Letters and Letdowns
Author Notes: In my mind, chapter 8 and 9 were separate, but in the final stages of revising, I realized that the last post was too short to be on its own. Oh well. I've never let "logic" or "coherence" or "common sense" stop me before. Besides, I'm not willing to compromise my vision for nuthin. So here it is, uploaded ten seconds after I posted the last one. I hope all you people who gave me "WTF it's too short" reviews before seeing this chapter feel silly. And I hope that all you people who gave me "it's great" reviews live long happy lives.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
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Hermione awoke to a loud banging on her bedroom door. Squinting, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. She saw that it was still dark outside. The moonlight poured in through the bay window and the dying fire in the small fireplace cast shadows to the four corners of the room. After muttering a spell, a few of the candles by her bed flickered to life. She pulled her robe around her and padded to the bedroom door.
"Hello?" she called. She waited but no one answered. She undid the latch and pulled it open.
Harry Potter was standing there. Standing there like it was the most natural thing in the world to be standing in her doorway in the early morning hours.
"Harry?" she asked as he forced his way past her. She shook her head, sure she was dreaming.
His hair was messier than usual and his clothes were disheveled. But none of that mattered because he was in her bedroom. In HER bedroom. Hermione shook her head, amazed. Why was he in her bedroom?
"Harry what are you doing here?" she demanded. It was only hours ago that they'd parted after their fight. She was sure that Harry would be in London by now.
She pulled the belt of her robe tighter her as she followed him inside. It must've been three in the morning. "What time is it?" she asked, rubbing her eyes again, still not sure she wasn't dreaming.
Harry remained silent as he turned to her. In one swift motion, he had her in his arms and was lifting her to him. His arm snaked around her slight waist and his hand moved up her back. He gripped the back of her neck and she could feel his fingers tangled in her loose curls. Suddenly she couldn't care less what time it was.
"Harry…?" she asked, breathless. Her legs were suddenly useless and she held his collar for support. He pulled her closer, until she could feel every hard plane of his body through her thin nightgown and robe. She felt a heady pulse as his eyes flicked down to her lips. "Harry…what…?"
He crushed his lips against hers before she could finish. There was no pretence of tenderness in his kiss this time. His mouth devoured hers hungrily, and Hermione moaned as he roughly tasted her. Hermione held on tightly to his collar as his mouth slowly pried hers open. Hermione felt his tongue against hers and the sensation sent her reeling. She knew she should resist him, but she was too overwhelmed with the feel of him against her to even pretend to want to stop.
Everything was as earth-shattering as she remembered. His lips, his hands, his taste. Without thinking twice, she wrapped an arm round his neck while the other snuck under his jacket and felt the hard lines of his chest against his shirt.
She hadn't noticed they were moving until the wall was pressing against her back. Her hair bunched around her shoulders and he buried his face in her neck, his lips latching onto the soft skin of her throat.
She'd never felt like this before. Somewhere inside her, a hot aching desire was welling up and it was almost painful to hold back.
She groaned as he tightened his grip on her neck and as his lips began working their way down to her throat. Suddenly, dozens of white points of light began dancing in front of her eyes. For a second, she hazily thought it was snowing and she'd left the window open. But the pieces became larger and larger and she soon realized that the walls were caving in. Bits and pieces of their plaster were falling like confetti around them.
"We broke the house…" was her last coherent thought before everything faded to black.
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Hermione sat up, suddenly awake. Her heart racing and a thin sheen of sweat on her brow, she put her hand on her chest as she struggled to catch her breath. Her body was still pulsing and she could feel a blush on her cheeks.
"Well, that was…interesting," she said weakly as she swallowed hard and shook her head. Her throat was completely dry and her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Blinking at the gray daylight coming in through her bedroom window, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and noticed she still was wearing the same clothes she wore yesterday. The details of the night were fuzzy, but she remembered staggering in from the study and collapsing, fully dressed, on her bed.
She had begun unlacing her uncomfortable collar when she was startled by a loud knock at the door.
"Go away," she choked, the words sticking in her throat.
The knocking continued, louder than ever, and Hermione hurried to her door. The dream was still fresh in her mind, and her hand shook as she opened it.
Don't be ridiculous Hermione, she told herself. It was only a dream. Dreams don't mean anything. Mrs. Trelawney says otherwise, so you know it's true.
Still, she was somewhat relived when she saw Lavender's bright "good morning" grin.
"Breakfast time!" Lavender chirped in a merry voice.
"Lav," Hermione said with a forced smile. "I'm really tired. I think I'll to skip breakfast today."
Lavender shook her head. "Oh no you don't. I've got the biggest scoop, and you absolutely have to come downstairs to hear it." Lavender leaned in and lowered her voice. "And by the way, you look bad. Really bad. Don't they have a cream for that?" Lavender pointed to the non-existent dark circles under her own eyes.
"Lav," Hermione replied through gritted teeth. "I've just had the worst night of my life. The least you could do is let me sleep a little while longer."
"Blah blah blah. Stop talking and come down to breakfast." Lav said, flipping her hair and flashing a letter from Parv under Hermione's nose. "I just got a letter from Parv and she's going to tell us all the juicy news from Brighton."
"Sounds peachy," Hermione grumbled, closing her door and staggering back into bed. Rubbing her sore neck, trying to sort out exactly what happened the night before, she groped for the covers and pulled them up to her chin. She vaguely recalled stumbling out of the study and climbing up the back staircase when her family came home from their dinner party. She then proceeded to have the most horrible, fitful night's sleep of her life. Hermione must have relived her encounter with Harry a dozen different times in a dozen different ways. All her dreams ended differently of course. They fought. He left. Sometimes he came back; sometimes he didn't; sometimes Hermione started throwing things at him.
Upsetting as it was to relive their argument, the dreams had all been fairly harmless. Except for the last one. That last, rather unsettling, rather arousing one. She vowed then and there never to run out of dreamless sleeping potion again.
Whatever dreams she had, Harry hadn't returned. He'd left without a word, and she cried herself asleep on the sofa in the study. Through her hazy, vague sadness, the scene between her and Harry played out in her mind, somehow taking on the characteristics of one of those silly stage plays that Tonks was always dragging her to.
-Downstage: Incensed, offended young man stares angrily at young woman who has just refused his offer of marriage. The candle-lit study is silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing.
-The lights go out. There's the sound of a slap. A door slams.
-The lights come back on
-Upstage: On the sofa lies the young woman, weeping. Stage lights fade to black. Audience groans with pity.
Hermione gave a frustrated sigh and ran her hands through her hair. Since when did her life resemble a melodrama? A badly written melodrama? What made matters worse was that, even in her head, the whole thing seemed completely unbelievable. Who could she tell? Who would believe her? The weeks of secrecy and tight-lipped repression were finally starting to take their toll. What she needed was an objective, calm, completely unconfused point of view. Unfortunately, after her mother's passing, her only options were Tonks, Luna, Lav and Aunt Aurora.
So the whole situation is completely and utterly hopeless...she murmured against her pillow.
Once upon a time she could've curled up against her mother and lost herself in her softly spoken, comforting phrases. Four years seemed like a long time, but she could still recall the precious details of her mother with perfect clarity. Jane Granger was a warm, wonderful woman with hazel eyes, wild brown hair, and a talent for placating her three bickering daughters. But a carriage accident had torn her parents out of her life and thrown her and her sisters into an uncertain future with a flighty aunt.
Missing her mother terribly, Hermione pulled the covers over her head, finding solace in the darkness. She tried to imagine what her mother might say to her, something logical and tender no doubt, if only to counter her own endless irrationality and impatience.
*curling up in her mother's lap*
Oh Mother, *tragic sniffle* everything's gone horribly wrong.
What's gone wrong Hermione?
Harry and I had a fight.
Sweetie, all couples fight.
We're not a couple! *sitting up and frowning* And we never will be!
Really? Is that why you're upset?
No, of course not! I don't think about Harry like that. *long pause* Not really. Well, maybe once. Or sometimes. But not often.
So you're attracted to him?
Oh mother *grumbles* honestly…
Well are you?
Um…Am I what?
Are. You. Attracted. To. Him? It's not unusual for girls your age to start noticing wizards. Your father started courting me when I was nineteen.
Oh please don't talk about Daddy that way.
You haven't answered my question.
Of course I'm attracted to Harry. He's attract-tive. Any girl in her right mind would think him handsome. But that doesn't mean anything. It shouldn't matter at all, should it? I'm not one of those silly witches who swoon and flutter and giggle and make a complete arses out of themselves over gorgeous men.
Long pause.
What Mother? I'm not.
Another long pause.
And so…well maybe I like his hair. And his eyes. And his shoulders… especially his shoulders. Have you ever seen his shoulders? And I do…sometimes…almost…like him. But it doesn't matter because it wasn't supposed to happen like this.
Like what?
*Hermione motions around her, as though the room would offer an explanation* Like THIS. Like all that's happened. It was supposed to be…I don't know. Conventional and respectable. With a real courtship and…not… all this.
Hermione, *chuckle* you're impossible. And here I thought I'd have the most trouble with Lavender over men.
That's horrible thing to say! I am NOT like Lavender.
Yes, you're right. Lavender doesn't overanalyze things the way you do. If you do like Harry, you shouldn't be ashamed of it. You can't plan for everything you know. Just be patient. These things have a habit of working themselves out.
But I don't want things to work themselves out. Things have been working themselves out and it's been awful. I want things to un-work themselves out.
All right Hermione, now you sound like Tonks.
Ouch… point taken…
Hermione groaned, completely frustrated with herself. Even in her mangled, imaginary conversations with her mother, she sounded ridiculous. She was worse than Lavender. At least Lavender kept things simple: see handsome man; drag him to the altar; be happy; stay pretty forever. The end.
But as nice as that simplicity sounded, Hermione couldn't ignore her troubling doubts about Harry, and last night hadn't helped in the least. His contradictory character seemed just as confusing and frustrating in the morning light as it did by the flickering fireplace. She still knew almost nothing about him, except that he was impetuous, stubborn, selfish, surprisingly sweet, and in love with her. And now she had firsthand knowledge that he was both heroic and an excellent kisser.
And no, you will not take a moment to reminisce about his kissing ability Hermione…
Snuggling further down into the blankets, she spent the rest of the morning doing just that. Trying not to think about kissing Harry.
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"Lavender, calm down…" Luna's melodious voice was muffled by the door.
"But I can't believe it!" a shrieking voice that sounded like Lavender's rang out. "Can you believe it Luna? Because I can't. It's just too too too much! Really, did you ever think…?"
Hermione paused and put her ear up to the swinging door of the morning room. It sounded like Lav was still recounting all the gossipy news from Brighton. Hermione sighed and brushed back a loose strand of her curly hair that had escaped from her untidy braided plaits. Standing in the hallway, somewhat disheveled and half-asleep, Hermione had enough presence of mind stop herself from going on in. Although the thought of coffee sounded wonderful, Lavender's high-pitched squealing made her already aching head hurt more.
Hermione sighed and hurried past the morning room. It was just as well. Even without Lavender's excitement, Hermione knew she couldn't face her family yet. She was sure Hil told them about her supposed "fall," and Hermione didn't feel like making up some excuse as to why Harry Potter had been the one who brought her home.
Hermione grabbed her cloak and rushed outside. A slamming door and a few steps and she was down the block, striding along the cobblestone streets for a brisk morning walk. Gone was the bitter wind from yesterday, and in its place, dark clouds hovered over the horizon. Frost covered the iron fence posts, and the streets were still and eerily quiet. Although her favorite stroll had always been a grassy path through the woods, Hermione decided to keep her distance from any and all trails leading into the forest.
I'm sure there's a smaller chance of being eaten on West Street, Hermione thought, eyeing the dark forest on the outskirts of town.
She made her way along the sidewalk, hoping that the crisp breeze and the fresh air would clear her mind a bit. But fresh air could only do so much. Her feelings for Harry were so confused and unnerving she was afraid that all the fresh air in England couldn't help her.
She wasn't twenty paces from her house before she heard somebody call her name.
"Hermione…?"
Startled, she turned and saw Harry striding towards her intently.
Oh dear goodness…why…what is he…why did he…?
Completely shocked, her breath caught in her throat and all she could do was stand as though stuck to the sidewalk as he approached.
But even with her overwhelming surprise, she could tell something wasn't right. This wasn't the dashing Harry Potter of her dreams. This Harry looked like he hadn't slept at all. His face was ghastly pale and he was wearing the clothes he had on last night, except now they were wrinkled and tousled. Despite the determined line of his mouth and the formidable glint in eye, he appeared exhausted and miserable. In short, Harry Potter looked the way she felt.
Hermione expected to feel a sense of vindication. She waited for some small Tonks-like voice to say, Oh. Good. He should be suffering. He hurt my feelings and now he looks slightly less attractive. Ha. Ha. I win…
But try as she may, she could only feel a heart-wrenching concern. His skin wasn't just pale, it was colorless, which only made the dark circles under his eyes all the more noticeable. His hair was tragically messy and his green eyes were devoid of their usual sparkle. His jacket and cloak were carelessly open, and the first few buttons of his wrinkled collar were undone. Even through the disheveled mess of his shirt she could make out the hard lines of his chest flexing against the white material…
…which is completely irrelevant to his health…she murmured as she lowered her eyes to the sidewalk.
He stopped a few feet in front of her, his face devoid of expression. Too tired to be intimidated by his blank stare, she patiently waited for him to say something.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.
"Hermione," Harry began in a low voice. "I'd like you to read this."
He held out the letter, his eyes fixed on hers as she slowly nodded. Her fingers brushed against his as she took it and she noticed his hand felt like ice. She wondered how long he'd been waiting outside for her.
"Harry, your hands are cold," she muttered without thinking.
By way of response, he shoved them into his pockets and studied the ground in front of him.
"Why didn't you come in the house?" she asked quietly.
"I didn't know if your family knew…" Harry trailed off.
"Harry," Hermione replied, shaking her head, "You should've waited inside." Anything was better than him standing out here in the dank chill. "You could get sick," she added softly.
Harry said something about how "it doesn't matter."
The fell into silence, each waiting for the other to speak.
"I'd better…" run away "I have to…" stay away from you, they both began at the same time.
Embarrassed, Harry went on. "I'd better go."
"Me too," Hermione replied. She forced a smile. "I hope you have a happy Christmas."
"It is Christmas, isn't it?" Harry said with a chuckle.
"Christmas Eve." Hermione gently corrected.
Harry nodded. "I'd forgotten."
Hermione smiled, sincerely this time. "I'd forgotten too. With all that happened…"
"I know," Harry interrupted her, not wanting her to finish. He held out his hand and she took it without hesitation. "So I'll take my leave of you," he gently squeezed her hand. "Goodbye Hermione."
Before she could reply, he abruptly turned and walked away. Dark clouds rumbled above her, and she felt a few drops of rain on her cheek as she took one last look after him.
I should be used to his leaving suddenly by now… she sadly thought as she opened the envelope and took out the letter.
Hermione…
You needn't worry whether this letter contains any repetition or renewal of my feelings for you. I'm not going to repeat those sentiments that last night were so unwelcome. Instead I'm writing in regard to your friendship with Viktor Krum…
Hermione quickly shoved the letter back into its envelope. She didn't want to read the rest; she didn't need to read the rest. The letter's intentions were obvious: Harry was trying to free himself from any obligation to her. If his idiotic fantasies about her and Viktor were his excuse, then so be it.
Her hands shook as she crumpled up the envelope and raced up the steps to the front door. Rushing through the foyer and up the stairs, Hermione was grateful that she didn't pass her sisters in the hallway. She knew she looked a fright and didn't know how she'd react to their questions.
Slamming her bedroom door behind her and nearly stepping on Crookshanks, Hermione tossed the crumbled envelope into the wastebasket and dove back under the covers. She pulled the blankets over her head, trying to hold back her tears. She couldn't deny it. When she'd opened the letter, she expected an apology, or some sort of civil explanation as to why he'd reacted the way he did. Something polite and gentlemanly. Something that would at least offer evidence of his professed affection for her. Not some sick insinuation about Viktor Krum. Not this crude, cruel end to…whatever this thing was between them.
Hermione curled up in a fetal position under the covers. It was beginning to feel nice, this hiding-from-the-world-hiding-from-herself habit she was developing. She wondered how long she could conceivably stay in bed. Until after the New Year perhaps. She was certain she'd be almost fit for human company by then.
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Two Weeks Later….
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"Hermione!" You're not listening to me!" Lavender cried, smacking the counter. "This is IMPORTANT and you're not listening to me at all! That. Is. Just. So. Rude."
Hermione looked up from her cutting board piled with ingredients and tiredly apologized to her sister. It was quite true that Hermione hadn't been listening to her, but that was only because Lavender had spent the better part of an hour talking without stopping to take a breath. Both Hermione and Luna were surprised she hadn't collapsed from lack of oxygen.
Lav was perched atop the marble kitchen countertop while Luna was sitting on a barstool beside her. Earlier, Hermione had received a potions request for some Seriousness Serum and had spent the morning in the kitchen, cutting up peppermint and soaking hibiscus petals. She wasn't used to working with Luna and Lavender hovering over her like this, but they seemed determined to keep her company whether she liked it or not. She hadn't acted much like herself lately, and it hadn't escaped her sisters' notice.
Hermione was sure her sisters meant well, but right now she wished they would just leave her alone. The potion she was working on had a lot of components and she needed to concentrate. In any case, Lavender's entire conversation consisted of only three things: Viktor, Brighton, and red cloaks. Lav had been invited to visit Parv for a few weeks and since then she spoke of nothing else.
"Hermione!" Lav exclaimed again, kicking the cherry wood cabinets under her. "Listen. To. Me!
"Oh, Lav," Hermione sighed, putting down her grinding mortar and turning to her sister. She knew Lavender wouldn't be easy unless she had her undivided attention. "Okay. I'm listening. Go on."
Lavender smiled brightly and continued: "And so Parv said that I should bring at least a dozen gowns because they have parties and socials every night! Imagine. Me and a whole camp full of soldiers." Lav sighed dramatically and leaned back against the counters. "Can you just picture it? I'm going to be presented to all the officers. And as a friend of the Colonel's wife no less! Oh Hermione! To think that in only four days I'll be in Brighton! I'm fairly sure I shall die of happiness."
Luna, who was suffering from a mild cold, sniffled and patted Lav on the shoulder, happy for her sister and relieved that her own poor health prevented her from chaperoning Lavender's visit.
Hermione, however, was less enthused about her sister's trip. After what Lav had put them through over one poor regiment of soldiers, Hermione shuddered to think what silliness a whole brigade would inspire. Hermione kept her doubts to herself though. Lav didn't have many chances to travel, and she had missed Parv's company terribly. Besides, her husband Colonel Denny was a sensible man, and Hermione was sure he would look after Lav.
Lavender continued to talk about the dresses she would buy and the bonnets she would sew, which reminded her of a fashion newspaper she wanted to show them. Lav leapt from the counter and scurried off.
Luna and Hermione shared a smile as their sister's fluttering skirts disappeared round the corner and silence descended over the kitchen.
"So, Luna. How are you feeling?" Hermione asked quietly, enjoying the momentary peace.
Luna shrugged and smiled. She was never one to complain about her health. "I'm feeling better, thanks to you. But I've had enough chamomile tea to last me the whole of the new year."
Hermione nodded but didn't reply. She returned to chopping up the peppermint. Gathering a handful of it, she sprinkled the leaves into the boiling caldron beside her.
Luna got up from her stool and leaned over the bubbling pot. "What's in there?"
"It's a combination of tansy, mint, essence of opal, and hibiscus oil," Hermione answered absently as she breathed in its sweet scent.
She went back to her table and began chopping the peppermint again, relaxing as the aroma of the tansy and the heat from the cauldron filled the cozy kitchen. Over the last few weeks, Hermione had become quite adept at mixing mood-altering solutions. She brewed endless amounts of honeysuckle and licorice tea, wit-sharpening potions, hollyhock balms, passionflower oils, and calming draughts. In fact, since her argument with Harry, she'd taken to granting every potions request she'd received, no matter how silly: when Ms. Bones wanted a potion that would make her smell like gingerbread, Hermione happily obliged; when Mr. Diggory took it into his head to brew a firewhiskey that turned red and green, Hermione made a powder and provided detailed instructions on any skin-tinting side effects; when Mr. Filch wanted a elixir to make his snowman shout profanities at his neighbors, Hermione…well… Hermione ignored that one.
Hermione knew it was just her mucked-up way of trying to turn her thoughts away from Harry, but she couldn't help it. She hated the desperate, empty feeling that had settled in her stomach since their parting. What made matters worse was that her treacherous mind was continually returning to that awful night, and her even more treacherous body reacted in strange, uncomfortable ways. Even now, as she sifted through the extra peppermint, its fresh green color reminded her of his emerald eyes and she spent a few moments reminiscing about their glow when he'd proposed to her
"Oh, I forgot, Luna said suddenly, interrupting Hermione's thoughts. Luna sniffled and pulled out a letter from her pocket. "Tonks Owled you this morning."
Blushing, Hermione wiped her hands off on her apron. Muttering her thanks as she opened it, she looked over the parchment before flipping it over and furrowing her brow.
"What's wrong?" Luna asked.
Hermione handed her the letter. On it was a pattern of thick, indecipherable squiggles.
"It looks like finger painting," Luna said, confused.
Hermione shook her head. "Only Tonks," she sighed. Tonks always sent her the silliest owls. Hermione rolled her eyes when she noticed that her address had been written in pink crayon.
"Why do you suppose she sent you that?" Luna asked.
Hermione shook her head. "I couldn't say. Her Owls are never serious, even when they're legible."
"It's been forever since she's invited herself over." Luna observed thoughtfully.
"Nearly two weeks, but I think she's gone to London with her parents," Hermione replied. She could tell something was on Luna's mind. "Is something wrong?"
Luna remained silent, playing with the radish charms on her necklace.
"What is it Luna?" Hermione asked, suddenly concerned.
Luna leaned closer. "I've just being hearing some…rumors lately." She uttered "rumors" as though it were a curse word.
Hermione paled and fumbled the bowl of peppermint. She remembered her conversation with Viktor regarding the Weasley's sudden departure and dreaded the thought of Luna overhearing something so horribly insulting.
"What kind of rumors?" Hermione asked gently, setting the bowl aside.
"About Tonks…and Remus," Luna answered breathlessly.
Hermione's face broke into a relieved smile.
"Let me guess," Hermione began ticking off her fingers: "Remus and Tonks are passionately in love and
secretly engaged and planning an elopement?"
Luna nodded to all three.
"Don't worry Luna." Hermione patted her shoulder. "Tonks actually enjoys that kind of attention. She'll probably be delighted when she hears about it. She'll dance her little happy jig and start bragging about her sudden notoriety."
"Happy jig?" Luna giggled.
"You know, that dance she does when she gets what she wants. The one where she jumps up and punches the air."
"That's a dance?" Luna asked. "I thought she was having a seizure."
They shared a laugh and settled into a comfortable silence. Hermione could tell Luna had something more to say, but Hermione didn't encourage her to speak. Lately, she'd taken to avoiding conversations with her unusually insightful sister.
"Do you think it's true?" Luna asked, careful to observe her sister's reaction.
"About Tonks and Remus? No, it's not true Luna," Hermione replied. "If it were true, we would know about it before the rest of the town did. Tonks would burst through the door, announce her engagement and demand wedding presents right then and there."
Luna thought about it. "I suppose so. But if it were true, would you mind so much?"
"Mind the marriage you mean?" Hermione was confused. "Why do you ask?"
Luna swallowed hard. "Well, I did notice that you seemed to like Remus, and he made you something of a favorite."
"Me?" Hermione was surprised.
"Oh yes. At the ball, he asked you to dance more than anyone else, and he kept telling everyone how clever you are," Luan said earnestly.
Hermione considered Luna's point but couldn't really take seriously the idea of Lupin's being in love with her.
"Luna, if he did have feelings for me, he wouldn't have stayed away as long as he has. I'm not even sure if he's still in Meriton. It's been weeks since we last saw him." Her mind momentarily drifted towards Harry's hurried return from London.
Luna had to agree with her sister. "Then what is it?" Luna demanded softly. "Why are you acting this way? We barely see you any more, and when we do it's only when you've left the library long enough to brew a potion."
"I'm fine Luna." Hermione said quickly, taking her sister's hand. "I promise. I've just…I've just been thinking lately."
"Thinking about what?"
Hermione shrugged.
"You're not happy Hermione," Luna replied sternly, taking her hand away. "And don't say you are."
"You're not happy either," Hermione replied with a weak smile, but Luna refused to be baited.
"I'm happy enough," Luna assured her. "But you…you haven't been yourself at all."
Hermione shook her head. "Is that such a bad thing?"
Luna looked her sister sternly (as stern as Luna could be), "What do you mean by that? You're wonderful. You're perfect the way you are."
Hermione paused before taking off her apron. She crossed her arms and shook her head.
"Luna, you always think the best of everyone. Even me. I don't deserve it."
"Hermione what are you talking about? What's happened? Ever since that night you fell you've been acting so strangely, and we're all so terribly worried about you." Luna rested a hand on her sister's shoulder. "If there's something troubling you, please tell me. Maybe I can help."
As Hermione looked into her sister's sincere eyes, a wave of guilt washed over her. Yes, her feelings had been hurt by Harry's letter, but she never meant to make her sister worry so. Especially since there was nothing really wrong with her, nothing that a little time couldn't heal.
Luna thought for a moment. "Does this have anything to do with Harry Potter?"
Hermione nibbled her lip, not wanting to lie to her sister, but not quite ready to admit the entire truth.
"He's the one who brought you home that night you fell. Did something else happen?"
Hermione nodded and swallowed hard. "We…we had a…disagreement."
"You quarreled?" Luna asked wide-eyed.
Hermione nodded again. "I don't know how it started, but suddenly we were shouting at each other. We said the most horrible things."
"I'm sure it wasn't as bad as all that," Luna said, not really sure of it herself.
"I called him a disagreeable prat," Hermione admitted.
"You did not!" Luna stifled a giggle. However much she disapproved of Hermione's choice of words, Luna couldn't help but laugh at the thought of Hermione calling proud Harry Potter a "disagreeable prat."
"I'm sure he deserved it," Luna assured her as recovered. "Besides, you never made it a secret that you disliked him."
"Well, after what happened, he seems to share my sentiments," Hermione said miserably.
"So what if he does? Why should that matter? You never once desired his good opinion, so why are you upset that you've lost it?"
"I don't know!" Hermione exclaimed. "All I know is that I can't stand the thought of Harry Potter being alive in the world and hating me. Even if he is a disagreeable prat." Hermione threw up her hands in frustration.
"You're so odd Hermione," Luna replied as she folded her sister into a hug. Hermione couldn't help but agree, even if it was coming from Luna.
For the first time, Luna and Hermione finally took a moment to share in their grief. Their hug ended only when Lavender noisily skipped back into the kitchen, carrying her fashion magazines and a dozen color-changing ribbons. All three girls spent the rest of the afternoon drinking tea and debating which ribbons looked best with Lavender's caramel-colored hair.
Hermione had to admit, it was the best, most ordinary day she'd had since Harry left. She went to sleep easily that night, relieved that she was finally starting to put the whole ugly mess behind her.
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The next few days went by slowly for Hermione until Tonks stopped by on a dreary morning. Hermione was reading in the study when she heard Tonks' chipper voice resound through the hallway. The door flew open and Tonks barged in without knocking.
She was wearing a bright orange dress and sporting a new blue-black hair color. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were rosy. She looked like she was brimming over with happiness.
"Hermione!" Tonks' excited shout resounded through the room. She jumped onto the sofa next to her. "Hermione I've been wanting to see you for ages and ages. I'm so glad you're home. So tell me what you think!"
"What I think?" Hermione asked with a chuckle. Although Tonks' exuberance could be a little trying, Hermione was glad to see her cousin. "Well, I liked the blonde, but the black suits you better. I think you did a nice job of it." Hermione patted Tonks' straight locks, wondering how she got them so smooth and flat.
Tonks looked at her, confused. "Not my hair silly, about me getting married."
Hermione studied Tonks, wondering what brought this on. "Um…Yes, I think you should get married someday. It's been known to happen to women of a certain age, and personally I'm not against the idea…" Hermione trailed off from her sarcastic speech when she noticed Tonks was staring at her with an opened mouth.
"Didn't you get my Owl?" Tonks asked, exasperated.
"Yes I did, thank you. Your finger painting is always appreciated. And the crayon was a nice touch. Very elegant." Hermione laughed.
"Finger painting?" Tonks pouted. "That was my best calligraphy."
"Calligraphy? Well that explains it. Tonks, what ever was that for?"
Tonks shrugged. "Wedding announcements are usually written in calligraphy. Far be it from me to break tradition."
"A wedding? What!" Hermione gasped as she sat up, hoping that this was another one of Tonks' jokes.
"To Remus! Can you imagine? We're getting married!" Tonks gave Hermione a tight hug.
Hermione pulled away and uncertainly eyed her friend. "Tonks, you know you have to be engaged before you get married, right?"
"Ha ha," Tonks said, rolling her eyes. "Yes, thank you Hermione. I'll keep that in mind. And yes, I'm engaged too. So there. Hmmm." Tonks stuck her tongue out.
"You're engaged to Remus?" she asked doubtfully. "Does he know about this?"
"He should know, it was his idea," Tonks said impatiently. "You really really don't believe me do you? You think I'm making it all up or joking or something?"
Hermione uncomfortably shifted in her seat. She could tell that Tonks was (for once) being perfectly serious.
"Are you sure? I mean, is it all settled?" Hermione asked, stunned.
"Yup, we're getting married from Godric's Hollow and then going to Grimmauld Place for the honeymoon." Tonks sighed. "I really can't believe it."
Hermione couldn't believe it either. "Godric's Hollow?" Hermione repeated, shaking her head. "Harry's house? Why are you getting married at Harry's house?"
Tonks shrugged. "Remus said Harry insisted. Besides, it's loads closer to Meriton than Grimmauld Place."
Getting married? To Remus? And moving to Grimmauld Place no less? Somehow it didn't seem real. Hermione shook her head. Tonks couldn't get married. She just couldn't. She was Tonks. Crazy playful Tonks. And getting married to Remus of all people. They seemed so mismatched…
"You're not congratulating me," Tonks impatiently pointed out.
"I am… I mean, I will," Hermione assured her. "It's just so unexpected. I haven't seen you or Remus for weeks and now this."
Tonks just stared at her. "Ooooh, I see," Tonks said, offended. "You think I've tricked him into this, right? That I lured him away with my feminine wiles and bagged the unsuspecting man behind your back. I'm the corrupting young temptress, and Remus is the unworldly gent I've seduced. Oh, right, yes, I see. It's all so clear now." Tonks crossed her arms and fumed.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tonks don't be ridiculous. You're not a temptress."
"Well why not?" Tonks demanded. "I'm absolutely tempting. I'm thoroughly seducer-able. I'm one of those girls. You know, what do they call them? It's a French word…" Tonks trailed off, lost in her own thoughts.
Feeling her Tonks-headache coming on, Hermione rubbed her temples. This was without a doubt the most awkward conversation she'd ever had with Tonks, and Tonks had quite a knack for starting awkward conversations.
"Tonks," Hermione began, "you two hardly know each other. He's, well, he's Remus and you're… well, you're Tonks and…"
Hermione stopped herself. Pieces of her own, somewhat more coherent, speech to Harry came to mind and she felt a twinge of regret and resolution. If Tonks was willing to take such a chance with Remus, then Hermione resolved to support her in every way possible. Remus seemed a decent enough man, and Tonks was obviously elated about it. Besides, if anyone could take care of herself, it was Tonks. The girl was fearless, and Hermione knew marriage wouldn't change that.
Hermione took a deep breath. "Congratulations," she said sincerely.
Tonks squealed as Hermione hugged her. "I can't believe you couldn't read my Owl!" Tonks chuckled.
"I can't believe you're engaged," Hermione retorted playfully.
"I know." Tonks sighed. "It's really odd. I feel like it's forced me to grow up a little bit."
Hermione nodded solemnly, but broke out into laughter when she couldn't keep a straight face.
"It's true!" Tonks insisted, as Hermione held her sides and wiped away a tear.
"No, no it's not. Not really," Hermione replied between giggles.
Tonks pouted and insisted she was grown up until Hermione's laugher subsided.
"So," Hermione said, trying to catch her breath, "have you set a date?"
Tonks shook her head. "We're thinking maybe sometime next week."
Hermione didn't think she'd heard correctly. "Next week? Next week as in next week. This coming next week? The week after this one?"
Tonks nodded
"But why so soon?"
"Why not? Remus has to get back to Grimmauld Place, and I'm the most impatient person on the planet. It actually works out well." Tonks grinned. "And besides, the sooner I leave, the sooner you can come and visit! I can't wait to see Grimmauld Place. Oh, that reminds me, I made an appointment at the dressmakers. It's for my wedding dress. I'm thinking… um…white maybe?" Tonks wriggled her eyebrows. "Or not."
Tonks pulled her off the sofa and started shoving her down the hallway before she could say anything. "Now come on Mione. We're late."
"What do you mean 'we'?" Hermione asked as Tonks pulled her along.
"'We' as in 'us,' as in plural you and me. We're getting fitted. I'm the bride and you're the maid of honor and today's our first fitting. Or, actually, it was five minutes ago. So come on. And bring Luna and Lav, I need bridesmaids. And presents. Don't forget presents. It's going to be great." Tonks gave an evil grin. "I hope you guys like chartreuse because that's what you're wearing."
"Wait. Wait, Tonks," Hermione shrugged out of Tonks' grasp as they came to a stop at the front door. "I'm nowhere near ready to leave. And Luna can't come, she's just getting over a cold. Furthermore, Lavender's leaving to visit some friends in Brighton so she won't be a bridesmaid at all."
"Oh poop," Tonks pouted. "That's so like them. Completely unreliable. They'll owe me twice as many presents for being such flighty little spoilsports. Imagine. Ruining my big day with their snooty 'plans' and 'diseases.' Bah."
Unfazed, Tonks darted out the front door shouting a "meet you at Pearl's Boutique" behind her.
Hermione weakly waved after her and climbed the stairs to her room, trying to sort out what just happened.
Although she wanted to be happy for Tonks, she still felt doubtful about this hasty engagement. Lupin was…well Hermione didn't know much of anything about him, and now he was whisking Tonks away to a far off estate.
Spelling her hair into a neater braid, Hermione took another deep breath and decided to simply accept the match. Everything was apparently settled between them. It was Tonks' decision in any case, and goodness help the person who stood in the way of what Tonks wanted.
After lacing up her boots, she grabbed her cloak and ran out the door and down the street. As she hurried along the sidewalk, she couldn't help but harbor a vague sense of dread about the upcoming week. If the ceremony was taking place at Godric's Hollow, Hermione would certainly see Harry again. She didn't know which was worse, an overexcited-bride-to-be Tonks or another encounter with Harry Potter. When she walked into the bridal shop and saw Tonks holding what looked like an eye patch and a fake parrot, Hermione's vote fell to bride-to-be Tonks.