Unofficial Portkey Archive

Harry wiped his weary eyes. Everyone had decided to come down with some form of a contagious disease. It was especially hard when such cases arrived that he couldn't solve. He was grateful that he hadn't splinched himself apparating to Grimmauld Place.

Two years had been more than enough time to restore it to its former glory. All dark materials were gotten rid of appropriately except for that in the library. Hermione might want to use them for education purposes so he kept them.

He once again put his files in his study. He proceeded to the kitchen, his stomach grumbling.

"Kreacher is there any more of that chicken soup?" asked Harry.

He received no response. Kreacher must be sleeping in his room. Harry would use this as an excuse to cook himself a meal. He missed it. That was one of the only useful skills that the Dursley's had given him. That and the ability to keep an excellent garden.

He made his way into the kitchen making himself a roast beef sandwich. Before he could have his first bite Ginny popped into the kitchen. He was very much surprised. Harry raised his right hand to look at his watch. Yes, it was four in the morning. What was she doing here?

"What are you doing here? Your mum is going to kill me if she finds out you're here," said Harry.

"I just wanted to talk to you. I've been at home watching the clock and it finally moved to home. You should lighten up a bit Harry, mum doesn't check rooms like she used to."

"Yeah, that's what you think," said Harry.

He was honestly terrified of Mrs. Weasley. Soon after he and Ginny resumed their relationship he had tried to move into Grimmauld with him. He had never consented to this. Living with her didn't feel right. He pawned it off as being too soon for such a step. But Mrs. Weasley would have none of it. In fact she forbade her daughter to do so. That included late night visits such as these.

"Want a sandwich?"

"It's not healthy to eat this late," she finished.

Harry shrugged it off. He didn't want advice on what he should be doing with his life either. He motioned for her to follow him. They walked down a few hallways a few twists and turns along the way until they came to his study.

Ginny had never been in here. He liked his peace and quiet. She offered that rarely.

"So how was work?" asked Ginny.

"Fine, just fine," concluded Harry.

But that didn't begin to describe it. Harry wanted to come home and forget what happened at work. Instead he stared at a carefully selected spot on the wall and tore into his sandwich. Somewhere in the middle of this he took out a pen and wrote out a small `To Do List'.

"Harry, why don't you talk to me?" asked Ginny.

Harry's concentration for once left the spot. How much time had passed?

"We talk a lot," Harry defended. "This is us talking right now."

He thought it a satisfactory answer. According to Ginny it wasn't. She just heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Last night was supposed to be us. No talking on your cell phone, and no floos from the Ministry, or Ron, or anyone else. We were supposed to sit on the couch and do something together. I want to be a normal couple, and do things couples do. I can count the number of times we've been out since we started this relationship again."

"And it was whatever you're talking about. I got called off for work."

"Lately, it's like all time we spend together work is determined to get between us. There's this serious lack of communication between us, and it needs to be fixed."

"There's no lack of communication…" said Harry.

They were fine. She talked he listened and responded. Harry honestly cared about every word that came out of her mouth. When he spoke she too listened. And to him that was communication.

"Gin we've both been up all night. Why don't we wait until morning to straighten this out? I want nothing said that either of us will regret later."

"No Harry, I want it said tonight. It all needs to be out in the open."

"What do you want from me? I communicate the best I know how with you. I don't heave you because I want to, or because I find it hard to talk to you. Gin, you are fun t be around and make me forget the world."

And that was honest. She did. ? And he loved that about her.

"Thank you," said Ginny. Her face radiated from the compliment.

"But," Harry started," While that is true Healing is my chosen profession. I don't have set hours like you do with Quidditch. I won't be able to attend all of your games. We just finished Hogwarts and most of my friends are focusing on their careers."

"What are you saying?" asked Ginny. Her eyes narrowed.

"My career comes first, and you come right after that."

She wanted communication and she got it. Relationships did not last forever, and he never wanted to depend on his parent's money. He had to earn a living and that was something she could never change about him. She had to accept it.

"You're right," said Ginny. "We should have waited until morning."

Olivia sighed. Her sister had not spoken a word in the fifteen minutes they had been awake. Instead she was straightening up around the already tidy room. Olivia wasn't stupid. Se had heard her sister crying through the might. It must be very though on her. Hermione walked out of the room the door slamming violently behind her.

She quickly walked out after her and down the stairs. She could smell coffee brewing and French toast on the stove sizzling away. Olivia loved her mother's cooking.

"Did I hear the slamming of a door upstairs?" asked Margaret.

"Yes," said Olivia. She didn't want Hermione to have the chance to say something. "It'll never happen again."

"No it won't," she agreed. "Can someone please set the table? Your father should be down soon."

Once again Olivia took the lead. She wanted to stop her sister's apparent meltdown. Margaret Granger was oblivious. She was busy chopping fruit for a salad. It was only worse that she bore no hints of last night's conversation.

"It does smell good in here this morning," Paul Granger supplied in greeting. "I need something to fill me up before work."

He pecked his wife on the cheek. Everything appeared to be normal, but it wasn't. Olivia hated when everyone kept secrets. You could feel it in the air.

Hermione knew Olivia was trying, but that didn't help. They acted as if it never happened.

"Dear, are you coming t the office to help out today?"

"I'm working on an article for The Daily Prophet. They really are making strides, trying to add information that a wizard would actually want to know."

She shifted looking between their parents. They grew uncomfortable in their seats. A series of glances were exchanged between the two. She still despised the Daily Prophet. It was a lie, there was no article.

"Are you alright dad?"

"Hermione, we've thought about this long and hard. If it took you two years to talk to us, and to bring us back, that speaks for itself," said Paul.

"And for this reason we are giving you until the end of the year to make a decision. It's either us or the wizarding world."

Hermione gasped. A little bit over five weeks to make a life changing decision? She could imagine it. Five days after Christmas prompting for her decision.

"And what if," Hermione paused. "What if I refuse to make a decision? What then?"

"By making no decision you choose them. Hopefully it won't take that long. The family's coming in from the States. I would prefer not to have a stressful holiday," her father finished.

Hermione scoffed.

"You don't want a stressful holiday? I don't want to have to make this decision," yelled Hermione.

"Don't take that tone with your father," her mother firmly stated.

"You're preparing to kick me out. And throwing the rest of the family in my face in the process. When did I become a `them' instead of your daughter?"

She felt her voice breaking. They couldn't do this to her. She wouldn't allow them to. Hermione was prepared to root herself to the carpet and throw a tantrum. She had not done so in years.

"Hermione, you are very much a part of this family. I have tried to reason with your side."

"Mum, when you want something, you don't stop until you get it," said Hermione.

She grabbed the napkin off of her table to dab her eyes. Hermione could feel the tears leaking. She never thought her parents could cause such heart wrenching pain. Where was she supposed to go for comfort?

"I loved you enough to send you away despite what it would do. Everyone knows how torn I was about the situation. I thought about the family every second, but it was for the best. Voldemort would have found you and killed you. And yet you don't love me enough to forgive me?"

"I do," Olivia piped up.

"You put this safety above your happiness. And that's all we're trying to do. It really benefits both of you girls. One day when you have children of your own you'll understand. Who knows, you may not want magic for them."

"I would never," said Hermione.

Her voice was hoarse. She could barely talk, her throat felt clogged. Thankfully her sister stepped in for her.

"Why don't you two go to work?" said Olivia. She stepped over towards Hermione and led her out of the kitchen. Once in the living room Olivia helped her onto the couch and hugged her.

Hermione clutched onto her for dear life. Once the tears started there was no stopping him. She wanted to just leave now. They disgusted her. But Hermione didn't want to be the one to cause a rift in the family. Her grandmother old and fragile had always wanted love to remain in the family.

"They're gone now," said Olivia.

Hermione nodded. She suddenly felt cold as she dug deeper into the couch. Unfortunately as she did the doorbell rang.

"Don't worry I'll go get it," said Olivia.

She ran to the door as it reached its third ring. Hermione craned her head upward to see a flash of bright red hair at the door. It could only belong to one person.

"Hermione, it's Ron. He's brought flowers," said Olivia in a sing-song voice.

"Go away," yelled Hermione.

Deep down she knew that it was not his fault. She did not feel like seeing him right now. He was always happy, and she did not want to be right now. She just wanted to lie here on the couch in self pity. She had told Harry not to do this countless times, but she never would again. Sometimes it was absolutely necessary.

"Hermione, are you this rude to all your boyfriends?" asked Olivia.

"Stop trying to make me feel better," Hermione said as she waved her hand.

As she waved her hand a pillow threw itself at the door until it was almost closed. Ron had tried to stick his foot in the doorway to stop it. Instead Olivia walked back up and yanked it open.

"Your aim's off Hermione. It hit the door."

"It wasn't intended for the door. Ron just please go away."

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