Post-Trauma (Or Trauma Involving the Post)
Author's Note: This chapter picks up after Hermione's return to Meriton. Of course everyone in Meriton knows the Grangers' troubles and the gossipy townsfolk rush to their rescue the only way they know how. Not much Harmony in this chappie. Consider yourself warned.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Over the next few weeks Mr. Kettleburn sent several Owls to Hermione. In his brisk, business-like prose he reported that Lavender and Viktor were not to be found in Kingsford, Bexhill, Ainsley, Stratford, Castleton, or any other out-of-the-way townships. His detective Mr. Filch had since moved on to London, the only place where two people could remain so well concealed.
As much as Lavender and Viktor occupied the Grangers' thoughts, some well-timed distractions kept them from dwelling on their troubles, troubles which had become something akin to community property. A steady stream of well-wishers took to marching in and out of their house at all hours of the day. Each one invariably brought desserts or hot dishes or flowers (Hermione thought it more fitting for a wake than a domestic scandal, but she didn't say so aloud). Her neighbors had been kindness itself. Or perhaps "kindness" was too generous a word…They'd been "charitable." No one had snubbed them, but then again, the Grangers certainly hadn't ventured outside their doors the way they used to.
What didn't help matters was that several of these so-called well-wishers felt it their duty to describe (in detail) Viktor's abominable character. With each new day Hermione was treated to fresh instances of his extravagance or overall capacity for evil-doing. If the townsfolk were to be believed, Viktor Krum was more dangerous than any genocidal Dark Lord and twice as sinister-looking (suddenly he had an evil glint in his eye and a furtive way of walking). All Meriton seemed to be trying to blacken the man, who had once been considered the most charming, the most handsome, and the most eligible of all the Regulars. Hermione heard that he was indebted to every tradesman in the city, and his intrigues, all honored with the title of "seduction," became fodder for the gossip mill. Everyone declared him the wickedest young man in the world, and everybody sagely insisted that they had distrusted his charming countenance from the start:
"He's a wrong'um, I knew it from the start. But don'cha worry Miss. They'll find that blackguard. And when they do, they'll teach him to make off with our young ladies," Rubeus Hagrid announced proudly as he handed Hermione a basket of his wife's special pumpkin bread.
"I've heard that there's hardly a tradesman's daughter who hasn't been mettled with," Septima Vector told her pointedly over tea. "I've heard tales of debauches, intrigues and seductions…oh Hermione…whatever was Lavender thinking? Taking up with such a man. Anyone could tell he was a villain just by looking at him. Such a furtive way of walking. I noticed that right away…"
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"He owes a fortune to every reputable tradesman in the city," "Apollyon Pringle confidentially whispered to Hermione. "And though I'm not one for gossip, Mrs. Merrythought told me that he was involved in a drunken brawl somewhere near Devenham. One in which tables and chairs weren't the only things broken..." Mrs. Pringle trailed off ominously. Hermione made a non-committal reply as she offered her more coffee.
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Bathsheba Babbling leaned in as she helped herself to another cookie from the tea tray. "You know Hermione, I always distrusted his appearance of goodness. But would anyone listen to me? No! Just because I invited him to tea once or twice doesn't mean he had my heartfelt approval…I was simply trying to get a better look at the man. He had such a sinister air about him. Everyone in town was in love with him. But I wasn't taken in. Not by half."
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"I've heard he's up to his ears in gambling debts," Mrs. Merrythought said in a low voice to Hermione as they stood in line at the bakery. "No one would've thought it by looking at him, but he's been in the company of some of the lowest criminal elements imaginable. I wouldn't be surprised if he was some kind of political radical. Next thing you know, he'll be lighting powder kegs under city hall."
Hermione quickly thanked her before paying for her basket of bread and hurrying out of the shop. She didn't believe half of what the townsfolk said, but she didn't doubt that Viktor had left debts and broken hearts in his wake. It seemed a fitting end for his career as an officer, as it was a very similar end to his career as a lawyer.
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Even with all the unwelcome advice and I-told-you-so well-wishing, the most anxious part of each day was right before the post came. The arrival of letters was the first grand object of the morning, and Luna and Hermione often waited by the window in the early morning, tensing whenever an owl appeared over the horizon. However they were almost always disappointed, and both ate breakfast afterward in silence, painfully aware of Lavender's empty chair and place setting.
When an Owl did arrive from Mr. Filch, it became an all-day event. Somehow Luna always found it first (much to Hermione's annoyance). Hil would fetch Hermione and then Hermione would run through the morning room, the study, the kitchen, and finally into the drawing room where Luna excitedly greeted her and waved the letter under her nose.
"We've had a letter from Mr. Filch." Luna would say breathlessly. "They're married! I just know it!"
"Let's open the letter first Luna," Hermione answered with a sigh.
They would then tear open the parchment and take turns making complaining about Mr. Filch's scrawled, illiterate handwriting. The news was always the same: "They are not in (random city name here). I've been to every boarding house and inn in the area. I'm moving on if I don't hear from you."
Luna and Hermione then debated for an hour on how to answer him. Luna always insisted that he should not give up hope in finding them in (random city name). Hermione would always express doubt that they were ever (random city name) in the first place and declared that Filch should move on. They didn't dare show the letter to their Aunt because she would just attach more extravagant instructions about the wedding arrangements and Lavender's bridal trousseau.
As much as the daily routine was a comfort, as much as Luna kept spouting vague platitudes about how "everything would be fine," as much as Aurora announced that Mr. Filch would find them and make them marry… Hermione couldn't escape the feeling that the entire situation was utterly hopeless. Potion-making couldn't solve this, and no amount of cleverness would bring Lavender back. Neither would respectability, or politeness or conventionality or propriety or all those other vague concepts she'd put on a pedestal years ago.
To make matters worse, she hadn't heard a word from Harry. Not one word. Not one Owl. Not even a howler. He hadn't even asked for his mother's ring back, which had been stealthily removed from her pocket the night she returned and carefully hidden in her bedside table. Occasionally Hermione gave into temptation and opened the nightstand drawer. Looking down at the green stone through the tuffs tissue paper, she'd carefully unwrap the ring and gently hold it as if it was in danger of shattering into pieces in her hand. Admiring it while indulging in a bit of self-pity, Hermione momentarily allowed herself to think about Harry and about what she'd left behind. Today was no different. Sitting at her vanity with her door safely locked, she took out the ring and held it up to the light.
"Perfect," she muttered, watching it shimmer against the butter-colored streaks of sunlight. She didn't dare try it on. Instead she showed it to the Muggle portrait of her mother on her vanity.
"Lovely, isn't it Mother?" Hermione asked with a small grin. Apparently Harry's silence hadn't affected her opinion of the ring. In her mind, her mother smiled indulgently and nodded (even though Jane Granger wasn't particularly fond of emeralds).
"It really is," Hermione replied, her eyes still fixed on the glittering green stone. But that was the trouble with it, wasn't it? It was too perfect. It was all too perfect. Her time with Harry, the ring, the life they were supposed to have together…As she threw a retrospective glance over the whole of their relationship, so full of contradictions, she sighed at her conflicted feelings. Once, she would have labeled him selfish; however, now she just felt sorry for him. And for herself.
"Perhaps Harry hadn't meant any harm by hiding the letter," she muttered thoughtfully for the thousandth time. He said he only wanted to help her, to save her… Their relationship had been founded on Harry coming to her rescue in some way or another. Whether it from an uncomfortable shove on the street or fending off a wild animal in the woods, Harry had a knack for charging to the rescue and sweeping her off her feet.
"Not that I needed him to…to rescue me, I mean," she assured the portrait. "It's not as though I'm some damsel in inexplicably-constant distress. He just happened to always…well, catch me when I fell." She paused. "Literally in some cases."
Nibbling on her lip, she set the ring down and shook her head. "I really rather ruined things haven't I? Clever girl indeed. For all my imagined intelligence I managed to stumble at every turn…I wish you could tell me what to do…"
"…I only wish…"
"…I only wish you could've met him," she whispered as she returned the picture back to its spot on her vanity. The ring (along with her problems with Harry) were then tucked back in her nightstand for the time being. She had other things to worry about. Her family needed her now.
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A Series of Letters:
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J.M Kettleburn, Solicitor
London
March 2, 1851
Miss Hermione Granger,
I hope this letter finds you well. Although our progress has been slow these last six weeks, I am pleased to say I have good news for you this time. We've managed to locate your sister, which, I hope will give you satisfaction. Soon after I wrote to you on Saturday, I was fortunate enough to find out their location in London. The particulars, of it, I need not bother you with. It is enough to know they are discovered, and I have seen them both.
They are not married, nor can I find there was any intention of being so. But if you are willing to perform the engagements which I have ventured to make on your behalf, I hope it will not be long before they are. Enclosed is a list of creditors that must satisfied in Meriton, and I have herewith included Viktor's repayment in this letter. You will find his situation not as hopeless as previously thought. I have come to understand that he has recently inherited a fortune from a great uncle and this should be sufficient to purchase a new commission.
So far I have acted on your aunt's behalf to make the enclosed marital arrangements. However I will need her formal authorization and written consent to proceed.
Yours Truly,
J.M Kettleburn
Hermione Granger
Meriton
March 5, 1851
Mr. Kettleburn,
Words cannot express how very relieved my family was to receive your letter. Here are the receipts for the settled accounts and the authorization for you to make all the arrangements for the marriage. I hope upon receiving this, that matters will be settled in a fairly rapid manner. I believe you will find everything in order.
Please feel to contact me should you have any other requests. I myself was hoping to learn Lavender's address so I may write to her.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
Mrs. Tonks Lupin
Grimmauld Place
March 8, 1851
Hello Mione,
I can't believe old Kettleburn finally found the little nitwit. How Lav managed to wriggle out of this fine mess is beyond me. Here I was, expecting her to turn up on your doorstep one snowy winter's night with a bundle of baby-Viktor in her arms. Ha! I obviously underestimated her. She's not quite as dumb as she looks, is she? Married now, or soon will be? Your letter was pretty vague. Vague and sad.
I'm not really one for depression or moodiness. I like to think of myself as a golden ray of sunshine that brings a lovely light of happiness to all who know me. But I am sorry that you're so depressed. Is it because Lavender married a moron? You'll have to remember that it has nothing to do with you. Women marry idiots every day. At least Viktor's…tall. And they may be happy yet. One never knows these things until twenty years later, and you can't go on being sad for twenty years, can you?
Oh, and Luna mentioned that Viktor "unexpectedly" came into some money from a rich uncle. Ha. Rich uncle my foot. It's probably gambling winnings or blackmail money. In any case, it means Viktor can pay back all the tradesmen he swindled in Meriton. Which is a good thing, right?
It's also grand for Lav. Now she can have all the lovely sparkly things she wants. And she can pay back the fifteen galleons she owes me. Mention that to her when she visits. If she visits, that is. Luna said she was moving up north somewhere and wouldn't be home until next Christmas. But maybe that's a good thing. You'll need a little time to get your spirits up.
Much love,
Tonks
Aurora Lestrange Granger
Meriton
March 9, 1851
Dearest Dearest Lavender,
Oh my dear dear Lavender, my dear clever girl! I shan't get a wink of sleep all week, I'm certain of it. I was so delighted to hear the good news. You will be married! And at sixteen! I always knew it would be so. I knew you could not be so beautiful for nothing. I hope Mr. Kettleburn's been kind to you. He's a fine solicitor, but a bit of an old fusspot.
How I long to see you, and Viktor too! I don't believe I had the pleasure of meeting him here in Meriton (and from the way you describe him, I certainly would've remembered him if I had). I have no doubt that he is the grandest and handsomest of men as you say.
But the clothes, your traveling clothes! What will you wear on your honeymoon? I'm despairing of it, you see. Hermione wrote to Mr. Kettleburn about the expenses and he told her it was all taken care of. He said that you and Viktor were not in want of money, nor would you be for quite some time. Is that true my darling? Are you quite rich? Hermione mentioned an inheritance, but she said it in such a grave, doubtful way that I couldn't tell if she was certain of it at all. Can it be? A fortune of ten thousand galleons? My sweetest Lavender, think how rich and grand you will be! What carriages you will have! A house in town and everything that is charming! Oh what will become of me? I shall go distracted!
And what's all this talk about you leaving for a northern regiment? I simply won't have it you know. You must come for a visit you naughty girl. I must meet my new nephew-in-law!
With all my love,
Aurora
Mrs. Lavender Krum
White Horse Mansions, London
March 14, 1851
Dearest Luna,
I've just finished reading your letter. I'm so glad you're not mad at me like a certain other older sister who shall remain nameless. But I'm determined not to let silly Hermione ruin my fun. It's so grand here! You'll simply have to come to London for a visit. I've asked Hermione to come, but she wrote back saying that she certainly would not. "What did I do?" I asked her. And she wrote something along the lines of "oh you've disgraced yourself and your family and I want you on the next train home do you hear me blah blah blah." And then she says I scared everyone half to death but I don't understand that at all because, after all, I left a note. Hermione always told me to leave a note if I went out and that's exactly what I did. It's just so typical. I leave a note and act all responsible-like, and I still get in trouble.
I suppose it was naughty not to write to you for so long but I've been so very busy here. London is sooooo amazing. It's unbelievably diverting. There are hundreds of theaters, restaurants, and boutiques. I can't count them all, and believe me I've tried! At first Viktor and I didn't go out much. Viktor was so busy with correspondence and such. But then one day he bought me the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen and simply swept me into a church. He said his great uncle died (and that was a surprise because he always said he didn't have any family). But I suppose that's the best kind of family, isn't it? The kind that leaves you all their lovely money. If only I had inherited a fortune, then all the officers would've been madly in love with me. I would have made Viktor so jealous, I just know it!
I can't wait for you to see my ring! The jeweler said there wasn't another like it in all of England. Its a big white pearl surrounded by tiny diamonds that shine beautifully when I hold it up to the light. It's just what I always wanted, that's what I told Viktor. He has such lovely taste in everything. I can't wait to show it to Aunt Aurora and even Hermione, who couldn't care less about jewelry.
And the wedding! It was in the most beautiful old church with gray bricks and stained glass windows. How I wish Denny and Parv could've come, and it would've been a dream to have an honor guard with their sabers drawn. But the officers could not be spared from their duty and Denny and Parv were simply too busy to attend.
Oh, but that's why I'm writing. Even though Hermione keeps telling me to come home (no doubt because she wants to lecture me and ruin all my fun), I'm afraid I won't be coming back to Meriton for quite some time. Viktor's far too busy and important now. He's just purchased a commission in the north and we're leaving in just two days. He told me where, but I've forgotten it again. It's such a silly Scottish name. Trune or something.
I've got to go now, but send Aunt Aurora my love. I'll write to her as soon as I can, but we married women
are kept so busy, I know I won't have a moment to spare.
Love,
Lavender Krum
Luna Granger
Meriton
March 16, 1851
Dear Tonks,
Thank you for trying to cheer up Hermione. Your letters always make me laugh, so I know she'll be smiling again soon. I hope you're enjoying your new home in Grimmauld Place. I've heard so much about it. I simply can't imagine what castle-life is like.
As for Viktor, I won't repeat the language you used in your letter here (I'm blushing just thinking about it). In any case, whatever mistakes Viktor made in the past, he seems to be rectifying them now. He and Lavender were married one week ago at St. Lucius in London. The entire thing happened so quickly, we couldn't attend the wedding, and I know poor Lavender was disappointed not to have any bridesmaids.
Although Hermione is still upset over Lavender's little indiscretion, I for one am relieved that it's come to this happy conclusion. Lavender's reputation will not suffer much. To anyone outside the family, it appears that she went to London to get married and took a long honeymoon. The hasty marriage is nothing more than a momentary folly that her friends will hush up and I think she'll come away from this completely unscathed.
It's odd now, but with Lavender safely marriage, it's Hermione who has me worried. She's become so pale and grim. I was sure that it was because of her concern for Lavender, but now the arrangements have been made and Lavender is safe and Hermione hasn't changed at all. She floats around the house like a ghost, so silent and pale and grave. She sleeps at odd hours and she hasn't even bothered to keep up with her potion making. All of her things are gathering dust in the kitchen and she just stares at books all day without turning the pages. Did something happen at Godric's Hollow? She hasn't breathed a word of it to me.
Yours truly,
Luna
Mrs. Tonks Lupin
Grimmauld Place
March 20, 1851
Hello Lav,
Congratulations on your marriage! Sorry I couldn't make it to the ceremony, but maybe that's Because I Wasn't Invited! I can't believe I missed out on all the lovely cake and presents all because you and Viktor decided to be so stupidly stupid about this whole thing. You're worse at planning weddings than I am! At least I gave my friends a whole week's notice. You (in your endless stupidity) only sent me a letter after the fact.
Oh, and on top of that, I'm still angry at you for missing my wedding. It was so much fun. Hermione complained over and over again about her Celtic costume (as if she'd never been barefoot before), but I think the whole thing was a smashing success. Ron tried to ruin the whole thing like the ginger-haired idiot he is, but Harry actually behaved quite well. And Remus looked so handsome, and I of course was simply gorgeous. It's a shame that you didn't get married in Meriton. I could've taken you to Pemberley for your wedding clothes and you could've had Hermione and Luna as pirate bridesmaids!
In any case, as your older and wiser married cousin, I feel that I have to warn you that married life may not be what you expect. Marriage is like an onion. You peel it back layer by layer and it gets smaller and smaller and smellier and smellier. Soon, all you're left with is a white little bit of stinky onion that even a dog wouldn't eat, but it goes marvelously well with soups and some Italian breads.
Do you see what I'm getting at? Men change after marriage. They become secretive and strange…I don't mind telling you that Remus has been acting awfully funny lately. We'd only been settled in a week or two at Grimmauld Place and things just…changed. It's hard to explain. But no matter what happens, no matter how angry you get, just don't resort to bird curses when you're arguing. I know, it's tempting, but it only makes things worse. A lot worse. Trust me on this.
There's more advice to come later. And if you ever get married again you'd better give me at least three-day's notice.
Sincerely,
Tonks
Mrs. Tonks Lupin
Grimmauld Place
March 28, 1851
Dear Mione,
I haven't heard from you in ages and ages. Is your wrist broken? If so, send me an envelope with a blank sheet of parchment inside. If not, fill the parchment with words describing how you are (it's what we civilized people call "a letter").
Love,
Tonks
Telegram from Aurora Lestrange Granger
Received by Lavender Krum
Trune Settlement, Scotland
April 2, 1851
Dearest Lavender [stop] I'll be arriving tomorrow at Trune around five [stop] Don't be naughty and forget to meet me at the station [stop] I'll be bringing armfuls of wedding presents with me and I'll need a hand with them [stop] Yours fondly, Aurora [stop]
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Standing outside their front walkway, Hermione helped her aunt into the carriage headed for the train station at Bexhill. Aurora opened the window and waved goodbye with her handkerchief. It blew wildly in the chilly wind until Aurora tucked it back in her handbag. Wrapped in their cloaks, Hermione and Luna smiled back and waved goodbye.
"Goodbye, Luna…. Goodbye Hermione," Aurora said, wiping a tear from her eye.
"Goodbye Aunt," Hermione said as Aunt Aurora kissed her cheek.
"Oh Luna, you look after your sister now." Aurora patted Luna on the head. "And Hermione, do cheer up. I know it's hard to see your little sister so very happily married. I can't imagine what you're going through…but there's no need for it. You'll have a husband of your own soon enough."
Hermione forced a smile as Aurora pinched her cheek and sighed: "Oh if only Lavender had a bigger house, then you both could've come along with me. Trune is such a large settlement. I know Lavender and I could find husbands for the both of you in no time."
"Thank you for my part but I don't particularly like Lavender's way of getting husbands," Hermione replied sweetly.
Luna shot her a "be nice" look and thanked their aunt politely.
Unfazed, Aurora just fluttered her handkerchief under Hermione's nose and smiled indulgently. "Now behave you
two. I'll be back in a few weeks. And remember, I'll expect both of you to attend Septima's dinner party on
the 25th. Don't be naughty and forget. Septima made me promise that you both would come. She was very
particular about it. She thinks the whole affair will be quite dull without any of you youngsters running
about."
They promised their aunt that they wouldn't forget. Aurora blew them both another kiss, wiped away a tear, and closed the window. Hermione watched as the carriage leapt to life and flew down along the storefronts. In minutes the carriage was well outside the city gates and soon it was only a small dot slowly climbing a distant hillside.
Luna waved to it once more before turning to Hermione. "I do hope Lavender remembers to meet her at the station."
"I hope Lavender remembers she's coming to visit at all." Hermione replied with a frown as she followed Luna inside. "You could've gone with her, you know."
"I know." Luna smiled. "But I thought I'd better stay here with you."
"Why? Are you worried that I'm going follow in Lavender's footsteps and disappear with a worthless Regimental?"
"No. I'm worried because you've been acting so…unlike yourself."
"Me! Our sister lived with a strange man for two months and I'm the one you're worried about?"
"Yes," Luna said simply, closing the front door behind them.
Hermione shook off the morning chill and hung her cloak in the hall closet. "Well you needn't be worried about me. I'm just disappointed with our so-called sister. Imagine, after two months without a word she suddenly sends a letter saying 'Hello, I'm married. How are you?'"
Luna shrugged. "You know how Lavender is."
"Yes. Completely thoughtless and irresponsible."
"I don't see why you're still so angry about everything. It ended in the best way possible… there's nothing more we could've done. Everything's worked out for the best, just as I told you it would."
Hermione huffed at her sister's irritating rationality. "They didn't even bother to visit…I never had a chance to speak to Viktor."
"You didn't want to speak to Viktor. You wanted to turn him into something slimy."
"As if anyone would've noticed the difference."
"Now now Hermione, don't be unkind. Lavender may have a very happy life with Viktor yet. Who's to say what the chances are for happiness in any marriage?"
Hermione scoffed. "I know exactly what the chances for happiness are in this marriage. If they're as happy in five years as they are now, I'll eat a Horned Snorkack."
Luna studied at her a moment before speaking. "Harry hasn't written to you yet, has he?"
Hermione didn't bother answering as she slammed the study door shut. Judging from her sister's infuriatingly sympathetic tone, Luna already knew the answer.
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It was less than a week later that the mysterious flowers started arriving. Like clockwork, bouquets of white winter jasmine were left on the doorstep. In a matter of days the star-shaped flowers had filled up the house, overflowing in every container Hermione could find and a few more that she transfigured from dusty odds and ends.
It happened so suddenly and without warning that no one in town knew what to make of it. The first flowers arrived while Hermione was at the library downtown. She came home to find Luna cheerfully arranging dozens of lacy white flowers in a vase. Hermione hid her surprise well, asking who they were from, when did they arrive, who on earth could've sent them, etc. There was no card attached and the delivery boy had no idea who sent them. Luna assumed they from one of Lavender's less-than-pleased admirers (they struck her as such odd little melancholy flowers, much better suited to mourning than congratulations). Luna just shrugged it off and began decoratively placing them around the house.
But that was only in the beginning. Over the next few days, delivery after delivery came, and soon the viney white
flowers adorned every surface of the house, filling vases and artistically spiraling down the legs of the tables and
desks. After twenty bouquets arrived, Luna began to laugh about it. She thought some poor florist had made a shipping
mistake. Just the thought of "Aurora Granger's House of Jasmine" made her giggle. It sounded like a cheap
Chinese bathhouse. But after thirty and then forty bouquets arrived, Luna stopped laughing and began to worry about
where to put them all.
"Who do you think keeps sending them?" Luna asked with every new delivery.
Hermoine just shrugged and remained silent. Although she acted just as puzzled as Luna, Hermione had her suspicions.
There was only one person who knew what they meant to her: white winter jasmine were the flowers Harry bought her when
he first returned to Meriton. Bouts of self-delusion aside, she could safely assume the flowers had been sent by
him.
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"Another one's arrived Hermione," Luna called from the doorway. She had just greeted a shivering delivery boy who tipped his hat and handed her a large bouquet. Luna unwrapped the flowers from their crinkly brown paper and brought them into the kitchen. Hermione was at the table arranging the ones that arrived only a half-hour before.
"How many bouquets does this one make?" Luna asked.
Hermione looked up and sighed. "I don't know. I lost count after fifty."
"Goodness, and in only four days! I've never heard of anyone getting so many flowers. Do you have a secret admirer?" Luna teased her sister for the twentieth time.
Hermione didn't answer as she began searching for a vase for the newest arrivals.
Luna set the flowers down and perched herself on a kitchen chair across from Hermione. The kitchen table had been consistently covered with a blanket of loose white petals, green stems, brown string, and wrinkled wrapping paper. Luna played with a fragrant petal between her fingertips as she mused over their odd situation.
"Such an strange choice for a flower. To send as a gift I mean."
"Is it?" Hermione shrugged indifferently, still searching the cabinets.
"Well it's not at all like sending someone roses or lilies or even tulips. Those are far more conventional, aren't they? I've never even heard of winter jasmine."
"It's a hothouse shrub. Mrs. Sprout grows them in her greenhouse."
"But she didn't grow these. Nobody in town has any idea who's sent them."
"Mmmmm."
Luna accidentally tore the petal she was playing with and thoughtfully picked up another one. "But what does it all mean?"
"What does all what mean?" Hermione asked tiredly as she transfigured a vase out of a dusty jam jar.
"Jasmine. You know, white roses mean purity, red roses mean love, lilacs are a sign of spring…"
"So?"
"Well, what does white jasmine mean? Is our suitor trying tell us something?"
"I doubt it."
"But I'm curious."
"White jasmine means graceful humility," Hermione answered, rubbing the bridge of her nose as her head began to ache.
Luna glanced at her, surprised. "How did you know that?"
"Mrs. Sprout mentioned it."
"Oh," Luna frowned, disappointed. "That's not terribly romantic is it?"
"I suppose not."
"I was hoping it meant something a little more poetic. Something like undying affection or eternal love or unending adoration."
"Those all mean the same thing."
"Oh…I suppose they do." Luna tossed away the petal in her hand with a sigh. "But it doesn't make any sense does it? Sending armfuls of flowers doesn't exactly shout 'humility.' It's a rather showy gesture if you ask me."
Hermione wearily began arranging the latest bouquet. "Luna, the type of flower doesn't make a difference. Someone's just playing a joke on us."
"You mean like Tonks? It's not a very funny joke is it?"
"Not a joke really. Just…I'm sure the whole thing's a mistake, so we might as well treat it as a joke because it doesn't amount to anything."
"How can you say that?" Luna shook her head. "We're drowning in jasmine, the whole village is
talking, and you stand there saying it doesn't amount to anything."
"The village is always talking about something. They'll find something else to occupy their time soon enough. Besides it's nobody's business but our own."
"Our own? But I have no idea what's going on."
"Well neither do I."
"Liar. You do know something."
"Luna," Hermione said warningly.
"I'll bet you know who's sending them."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Who is it? Is it Harry?"
"Luna…"
"It is Harry, isn't it!? I take back what I said. It is romantic!"
"Luna!" Hermione snapped, slamming the vase on the table. Embarrassed, she gave a weak smile and patted her
sister apologetically on the arm. "I don't…I just don't want to talk about it."
Luna studied her a moment and gave her a poor-pitiful-Hermione look. "Well, you'll have to talk about it when we're both buried in jasmine." Luna gracefully rose from her chair and glided out of the kitchen.
"We're already buried in jasmine," Hermione sighed to herself as she swept the loose petals into the wastebasket and headed upstairs to what was quickly become her flower-free sanctuary. Her bedroom was the only room in the house that didn't have ten vases full of jasmine in it. Every time Luna tried to put some on her nightstand, Hermione discreetly moved them to Lavender's old sewing room. She didn't want them in her bedroom for a very very good reason: she had spent the last two months carefully avoiding anything that reminded her of Harry, and the last thing she needed was a dozen petally reminders of him staring smugly at her from her vanity.
But even her room wasn't much of a sanctuary any more. She'd begun to hate the prospect of walling herself up, trying to convince herself that she didn't know the meaning behind all these ridiculous flowers. Only the picture of her mother offered any comfort-of course it was a Muggle portrait, so she could only imagine what Jane Granger would say about everything that had happened-so there Hermione sat with her cheek resting in her hand, musing about what her mother might say about all this. At this moment, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her mother's lap, have her hair brushed and listen to her mother's humming while the birds sang outside and the smell of jasmine floated through the air…
What is it Hermione? You're never this quiet. Jane Granger would ask, stroking Hermione's head. You seem upset.
"I'm fine. Really I am." It was odd how impatient Hermione sounded, even in her imagined conversations with her mother. Jane Granger didn't seem to mind though. She just went on running her fingers through Hermione's curls, indulging her poor, utterly hapless daughter who was in every way pathetic and pitiable.
I was wondering how you'd take it.
"Take what?"
The flowers.
Hermione laughed harshly. "Well now you know. Ignoring them, hiding them in Lavender's room, lying to Luna… Solves so many problems, don't you think?"
Avoidance is usually the path of least resistance.
"I don't know why I'm so worried about it. It may not be Harry who's sending them after all."
Really?
"It could be dozens of people."
"Of course."
"Besides, I doubt very much I'll ever see him again."
Harry or one of the dozens of people?
"Harry of course."
Oh.
"You know…I really don't want to talk about this."
Fine.
"Not that there's much to talk about."
All right.
"And even if I did want to talk about Harry, it doesn't matter… I haven't heard from him and it's been nearly two months. What's the point of talking?"
A whole two months?
"But now all…these…all these flowers. I don't understand…It's as though he was waiting until the scandal blew over before even bothering to think of me. And now everything's resolved and he starts sending me dozens of flowers a day… Where was he when I needed him? Not one word. Not one letter, and when Lavender is finally found and everything is settled, we're bombarded with jasmine."
It does seem odd timing.
"He hasn't even asked for his ring back," Hermione paused. "Have I showed it to you yet? The ring I mean?"
About twenty times.
"Well…it's pretty, don't you think?"
Pretty? I believe the word you used was" perfect."
Hermione looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know why I said that. I hate that word." Hermione stirred and nibbled her lip. "You know, I haven't cried about it. Not one single time. What do you think that means?"
Her mother gave a half-hearted shrug. Maybe you never loved him in the first place.
"No! That's not true…that can't be true…" Hermione said as a fat tear rolled down her cheek. "I did love him …I do love him…." She wiped her face as several more tears followed. "I don't know… There's just a breaking point in every relationship…Harry has to know that…" Her breath hitched as she took a few minutes to calm her hiccupping sobs.
"…There are just some things you can't change…we can't go back...it's too impossible…we're much too different…he has to realize that…"
Hermione dear…don't cry…. You don't know what Harry's feeling right now.
"Yes I do!" Hermione said stubbornly, wiping the last tears from her face. "He's feeling guilty and now that we've avoided a scandal, he thinks he can simply waltz back into my life as though nothing had happened."
And you know this because…well… how exactly?
Hermione ignored her. "Well if Harry thinks some flowers are going to make me forget about what he did, he's grossly mistaken."
I thought you were going to stop assuming the worst of people.
Hermione shook her head and sniffled. "I'm not thinking the worst of him. It's the only logical explanation."
Funny the way logic works sometimes.
"I wouldn't call this funny."
Oh Hermione…my poor darling… Everything will be all right. You'll see. These things have a
habit of working themselves out in the end.
"You sound like Luna," Hermione said with a sigh. Although she often ridiculed her sister's blind optimism; although she knew there wasn't a chance in hell of things "working themselves out in the end"; although she knew her mother was dead and she was essentially talking to herself... Hermione never wanted to believe something as unlikely as "everything will be fine" more than she did now.
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Next Chapter: Werewolves of London…