he was often away training for Quidditch, and when he was home, him and Luna spent all of that time together. Ginny, who had once been her best female friend of sorts, had just gotten engaged to Neville, so she rarely saw them, too. They were both busy with their respective professions, and they loved each other deeply. The other four, besides Harry and herself, had found their counterpart.
She sniffed once as the tears finally abated. Maybe that was what was really bothering her-she loved her work, but she knew she was relatively lonely. Sure, she had colleagues that she saw every day at the Ministry, but those were strictly professional relationships. She hadn't made a real connection to anyone besides the five other people that had gone to the Department of Mysteries so long ago, not even to her parents. The problem was, all five of them seemed to be drifting away from her, and she either wasn't strong enough to stop it or didn't know how.
She had all but told Harry her true feelings before he had left for America four years earlier, and she had futilely hoped that he would change his mind for some reason or see what she was really trying to say, but that hadn't happened. If she could do it all over again, she would just tell him explicitly, but she also knew that it wasn't that easy. It's one thing to think about saying something hard, but then to actually follow through with it when faced with the situation…
So here she was, 22 years old and as alone as the day she came back from Singapore four summers before. She smiled mirthlessly to herself as she remembered that fine day. She had unpacked her things and then Apparated over to the Burrow, looking for Ron or Ginny. The only person that had been home was Molly.
"Hermione, how was your trip?" the Weasley matron said by way of greeting.
Hermione smiled at the older woman. "Fine, Molly. I had a good time. Ron or Ginny around anywhere?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, but I think you've missed them both," Molly replied.
"Oh? Any idea where they went?"
"About a week after Harry left, Ron and Luna went with her father to Switzerland for four weeks."
"Really," Hermione said. That meant that Ron wouldn't be home for another week. She vaguely wondered what it had been like for Ron, to have that final contact with Harry before he left. She knew that if it had been her at the airport she would have cried.
"And Ginny, she's back at Hogwarts," Molly said, giving Hermione a curious look.
"Oh, of course, how could I forget about that? It is after the first, isn't it?" Hermione questioned, rhetorically. How could she have forgotten that school was already in session again for the year?
Her mind was telling her that she had been really distracted of late, but she ignored that voice. It didn't do to dwell on thoughts of Harry, especially now that he was thousands of miles away.
"Wait…how can Luna be missing classes?"
"Minerva exempted her for the week. Figured it wouldn't hurt anything-and Ron, well, he doesn't have to worry about classes anymore."
"And Ginny didn't argue?" Hermione asked.
"No," Molly said, again looking at Hermione a little strangely. "Why would she?"
"Well…Luna gets to miss classes…"
"Ah, but you forget where your good friend Neville Longbottom works now," Molly supplied, moving about the kitchen of the Burrow and straightening things up.
"He got the job?" Hermione asked.
Molly nodded. "Minerva informed him about three weeks ago."
"I see," Hermione replied. Well of course she hadn't known, as she had been out of the country for quite awhile now.
"I don't think Minerva would mind if you popped on up to the school for a bit of a visit," Molly said, sitting at the table. Hermione hadn't moved from her spot by the door.
"No, that's alright. I wouldn't want to be a bother. And besides, I have quite a bit of work to do to get ready for tomorrow. I just wanted to say hullo, is all."
"I'll let Ron know when he gets home," Molly replied, and Hermione turned to leave. "One more thing, Hermione," Molly added. Hermione turned back and raised her eyebrow.
"Harry left a few things for you, before he left. They're up in Ron's room if you want to have a look."
Hermione's heart fluttered for a brief moment, and then she wordlessly nodded and ascended the stairs. When she came to Ron's door, she pressed the palm of her hand against it, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
Ron's side of the room was immaculate, for once, but her attention was immediately drawn to the bed Harry had used when he'd stayed at the Burrow. On it was a small, plain box with a short note attached to it. She moved over to the bed and sat on it, with several memories of the Trio's time in this room running their merry way through her head. She could almost hear Harry's laughter at something particularly stupid Ron had said, or Ron's apologetic voice for offending her in some way or another.
She brought her attention to the note stuck to the box. Harry's familiar writing was scrawled across its surface:
Hermione,
I won't need my magical things in the Muggle world, so I'm giving you all of my effects, except for the Firebolt, of course. Ron got that. I hope you aren't too offended. Everything has been shrunk and placed in this box. The invisibility cloak is in there, too, though I know you won't use it for mischief. The Marauder's Map…everything is in there. I'm sure you'll find a good use for them.
Harry
She ran her fingers across the note as she reread the words he had written; some part of her was very saddened by the starkness, the emotionless tone of the note, but what had she expected? Something a little more resonating, that was for sure.
She picked up the box, crumpling the note and throwing it in the bin, and went back downstairs. Molly was nowhere to be seen, so she Apparated back to her house. She placed the box on her shelf and started in on the work she had to complete for her first internship the next day.
The rain brought Hermione's attention back to the present, and she listened to the staccato beat of the heavy, wind-driven raindrops as they hit against her house. Her eyes strayed over to her shelf, where the box still sat, all these years later, unopened and untouched since that day. Everything in the room had an EverClean charm on it, so there was no dust on it, but the dust was in her mind. Cobwebs had sprung up since she'd placed that there, making her unable to go to it and move it. The weaver of those webs was her own feelings.
She heard footsteps on the stairs, and she knew she didn't want to speak to her parents again that night. She quickly stood and moved over to her bed, slipping under the covers and feigning sleep. The footsteps paused outside her door, and then came a light knock. Hermione didn't answer, and a few moments later she could hear the door open, presumably so one or both of them could see if she was sleeping. The door closed a few seconds later and the steps continued on past her room.
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May 2nd, 2002
Hermione's eyes shot open as her alarm went off; the adrenaline that briefly pumped through her body had stopped and she was already weary again as she sat up and shut it off. The clock told her the sad story of six in the morning, and she slowly swung her legs out from under the covers and stood up.
She stretched to her full height; stretching the thin tee and making the small shorts she was wearing ride up a bit. She looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, seeing all of her flaws rather than her many attributes, and turned away from those negative thoughts. She gathered up the blouse and the skirt she would wear under her robes that day, and headed for the loo. After showering and attending to various daily maintenances, she went downstairs and started preparing breakfast for herself. It was still only six twenty, so her parents wouldn't be up for another forty minutes. She had been very frosty with them since that night they'd brought up Harry, so they hadn't said much to each other in quite awhile.
As she sat down at the table with her breakfast, though, Jane walked sleepily into the kitchen; something must have woken her.
"Hermione," she said.
"Mum." Hermione watched her mother as she went about the kitchen gathering things for her own breakfast.
"What are you having?" her mother asked.
"Some toast," Hermione relied, accentuating it with the crunch of the hardened bread between her teeth. She took a sip of water, watching over the rim of her glass as Jane sat at the table, across from her.
"That's all?"
"I've never really eaten much in the morning," Hermione replied.
"Ah, that's right…" Jane said, although for some reason she seemed to be distracted.
"What's got you up so early?" Hermione asked, attempting to cut through the awkward silence between their words.
"Didn't feel well," Jane said, off-handedly.
"Headcold?"
Her mother shook her head. Hermione watched her push the food around on her plate, before she sighed and let the fork clatter down.
"I've been nauseous the past few mornings," she said, staring at her daughter. Even already, Hermione's mind began to put the pieces together.
"Mum, what are-"
"Hermione, I think I'm pregnant." Silence engulfed the kitchen and its occupants for a few seconds; that is, until Hermione noisily exhaled. What did her mum want her to say?
"That's great! And you know, you're only forty two, that's not unheard of, women are having babies up to fifty now-"
"Hermione," Jane said, cutting her off. They locked eyes with each other. "What do you really think?"
"Uh…that it's great?" Hermione stated, more as a question though. Her mother wasn't making a whole lot of sense at the moment.
"Yeah, but you've been an only child for so long…and this would change that…"
"Mum, I'm a grown woman. My sibling would be 23 years younger than me…I really don't think that's even an issue." Hermione was silent for a moment, considering what this news really meant.
"Does dad know yet?" she asked. Her mother shook her head.
"No. I'm going to the doctor today to get the final word. If he says that I am indeed pregnant, I'll tell Dan then."
Hermione wasn't sure how she could ask the next question on her mind without embarrassing herself and her mother, but the more inquisitive side of her won.
"Were you not using protection…?" Hermione trailed off, feeling the slight blush rise in her cheeks, but somewhat satisfied at seeing the same thing on her mother's face.
"Well, we were told we couldn't have any more kids," Jane explained. "So we didn't think it was an issue."
"Do you want another kid?" Hermione asked, and her mother looked up at her, rather sharply she thought. Jane considered her for a moment or two, and then resumed pushing the food around on her plate with her fork.
"Yes, of course, but this is very unexpected. It will just take a little getting used to."
Hermione nodded her head, and then looked at the clock. It was six thirty-five. Her eyes widened in surprise. She was going to be late if she didn't get her arse moving. She stood up quickly and magicked her dishes into the sink.
"I'm sorry that I have to run like this, but I'm going to be late if I don't go. I hope the doctor tells you what you want to hear, mum," Hermione said as she left the room, purposely leaving her statement ambiguous. She didn't think her mum really knew what she wanted yet.
If she put herself in her mum's position, she knew she would be a little overwhelmed. Forty-two, a grown kid, a stable job…and all of the sudden another child on the way. That would certainly throw a kink in whatever plans her parents had. It was with these thoughts that Hermione Apparated to the Ministry's atrium. They were soon swept away as she made her way through the tumult of all the employees trying to get to work on time, though. As she passed through the wand checkpoint and into the atrium proper, her eyes went to the statue and the fountain as they did every morning when she walked past it.
Shortly after Harry had left for America and before Hermione had gotten home from Singapore, the powers that be had decided the statue that had resided in the atrium for many years was no longer a good representation of Wizarding society, and had sought to replace it with something more fitting. It had only taken two days of deliberation for the Wizengamot to come to a unanimous decision over what the new statue should be of, and they had immediately hired the two best magical sculptors in Britain.
The day that Hermione had come to the Ministry for the start of her first internship, she had been supremely startled to be greeted by her own likeness. Standing in the middle of the fountain were three figures, all dressed in Muggle jeans and a light sweater, as Ron, Harry, and herself had often dressed on their hunt for the Horcruxes. The left figure, if one was looking at it from the front, was the tallest of the three, and had rather short, straight hair. His features were fair and his smile huge, as if he were laughing. This person was Ron of course, and Hermione had to admit to herself that the person sculpting it had done a very good job. The body language fairly screamed Ron Weasley.
The middle figure was the shortest and the most feminine, as it was Hermione herself. This Hermione had longish straight hair, a pert nose, flawless skin, and a small smile across her lips. Her hands were on hips, and she knew the pose was a perfect imitation of what she did when she was either slightly amused or slightly frustrated. She sometimes wondered how the creators had gotten so close to the real thing.
The third figure, the one she found herself staring at quite often, was none other than the Boy Who Lived, the Savior of the Wizarding World, or Harry Bloody Potter, as she recalled Harry saying once. He was slightly behind Hermione and Ron, looking at them with a smile on his face, as well. His pose exuded confidence, and would have been tacky with any other person, but Hermione knew it was a way that Harry had actually looked from time to time. The sculptor had even recreated the mess that was Harry's hair.
"Sometimes I think Ronald gets jealous when I look at his statue," a voice behind Hermione stated.
"Why is that, Luna?" Hermione asked, recognizing the voice.
"He seems to think that visage is more handsome than his," the blond said, coming up to Hermione's side. Hermione glanced over her, envying for the briefest of seconds her very slim figure and beautiful hair. Luna had, at some point, gotten Muggle corrective lens, although they did not detract from her appearance. In fact, if her wire frames were taken in combination with her blue eyes and swept up blond hair, she was actually a very striking person. Luna wore heels, a skirt, and tight blouse.
"Well, mine certainly is," Hermione said, eyeing the very feminine and alluring shape of her statue. She sometimes wanted to rage against that statue, to destroy it, but she knew she couldn't. Regardless of how inappropriate she thought a statue of herself was, there was nothing she could do about it. It was a permanent fixture in the Ministry now.
"What do you mean?" Luna asked, turning the paradox of an inquisitive and an airy gaze upon Hermione.
"None of us look that good," Hermione said, shrugging. Luna considered her for a moment, and then turned back to the statues.
"Well, you do have a splattering of freckles on your nose not on the statue," Luna said, and then giggled lightly. Hermione stared at her incredulously, and then laughed a bit with her. Merlin, it felt good to laugh! She hadn't done that in so long. The two young women turned away from the fountain and the statues and started toward the lifts. Hermione turned toward Luna slightly.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" she asked.
"Oh, I have to do some interviews for daddy," she said, tapping the quill that was firmly tucked behind her ear, as it always was. Luna worked for the Quibbler, and was quickly moving her way up; Hermione had been rather surprised when she'd read some of Luna's stories. It seemed that, regardless of the occasionally…off…things the blond said, her reporting was actually very factual and rarely inane. It had given the Quibbler a bit of a more solid reputation in the last few years.
"Awfully early for that sort of stuff," Hermione said, as they stepped into the elevator.
"Yes well, Ronald has an early practice today. I decided to start early, as well. After some fun, of course," Luna said, causing Hermione to blush.
"Luna," Hermione implored.
She simply raised an immaculate blond eyebrow from behind her frames at Hermione. "Yes?"
"Never mind," Hermione said, wanting to avoid yet another discussion about sex with Luna. That was another thing that had surprised Hermione about Luna during the past few years-she was as frank as anyone she had ever met about sex, and had learned more about Ron's thing than she cared to admit. Sometimes Luna just went on and on…
"Well, I'm off," Hermione said. The elevator doors slid open.
"Have a good day, Hermione," Luna said.
"Make an honest man out of Ron," Hermione said, looking over her shoulder at the small smile on Luna's face.
"Some day," the blond said, and the doors slid closed. Hermione turned away from the elevator and was confronted with the set of offices that had been her home for a long time now. She strode down the corridor, slipping her work robes over her shoulders as she did so, and stopped at the door closest to the end of the hallway. There was one door further down, at the very end, but that had been empty for some time now. It had Muggle Liaisons Chair magicked across the frosted glass, but the spot for the name was empty.
Hermione looked at the door to her own office, seeing the Hermione J. Granger, Muggle Coordinator written there, and turned the doorknob. Her office was as she had left it the previous night-papers, folders, and memos strewn everywhere. She had had a particularly long and stressful day, and she had wanted to just get the hell out of there. With a few flicks of her wand, though, the mess had righted itself, and she set about to see what her various tasks for the day would be.
She took everything from her inbox, all of which had accumulated since she'd left, and started leafing through it. As she read a note from the Prime Minister, she leaned back in her chair and chuckled at the man's ignorance. For some reason, he was expressing concern about the secret of a magical society getting out, but Hermione knew he still didn't understand the concept of Obliviation.
She met with him on a weekly basis, and he had a limited understanding of the magical world, but there were still so many things that baffled him, and rightly so of course. She wrote a quick reply to him, assuring him that everything was under control, as it had been for centuries, and sent it off.
Her next note was from Gringotts, informing her of various large transactions that had occurred between the magical and Muggle societies during the past week, as well as the accompanying documents to prove that the Statute of Secrecy had not been violated in any of the circumstances.
The next hour for her was much of the same, going through notes and documents that were related to the Muggle world somehow. A major part of her job was monitoring the Statute of Secrecy, and hence a majority of the documents she received were the proof required that said statute was not broken. At last, she came to the last note in the pile, and saw that it was from Arthur Weasley. He requested her presence in his office at nine o'clock.
She glanced up at the timepiece mounted on her wall, and saw that it was only 8:15, so she still had some time before she had to make her way to the Vice Minister's office. She passed the time by filling out several forms dealing with the Muggle transport of several magical animals, and as 8:50 rolled around, she sent them off to be processed and filed. She stood up, adjusted her robes, and exited her office. The other offices had filled up since she entered her own, and several greetings were said her way as she passed open doors; she responded in kind.
She descended one floor to the administrative level of the Ministry building, turning left out of the elevator and heading down the hall that held all of the most senior positions. The Vice Minister's door was open when she came to it, but Arthur was turned away from her, writing something. She knocked lightly on the doorframe. He looked up, and immediately smiled brightly upon seeing her.
"Come in, come in," he said, as jovially as ever. Arthur Weasley had to be about the nicest man Hermione had ever met, barring anyone except maybe Harry. She did know that, like Harry though, he could become a formidable fighter if the occasion ever arose.
As she sat in the chair in front of his desk, she chided herself on those thoughts. Of course he could-just because he was nice didn't mean he hadn't lived through the era of Voldemort. Anyone who had been of age or close to it then had invariably learned some fighting skills…just some more than others. Arthur Weasley had a large family to protect, all of whom were visible in the war. It should be no surprise that he could handle himself if threatened.
Shaking her head at her wandering thoughts, she turned her attention to the balding older man in front of her. What hair he did have was still that blazing red, though.
"How are you this morning?" he asked her, putting his quill down.
"Fine Arthur. Yourself?"
"Oh, just fine," he said. "I had hoped that you would see my note, as I couldn't get to your office myself this morning."
Hermione nodded. "What's this about?" she asked. She thought she knew what it was about, and her hopes were either going to be crushed or affirmed.
"Well, I just wanted to personally say that your time and effort here at the Ministry during the past few years has been invaluable. We all knew you were brilliant, but you sure do get a lot done," he said, praising her. She felt her cheeks flush a little. She wasn't used to praise.
"I'd also like to say that it hasn't gone unnoticed; far from it, actually. Amos was actually commenting on the efficiency of the Muggle Liaisons office of late, ever since that old codger Henry left.
"Tell me, Hermione," Arthur continued, leaning forward a bit. "Who would you say has taken over the administrative duties since Henry left the Chair position?"
"Er," Hermione said, unwilling to just blurt out that she was the one. She quickly began to think of another name, of someone else that worked in the Department, but Arthur stopped her.
"It's alright, you can say yourself," Arthur said, smiling genially at her.
"I guess I have taken over some of the responsibilities," Hermione said, albeit very reluctantly. She could sometimes be very modest, and it usually showed up at inopportune times.
"Some of them?" Arthur laughed. "I don't think you give yourself enough credit."
"Well, no one was really assigned Henry's duties after he left…" Hermione said, wary of criticizing any of Arthur's actions. Arthur just nodded, however.
"Indeed, you are very correct. In fact, Amos and I did that on purpose."
"On purpose, Arthur?" Hermione queried, very confused at this point.
"We figured that the best way to really figure out who deserved that Chair position, and hence a pay raise and more vacation time, was to see who had the initiative and the ambition to do on their own some of things that being Chair means they would have to."
Hermione felt a rising sensation in her chest, as if someone was lifting her spirit from the stormy depths to which it had sunk recently. Surely Arthur was talking about what she hoped he was…
"And since you are the only notable example of that, it has been determined by a unanimous Wizengamot vote to appoint you to the Muggle Liaisons Chair position," Arthur said, with a grand old smile on his face.
A huge weight lifted off Hermione's shoulders; suddenly, she felt a thousand kilos lighter. She couldn't keep a huge grin from spreading across her face, one that was so large her cheeks hurt.
"There's the Hermione I missed!" Arthur exclaimed, standing up. He came around the desk and pulled Hermione into a hug, embracing her in a very fatherly way. It occurred to her that she was closer to this man than she was with her own father. It was only a passing thought, though.
As Arthur let go of her and stepped back, he looked down in that same paternal way at her. He was still smiling broadly; however, it had softened a little.
"You know, I never had any doubt that you would get it," he said.
"Thanks," she said, amazed at how choked up she sounded. She was so happy she was on the verge of crying.
"I hated to see you so serious, every day," he said. "And the hours you put in…" he added, shaking his head a little.
"Hey, at least I got it," she replied, laughing. Arthur's face suddenly sobered a bit. He motioned to her seat.
"Hermione, sit down for a moment, will you?" he asked, and she complied without hesitation. His change in demeanor was unsettling.
He was silent for a moment, staring at the top of his desk, but soon looked at her, resting his chin on his hands.
"What's been going on? Why are you spending your life here?" he asked her.
Hermione didn't know what to say. Whatever she had expected, this wasn't it. She thought he would have already known the answer to that particular question, but she supplied it to him regardless.
"I really wanted that position, Arthur."
"Yes, yes, but you could have worked fifteen or twenty less hours a week and still been a lock for it. And," he added, seeing that she was going to say something, "before you say you didn't know that, you did. You knew that you were getting this position."
Well, she had been pretty sure, but the doubts had still plagued her. There was one of the inopportune times for her modesty to show up-she wouldn't let herself admit that she was by far the best candidate for the job.
Hermione shrugged. "It's easy to bury yourself in your work," she replied, quietly.
"Too easy," Arthur countered. Hermione did not respond immediately.
"Have you heard from Harry lately?" he asked her.
What? Why was he asking her about Harry? In fact, why was everyone asking her about Harry? She didn't know anything more than anyone else. It was beginning to aggravate her, actually, and in his absence she almost blamed Harry for the lack of information. Well, she did blame him for not keeping in touch better.
"Not lately," she finally said, keeping her voice neutral.
"I see," Arthur intoned, staring hard at her. Hermione grew uncomfortable under his gaze, and wondered just how perceptive Arthur really was. He kept it well hidden, that was for sure.
"Look, I'm going to cut to the chase here," he said. "I'm worried about you. I think you need some time off before you start at your new position."
"But Arthur-"
"No buts, Hermione," he cut her off. His tone was more serious than she'd heard it in a long time. "You need a break. You're working a right bit harder than anyone here at the Ministry, including the Aurors and the Unspeakables. You deserve a break."
"Well," she sighed. "I guess a few days off wouldn't hurt."
"No, not a few days," Arthur responded, picking up a sheet from his desk. It was the one he'd been writing on when she'd entered his office. "You have until the first of June off-paid, of course."
Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but the look on Arthur's face told her that he wouldn't take kindly to any more protests. She acquiesced with a nod and took the sheet from Arthur, glancing at it. It was a written statement proclaiming Hermione's new position and her time off, as well. The facsimile signatures of the Wizengamot were on the bottom, as well as the real signatures of Arthur Weasley and Amos Diggory.
"Th-thank you, Arthur," Hermione said, again almost overcome by emotion.
"It's my pleasure, you know," he said, standing up once again. He motioned for her to follow him out of his office. "You and Harry, you both feel like surrogate children to me," he said.
Hermione hastily wiped the tear that fell down her cheek away. Arthur's words and actions were profoundly affecting her in ways that she knew she couldn't articulate. She had grown up with this man's children, putting them in mortal danger more than once, and yet still he considered her a daughter of sorts. She didn't think she'd ever get used to that, and knew that she finally had some inkling of how Harry felt sometimes.
"All of you kids were forced to do things no one so young should do or see," he continued as they entered the elevator. "There was more responsibility placed on your shoulders than any three Aurors or Order members…and yet you all came out the other side well-adjusted young people."
They exited the elevator, back on the floor of the Ministry where Hermione's office was located. Arthur continued to talk as they headed toward it.
"I just wish that you all were still together," he said. "You three-well, you six, really-were so good for each other. I don't think any of us knew that until time and circumstance and…well, growing up changed that." They stopped by Hermione's door.
"That's why I want you to take some time off. Burying yourself in your work isn't going to solve your problems, Hermione. I know. I've done that before."
"I don't know what to say, Arthur," she said, staring at the words printed across her door.
"You don't have to say anything. Just think about what I'm saying. I've experienced firsthand what distancing yourself from everyone can do. Contrary to popular belief…my marriage with Molly wasn't always perfect," he said, quietly.
Hermione looked at him, somewhat shocked that he would reveal something like that to her. He just stared back with that same knowing look across his features.
"I know what it's like to think everyone is against you and to take that out in how many hours you work. And I know that it is the wrong solution. That's why I want you to take this time off, and hopefully figure out some things.
"That said, the Chair position will be waiting for you when you get back." He withdrew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the door at the end of the hallway. Hermione's name suddenly appeared over the lettering already there. Hermione could stare at that forever, but Arthur drew her attention once again.
"You can move your things when you start. You can leave now," he said.
"But what-"
"Don't worry," he said, smiling. "We'll keep your department in order while you're gone."
Perhaps it was his use of the possessive, maybe it was really seeing her name on the door, but the full weight of all of what Arthur had been saying to her hit, and she found herself hugging the older man again. When she let go of him, he was laughing lightly.
"Go, Hermione," he ordered, although lightly. "Figure yourself out. Get some rest. Don't think of this place at all. It will still be here on June first."
"Thank you, Arthur," she said. "Thank you so much."
"Don't mention it," he replied. "Now I must be off. I expect you to be out of here before ten o'clock." She nodded, and he patted her shoulder briefly, before walking back the way they had come. She just stood there for a few moments, trying to absorb everything that the Weasley patriarch had told her.
She now had a month to do whatever she wanted, as long as it did not involve the Ministry and her new position. She gathered a few things from her office and departed, her mind mulling over the various activities she could distract herself with during her time off. It was with a rare feeling of not knowing exactly what she would be doing in the next few hours or days or weeks that she Disapparated from the Ministry.
----------
The slamming of the front door startled Hermione awake, and she almost rolled off the couch in the process.
"What the hell?" she asked, groggily.
"Hermione?" her mother's voice came.
"Yeah, I'm in here," Hermione called, sitting up. She glanced at the clock. It was now four o'clock in the afternoon. She must have fallen asleep while watching the telly. She clicked the thing off, watching the doorway as her mother came in.
"Why'd you slam the door?" Hermione was thinking of the conversation she'd had with her mother that morning. She wondered if she was possibly upset at the news the doctor had given her, either way it had gone.
"The wind caught it," Jane replied, and Hermione detected no lie in her voice. Her mother sat in the armchair across from the couch.
"I'm surprised you're home already."
"There's a story behind that," Hermione said, leaning forward. "You remember that position I've been talking about?" Jane nodded. "Well…I got it!" Hermione gushed, and her mother's face lit up.
"Congratulations, dear! I'm so proud of you!" They both stood and embraced for a moment, and then settled back into their respective seats.
"But you're not settling into your new position?"
Hermione noticed that her mother was leaning back in the chair, something that Jane never did. Her mother rarely slouched.
"That's the other part of the story. Arthur told me that I had been nominated, and then he told me that I had a month off."
Jane's eyes widened a little. "Wow. A month? Did he say why?"
Hermione made a noncommittal gesture. "Something about working too hard…"
"I'm sure," Jane said, and then sat up a bit.
"What about you, mum? How did the doctor's go?"
Jane's face lit up in a genuinely warm smile. "Seems like you're going to have a brother or a sister," she said.
"Wow," Hermione intoned.
"I wonder how your father will react," Jane said, and Hermione was completely sure she detected the slightest hint of nervousness in her mother's voice.
"I know he will love it," Hermione replied. Hermione knew how much her father loved her and her mum, so it was without question that she knew he would welcome the new addition. She had previously thought that it might crimp their future plans, but as she had just learned earlier that day, sometimes life didn't go the way you expected it to. Sometimes there were no plans that could be made for the unforeseen.
"So, back to you," Jane said, shifting once again in her chair. "What are you going to do for the next month?"
"You know? I don't know," Hermione replied; and she liked the sound of that. She didn't know what she was going to do, but her days were no longer structured and ordered by the clock. It was a liberating feeling, though a bit scary.
"I'm bollocks at being spontaneous," she added, and her mother gave her a knowing smile, much as Arthur had earlier in the day.
"That is something you will have to work on, then."
"I suppose it is."
"Just don't go get yourself knocked up like this poor old woman," Jane said, laughing at the horrified look on Hermione's face. She couldn't believe her mum had said that.
"Mum!" Hermione cried.
"What? That's some of the spontaneity you need."
"I think I could do without that particular brand, thank you very much."
"Perhaps you should take some lessons from your friend, the blond haired one," Jane said, again smiling at Hermione.
"How do you know Luna?"
"Oh, I have my ways," Jane responded, mysteriously.
Hermione raised her eyebrows at her mother, and crossed her arms in front of her. She gave her mother a look that clearly told Jane she was expecting an answer decidedly less cryptic.
"Molly and I chat occasionally," Jane finally said.
"I see." Hermione had not known that, and she was a little surprised that that detail had escaped her notice.
"Anyways, I've heard Luna can be a bit…forward…when it comes to matters of sex and sexuality."
Hermione smiled despite herself. "You have no idea. If they had known what a deviant Luna was during Hogwarts, they would have kept her far, far away from the boys."
"Deviant?" Jane asked.
"Well…what else do you want me to call her?"
Jane made a funny face. "Do you really think that sort of attitude is deviant? Being open about your sexuality?"
This conversation was going in an unexpected direction, and it was making Hermione uncomfortable. But she knew that if she just left the room, she would upset her mother, not to mention the fact that it would be extremely rude.
"Um…not really…"
"So why would Luna be deviant?"
Hermione made an exasperated noise. "I dunno, ok? Just some of the things she talks about are a little risqué. That's not even counting the fact that most of what she says includes Ron, who I've known since I was eleven."
"Well, ok, that might be a little awkward, but Luna has a right to a healthy and fun sexual life. The fact that she shares that is something I wish more people could do."
Hermione creased her eyebrows together, trying to figure out where her mother was coming from. They had never really talked about sex before, besides the few obligatory talks every mother must have with her daughter; she didn't care to know the details of her parents' sexual lives, either.
"Why have you never talked about this before?"
Her mother smiled wanly. "It was always too awkward with you, Hermione. You grew up with two boys as your best friends. I didn't want to corrupt that relationship any earlier than I had too, because I knew that if I told you some of the things I've wanted to, you would undoubtedly look at one or both of them differently."
Hermione was very glad her mother didn't know she harbored feelings like that deep down in her heart, long buried as they were. If Jane had known, Hermione didn't want to know the things her mother would have said.
"I think I could have handled it, mum."
"I don't know, Hermione. You really need to open up. Loosen up-" her mother said, but cut herself off laughing.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. I just have an extremely dirty mind. Forget I said anything."
"Ok…"
"Hermione, the point I'm trying to make is that you need to start looking at life differently. And now that you have a month to yourself, you have the perfect opportunity to do so.
"Life is not a series of events planned out on a calendar, dear. Things happen. Things change, whether you want them to or not. The best that you can do, that we all can do, is change with them and make them work for us. You have stop living totally by this," Jane said, patting her head, "and let this do some of the talking," she finished, placing her other hand over heart.
"It's hard, mum," Hermione responded, quietly.
"I know, but what would the thing we call life be if it was easy? Take Harry for instance. He did something totally unexpected by attending university in America, something that was so against the grain no one knew what to think. He didn't do it for anyone either, not even totally for himself I think. I think he wanted to explore a little, to see his options, to have a richer experience…"
"How could you possibly know that?" Hermione demanded, suddenly frustrated. Why did everything go back to Harry with her? Why was it so hard for her to escape him? Did she even want to?
Jane shrugged. "I don't know that, but I remember what I was like when I was your age. The world was so large and full of possibility…and here you are, 22, working every day in an office in some stuffy building." At Hermione's affronted noise, Jane held up a hand.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not bashing your job, but you're far too young to be cooped up like that all the time. You have so much to do, so much to see. I just wonder why you haven't started already."
"What was I supposed to do?" Hermione asked, now angry. "Just run off? From everything and everyone I knew? That I loved?"
Jane raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "Is that what you think Harry did?"
Hermione felt like she'd been slapped, and immediately all of the anger and frustration that had been directed at her mother deflated. She visibly slouched in her seat.
"Is it?" her mother asked again.
Slowly, almost against her will, Hermione nodded, and then looked up at her mother. Her face held no accusations; rather, support and love.
"Well, there it is, isn't it?"
Hermione did not respond; instead, her thoughts had gone to the day that Harry had informed her he was leaving without question, and how crushed she had felt. She thought she would have had so much more time to try to express what she really felt. She knew that it was on that day that she'd started blaming Harry.
"Hermione," Jane said, causing Hermione to refocus on the present. "I want to ask you something, and I want you to be candid with me."
Hermione could only nod, having a good idea of what her mother was about to ask her. She hoped she would be able to answer with the truth, though it would be incredibly hard.
"Do you love Harry?"
Inexplicably, Hermione's lip started to tremble, and she could feel her eyes watering. How could she answer such a direct question? With a direct response, of course.
"Yes," she said, as the first tear fell from her eyes. "It's not that simple, though."
"It never is," Jane replied, getting up and moving over to the couch to sit beside Hermione. She leaned into her mother, who wrapped her arms around Hermione.
"I love who Harry was," she continued. "Who he was when the war ended. I didn't love the Boy Who Lived. I loved Harry Potter. He was so selfless, so caring, so unique."
"You don't still?" her mother prodded, gently.
"I don't know, m-mum, I haven't seen him in so long. How much could he change, though?"
"So what's the problem?"
"Why'd he have to leave? Why couldn't he take me with him? Why wasn't I brave enough to tell him how I felt before he left? Where was that Gryffindor courage when I really needed it?" Hermione spat, bitterly. In a way, it was cleansing to get all of this out. And what better person to share it with than her mother?
"You blame him, don't you?"
"I guess so. But I blame myself for letting him leave without telling him. I had the perfect opportunity…and I Apparated away like a coward. And now I'm afraid that too much has changed, that too much time has gone by."
"Fear of the unknown is understandable, Hermione, but how will you know if you never confront it?"
"What do you mean? Confront Harry? I couldn't do that."
"And why not," Jane asked, stroking Hermione's hair.
"He doesn't need that in his life," Hermione replied.
"How is that for you to determine? How can you possibly know exactly what he's thinking and what he needs? Hermione, that is your main fault. You think you know what everyone else is thinking, but in reality those feelings are based on your well-ordered view of the world."
Her mothers words were hitting Hermione like hammer blows, but she knew that what she was saying was true. The fact that it was her mother that had to tell her this, and was something Hermione would not have figured out on her own, was a blow to her pride. That blow was probably what she needed, though.
"Well, all of it is moot, anyway," Hermione laughed, bitterly, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
"How so?"
"He's so far away, and he doesn't write back when I write him," she said.
"Don't write him then."
"Huh?"
"Don't send him a bloody letter! Go yourself!" her mum exclaimed. Hermione disentangled herself from her mother's embrace, staring at her face.
"What? But-"
"You have a month off! You're a grown woman now. You can do as you please, and if that means traveling to America, do it!" Jane said, surprising Hermione with her vehemence.
"You've thought about this before." It wasn't a question.
Jane nodded. "Of course I have. When I see my daughter getting lost in her work and moping around all the time, I start to wonder why. And when I saw how much you wanted Harry to respond to that letter, I made the connection…and so did your father."
"Dad doesn't like Harry much, does he?"
"A father doesn't like any bloke his daughter is interested in," Jane said, earning a smile from Hermione. "Especially one that breaks her heart," Jane added.
"He didn't break my heart, mum."
"What's this now?"
"I said he didn't break my heart. He didn't even know how I felt-"
"Bingo! I was waiting for you to say that. He didn't know how you felt. Therefore you can't know how he feels. Go over there, Hermione. If I'm not mistaken, his graduation is soon."
Hermione didn't say anything for a few minutes, merely thinking about what her mother had said. What could it hurt to go over there? She had so much time off and so little planned.
She desperately wanted to see Harry, but that same fear of inadequacy was still there, as strong as ever. What if she showed up and he didn't want to see her? What if she showed up and he was already with someone? She didn't know how she would be able to take that kind of letdown.
But, as her mother had said, it was time for her to be a little more spontaneous and listen to her heart a little more. It was time for her to be a little generous when it came to doing what she wanted, not what she felt others wanted out of her.
"Ok," Hermione said.
"That's it? You'll go?" Jane asked.
"Yes, and don't sound so sad about it," Hermione said, dryly, injecting some of her rather stark humor into even such a heartfelt moment between herself and her mother.
"I'm anything but sad!" Jane cried, and hugged her daughter tightly. Hermione was laughing as they separated.
"Careful, mum," she said, patting Jane's tummy lightly. "You have another to think about now."
"That I do," Jane sighed, happily. "When will you leave?"
"The day after tomorrow," Hermione said.
Her mother nodded. "Good. Now, let's go upstairs. I'll help you pack."
Hermione watched her mother get up and move toward the stairs, but she did not follow. Jane turned around with a questioning look.
"You coming?"
Hermione smiled softly. "Thanks, mum," she said.
Jane grinned back. "It's what I'm here for."
----------
Two days later, Hermione boarded a plane for America, leaving from Heathrow and arriving at San Francisco. As Hermione stepped off the jetway into the American airport, a sense of purpose filled her. She collected her baggage and strode outside, hailing a taxi. She gave the driver her destination, and sat back as the ride to the rest of her life began.
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