Disclaimer- I do not own any Harry Potter Characters, names, or place
names, All are property of JK Rowling
Warning- This contains MAJOR OotP Spoilers
Setting the scene- Hermionie has left Hogwarts, and works as a clerk in Muggle relations with the Ministry of Magic. At 18 years old, She remains in contact with Harry and Ron, but spends long periods abroad due to her job. The story starts on a stormy day, where a very harassed Hermionie receives a letter at the Ministry.
Caged
Looking down at the piles of papers which hid the top of her desk from view, Hermionie could have cried. Yet another day of endless office work, and still she was snowed under. She took in a deep, but shuddery breath. 'Right, Priorities.' said a small voice which she recognised as her sensible, bossy side 'See what just can't be put off, and sort that out first'. But almost all the letters, files and papers on the desk seemed to have 'URGENT' stamped on them somewhere. Taking in another deep breath, she continued down the pile, sorting the papers into urgent (growing increasingly huge), and less urgent (minuscule) piles. Suddenly, a clawing, scraping noise sounded at the window, only slightly muffled by the howling of the storm outside. Turning, she saw an owl, desperately clawing at the window and looking as though it might just be blown away at any minute. Rushing to the window, she threw it open, and was met by a soggy, feathery lump hitting her squarely in the chest. Staggering slightly, she raised her hands to hold the bird slightly away from herself. Although soaked, and rather windswept, the owl was handsome. It's plumage was dark grey, with almost black rings about its amber eyes. "Poor thing" she said sympatheticly, and cradled it. A piece of pale yellow parchment, sealed and tied with string, was attatched to it's leg. She carefully removed the letter, and placed the owl beside another, Ministry owl who dozed on a perch in the corner. The owl gave a soft hoot of thanks, and soon it was also dozing. The letter was addressed to a 'Miss H. Granger' in neat, curling script which she instantly recognised as that of Lupin. But why should Remus write to her? True enough, he had updated her several times on goings-on within the order, but a letter just days ago had informed her that all was well, in fact that things were very quiet. These thoughts intrigued her, and she carefully slid a finger under the seal to break it, and unfolded the letter.
Hermionie,
I know it has not been long since I last wrote, but I write to you with regard to a pressing matter. As I write this i am on my way to London, with other members of the Order. I cannot disclose why in a letter, it's too risky. You must meet me at the headquarters of the Order as soon as possible, We need to talk.
Remus
The urgent tone of the letter sent a prickle of fear deep inside Hermionie's heart. What was the pressing matter? What had come on so suddenly that it could not wait until the next meeting of the Order? She would not sit and wait until the end of her shift to find out. Pulling her black robes over her smart skirt and shirt, she grabbed a large leather folder of her work, slung a her bag over her shoulder, and, grasping her wand, apperated.
Warning- This contains MAJOR OotP Spoilers
Setting the scene- Hermionie has left Hogwarts, and works as a clerk in Muggle relations with the Ministry of Magic. At 18 years old, She remains in contact with Harry and Ron, but spends long periods abroad due to her job. The story starts on a stormy day, where a very harassed Hermionie receives a letter at the Ministry.
Caged
Looking down at the piles of papers which hid the top of her desk from view, Hermionie could have cried. Yet another day of endless office work, and still she was snowed under. She took in a deep, but shuddery breath. 'Right, Priorities.' said a small voice which she recognised as her sensible, bossy side 'See what just can't be put off, and sort that out first'. But almost all the letters, files and papers on the desk seemed to have 'URGENT' stamped on them somewhere. Taking in another deep breath, she continued down the pile, sorting the papers into urgent (growing increasingly huge), and less urgent (minuscule) piles. Suddenly, a clawing, scraping noise sounded at the window, only slightly muffled by the howling of the storm outside. Turning, she saw an owl, desperately clawing at the window and looking as though it might just be blown away at any minute. Rushing to the window, she threw it open, and was met by a soggy, feathery lump hitting her squarely in the chest. Staggering slightly, she raised her hands to hold the bird slightly away from herself. Although soaked, and rather windswept, the owl was handsome. It's plumage was dark grey, with almost black rings about its amber eyes. "Poor thing" she said sympatheticly, and cradled it. A piece of pale yellow parchment, sealed and tied with string, was attatched to it's leg. She carefully removed the letter, and placed the owl beside another, Ministry owl who dozed on a perch in the corner. The owl gave a soft hoot of thanks, and soon it was also dozing. The letter was addressed to a 'Miss H. Granger' in neat, curling script which she instantly recognised as that of Lupin. But why should Remus write to her? True enough, he had updated her several times on goings-on within the order, but a letter just days ago had informed her that all was well, in fact that things were very quiet. These thoughts intrigued her, and she carefully slid a finger under the seal to break it, and unfolded the letter.
Hermionie,
I know it has not been long since I last wrote, but I write to you with regard to a pressing matter. As I write this i am on my way to London, with other members of the Order. I cannot disclose why in a letter, it's too risky. You must meet me at the headquarters of the Order as soon as possible, We need to talk.
Remus
The urgent tone of the letter sent a prickle of fear deep inside Hermionie's heart. What was the pressing matter? What had come on so suddenly that it could not wait until the next meeting of the Order? She would not sit and wait until the end of her shift to find out. Pulling her black robes over her smart skirt and shirt, she grabbed a large leather folder of her work, slung a her bag over her shoulder, and, grasping her wand, apperated.