Chapter One
Hermione was looking blankly at the window. It was eight o'clock and she had not slept a wink last night. She had been crying. Her eyes were swollen, weighing her down, aching from the unusual amount of tears that had spilled over her lids. She couldn't cry anymore even if she wanted to. She had nothing left.
She watched dawn take over London. She could distinguish people walking or driving to their work, children going to school. She longed for that normality. But her past was purchasing her and she could not forget the atrocities she had seen. She wished she was just like one of them. She saw a mother and her two children crying and begging her to let them stay at home. She saw an homeless man looking in the garbage and an old woman taking him to a care centre.
It was well past nine before she even considered moving from her entranced state. Without much effort on her behalf, she went about her morning ablutions, grabbed her cloak and handbag and was apparating .
Diagon Alley. Briefly, she surveyed the area, cataloguing the minor changes since the last time she dared set foot in the busy alley. She paused briefly to study her reflection in a window, taking care to ensure her cloak's hood sufficiently covered her face. She sought out her destination, before joining in with the morning crowd and walking briskly to her target.
It was a relief when she reached 'Craig Poyntz's hiring', her eyes flickering to the sign above the door. She was so frightened she would be recognised, the all-too-familiar feeling of adrenaline coursing through her veins and increased heart rate reminding her of a past best left forgotten.
"Why, Miss Granger! It's an honour! Is there something I could help you with?"
"Yes," she replied, pausing for a moment, "First, I would like you to swear an oath. Nothing of this meeting will leave this room. You will tell no one I was here or what I wanted."
"Yes, of course. I can do that." Hermione thanked her lucky stars that the man was compliant. She'd taken a huge risk in even coming to him in the first place, and had no interest in damage control should he refuse to cooperate.
The small man made a complicated gesture with his wand muttering the words of the oath. Hermione sighed in relief, nobody would know she had been here.
"So, what can I do for you?" asked the bald man.
"I need a change air. Do you have overseas employment opportunities?"
"The war took a great toll on you, didn't it?" he didn't wait for her response before continuing, "let me search." said Craig before disappearing into the back of his shop. His words cut through her like a knife. Of course the bloody war had taken a great toll on her, she was at the forefront of it. Not to mention the attention she received now as a result. There was nothing that allowed her to escape it and the awful things that had happened as a result. Every child that came up to her and expressed their admiration, she wanted nothing more than to slap them silly and correct their misguided idolisation.
It was useless, of course. They didn't understand the horror of war or the sacrifices she had to make as a result, and nor should they. War was never something that should be glorified. It should be forgotten and they should be focussing on rebuilding and ensuring such circumstances never arise again.
"Here is everything that I have," Craig re-entered the storefront, interrupting her musings. "The first one…" Her concentration wavered and she was unable to take in anything the man was saying. No matter where she went her past always followed her; the death, tragedy and the sorrow. She felt the telltale signs of her throat closing over as her vision began to waver. She looked furiously around at the store fighting to take control of her emotions and not let the tears have their way and spill over her eyelids.
Finally succeeding, she brought her attention back to the crooked-nosed man, "So, which one takes your fancy?" He looked at her expectantly, having already been though the entire stack of brochures he had initially brought out. Hermione was somewhat ashamed that it had taken her so long to get her emotions once again under her firm control.
"I'm sorry I did take everything I had but maybe there are other jobs that might interest you more. Just tell me in which field you are looking." The man continued, mistaking her silence for lack of interest.
"I think the seventh one will do me just fine. May I begin immediately?" Seven. Ever the typical go-to number.
"I believe the next portkey is this afternoon," he paused, rifling through the papers on the desk. "Yes, at fifteen hundred this afternoon. Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Yes. I don't want my employer to know who I am." She watched as his eyebrows drew together, causing him to squint slightly. Silence stretched between them, Craig looking as if he were about to speak before thinking the better of it multiple times.
Finally, he answered, "I don't know if I will be able to hide your identity. I'm well-trusted, and I'm respected for the truth."
"Would you prefer I erase your memory?" Her tone was still the same polite one she had used throughout the entire meeting, but this time darker undertones were clear.
"No! Miss Granger, please!" pleaded Craig. The threat of memory loss, especially by that of an accomplished war heroine was enough to make your average man give in to certain demands.
"I don't want to risk peace as a result of my name."
He thought it over for a moment before giving his answer. "I understand. But you must swear you will not breach any laws."
Hermione nodded. She took her wand and said the necessary incantation to create a magically bound oath. It would be relatively easy to break, but Craig Pointz didn't need to know that.
"Thank you. I'm glad that's settled then." The man smiled at the completion of her oath, now relatively content with the situation.
"Where will I find my portkey?" she asked after a moment.
"If you meet me here, I shall escort you to the Ministry."
"I'd prefer to keep my privacy. The less people who are aware, the better. A smart man such as yourself would surely understand the need." She was walking a fine line. She didn't want to be rude, but if the situation required it, she would not hesitate.
"I believe I can arrange for the portkey to depart from a more remote location. Is there somewhere you specifically request?" Good. He was being accommodating. Hermione thanked her lucky stars that she would not have to take more drastic measures in order to achieve her freedom.
"What about the tavern in the Knockturn Alley?" Her request was met with silence.
"I don't exactly fancy being in that dark place…" It was true. He looked exceedingly uncomfortable. But with a push and a shove in the right direction, plus some money changing hands, she was able to get him to see the merit in her idea.
"I believe I know most about your capacities, but under which name would you like to be known?" Craig Pointz made a good point. She hadn't really thought of creating an alias for herself, but the idea was certainly appealing. Her planning hadn't really saw past the actual 'getting out of Great Britain' part, inevitably the most difficult.
"Monica Pince," she said eventually. 'Monica' for her mother 'Pince' for her love of the library and books.
They spent a further few minutes ironing out the details of her employment and fabricating small details about herself and Monica Pince.
"Alright. This is all looking good, I will see you this afternoon," said Craig as their meeting was wrapping up.
"Thank you so much for your cooperation. I really appreciate it," said Hermione before promptly turning on her heel and drawing her hood over her face, giving Craig one quick last smile and exciting the store.
Quickly making her way through Diagon Alley, much the same way as she had earlier, Hermione apparated directly to her flat. Looking around for a distraction to comfort her while she waited, she lamented the lack of books. In her state any distraction, especially one in the form of a thick book would be well received. However, she had made the decision to curtail her love of books and was determined not to go back on her resolve. She was beginning a new life and she did not want everyone to see her as a bookworm. She could not bear to be once again the so-called friend who people needed only before exams.
She wanted to forget everything, to restart from scratch, and this was the first step. A first step that she was entirely unprepared for, she realised. Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped—reminiscent of surprise. She had absolutely no idea where she was going. She could be moving to the tropics for all she knew. How could she possibly prepare for the complete unknown?
Hanging her head in shame, she sat down. She'd really messed things up. If only she had been listening!
Hermione turned her head, gazing out the window. That's when she saw them; the blasted paparazzi. Oh, how she hated them! She constantly had to be discreet about her coming and goings—a constant inconvenience. Not to mention the way her every move was splashed across every tabloid in Wizarding Britain.
She almost jumped with joy as she remembered she would escape it all, just if she were to hang on until her hasty departure this afternoon. She would finally be able to move on and find peace in somewhere far, far away. No paparazzi, no constant recognition, just peace.
Spending the rest of the morning and earlier afternoon trying to pack, Hermione completely ignored any contact with the outside world. Even when one of her friends tried the floo, she refused to see them. She would not have anyone try to force their opinion on her about her abrupt decision.
When half past two rolled around, Hermione hastily shrunk her belongings before apparating for the second time that day to Diagon Alley.
Making her way straight to Knockturn Alley, she found the tavern named 'Victorian Peddler' and made her way inside. She quickly found a seat and waited. The pub was almost entirely empty at this time of day.
Thankfully, Poyntz was right on time. Taking her by the arm, they apparated materialising in a big room Hermione recognized immediately: The International Departures branch of the Ministry.
Trying to be as anonymous as possible, Hermione was relieved when no one recognised her immediately. She hurried to follow Poyntz as he showed her which portkey she was going to use.
"Someone will be there to welcome you and show you to your new job," he said, finishing off his explanation.
"Thank you for your help, Sir," Hermione replied her hand touching the cork that would serve as her portkey. It was almost time to depart.
"You're welcome, Miss Pince. I hope you will enjoy your new job and have a safe journey," he said, with a sad smile.
Hermione was about to respond before she felt the jerk at her navel. She took in the last view of as she was sent catapulting through time and space.
Caught unaware, Hermione landed roughly on her arse, her vision spinning dangerous along with her churning gut.
"Hermione?"
Trouble just began.
As you may have noticed this chapter was heavily edited and I would like to thank my wonderful beta Dubious Sight who totally undestood what I wanted. A new chapter will be posted soon