Prologue
Date:
Feb 2nd
The bell above the door rang out as a young mother hurriedly followed her son into the crowded bookshop. The shop is full of young children and families clamoring for the latest editions of cookbooks and wizarding histories. The noise and bustle would have been enough to frazzle even the most skilled attendant, but Hermione isn't fazed. She smiles as she rings up customers, makes various book recommendations, and manages to do it all while also restocking shelves and generally tidying things up. Anyone watching her would never even begin to suspect that she didn't belong there.
"Wild day, right?"
The Scottish baroque of her coworker Owen brought her from her thoughts. She responded with a non-committal nod, and continued restocking the display in front of her.
"Have any plans to keep the wild times rolling tonight?" He shot her his most charming smile, and she couldn't help but playfully roll her eyes at his obvious ploy.
"As usual, I'm going to enjoy a quiet night with my cat, thank you very much."
He sighed, leaning casually against the wall, sporting an exasperated expression. He was good looking, even Hermione could admit it. But he was also dangerous.
"Ah, lass, hasn't anyone told you that you need to live a little?"
"Yes. You in fact. Everyday."
"And I will continue to do so until the message finally sinks in."
The bell rang again, except this time a family of three entered, all with wide eyes.
"Ah, they must be muggleborn. Do you mind handling that? You're always so much more… what's the word?" He looked at her sheepishly, in a pose Ron had sported more than a few times, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes.
"Sensitive? Practical? Muggleborn?"
"Yes, exactly! You're always much more sensitive that I am."
Without responding, she planted a reassuring smile on her face as she made her way to the family. It was amazing what comfort she could bring to lives of others while hers was in utter chaos. That was really the best part of this job. One of the only parts she actually found fulfilling.
The day continued on in its monotony. Patrons came in for books, and Hermione was happy to help them with their selections. The endless chatter, the search for the exact book they desired; these things kept her busy, and kept her mind from wandering too far.
When it was time to close up, she shooed Owen away, telling him to enjoy his night at the pub, and ran through the end of day routines automatically. Draw the blinds, sweep the floors, ensure all doors are magically locked and secured.
Before she exited the back door, she disillusioned herself, and stepped out quickly, apparating the exact moment she heard the click of the door's lock.
The woods around her tent were quiet, although she could still hear the slight echo of the crack her arrival had made. She went through her routines, quickly erecting the wards, ones that she had gone through countless times before, and that would protect her from the outside world. Once they were in place, she finally let her shoulders sag, and released the tension she'd been holding all day.
Upon entering the tent, she let her eyes scan the small set of rooms, trying to detect if anything was out of place. But everything was as it always was. Her papers were scattered over the kitchen table, and she moved some aside to make room for the bowl of cereal that made up her dinner. She tried not to let her eyes wander over to them as she ate.
'I can have this. 20 minutes of peace. I can have that.'
Switching on the radio, she let the music roll over her, taking her mind off the present. But even that only worked for so long. As one song turned into another, her heart sank at a familiar tune. It was one of Ginny's favorites. She knew all the words by heart, and had been aghast when neither Harry nor Hermione had recognized it.
"But it's a classic!" She shouted at them, causing the other patrons of the pub to shoot them weary looks.
"Maybe for those of you who grew up in the wizarding world." Harry chortled back, before throwing an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione and I here have a different set of classics."
"What could be better than this?!" Ginny exclaimed in disbelief.
"Should we tell her about the Beatles?" Fake concern clouded Hermione's voice, as she grinned up at Harry.
"Nah, better not. Once she hears actual quality music, this song won't be able to hold up. We can't break her heart like that, can we?"
Ron returned from the bar with the next round of drinks, and they'd spent the rest of the night good naturedly comparing the merits of muggle and magical childhoods. While both Harry and Hermione admitted the advantages of magic when it came to cooking and housework, neither budged on music or films.
"I love the wizarding world, I really do, but it is so old-fashioned sometimes!" Hermione said. "That's where muggles shine. They're always innovating, trying to create the next best thing. All while the wizarding world is content to rely on the same old methods and magic that has always served them well. I swear, sometimes I think we're living in the past!"
The memory now made Hermione's stomach sour, and she switched off the radio with a definite click.
The papers she had hastily discarded earlier now called out for her to review their contents. Like it would make any difference. She had them memorized at this point.
Reaching into her bag, she pulls out the book she borrowed from the store before leaving, along with a Daily Prophet. She felt justified calling the book 'borrowed', as she had every intention of returning it, although she could see how it could be portrayed as stealing. If anyone at work found out that she often took books home, she would most definitely be fired.
Taking the Daily Prophet was much less egregious. She doubted if anyone would care or even notice if it was gone. Glancing at the cover she took in the headlines, noting the inanity of each.
There was a new proposal before the Wizengamot to make the sale of dragon scales illegal, sighting the pain the removal of scales causes the dragons. It would fail, as most pieces of creature advocacy legislation did.
A rumor was circulating that the Gringotts goblins were unhappy with a new book about the Goblin Rebellions that was set to be released next month. Apparently the author was less than empathetic towards the goblins plight.
And the Minister of Magic had moved to a new office.
Riveting.
A small burn of annoyance flared in her, as she took in the paper's contents. It was rubbish all of it. She wished they'd cover something important, something real, but the thought faded as she reminded herself of her place. She was not to get involved. It was all none of her business.
Before moving onto her book, she let her eye wander to the one place she'd been avoiding, although her avoidance had done little to change it. There is was, clear as day in the upper right hand corner of the paper.
She dropped the paper and picked up her book, trying not to think about it, any of it. The incident, her job, her friends, and most importantly the date. But, whether she liked it or not, she couldn't block it out completely.
The paper still laid innocently enough, faced up on her table, and clearly illuminated in the upper right corner was 'February 2nd, 1980."
A/N:
This is the first story I've written or posted in a long time. It's been floating around my brain for forever, so I hope you all enjoy!