AN: This is the second chapter. Tell me how you like it. The quote will be at the bottom, as usual. It's all thanks to you, my fourth reviewer, Close2MiiHeart, that this next chapter is being posted.
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Sincerely,
lovah of Ron
Chapter Two: Days that don't end in 'y'
Hermione groaned with frustration as an owl pecked at her head.
Hoot hoot! it went.
"You are a bloody pigeon, Mopsie. I tell you! A bloody pigeon!" Hermione mumbled loud enough for Mopsie to hear her. Indignantly, Mopsie stopped pecking her owner's head.
Hoooooot!
This startled Hermione, and she jumped nearly five feet. "Alright alright! I'm getting up Mopsie!"
Begrudgingly, Hermione climbed out of her nice warm, comfy queen sized bed. It was purple and green, her bedding that is. The clock read 8: 57. Hermione staggered to her bathroom and nearly tripped on her rug. She then pulled back her shower curtain and turned on the water. She quickly stripped down and hopped into the shower. Literally. And then, she almost slipped and fell.
Hermione uttered loudly a string of obscenities. This was normal for the 22 year old Hermione's routine of hopping into the shower and almost falling then yelling curses to no particular person. That's what she got for being best friends with two boys for eleven years.
She eventually situated herself and took a nice long shower. At least a long shower for Hermione, which happened to be only six minutes and thirty-one seconds, total. The normal shower she could take in two minutes and forty-eight seconds.
She did the normal things for following up a shower; her hair, her teeth, her face, blah blah. Hands ripped through her wardrobe, desperately looking for something to wear.
"Why don't I have any decent clothes! I have all this money but no damn clothes!"
Hastily, she grabbed semi-decent underclothes and a pair of jeans that were from her seventh year and a white tee.
Just as Hermione was trying (but unsuccessfully) to put on her jeans, a very perky voice rang through her apartment.
"Hermione! Hermione, where are you?" It was her boss, Amalia Anders.
"Amalia, can you at least warn me when you are going to barge into my apartment?"
"Oh, well, if I didn't "barge into your apartment" every day, you would never even get out into the world!" Her voice is so sickeningly sweet, it would make you sick. "Thank you very much Amalia. Do you know if Ginny has left me any messages? Did you see Pookie in the living room?"
"Yes, in fact I did. Here's your letter from her." Amalia handed the half naked Hermione her letter. (Hermione had yet to put on a shirt.)
Dear Hermione, it said.
Fiji is wonderful. It's gorgeous here. The sand is so clean. The plants are more beautiful than I have ever seen. (AN: I didn't intend it to rhyme, just so you know. It just ended up that way.)
Harry says hello. I have told Harry that though we have another week here, I want to come home sooner. We'll be back in two days. Wednesday in England. We have some news to tell you all.
Miss you lots, Mione. See you very soon. Then I'll tell you all about the news first!
Love you lots, Mione!
Ginny and Harry
Hermione squealed. "I knew it! I knew it! Ginny's pregnant! Ha! That's why she's coming home…tomorrow! Geeeee!"
"How do you know Hermione? Ginny might just miss you all."
"Oh ho no! Ginny wrote me that I would be the first she told. She tells me everything first. Even about her first wedding to Harry."
Amalia looked straight at Hermione, eyes wide and mouth open.
"Oh bugger." Me and my big and not yet awake mouth.
"Wait, are you saying that Harry and Ginny were already married when the got married?"
That sounded like the dumbest thing ever said out of the mouth of Amalia, and she had said quite a lot of dumb things.
"Now I have to tell you everything! And you have to promise not to say anything to anyone!" Hermione groaned. Loudly.
"Yay!" Amalia clapped and jumped up and down in her four inch heels.
"Well, it was obviously before their big wedding. I was out with them and Ron, of course. We had just possibly drunk one too many alcoholic beverages and Harry popped the question. Now, he had dreading this question for at least six months. He always said to me, "What if she says no?" And I always told him if he didn't ask her soon, she'd ask him herself.
"So, since he was so bloody wasted, he was, I think, thinking to himself, 'Why the hell not?' So he asked her. We Apparated to the wizarding part of Las Vegas and they got married in a chapel. And it was a nice chapel. Not one of those bloody Elvis ones. God, don't you just hate Elvis? And then, Ron and I left them to do their married couples thing. That is of course, after Ginny and I went shopping in one of those opened 24 hour lingerie places. Ron and I rented a hotel room and Harry and Ginny got one free, since they got married at the chapel place that also happened to own a hotel. And that's the end."
"That is sooo romantic!"
"Yeah it would be if you were drunk, too. I wonder if there going to tell that they were already married. Hmmm. That would be interesting."
"Yes yes. Now get dressed. You only have…" Amalia looked at her watch, "eleven minutes to be at the place to um meet…Fred Weasley! God, I wish I was in your place. Too bad I've been promoted a year too early. Did you honestly have to join us when you did?"
"I've been working at Mystic Witch since I was 19. That's three years." Hermione wondered how she could possibly put up with this girl anymore as she finally put on her shirt.
"Well, you're dressed now. Let's go." Amalia pulled on Hermione's arm.
"Uh, I kind of need to put some makeup and shoes on. As well as jewelry."
"God, how long is that going to take?"
"Five minutes!"
Hermione ran into her bathroom, applied mascara and eyeliner and lip gloss with a wave of her wand. She dried her hair and brushed it hastily, with, of course, her magic brush she had gotten from Ginny on her wedding. It immediately settled into gorgeous curls. Hermione hurried over to her closet full of shoes and picked out her killer black pumps. She hopped over to her vanity as she put on her heels, and grabbed her diamond studs and her green costume jewelry necklace and bracelet.
"Okay, I'm ready."
"Four minutes and seventeen seconds. I guess it didn't take you five minutes. Now let's go!"
Amalia and Hermione promptly Apparated to the headquarters of Mystical Witch.
"There you are Amalia and Hermione!" Their boss, Bert Zander, was a portly fellow. He was balding on the top and was somewhat of a pervert. The year before Hermione had came to Mystical Witch, a very pretty girl with enough assets to share quit because of the sexual harassment she received from Bert. He kept on trying to get her in bed with him. She now, or so it was told, is happily living the life of a nun in an Italian convent.
"Mr. Weasley will be here in any minute! You know that, don't you? He's supposed to be here, Tuesday January 12, the year 2001 at 9:20 a.m."
Unfortunately, Bert had a tendency to call out the date and time at random moments, which at times, got incredibly maddening.
"And it's now January 12, the year 2001 and 9:17 a.m. He'll be here ion three minutes."
"Bert, Fred Weasley in notorious for being late," Hermione said. Bert and Amalia stared at her.
"Or so I've heard."
"Really? I didn't you heard anything about Fred Weasley. Hmm… guess you do know some things." Amalia sounded quite impressed.
"Eh. Well, you learn something new everyday, now don't you?" was all Hermione had to say.
"One minute until Fred Weasley will arrive!" Bert screeched. Both Hermione and Amalia rolled their eyes; their boss was a twit.
One minute passed, then two, then twelve, then twenty-seven minutes. And then Fred Weasley arrived.
He had Apparated with an astounding 'pop'.
"I'm here! Now, who is it that is going to spend a whole week with me to learn about my fabulous bachelor life?"
"Oh Mr. Weasley, welcome to the headquarters of Mystical Witch! I'm Amalia Anders." She stuck out her hand. He took it and shook it vigorously. From then on, Amalia had a giddy smile on her face. "You are to spend a whole week with one of our most dedicated writers of our staff: Miss Hermione Granger!"
"Hermione Granger works here? No bloody way! Where is she?" Fred looked around in the room. He hadn't seen the Hermione Granger he knew from Hogwarts.
"Fred, I'm right next to Amalia," Hermione managed to utter.
Fred looked at her. He was well, to put it simply, amazed. This gorgeous girl was none other than Hermione Granger? The same Hermione that was still best friends Harry Potter, his sister Ginerva Potter, nee Weasley, and his brother Ron Weasley? The know-it-all bookworm in her Hogwarts school days?
After understanding that this really was Hermione Granger, he scooped her up and gave her a huge bear hug. He slowly let go of her, realizing that he very well could be suffocating her.
After fixing her composure, she looked up at him. Look at all of that gorgeous red hair! she thought to herself. She hadn't seen him in years; whenever she had gone to the Weasleys' he was on this grand adventure somewhere else.
"Well, Hermione, I haven't seen you in ages! How've you been?"
"Good Fred, good."
"Wait, you two know each other?" Bert the fat asked.
"Yeah," Hermione and Fred answered together.
"How do you know each other?" Amalia asked, quite upset that they already knew each other.
"School. And of course, Ron." Fred just had to point that out.
"Wait, are you saying your ex-boyfriend is the brother to Fred Weasley?" God was Amalia slow.
"Yes, Amalia. Fred is Ron's older brother." Amalia was simply amazed.
"Wait, you and Ron broke up? And where was I?" Fred intervened.
"I don't know Fred. We broke up in July past. Where were you then? Brazil?" There was just a hint of sarcasm in her voice and Amalia, Bert the fat, and Fred were all astonished at her audacity.
Fred, however, played along. "Actually, Herms, I was in Iceland. You went too south. Should have gone north." He smiled mischievously.
"Well, Fred, I believe we are going to have a fabulous time together. Oh, a whole week!" Hermione sighed.
"A fabulous time!" Fred agreed.
"Well, Hermione, you're going to have to pack in order to stay with Mr. Weasley. I believe doing that right now would be appropriate. Mr. Weasley, please, if you'll come with me into my office, and we can get you a refreshment. Amalia, go with Hermione so that you can keep her on task. I'm giving you a half an hour Hermione." Bert was such an ass.
"Thank you Bert for telling me I only have thirty minutes. I will most certainly use me thirty minutes wisely. Don't want to keep Mr. Weasley waiting too long!"
"Twenty-nine minutes Miss Granger!" Bert sneered.
"Hermione turned round and waved a hand over her shoulder. "Tata boys!"
Loud enough for Hermione to hear, Fred said, "She's a handful isn't she?"
Hermione Apparated and Amalia followed.
As soon as she was in her apartment, she screamed.
"God! That bloody fucking ass shit bastard! Telling me what the hell to do! I damn him to hell, the fat bastard!"
"Now Hermione, you must calm down and pack up. Please be a dear. I have a feeling if you do not pack in-" Amalia looked at her watch, "twenty-eight minutes and fifty-seven seconds; I fear we will both lose our jobs."
"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist," was all Hermione said before she ran around her apartment like a madwoman, searching for her luggage.
"How exactly do you know Fred?"
"I told you this, Amalia, he's Ron's older brother. I've known him for, oh, since I was eleven. That means I've known him for eleven years." Hermione abruptly stopped what she was doing. "Oh my god. That's a really long time!" Then she continued on her rampage.
"Yeah. I would've liked knowing Fred Weasley for eleven years." Amalia sighed. "He's so…bish."
"What the hell is bish?" Hermione was still packing.
"It comes from Bishōnen, meaning beautiful youth in Japanese. So basically, it means gorgeous, hot, sexy, very good looking, and so on."
Hermione was absolutely astounded. Who knew Amalia was really that smart to know some Japanese, even though she was of Swedish decent?
Hermione continued packing, though she had no idea what she was actually packing. Sure, she was packing four pairs of jeans; two pairs being of the lounging kind and two being the dress-up kind; plenty of t-shirts in every color of the rainbow; all of her shoes (after she had miniaturized them, of course; she had 212 pairs!); she brought her suits; the basic black skirt; her whole vanity (after it was miniaturized). To make it simple, Hermione packed all of her clothes and shoes and makeup and jewelry and personal hygiene essentials. She made all of her things fit into two huge pieces of luggage. But, then again, she was a witch.
"Uh, Hermione, do you need to pack anything else? We have only four minutes and forty-three seconds to get back to the headquarters."
"I'm done, Amalia. We can go now."
Hermione was just about to Apparate when she remembered something; Mopsie.
"Hold on Amalia, I have to get Mopsie."
"Fine fine, get that wretched owl and let's go."
Mopsie was gotten and then the two (including Mopsie) Apparated back to Mystical Witch.
"Amalia, Hermione, back with fifty-three seconds to spare. Now, will you, Mr. Weasley, escort Hermione to wherever you two will be going?"
"Yes, Hermione and I will be going to my apartment."
Hermione bowed to Fred. "Oh, Fred, I only serve you!"
"Thank you Hermione. I hoped you did." He smiled just asshe frowned at him.
"Well then, Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor, let's go to your bachelor pad, now shall we?"
"Right-o. Just think 'Fred's Fab-u-lous Bachelor Pad', and you'll be there. But you have to think it exactly like I said it."
"Yes Fred."
"Well, Bart-"
"It's Bert," Bert the fat corrected.
"I had a lovely time chatting about the time. We will have to do it again some other time. And thank you for thinking of this marvelous promotion type thing for me. I just love it. Getting to spend a whole week with a fabulously famous journalist, whose name is Hermione Granger."
Fred turned to Amalia Anders.
"Ams, mind if I call you Ams? Thank you for being so wonderful for being the boss of Hermione. Otherwise, Hermione wouldn't have been the journalist on this job. Au revoir!"
And he popped on to his flat. Hermione, quite unhappily followed.
I am the lucky person who gets to spend a whole effing week with Mr. Most-Eligible-Bachelor-Who-Is-A-Major-Prankster. Woohoo!
It's the end of the chapter. A whole 2503 words. More or less. Please, tell me what you think. I'm having an idea to have one of Hermione's thoughts at the end of each chapter. Hmm? How does that sound?
Well, read and review (I need 6 reviews!)and I'll be a happy camper, though I don't believe I have ever been camping. Well, it's just an expression.
Here's the quote:
I only go to work on days that don't end in a 'y'.
-- Robert Paul