Tapping her quill against her desk, she scratched out what she had just written, crumpled up the parchment at threw it into the waste bin next to her desk. With a flick of her wrist she threw a silencing spell on the closed door. Once she was sure she wouldn't be heard, she kicked a pile of papers by her chair and screamed out an exasperated sigh.
"ARRRRGGGHHHH," she heaved as she slowly pounded her forehead into her desk.
With her right cheek still on her desk, she turned her head slightly so she could see the bookcase to her left. It was filled to the brim with books and legal briefs, but in front of each layer of books were picture frames filled with magical photographs, smiling and waving at her. There was Ron holding Rose just after she'd been born. Then one of Rose trying to force Hugo and Crookshanks into a fancy dress tea party with Rose smiling broadly while Hugo and Crookshanks squirmed until they knocked over the tiny table. There were older ones too, including one of Ron, Harry and Hermione at Bill and Fleur's wedding, only hours before they were to start the horcrux hunt. They all looked so eager and passionate.
Her favorite picture was one taken without their knowledge. It was the summer after the war, when she and Ron had finally figured things out and were helping each other learn to live again. They had been down on the pier by the pond at sunset one night when Ron had asked her to dance. She had pointed out there was no music, and Ron had simply said he had everything he'd ever need in his arms, and they had held each other closely and danced in the dimming warm rays of the sun to the sounds of the frogs and crickets. She hadn't know that picture existed until they had their first real fight a little more than a year later. She was so nervous about Ron leaving for auror training that she had picked a fight with him about something stupid. She thought he'd left left, which had her in a devastated ball of tears on the floor of the flat. Of course he hadn't left. He'd gone to George's to cool off. George, in his annoying wisdom, smacked him upside the head and dragged him back to their flat, giving them each of copy of this picture. He'd basically locked them in together saying something like "how can a couple who can be this in love be this stupid?" And it had worked.
Next to the bookcase of pictures was a wall covered in awards of all kinds. Order of Merlin, Awards from the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic. Various degrees and recognitions from wizarding schools all over the world for her achievements. These were interspersed with art done by the children over the years. While Hugo and Rose were at Hogwarts now, her office was still covered in pictures from their earliest years – flowers in bright colors, stick figure families with smiling faces, a crooked house surrounded by hearts that she assumed was The Burrow. Next to that was her project board. She used it to stay organized on all the various projects and initiatives she had going at any given time. She had research studies, laws working through the Wizengamot committees, legal briefs to write as a friend of the court, lectures to give at various schools and focus groups to be held with different groups of magical creatures. And she didn't give a damn about any of it.
She'd thought she'd come in with a better attitude that morning. After struggling on her own for a few weeks, she'd finally confided in Ron about her current predicament. He was wonderful, and encouraged her to quit immediately. The rational part of her brain and kicked in, and she knew she couldn't do that. But, he'd encouraged her to take a few days off to rest and reflect a bit, which she had. The past four days had been spent resting, reading and thinking about what to do. And she'd come in this morning with a fresh mind to focus on getting a few things done before she would leave the position. And that chipper approach had lasted all of 30 minutes. And now she was right back in the thick of the misery.
She knew she could quit her job – at least theoretically anyway. But, then what? Sit at home and wonder what to do? At least here she could keep up the appearance of her normal life while she figured it out. And this way she wouldn't have to read about her nervous breakdown in the Daily Prophet. She could see Skeeter's headline now, "Golden Girl Finally Cracks" or "Granger-Weasley's Downward Spiral." And it wouldn't be that far off, she supposed. But she would rather do it in private.
She loved her family. She didn't need a new career. She needed to get excited again. Some could say she was depressed, but blaming this on a chemical imbalance would ignore the fact that there were some good reasons for the problem. She had been working her behind off since, well, since forever. She'd been an over achiever since day one. And then she'd taken on Tom Riddle and things had just gone from there. But, now she was basically as high as she could go at the ministry unless she wanted to actually run for elected office. And she absolutely knew she didn't want to do that. She had come into her career noble and innocent enough to think that if people just understood the problem or knew the facts that it would change things. Knowledge and hard work were all it would take, and Merlin knows she was willing to offer both. But, almost two decades into it, she now knew much better. She had become the jaded middle aged ministry worker she used to loathe. She didn't want to try something new because she had in fact tried it ten years ago, and the same bloody problems they hit then were still around. She just didn't have the energy or the fight to take it on any more.
She wondered if it was just ministry work. Would she feel that way if she worked at a business – maybe Gringotts for instance? Though, of course they would never hire her. They had barely been able to keep their money there even after all this time. The goblins still hadn't really forgiven her for breaking in. She'd even thought about working in the muggle world. What if she went to work for UNICEF or some nonprofit group? But then the problem was they still needed funding, and to get funding, you still had to schmooze with politicians and cut deals she was no longer willing to cut. Magical or muggle, schmoozing was more than she was cut out for.
She thought about what Ron and George were doing. She knew she didn't want to work at WWW. But, she had always admired how they worked so hard to build something so significant. It was a cultural cornerstone of a magical childhood. They had really built it – and it had brought a lot of joy into the world in the process. She was rather sure Fred and George hadn't entered into it with such a gallant vision, but it had certainly turned out to be fabulous. They could be creative and profitable. How amazing was that?
She wanted to be creative too. Decades at the ministry had just about sucked the life out of her brain. She thought it was sort of like a dementor but one that filled you with dullness and boredom instead of depression and misery. Similar, but horrifying in its own unique way. And it was so bizarre to her, but everyone still thought she was a water-walker. Even after basically blowing off her job for the past few months, people still raved to her about her work. Her work! They thought it was brilliant when it was really nonsense she threw together in the thirty minutes before a presentation. She could do this stuff with her eyes closed. It wasn't challenging. It wasn't interesting. And it wasn't making a difference. She was convinced it was killing her.
But while Ron was supportive and encouraged her to quit, Hermione was the practical one in the relationship and had worked out the math. Ron hadn't been eligible to technically retire from the ministry yet. He'd actually just quit. And that meant that almost half of his retirement went away. Now, depending on how well the shop did, they could still have a decent income. But it was a big if. So, now Hermione's salary and retirement was the steady, reliable part. And, unlike in muggle England, the magical world had employer based health insurance. Since WWW didn't offer much, so they were still on the ministry plan. That meant that if she quit, the whole family could be without insurance – or at least without good insurance. With the lingering effects of their war injuries, not to mention some of the things Ron had dealt with during his years as an auror, they really couldn't go without insurance. She'd looked into it before. They could purchase some directly, but it would be very expensive. And, if they were to lose all or most of her income, that would be an issue. They might have to sell the house or do something equally as drastic. She liked her home. She raised her children there, and while she didn't feel she had to be there the rest of her life, she was so tired these days that the idea of starting over somewhere was exhausting.
She was aggravated at herself for just wanting to run away from her own life. If she was running to something she could almost be more forgiving. She could take a risk for something. But she wasn't really able to talk herself into taking a risk to simply get out of something.
Suddenly this feeling came over her – starting in the pit of her stomach and working up into her mouth. She knew she just had to leave that office immediately. While she intellectually knew she was in no danger, her fight or flight response had kicked in and she had to get the hell out of her office. Immediately.
She grabbed her purse, wand and cloak and wiped her eyes to try to make herself look as normal as possible. As she headed out of her office she said quickly to her secretary, "Sorry, Madge, an unexpected meeting has come up. I'm not sure I will make it back in today." The older woman simply nodded and smiled and went back to her parchment. Hermione walked quickly down the hall, past the floo banks and out the front door where she ducked around to the nearest apparition point. Thinking only briefly about where to head, she soon turned and found herself in an alleyway in muggle London. She cast a quick concealment charm on herself to make her look more like a muggle and simply started walking down the street.
She'd walked for nearly an hour, and finally felt like she could breathe normally again. She didn't feel like she was on the cusp of tears, and she no longer felt like she needed to curl up into a ball.
The cool fall air was getting deep into her lungs, and she felt slightly invigorated. The balls of her feet were slightly sore from walking in heels, so she decided to find a local café. First she found the loo where she splashed water on her face and transfigured her heels into comfortable walking shoes. Then she found a table, ordering a cup of tea and a crumpet. There was a discarded London Times-Dispatch on table, so she decided to read it while she ate. She perused articles about muggle musicians, strife between various countries and some arguments about the flight paths at Heathrow. As she flipped through the different sections, she saw a headline that caught her eye. In one of the local sections was an article about a group collecting donated books and money for a library. The library was to be located in a small housing project where many of the residents had trouble getting to the main bus line to get into town. Having a small, local branch would allow for books to be accessed by all residents, especially the children and the elderly.
Sipping her tea, Hermione remembered when she was a little girl. Primary school had been difficult for her. The material was too easy, so she was often bored. Then she was terribly socially awkward, which meant she didn't have any little friends to play with outside of class. Books had been her only escape. If it hadn't been for the librarian at school or the librarians at her local public library she was really not sure how she could have made it through the first chapter of her life. Instead of sitting alone and crying, those lovely women had opened her mind to a world of curiosity and knowledge. She could learn anything she wanted if she found the right books. And she could get lost in the most wonderful stories. She had gone into the cupboard with CS Lewis. She had fallen in love with Gilbert Blythe with Anne of Green Gables, and she admired the strength of Jo in Little Women. So, when she was in primary school and sitting by herself at lunch, she was really never alone. Instead she was inspired by these wonderful characters and entertained by their incredible journeys. If her mind hadn't been so broadened and awakened by them, how could she have ever been prepared for the unbelievable adventures she found herself facing in her own life once she got to Hogwarts?
When she was pregnant with Rose, she had decided she was decorating the nursery with children's books. She wanted some of her childhood favorites like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and Goodnight Moon, but she also wanted magical children's books. And that's when she had begun to realize what a lack of them there were in the magical world. There were a few characters of course, Babbity Rabbit and some other old tales. But, they were the exception. It had come as quite a shock to her that magical public libraries weren't really a thing. She had simply assumed that magical towns had little libraries where children could go and find stories on dragons and fairies and trolls. But, there weren't. Some parents took their children to muggle libraries, but most just didn't go at all. And, muggle books weren't always a great choice either, as witches and wizards were usually depicted as terrible characters who were usually ugly and mean. While her children did go to a magical primary school in London, many magical children were home-schooled like the Weasley kids had been growing up. And that meant no school library. But this also meant that there weren't a lot of places for children to learn about books and stories in general. So, due to the basic laws of supply and demand, the fact that there wasn't a large demand for children's books therefore meant that there simply weren't very many magical children's books written at all. Hermione thought this was horrid.
As she continued to sip her tea, she wondered if this library idea was something that could be her spark. She wasn't sure if she wanted to build a magical library or if she wanted to find ways to ensure there were more magical children's books. Maybe both. But, rather quickly she noticed a jolt in her mind as she had unconsciously started to make lists of things she would need to research and people who she might be able to convince to write a story or two.
"Huh," she mused out loud. "Not the idea I expected to find in a muggle cafe."
She paid her bill and quickly left. As soon as she reached an appropriately hidden spot she apperated to Diagon Alley and headed straight for Flourish and Botts. She went directly to the sad little aisle they marketed as the section for "little witches and wizards." It was really only part of one aisle. She sat right down on the floor, as she had done many times at Flourish and Botts over the years and started to list out every single magical children's book and their authors and publishers. It didn't take too long, and soon she had a complete list. There were only 80 books on it, with 30 of them being quidditch related. Putting her list back into her purse, she headed back out onto Diagon Alley and walked the entire length of the street from the Leaky Cauldron all the way to the other end paying close attention to a few buildings with "for sale or lease" signs in the windows. As she made her way back down the length of the street again, she noticed Ron standing out front of WWW watching her with his head slightly cocked.
"Hey there," she smiled. "Is business so slow that you are out here trying to bring in customers?"
"No, not exactly. But, by the time I had seen you walk by three times with that 'Hermione's On A Mission' look on your face I had to come see what you were up to."
"You got all of that from seeing me go up and down Diagon Alley?"
"I may be a shop keeper now, but twenty years as an auror and almost thirty years studying you, yeah. I got that out of watching you go up and down the street. So. Spill it. What's the mission?"
She laughed at him and considered his question for a moment before smugly replying, "Well Mr. Weasley, I have almost 30 years of studying you up my sleeve as well. And in that time I have learned that you love a good puzzle almost as much as you love chess. So - I think I am going to let you mull things over a bit. And, if you're nice, I may give you a hint or two this evening."
He lifted one eyebrow and gave her his lopsided grin, "you haven't gotten it all worked out yet, have you?"
She stomped her foot in mock aggravation. "You are annoying, you know?"
"Yes. I do know. And it's fine. Keep your little puzzle a secret for now. It's good seeing you wound up like this again."
"Yeah?"
"Oh yeah," he said in a much huskier voice. "I like you wound up."
"Me too," she smiled as she leaned in to kiss him. Their kiss quickly heated up until George knocked on the front window.
"Knock it off you two. You'll scare away the paying customers," he teased.
"Wanker," mumbled Ron.
"OK. I'm off. I will see you at home. And, if you don't want to have to eat reheated leftovers of that sorry attempt at a chicken casserole I made yesterday, I strongly suggest you pick up some sustenance for us on your way home."
"Take away it is, love."
She smiled and headed off down the street, enjoying the spring that had returned to her step.
