Author's Note: I am now shifting the story out of vignette mode into some real plot, though again, it does move slowly. I have to admit though, writing these little pieces of story is really fun, but plot has to come eventually, right?
I still don't own Harry Potter, nor do I have anything to do with The Upstairs Divine, which is definitely driving the mood behind this chapter. Enjoy.
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Chapter 5: What's Eating Hermione Granger?
Hermione Granger was undeniably, unmistakably, upset. Nearly everything Harry and Ron tentatively said set her off like never before. Try as they might, she simply wouldn't have anything to do with them. Had she been any other girl, the boys would have simply chalked it up to `silly girl stuff' or `Valentine's Day Blues,' but seeing as Hermione didn't care one bit about Valentine's Day (which is not to say she hated it, but rather that she treated the day like any other) and as she hardly ever acted this way longer than a day or two, they were left without explanations.
Harry, for one, hadn't dared breach the awkward subject again with Ron since their last shopping excursion, because it just wasn't what guys did. Besides, Ron seemed dead set on simply waiting out the bad mood so that things could return to normal, and Harry wasn't about to break pattern either.
Still, it didn't stop him from thinking about it on his own a little. When Hermione was buried furiously in a pile of books, reading like she hadn't done since her first year at Hogwarts, Harry would watch her with concern and curiosity from his own chair. As he sat there, polishing his new broomstick, he'd occasionally open his mouth to speak to her, but thought better of it. Hermione never looked up, and never so much as moved, other than to turn the pages. He was almost concerned enough to write Ginny for advice, but the idea was so very…awkward….that he never actually picked up his quill to follow through.
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Hermione wasn't about to explain herself either. If they had even thought to ask her - `inconsiderate prats' - she would have probably blamed it on her work, which was barely true, if at all. Delving into the Department of Mysteries had been painful, at first, but as she moved on past those memories from fifth year (well, she still could never quite look at the Veil if she ever entered that terrible room), her research grew quite interesting. It was worth taking her N.E.W.T.S. (in every course but Divination and Muggle Studies) as part of her training, just to be able to study further into the origin of magic and why spells were used in Latin and why wands and-the list went on for several feet of parchment.
No, work was more wonderfully challenging than she had ever dreamed.
It was a shame the problem wasn't work, really. Because this was so much more distracting. She'd hardly even noticed when Ron announced he was leaving the Auror Department for George's shop after only a month of working at the Ministry.
"I've fought enough deluded maniacs convinced that Voldemort's gathering his forces with the vampires. They make Looney-I mean, Luna, look normal. I'd much rather sell those stupid Pygmy Puffs with George than deal with that anymore."
She'd nodded and kept reading her books, while Harry inquired further, and Ron even managed to make a joke or two about George's ear ("He's a bit hard of hearing these days, you know"). Normally, Hermione would have told them matter-of-factly that the outer ear doesn't actually do the hearing or reminded him to speak of his sort-of girlfriend with a little more respect, but she'd almost forgotten what they were discussing in the first place.
Come to think of it, Hermione wasn't really sure herself what was driving this foul mood of hers. She'd been a little irked at the way Ginny had acted around Harry over break, but had simply accepted it as the girl's last, hopeful attempt to begin anew with Harry. If anything important had happened, she reasoned, Harry would have let her know, and so she took the whole event in stride. But two months later Harry still hadn't brought up what he was thinking about Ginny, and having him withhold information was beginning to get to her.
And she couldn't even begin the conversation with information from her job, because they were called `Unspeakables' for a reason. Quidditch wasn't exactly the choice conversation starter either, since her only interest in it was that Harry was happy and victorious, whereas he and Ron could discuss tactics and moves for hours. The accidental wedge was making her irritable, and she had no idea when it had become a wedge in the first place, nor did she know how to fix it.
She, Hermione Jane Granger, had found the first puzzle in her life that she couldn't completely solve, and all because Harry had omitted one detail of his life. And she knew that they were best friends, but best friends weren't supposed to be this protective of their monopoly on information, and she certainly didn't mind this much when Ron didn't tell her that he was starting to fancy Luna (she'd known by the look on his face anyways). And she knew that she loved Harry as her best friend more than she ever could care about Ron (but Ron was still extremely precious to her too) but how was she supposed to deal with this?
Sending a team of angry canaries after Harry wasn't going to fix the problem this time, or even provide an outlet for her anger. And so she withdrew into her books, reading and searching and hoping that maybe the answer was in the next chapter, next book, next shelf. It was never there, of course.
She could read all of the Muggle and Wizard books in all the world and she'd still be stuck here, frustrated and confused.
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It was a relief when Harry announced he was going down to Italy to play in a Quidditch tournament, and Ron took the opportunity to enjoy a pleasant weekend at the Burrow, away from a cranky Hermione. Hermione was about to start planning a weekend wonderfully devoted to relaxing and forgetting about this problem and getting her mind off Ron and Harry. That is, until Harry asked her as he started a fire for the Floo Powder,
"You won't spend the entire weekend holed up here, right?"
"Really, I do other things, Harry. You're the one traveling across Europe just to play a game."
He smiled at her, unfazed, "You don't have to do anything big, Hermione. Visit your parents or buy out Flourish and Blotts or something."
And in spite of her foul mood, she smiled and nodded. Satisfied, Harry tossed to the powder into the grate, and was gone in a burst of green flames.
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So here she was, sitting on a stool in her parents' new kitchen while her mother made tea. There was really very little to say to either of her parents at first, though they seemed happy enough to see her again. It was a little painful to realize that it took them a few seconds to fully remember her when they opened the door, but as the afternoon shifted into twilight, their memories of her proved to be fully intact.
Maybe they didn't understand very much about the strange world their daughter lived in, but both could fully sympathize and understand the fears that came with a huge life transition.
"I mean, work's fantastic, Mum. Lots of research and we're finding out all sorts of interesting things every day."
"Sounds just like you, Hermione. And how are your friends? Are they well?"
"Oh yeah. Ron's decided he doesn't want to be an Auror anymore - that's kind of like our police, you know - and he's working at his brother's joke shop instead."
"Now `joke shop,' I understand," her dad remarked, grinning at his daughter, whose features softened a little at the remark.
"Yes, well, it's got some really useful stuff there too. In fact, some of it actually came in handy last year."
"That's nice. And how's Harry?" Her mother couldn't resist a sly smile, which made her daughter blush a little. Her parents had always been convinced that she liked Harry, and ever since her kind-of-sort-of-relationship with Ron had fizzled out remarkably fast, they had resumed their teasing about Harry, no matter what Hermione said or did.
"Harry's just fine. Playing Quidditch," Hermione replied somewhat stiffly. Her mother frowned.
"You mean to tell me that after all the amazing things he's done, he's just playing that sport you lot like so much?"
"Well, he is really good."
"Hmm…I guess I just figured he'd have a little more ambition," Her dad added thoughtfully, and Hermione shrugged.
"It's what he wants to do for now."
"Well, okay. So what's bothering you? We both know when you look that way, something's wrong." Her mother gently remarked, letting the slightly awkward topic of Harry drop.
"I don't know. I guess it's kind of weird, being away from everyone at Hogwarts. I mean, we never even really finished out school there. I took my N.E.W.T.S. of course, but it's kind of like I never had any closure. And then Ron's still grieving Fred a little, and Harry's hasn't been quite as open as usual, which is so very unlike him."
"Didn't you say he usually keeps things to himself though?"
"Well, yes, but he always tells me eventually."
"Just you?"
"Well, Ron too, I suppose."
"You suppose?"
"Mum!"
"I'm sorry, dear, but if you didn't insist that you only cared about him as a brother, I'd say you sound like a jealous girlfriend, expecting him to tell you every little detail about his life like that."
"It always comes back to this, doesn't it? Harry and me?" Hermione remarked, slightly perturbed and more than a little annoyed.
"You do know it's okay to have feelings for him, right?" Her dad asked, adding, "We like Harry, you know, and maybe we don't think he's quite good enough for you, but it's only because we don't think anyone is."
"It's just too weird." Hermione protested, though her resolve seemed a little weaker.
"Yes, well, we'll cross that bridge later," her mother offered, "Now, how about we go see a movie and eat at that Indian place you love so much?"
"Sure, Mum."
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They were finished with dinner and walking back to their car when it happened. A small owl, maybe a little larger than Ron's, swooped down right in front of them, leaving behind a letter in Hermione's hands as it took off.
She tore open the envelope - it wasn't Harry's familiar handwriting, she noted - and quickly perused it, a frown developing on her face.
"Something wrong, Hermione?" Her dad asked, exchanging glances with her mother.
"Umm…I'm not sure. It looks like something's happened at work. I need to go." With a rushed hug for both of them, Hermione darted into and alley, and with a small `pop,' the Grangers' daughter was gone.
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"So what exactly happened?" Hermione asked, as a fellow coworker (a Ravenclaw from her year, maybe?) hurried over to catch the lift she was in.
"Not sure. The note they sent didn't say much, did it?"
"No. I'm really surprised they sent owls though. Hardly the most efficient method."
"Anything else would have scared my parents witless."
"You're Muggleborn, too?" She asked, and he nodded, and the two lapsed into awkward silence. Had she really paid so little attention to everyone else at work? She couldn't even remember the poor fellow's name. The only names she really knew were the people she worked for, and everyone else seemed to know her, making introductions somewhat difficult.
Shaking her head a little, she practically raced out of the lift to escape the poor Ravenclaw, and was soon safely inside her own section of the Department of Mysteries.
"Ah, Miss Granger. Glad you could make it."
"It was no problem," she managed as she sat down with the others, and her boss began to explain what was going on.
"Sorry about the sudden summons, but the breakthrough a few of our weekend-workers made was simply astounding," the man practically gushed, and it was easy to see that his enthusiasm nearly outrivaled Hermione's.
"I know we've been looking at population over the past few weeks trying to see how magic interacts with the changes in population. Some of the results have shown that the magic population could be running dangerously low after everything that's happened."
Most heads nodded in agreement, some skeptical and some certain of this information-it was old news.
"But in looking over all this, Johns here picked up something about the way magic itself functions, so a few of you will be selected to look at this instead. You can imagine what could be done with this kind of breakthrough, so I'll expect this group to work extremely hard."
Hermione could almost feel her excitement spilling over-all the emotional issues were completely overrun at the prospect of getting to work on that team.
"For now, though, we need a few of you to stick around and keep tabs on visitors. I don't want this information leaked. Volunteers?"
Hermione stuck up her hand like it was still Hogwarts-if it would help her get on this team, she'd stay for days if necessary.
"All right then. Johns will be here obviously, Searle too, and…Stokes, Long, and Granger. I'll see the rest of you Monday."
The crowd dispersed and Hermione settled into her desk. It would be a long, boring, stint, but if she could get Johns to explain his ideas, perhaps it wouldn't be so fruitless. Besides, it was a great distracting from loving worrying about Harry.
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