INTERLUDE

by Silver Phoenix

Chapter 6: Eavesdropping

The morning after Harry's birthday party dawned dark and cloudy. Hermione could hear rain drumming against her bedroom window when she woke. She swung her legs off the bed and padded over to open her curtains, revealing an overcast sky and raindrops streaming down the window. It was the sort of morning that made Hermione consider simply going back to sleep. She looked at her bed longingly, sighed, and reluctantly started getting ready for the day. The sort-of-fight she had had with Ron the previous night popped into her head as she was making her bed, and she felt a new kinship with the gloomy weather.

After getting dressed, Hermione headed downstairs and into the darkened kitchen, giving a distant 'Good morning' to her parents. She poured herself a drink and settled down at the kitchen table, staring broodingly into her glass of orange juice. Dad was munching on a bit of toast and reading the newspaper, while Mum stared out the window at the rain, absently stirring a cup of coffee. Her parents were both dressed smartly; they were going into their dental office today to interview potential new receptionists. Natalya, their old receptionist, had politely declined the Grangers' offer of re-employment and a pay raise. It turned out that she had begun dating the chiropractor for whom she was now working. Dad, who did not like changes, had been grumbling about this chiropractor for the past few days.

"Good morning," said Grandma Jean briskly, sweeping into the kitchen. Hermione was startled out of her brood by Grandma's presence; she had nearly forgotten her grandmother was still staying with them.

Grandma paused by the window, pulling her black shawl tighter around her shoulders and frowning. "This English weather…it's always miserable."

Hermione heard her father mutter something about not being offended if she wanted to go back to France, where he was sure it was very sunny.

"Hermione, will you go get the post?" Mum asked, sitting down next to Dad at the kitchen table. "I'm expecting a letter from the township; we've had to renew some papers for parking at the office."

"It's raining, Helen," Grandma pointed out, as if it was scandalous to suggest going out in the rain.

"Well, I'm sure Hermione knows how to use an umbrella," said Mum coolly.

Hermione obeyed and left the kitchen before anyone could get snippy. It seemed that she was not the only one in a grumpy mood this morning. Hermione sighed as she put her shoes on, remembering the argument with Ron last night. It had really been pointless. After the row, she had stalked back to Arbour Glen indignantly, half-expecting Ron to come after her. Of course, he hadn't. Sighing again, Hermione pulled open the front door and stepped out into the gloom.

The clouds overhead were black and plump with rain. The sky was a miserable grey, and the air felt stiflingly muggy. Large, warm raindrops splattered on Hermione's arms as soon as she left the shelter of her front porch. No one else was outside, save for one very dedicated jogger plodding up the street. Satisfied that he was not paying attention to her, Hermione surreptitiously took out her wand and performed an Impervious Charm on herself, just for the simple pleasure of doing magic, then walked to the end of the driveway and grabbed a stack of envelopes from the post-box. Raindrops bounced off her as she rifled through the letters. Hermione started as she came across a cream-coloured envelope, which was addressed to her in all-too familiar handwriting.

Slowly Hermione walked back inside and into the kitchen, distractedly dropping the pile of mail in front of her mother. Hermione returned to her spot at the table with her letter in hand. She ripped it open, trying to fathom how on earth it had ended up in their post-box.

Dear Hermione,

I'm really sorry I was such a git last night. I really do want to go back to Hogwarts if I can. I especially want to be able to see you all the time next year. This whole business with the twins' shop and the nutter in Knockturn Alley and whatnot has just got my head all messed up. Anyway, I'm sorry again that I was inconsiderate last night. I should have been more sensitive to your feelings.

Ron

P.S. I bet you're wondering how I got a letter into your Muggle letterbox. I found a picture of one and showed it to Pig, and I told him to drop the letter straight in there. He delivered it overnight, so your grandmother wouldn't see. Clever, aren't I?

By the time she finished the letter, a smile had crept onto Hermione's face and her spirits had lifted considerably. She read the letter again, feeling a rush of affection for Ron. Not only was this the best apology she had ever received from him, but the sentences before his signature was unusually eloquent. Hermione had a strong suspicion that a book entitled Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches, which she had found in Ron's room while packing his clothes last summer, had something to do with it. Hermione could not stop the giggle that escaped her.

"What's so funny, Hermione?" her father asked, flipping a page in his newspaper.

"Nothing, it's just a letter from Ron."

"Who is Ron?" Grandma Jean asked sharply, her head jerking up.

"Oh, only a friend from school," said Hermione casually, but under Grandma Jean's piercing stare, she felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Only a friend?" said Grandma sceptically. Now Mum and Dad had stopped what they were doing and were watching Hermione closely as well. Hermione's face got warmer; her parents knew that Ron was a good friend, like Harry, but as far as they knew their daughter's relationships with both boys were strictly platonic.

"Well, yes," Hermione said in a rather high-pitched voice, buttering her toast quite violently, "that is, a very good friend, with whom I have a…a…well, never mind. Pass the juice, Dad?"

No one pursued it after that, but Grandma Jean looked somewhat amused as she finished her breakfast, and her parents kept exchanging heavy looks.

The morning passed in silence. Hermione's parents left for the office, where they apparently met little success, because both were even more bad-tempered when they returned home. Dad shut himself up in his study and Mum took her knitting into the conservatory, making it clear that she did not want to be disturbed. Grandma disappeared into the attic, saying something about looking for old photos, and Hermione was left to read in her room, which was fine by her. Her bed was not as good a reading place as the window seat in the conservatory, but with the curtains drawn, the patter of rain on her bedroom window, and Crookshanks' warm, furry body nestled next to her, Hermione felt very cosy. She pulled out A Comprehensive History of Magical Beings and continued reading where she had last left off, a chapter on ancient house-elf laws.

The making and enforcement of laws was done solely by an elected council of elves, all members of the patriarchal family. The council alone judged and sentenced accused lawbreakers. Interestingly, there is evidence that lawbreakers were sent to a form of house-elf prison, although the location and structure of these prisons is unknown. However, written accounts from the first wizards to encounter ancient house-elf society make reference to "extraordinary magic from these creatures, and a form of imprisonment that is far beyond our prisons of mortar and stone"…

Though the content of the book interested her greatly, Hermione found herself reading passages twice without comprehending a thing. Her mind was on the letter carefully stowed away in the top drawer of her desk. Hermione finally got up, displacing poor Crookshanks, who paced about in a circle on her bed before slumping back down on the covers to sleep. She took out the letter and read it again, smiling at the sweet bluntness of Ron's writing, laughing at the unusually well-phrased lines before his signature. Hermione thought back to the awkward conversation with her parents and Grandma Jean at breakfast. Over the past little while, she had been unsure of how to define her slowly shifting relationship with Ron, but now she realized it did not really matter. They were together; definitions were unnecessary. She smiled again and placed the letter carefully back into its envelope.

Lunchtime was approaching and Hermione's stomach had begun to growl, so she headed down the stairs and into the kitchen to fix a sandwich. Strangely, the kitchen was empty, which was unusual at lunch hour. She opened the refrigerator and poked around, gathering up lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese.

"Mum!" she called loudly. "Dad! I'm making sandwiches; does either of you want one? Grandma Jean?" She guiltily added her grandmother as an afterthought.

Hermione listened for a response, but all she heard was muffled talking coming from the direction of her father's study. She dropped her sandwich materials on the counter and left the kitchen, heading down the hallway towards the study. Although still muffled, her parents' voices became intelligible as she approached the closed door of the study.

" - things like this. I just don't know how to approach her."

Hermione had been about to call out for her parents again, but something about her mother's tone made the words die in her throat. She ignored her conscience, which was strongly recommending that she go back into the kitchen and make herself a nice sandwich, and sidled closer to the study door.

"It was just a letter, Helen."

"I know, but did you see her face when your mother asked her about it? I think she's seeing this boy, and we've met him…twice?" Mum sighed. "We used to talk all the time when she was younger. We'd talk about everything. And now she probably has a boyfriend - we've let her stay over at his house, Greg! - and she hasn't said a word about it to either of us."

"She's a teenager, they keep secrets." Dad's voice was rational and soothing. "I didn't tell my mother about you until we'd been dating for a year."

"You think I'm like your mother?" Mum sounded horrified.

"Good God, no!" Dad, too, sounded horrified at the thought.

"I just…" The frustration in Mum's voice was palatable. "I just don't know her any more, and the boyfriend thing, it's silly really, but it's just more proof of her shutting us out. I feel like I've lost my daughter to these other people, to that…that world. We don't belong in it. She's made it perfectly clear. She spends all her time at that school, and then when she's not in school, she doesn't come home. How many summers has she spent with the Weasley's? How many Christmas breaks has she stayed at school?"

Hermione could hear her mother's footsteps as she paced back and forth across the study. "And then…I know, I know she thought she was protecting us, but she put us under a…a spell or something, Greg. We didn't even have a warning. We couldn't even talk her out of it. She just did it, and we weren't ourselves for a year, how am I supposed to understand that?" Mum's voice broke as she let out a sob.

There was the sound of a chair scraping against the hardwood floor, followed by Dad's heavy footsteps. "Helen, honey…"

Mum sobbed again. Her voice trembled as she said, "I try so hard but I don't understand her. I can't understand, and I'm afraid of what she can do. How horrible is it, to be afraid of your own daughter?"

Hermione stumbled as she backed away from the study. She felt very cold, and her heart was thundering in her ears. She turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin with fright. There in the hallway stood Grandma Jean, watching her. Neither of them said anything. Hermione waited, expecting Grandma to lecture her about eavesdropping or manners. Grandma Jean, however, quietly said, "I've sliced up some tomato," and then turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Hermione stared after her grandmother, and then slowly followed her into the kitchen. It was only after they had both eaten their sandwiches in silence, and she was back in her room lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, that it occurred to Hermione that Grandma Jean may have overheard her parents' conversation as well.