Hi, everyone! Special thanks to Just twisty and TALLEY LOVES FANFICTION, who let me know that people are indeed reading this story. You each get a virtual steaming mug of the tea of your choice. = )
I am sorry for the late update! Tuesdays are miserably busy for me. I have a 3 hour biology lab and a 2.5 hour band practice. Tomorrow's (today's...*guilty shrug*) chapter will be uploaded before midnight.
The song, "She", is property of Jen Foster, a wonderful singer and woman. You should definitely look her up.
"Mum, I was almost fired from my job today." It was 3 AM and Hermione could not sleep. She needed to call her mother, who was still her best female friend.
"You were what? Oh, honey. My darling, baby daughter..." Hermione's mum paused for a few thoughtful seconds before continuing.
"How will you and Ron take care of my grandchildren?"
Hermione sighed, softly so as to not transfer the sound through the receiver.
"Mum. I said that I was almost fired. I still have my job. And Ron and I may not even have any children." Hermione had not meant to be so harsh to her mother, but she had had a long day and was annoyed.
The truth was that Hermione was not sure if she wanted to have kids with Ron. Childbirth seemed painful, even with the strongest numbing charms. Ever since she had been been tortured with the Cruciatus curse at the Malfoy Manor, every little prickle effected her. Physical pain was no longer simply physical because it caused psychological agony.
But Hermione could not talk to her mother about that. In fact, she had never spoken to anyone about how horrific that night truly was, or to what extent it still affected her.
Half an hour later, Hermione ended her conversation with her mother and placed the phone back in the top drawer of her desk. She only used it to call her parents, about twice a month. Arthur had been delighted when she let him touch it.
"Hermione, I am delighted, just delighted, that Ron chose you. He could not have made a better choice. And, now that you are part of the family, we will have to vacation with your parents. Preferably in a Muggle town, where everyone owns one of these fascinating devices."
Hermione turned from her desk to face the wall opposite it, glaring at the poster that she could not rip, charm, or curse off of her wall. "Be Yourself." What did that even mean? Her own identity aside, Hermione was becoming seriously curious about that of her admirer. She knew that he consistently used advanced magic. He was a Gryffindor. He thought that he knew Hermione, and he apparently really liked who he thought she was. Unfortunately, he had cast a situation-specific version of the Confundus charm on everything that she could have used to identify him. Hermione hated seeing his familiar handwriting while not being able to identify him. He had disguised his voice so well that the charmed poster seemed to have a woman's voice.
He knew where she lived, he knew where she worked, he knew details of her personal life.. a very frightening thought then crossed Hermione's mind. What if he was Galton?
Ew. Hermione had no attraction towards fat, hairy, middle-age wizards who cared solely about their academic reputation. Especially those who had a predilection towards darker magic. No attraction at all.
Yet, she could think of few other talented wizards who knew enough about her. Her only consolation was that, if Galton was indeed the sender, he was most likely making a very poor joke rather than expressing genuine desire.
Hermione slept for two torturous hours before being awoken by a new song.
"And she-eee means everything to me.
She makes me feel that nothing else matters,
not even what the world thinks of me..."
Hermione never cast the counter-charm so quickly. That song, while musically beautiful, did not resonate well with Hermione. She did not recognize the singer, but she could tell that she was female. Lesbian music was not what Hermione needed. Especially not after the dream she had had. The one in which her entire body and mind succumbed to the temptation presented by the thin, scantily-clad blonde whose lips whispered sweet words before smashing against Hermione's, all while dexterous, feminine hands unhinged Hermione's bra.
Hermione reminded herself continuously, as she prepared for work, that it had just been a dream.
She was completely straight, a perfect zero on the Kinsey scale.
She was even engaged to a man.
That had to outweigh the fact that she had been haunted by similar sapphic dreams since she was fifteen.
But does your engagement to Ron outweigh everything? Hermione could not ignore that every time she had that nightmare of dream, she was with the same girl. It was likewise significant that the girl existed in real life, and that Hermione knew her very well. They had been friends at Hogwarts. She had fought Voldemort alongside Hermione during the War. She was the only Hogwart's student whose intelligence rivaled Hermione's. She was a true Ravenclaw, and Hermione consequently sometimes used to wish that she had been a Badger herself.
Her name was Luna Lovegood, and she was standing by Hermione's desk when Hermione arrived at the Ministry. Her pale blonde hair reached her waist, her deep blue eyes were expressive yet unreadable, and her long, thin fingers were curled around a cup of tea.
She handed the steaming mug to a flabbergasted Hermione, who was disappointedly distracted by someone's adorably dreamy smile.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! I apologize for the tiny cliffhanger; the action will continue in a few hours. : ) As always, let me know what you think. Those who do may be rewarded with virtual scones. ; ) I would be particularly grateful for feedback and tips on my dialogue. It is one of my largest challenges, and I know that Hermione's mum was particularly unrealistic...don't be afraid to (constructively) criticize me! I am strong; I won't be offended by genuine assistance.
