Blinking her eyes open, Hermione sat up in bed and stared out the window, her eyes screwed up against the sunlight. She'd lost it. Two chapters written and over with and she'd lost the book. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed and got out of bed, sliding her feet into fuzzy slippers.
She set about making breakfast for herself and filling Crookshanks's water and food bowls, thinking all the while. Sitting at the breakfast table pushed up against a wall, she came to a conclusion. Yes, the book was lost. But she'd keep looking for it- and she'd find it. In the meantime she'd keep living life and she would also keep a diary of sorts. Her daily life would be recorded so that she could add it to the manuscript as soon as she found it. Yes, that was her plan.
As she ate her eggs and toast- the taste of them painfully reminding her of the Burrow and Ron and what she was doing- she decided she would go to the orphanage. She needed something to make her feel good, and volunteering her time for the children seemed as if it would do the job. A flick of her wand had her plate and cup clean, dry, and stored in the cupboard as is they'd never been used. Throwing a sweater over her shirt, she waved goodbye to Crookshanks and Apparated to Diagon Alley, landing in front of The Home for Little Witches and Wizards.
The bright colors of the building lifted her spirits and she pushed the front door open, taking in the sights and sounds of the orphanage. It was the same as it had been the day before- loud and bright and filled with energetic children. The same red haired woman was there, and she grinned at Hermione, waving her over.
"Here to volunteer already?" she asked, her teeth gleaming.
Looking over her shoulder at all the kids, Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded.
"Do you know what you'd like to do with them?"
"Do with them?" Hermione shook her head. "What is there to do?"
The witch looked down at a paper before answering, "Right now there's the coloring group, the cooking group, the games group, and the reading group still without a volunteer. Any of those strike your interest?" She looked up at Hermione, waiting for an answer.
"Reading," she said quickly. There was no way she was going to cook with a group of children, especially with children who could accidentally use magic at any moment. It could only lead to disaster.
"Right this way." Hermione followed the witch down a lime green hallway, staring back at the wide eyed children peeping from behind watermelon pink doors. She ended up in a room filled with kids who looked to be around seven or eight, most of them girls. Like the kids from behind the doors, these children were also staring at her, their eyes large as they took in Hermione Granger, friend of the war hero Harry Potter. And then the other witch left her there. Hermione swallowed.
"Hello." Her voice was a little shaky. They were silent. This was ridiculous, she thought. She, Hermione Granger (Weasley, she reminded herself), frightened of a group of children. "Would you like to hear a story?" They nodded as one, an action that had a rather frightening effect. Hermione spotted a bookcase in a corner of the room and sighed with relief. She ran to it, cocking her head at an angle to read the titles. There it was- The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
Pulling it off the shelf, she turned back to the kids and was happy to see them sitting on couches, their legs dangling over the sides or resting on heaps of pillows. Every wizarding child liked Beedle's fairytales, didn't they? "We're going to read-" she paused and opened the book, scanning the table of contents before seeing a story that she remembered Ron mentioning- "Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump."
Settling herself in an armchair, Hermione peered out at the small children, who were all waiting expectantly. And so, looking back down at the book, she began to read. "A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish King who decided that he alone should have the power of magic." She looked up. With that one sentence, the children were already entranced. She could only hope that her books had that effect on readers. Leaning back, she made herself more comfortable. She had the feeling that she'd be here a while. The words of the fairytale rolled off her tongue, filled the room with magic, the kind of magic that didn't need a wand to come to life.
Two hours and fifty-two minutes and five stories later, Hermione read the last few lines of the story that meant the most to her. "But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."
Slowly, she closed the book, and smile on her face. She knew the Tale of the Three Brothers very well. Her eyes closed for a moment as she remembered the seventh year that she'd never had the chance to spend at Hogwarts. She'd had such adventures back then, just five years ago. Before she married Ron.
A cough broke the silence and she looked up to see the children looking at her. Rising to her feet, she returned the book to its spot, her fingers lingering on the spine. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," a small voice said. She smiled at the little boy who said it, and her ears were filled with a chorus of voices, all of them saying the same thing. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."
She cringed. Mrs. Weasley. She'd never really thought of herself as Hermione Weasley. Now that she did, she didn't like it. She wanted to be Hermione Granger. Mrs. Weasley made her sound like Molly- whom she loved but didn't want to be like.
"Thank you," she said to them, leaving the room. As she put her hand on the door, she looked back and was shocked to see a head of pale blond hair suddenly duck into a room. That was Draco Malfoy. Or was it? She couldn't be certain, and she didn't think he of all people would be volunteering at an orphanage, but still… no one else had that hair.
She left the orphanage, having given almost three times the amount of time that she'd promised, and feeling wonderful for it. She also left the orphanage puzzled over the fact that she'd seen Draco Malfoy there.
Across the street was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, still as bright and colorful as ever. Opening the door, she made her way to the back of the store to find George. He hadn't been the same after Fred's death, but he was slowly getting better. Ginny had told her that he was starting to see Angelina again, and that she was helping him.
Spotting Ron's brother helping someone, she looked around and noticed that there were no other employees in the store helping him. Deciding to stick around for a bit, Hermione helped the many customers in the store. There was an endless line of people entering the joke shop. Children spending their pocket money, girls buying love potions… all of them were looking at everything with wonderment, their heads swiveling around to get a good look at everything.
When the shop was finally empty, Hermione found George in a back room of the store, looking through boxes. Her arrival made him replace a lid on a box and turn to face her. "Hello, Hermione."
She grinned at him and stepped forward to hug him. He'd become her brother-in-law when she married Ron, but he'd been like a brother long before that. "Hello, George. How's the business going?"
He sat down on a crate, his hand running through his shocking red hair. "It's so different without Fred. We- we started the shop together and now that he's gone… It's just-" He trailed off and stared at something she couldn't see.
"Different?" she finished.
He nodded. "There's so many customers, and just myself to help them." He looked up at her. "You saw how it is. Always full."
"Yeah. Crazy."
"Thanks for helping out, Hermione."
She smiled at him, deciding that the day had gone by pretty well. She'd accomplished what she'd wanted- to do something that made her feel good. First reading to the kids, and then helping George.
He stood up and rummaged through some more boxes, finally pulling out a quill and handing it to her. Hermione looked at it strangely, confused.
"Here," he said. "Fred was working on it before he died." A pained look crossed his freckled face. "I'm not sure what it does, exactly, but I'm sure you'll figure out. Use it to write that last book if you want."
She looked up at him. "Thanks, George."
He grinned at her. "I'll just apologize in advance in case it hurts you."
Laughing, she nodded her head, said goodbye, and then walked back into the main room of the store. Pushing open the door just in time for a new horde of customers to rush in, she noticed someone coming out of the orphanage across the street. She didn't get to see who it was, as the person hastily pulled a hood over their head and hurried away.
Turning on the spot, she Apparated back to her flat and shoved the quill in her desk drawer. She wasn't about to use something that had an unknown use- especially when it was from the Weasley twins. Last time she'd done so, she'd ended up with a black eye.