Chapter 1
Circumpolar Star
July 12th
The alarm blared its menacing cry and the digital lights glared about the dark room, revealing the time to be within the five o'clock hour. With a quick jerk of her hand, Hermione Granger pressed down the 'off' button and then allowed herself a few more moments within the sweet embrace of her bed.
She closed her eyes and focused on nothing at all. This technique had, upon countless occasions, proved itself to be a very successful way to start the day. Breathing in steadily, she hesitated only a final moment, before rising and looking through her window to see the still sleeping silhouette of London.
The fog had not yet cleared and only a few souls were out and leisurely walking down the sidewalks. She squinted her eyes and barely made out the forms of an elderly couple walking hand-in-hand towards a coffee shop, where they'd undoubtedly read from the newspaper and focus on nothing but the remainder of another uneventful day to be added to the many they had shared.
Hermione smiled to herself as she contemplated the pair before turning and walking into her lavatory. It was the summer following her 6th year with Hogwarts and, as she began to contemplate this fact, she felt recent memories begin to surface.
It would be her final year with the great school of magic and, though it should fill her with an excited apprehension, she felt nothing but dread. Before she Ron and Harry had parted ways for the summer, they had discussed the prospect of not returning to school at all.
They all felt that this was the year in which either Harry or Voldemort would fall, and it was decided that it would definitely be a greater use of their time to search for the remaining horcruxes.
'Ronald', she thought with a sigh then as her confused emotions for her friend began to return. She had been the best of friends with him for years but had recently begun to feel something more for the boy.
It seemed odd to her; she had never imagined herself with him, or anyone similar to him for that matter. His personality did not fit the type she had ever envisioned herself being with—on those rare occasions she even entertained such thoughts.
These contemplations of Ron were followed by some other, more melancholy reflections. The death of Dumbledore, Snape's betrayal, and the people she might never see again.
It was only the middle of July and yet she felt the weight of what was to come as strongly as if it were happening the very next day. Looking up at her complexion, she saw that there were dark circles under her eyes and a paleness to her complexion. She hadn't been sleeping well, all of her worries keeping her mind active and alert at night.
As Hermione began to undress she eyed the uniform hanging on the door. She stared absently a moment before, with a sigh, she reached for it and began to slip on the shirt. She had taken on a summer job at one of the nearby restaurants and, though it pleased her to be doing something productive with her time, it felt incredibly mediocre when compared with the impending fate of the adjacent world that had come to mean so much to her.
After slipping on her slacks, she once again surveyed herself within the mirror. Her hair had grown longer over the past few months, descending in considerably softer waves, making it a little easier to handle. It'd always been so frustratingly thick though and, as she began to gather it all into a loose bun, she made up her mind to have at least a few inches cut off the length before the summer ended.
Reevaluating her tired appearance then, Hermione released another sigh before reaching for her rarely used bag of make-up products. She applied a very slight bit of mascara, a touch of rouge, and a thin coat of clear gloss before slipping on her apron and shoes. She massaged a layer of her favorite jasmine scented lotion into her arms and onto hands before turning and grabbing her purse and walking out of the room.
"Morning, Mum," She greeted as she walked downstairs and spotted the woman pouring herself a cup of coffee.
Hermione's mother took a sip from her mug before offering a smile. "'Morning, my dear. Sleep well?"
Hermione nodded, "for the most part, yes. Is Dad already gone?"
"Yes, he had a few early appointments."
Though her parents enjoyed their professions as dentists, Hermione couldn't even fathom a career of working on people's mouths day after day. She was much more interested in pursuing a more scholarly sort of profession.
Looking up at the clock, she saw that she had only five minutes to spare before quickly grabbing a thermos and pouring herself a cup of coffee. After fixing it the way she liked, Hermione reached for one of her mother's homemade scones and wrapped it in a napkin.
"Bye, Mum. I'll see you later this evening," she stated in passing.
Jean Granger turned and waved as her daughter opened the door. "Have a nice day, sweetheart."
Hermione smiled a final moment before walking out into the grey morning and breathing in the cool air. She loved the early hours of the day as, even in the summer, there was still a pleasant chill.
The walk wasn't far and she enjoyed the easy exercise. She loved the sound of pavement against her shoes and the slow introduction to a day where she might encounter nothing but stress and anxiety, as seemed to be the norm over the past few weeks.
Sipping her coffee and smiling as she felt its warmth envelop her, Hermione saw the beginnings of dawn creeping into the darkness, chasing away all of night's clever shadows. Sunrise was one of nature's most impressive beauties, in her opinion.
It took only about ten minutes for her to arrive at the café and, as soon as she walked in the door and heard the little bell chime, one of the other waitresses greeted her with a bright grin.
"Lovely day today huh, Ermine?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes, and…it's Hermione."
"Oh, right, sorry. I'm really bad with names."
Hermione just smiled, "it's alright."
The other girl-an auburn-haired, prettily freckled, spunky individual—grinned brightly before continuing past her. Hermione then strode towards the kitchen, eager to get her shift started.
As soon as she entered the back the smell of pancakes and bacon flooded her senses. It was enough to make her mouth water and, as she scanned the rows of tickets, the number of them, hanging above the station where the cooks were diligently working, she reasoned that the day would be nice and steady.
"Welcome to work," Ted, her manager, greeted as he came from the office.
Theodore Dawkins was a very simple and good-natured sort of man. He treated his employees with respect and genuinely appreciated even the smallest of efforts.
"Good morning, Mr. Dawkins" Hermione replied.
"No, no. It's Ted." He insisted.
"Right," Hermione recalled. She hadn't quite grown accustomed to calling her superiors by their first names.
After clocking herself in, she grabbed an order sheet and proceeded to her section where she greeted an elderly gentleman.
"Can I start you off with some coffee today, sir?"
The day passed in repetition and Hermione became more and more familiar with the way things functioned around the small restaurant. She'd only been hired a week ago, but she knew herself to be a fast learner and was determined, as always, to conquer the challenge.
After her six hour shift was over, Hermione felt like doing nothing more than to take a nice, hot shower and a nap.
"You did well today," Ted complimented as she was gathering her things. "See you tomorrow?"
Hermione shook her head, "I'm actually off tomorrow, but I'll see you Friday."
Ted smiled, "great. Friday it is."
Then, as she was walking towards the door, she heard someone address her from behind.
"Hey, Hermione!"
Hermione turned and saw that it was the waitress from earlier.
"Yeah?"
The girl rushed up to her with a grin, "glad I finally got your name right. My name's Sara."
Hermione smiled, "hello, Sara."
Sara took her hand in greeting and giggled, "We should hang out sometime! You seem like a really cool person."
Hermione nodded, "yeah, sure. Anytime."
"Great! See you later!"
"Later," Hermione responded with a wave before turning and leaving.
As she made her way back along the familiar route home, she felt the hot sun against her back and felt a longing for the morning and its pale, solemn loveliness.
She walked past a park where the laughter of children wafted towards her, and she chuckled as she saw a mother desperately trying to coax her child off one of the swings. One of the things she enjoyed most about walks were the interactions she had with other people. She noticed and saw things that would otherwise be missed or taken for granted.
The breeze danced through her hair and against her face, providing momentary relief from the heat. Hermione closed her eyes and a small smile formed across her face, before suddenly reaching a resolution of sorts. She reasoned that this could possibly be her last summer and that she should just try and enjoy it while she could. The next couple of months would quite probably hold the last moments of safety and serenity she would feel for a long time.
It was pointless to worry about what loomed ahead when she should just relax her mind and take advantage of each easy, summer day. Worry free and without stressing herself over those things which she couldn't change.
As she reached her house and walked inside, Hermione was welcomed with the scent of spice and musk, the delightful mixture of both her mum and dad's fragrances.
Entering her bedroom, she placed her purse neatly on the coat rack and then slipped off her apron, hanging it on her bathroom door. Then, eying her bed, she couldn't decide whether to just close her eyes and get some rest, or indulge into the new book she had rented from the library.
As she contemplated her options another idea came to her and, deciding against both, she ventured downstairs, brewed herself a cup of tea and then returned to take a seat at her desk, where a quill awaited her.
She dipped the pen into the well, coating it with ink, then proceeded to write letters to both Harry and Ron. Harry's was easy. She wrote about her job and the girl she had just met there, explaining that, though the Muggle and Wizarding worlds were separate, the silliness of other girls prevailed in both.
She also wrote a little about her parents and how worried she was for their safety, and made sure to notify him of the changes which were beginning to occur in the Muggle realm. Her letter ended with her wishing him well and in expressing how deeply she missed both he and Ron.
Ron's letter, alternatively, was considerably more difficult. She realized, as she mulled through what to say, that it had never been so hard for her to decide what to put in a letter to him. Was it because of her newfound feelings for him?
After several minutes of wondering where to start, Hermione simply decided to put off his letter for the time being. She wouldn't make any progress until she had cleared her thoughts. And so, rising from her chair, and with a profound sigh, she fell upon her bed and closed her eyes. The resolve she'd made while walking was starting to dissolve as her pesky worries began to resurrect again.
She had seen signs of the Death Eaters' presence within her own world. The black streaks in the sky, the unexplainable phenomena, and the prime minister's own paranoia concerning his safety and that of London's citizens. Hermione suspected that they were beginning to infiltrate and instill fear into the non-magical community as well. It sickened her.
There had been recent rumors from the Order that Voldemort not only planned to dominate the world of magic but that his eyes had recently turned to the Muggles as well. And, despite the fact that Hermione knew it would be no small feat, considering how vast her world actually was, the havoc he and his followers could potentially wreak on her world would be nonetheless extraordinary.
The fear of the possibility plagued her, and she knew that it was vital for both worlds that Harry succeed in his quest.
Breathing in deeply, Hermione focused instead on something less distressing. If these were truly to be her last days of peace, of potential ease before the world went up in flames, then she really did need to make each and every one of them count. 'What are some thing that I've always wanted to do?' She could come up with a bucket list, of sorts.
'Write a book, for one,' she thought with a contemplative tilt of her head.
However, with a shake of her head, Hermione knew that she would never be able to finish one before the new term began. She bit her bottom lip and thought back on her days before Hogwarts, and of all the elementary friends she had not seen since being accepted to the Wizarding School. She wondered if any of them still lived nearby. With a slight frown though, she reasoned that it might disturb people if she were to go knocking on doors in an attempt to seek them out.
With another sigh, she racked her brain for something, anything to distract her. Perhaps she should take Sara up on her offer to hang out. Despite her own, personal preference to do most everything alone, such as reading, she couldn't deny that interacting with another human being would be the best way to get her mind off all of her pressing concerns.
She withheld a groan as she concluded that Sara was the type of person who thrived on such activities as shopping and clubbing, though Hermione had to admit that a night out wouldn't be all that bad. She had enjoyed herself at the Yule ball, after all, and how different was a club really? She could get dressed up, actually wear some jewelry, and spray on some of the perfume her parents had given her last Christmas.
She smiled as she thought of it. Yes, a night in the city would be perfect. She decided to ask Sara about it Friday morning.
Looking over at her nightstand, she saw a picture of her parents and made up her mind to take them to dinner sometime as well.
'Dinner and then to one of the local plays, as we used to do.'
A contented feeling settled within her chest and she closed her eyes, focusing on nothing but the sudden stillness there...
She hadn't intended to fall asleep for long, but when she woke, Hermione saw that it was just past seven and that it was already dark outside. Reaching for her lamp, she flicked it on and then rubbed her eyes, trying to recover from the grogginess. It had been nice to catch up on some sleep, that was for sure.
She could hear the voices of her parents from downstairs and could smell the agreeable scent of her mother's stew. Her stomach grumbling in response, Hermione rose and made her way down to the kitchen, where she saw her father sipping at some cocoa and her mom humming to herself as she stirred the pot on the stove. It was such a quaint sight.
"Have a nice nap, dear?" Nathaniel Granger smiled up at his daughter, revealing the creases at the corners of his eyes.
There was no smile Hermione loved more than her dad's. It was always gentle, wise, and very kind.
"Yes, but I only meant to lay down for an hour or so."
He shrugged, "Well, you've been working hard."
Hermione nodded, yet she knew the real reason was all of the mental and physical stress she was inflicting upon her own body. She always worked hard; she was used to that.
"That smells great, Mum." Hermione complimented.
Jean turned and grinned, "Thank you! I know it's your favorite."
Nathaniel nodded, "Yep, I remember how she used to beg you for it when she was little."
"Dad," Hermione blushed.
He laughed and continued, "You would have nothing else! You would pout and those lips of yours would pucker in complaint!"
Hermione sighed, letting her head fall into the palm of her hand as her lips pursed ever-so-slightly.
"See, Jean, she still does it!"
Hermione turned her face away, not allowing her dad the satisfaction of seeing her annoyance.
"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm done."
Hermione smiled then looked into her father's dark eyes, seeing the same gleam she had inherited within her own.
"I suppose I'll have to forgive you."
Jean turned and then proceeded to set the table, her mouth spread into a proud smile, which was always present whenever she was satisfied with the way dinner had turned out.
A few minutes later, Hermione closed her eyes with pleasure as they savory stew hit her taste buds.
"Delicious, Mum."
"Mhm," Nathaniel agreed, his mouth full. "It's great."
Hermione suddenly chuckled, and it was followed by a wide grin. "You reminded me of my friend Ronald just then!"
"Oh, did I?"
Hermione nodded, but then her smile began to fade as her thoughts once again turned towards what was awaiting her.
"What's wrong, Pumpkin?"
Hermione looked up at her mom and then shrugged, "oh, nothing. Just miss my friends."
Nathaniel's smile softened into the one Hermione loved and he reached across and placed his hand over his daughter's. "I know how important they are to you."
"Aside from you both, they're the most important people in the world to me."
Jean nodded, "you've been together for years."
"Which says a lot, honestly," Nathaniel continued. "Trust me when I say that, most of the time, when people's interests begin to change, friendships are lost."
"I know," Hermione replied with a sigh.
The next year would demand a lot from all of them, and deep inside she was more than a little concerned about how trying it would be on the friendship she, Harry and Ron shared.
From experience she had witnessed how effectively stress, anxiety, and emotional turmoil drove people apart, not to mention her own conflicting feelings for Ron, which she was certain were best left concealed until after their coming task.
After dinner, Nathaniel helped Jean with the dishes and Hermione wandered outside to take a seat upon the porch steps. Gazing up at the constellations, she smiled at their marvelous brilliance.
Back at Hogwarts one of her favorite places was the astronomy tower and she had spent many nights identifying and familiarizing herself with the many histories and legends of the constellations.
However, after Dumbledore's death, she couldn't imagine herself ever returning there. The pain at the loss of her beloved headmaster was still very strong.
Focusing on the stars, she began to mentally catalog the groups she saw. They were so clear, the definition almost startling.
'Ara,' she thought,' altar to the centaur, Chiron.'
Hermione smiled absently as she thought of the centaurs she had met and, with a sliver of surprise, she realized that she would miss even them. They really were such majestic creatures.
Her eyes continued to scan the sky and they rested on one of the larger groups of stars; Hercules. So typical, that myth, but she appreciated it every bit as much as the others.
She spotted Serpens then, the serpent, and Scorpius as well before she recognized the Northern Crown, Corona Borealis, which was one of her favorite constellation legends.
Hermione was about to turn her attention away when she discovered 'Draco', the dragon, lying in the sky like the great beast it was. Being a circumpolar star, it was constant and unchanging; forever guarding what was once believed to be the portal between the mortal and eternal worlds.
Hermione chuckled softly as her thoughts were drawn to the boy who, for so many years, had antagonized she, Harry and Ron. Now it was all just rather humorous and petty in comparison to what they had, and were still about to, face. Yes, she decided she would miss even that. The childish, immature jests and jeers that had at one time seemed so entirely evil.
'Draco,' she thought with a shake of her head, "what will you do without us this year?"
Hermione laughed as she imagined his discontent and boredom, and she felt the warmth of her mirth radiate through her. At least something could still amuse her.
"You alright, pumpkin?"
Hermione turned to see her father standing in the doorway.
"Yes," she nodded, "just stargazing."
He smiled and sat beside her, placing his arm around her shoulders. Hermione closed her eyes and smiled as she leaned into him. No other place felt safer to her than when sitting beside her dad. Ever since she was little, he had always been the male figure whom she compared all others to. He was perfect in her eyes. Perhaps that was why she favored Ronald; because he made her feel safe.
"You seem to have a lot on your mind, 'Mione."
Hermione's eyes lowered, "just going to be a rough year." She began to pick at the denim on her jeans and inhaled sharply, "there's a lot going on over there."
"Hmm? Like what?"
Hermione knew that she wouldn't be able to fully explain, as she did not wish to worry her parents, but she still felt as if she should offer him something; anything at all. And so she frantically searched for a half-truth, something troublesome yet not of a very serious nature. There was one thing that had been bothering her a fair bit.
"I have begun developing mixed feelings for my friend Ron."
"You kind of like him, huh? I could tell by the way you said his name earlier at dinner."
Hermione narrowed her eyes and smiled, "by the way I said his name?"
Her father nodded, "you would be surprised how perceptive parents can be of their children."
Hermione's smile widened a little, "oh, I see." She glanced down at her hands then, "but, yeah, I think I do like him."
"Well, why haven't you told him then?"
She sighed, "Because he's one of my best friends, and I don't want to ruin that." She pondered a moment before continuing as her brows furrowed, "And also because I can't understand why I like him. He's nothing like the sort I'm usually attracted to."
"Now, now, Hermione," her father chided gently. "Just because he's not intellectually equivalent to you, which I safely assume to be the case because no one is, it doesn't mean that he's beneath your affection or somehow…incompatible with you."
Hermione's mouth dropped, "that is not it. I am not some proud, ego-"
Her father laughed and squeezed her tightly, effectively cutting off her statement. "That's not what I'm saying at all, my dear. You just have particularly high standards."
Hermione bit her bottom lip as she mulled over what he was saying before he took her chin in his hand and stared her in the eyes. "Your mother was my best friend."
Hermione blinked and looked away, a frown taking over. "I know."
Her father hugged her once more before rising and turning to go back inside. "Just think about what I said, Pumpkin. The choice is yours, of course, but don't throw away what might be a wonderful thing. That being said though, if he just doesn't feel right to you, for the right reasons, then go with your instincts."
Hermione sighed, "thank you, Dad."
He disappeared inside and she swept her eyes over the constellations a final time before standing and crossing her arms. Thinking over what her father had told her, she realized that perhaps she was feeling a bit superior when it came to Ronald.
But that wasn't fair to him. Her father was right.
Ron was a comfortable, safe haven, in whose arms she knew she would always feel secure. However, the romance aspect would suffer a bit. She and Ron had known one another far too long for there to be much of the mystery aspect, which was always an intriguing component to any relationship. She already entirely loved him, and so there wouldn't be any growing intimacy at all. Still…wasn't that the way it was meant to be? Get to know a person, befriend them, and then endeavor a romantic relationship? She'd always heard that those were the sort of relationships which actually lasted.
Fortunately, Hermione knew enough about herself to admit that she wouldn't particularly mind giving up the tenser, more passionate aspects of romance. She had always preferred when couples reached that simple and comfortable stage with one another. It came after the butterflies and jaded perceptions of the other. She and Ron had already moved past that all of that as friends. And, if she was being entirely honest with herself, she couldn't deny that sometimes she did even experience those butterflies around him.
'Oh, I don't know.' She thought with a sigh, resolved not to spend too much longer thinking over all of it in one sitting, before walking inside and seeing her parents seated comfortably on the sofa.
"Hey, 'Mione, would you like to join us?" Jean asked scooting to one side, leaving a space for her daughter in the middle.
"I would love to, Mum," Hermione replied, smiling at the pair.
As she sat between her parents, she exhaled in contentment. The two of them had always shared a secure, comfortable relationship, and it had always seemed to work perfectly well for them. Perhaps she should give Ron a try.
Then, all at once, she was reminded of the dangers she, Harry and Ron would face, and remembered the main reason why she couldn't tell Ron her feelings, even if she wanted to.
Leaning her head against her father's shoulder, Hermione closed her eyes and almost cried as she thought of how much she would miss him and her mom. However, she willed herself to remain strong, and fought against the urge.
She fell asleep to the buzz of the television and the easy, steady breathing of her father.
It was hours later before she woke and found that someone had laid her down in her bed, the night light on as she liked and her alarm already set for the following morning.
"I love you mum and Dad," she whispered.
After closing her eyes, she spent the next half hour trying to force herself to sleep. However, it proved an unfruitful endeavor and, after tossing about and trying to find a comfortable position, Hermione reluctantly sat up and reached for the new book on her nightstand.
Reading usually calmed and distracted her brain and so, knowing that it'd be the easy way to induce sleep, Hermione opened the fresh pages and began to run her eyes over the opening paragraph. A yawn formed after only being three pages into it, and it was quickly followed by a series of others.
With a sigh, she set the novel down and lay on her pillow once more, a certain disappointment sinking in. Ginny had suggested the read and Hermione inwardly engraved the memo that it would be the last book she would read on the girl's recommendation. It was poorly written and ill-fantasized. The characters were two dimensional and the fluffiness was just…over-bearing.
Ginny loved such tales and didn't need a depth of plot to invoke interest. Hermione, however, absolutely required that depth, and so she made up her mind to visit the bookstore first thing in the morning.