AN: Sorry it's been so long! But I had writer's block, then school started, and then I sprained a ligament in my foot which resulted in six hours in the ER and one of those stupid slipper-sandal things you have to wear with a sock. Yeah, I'm styling! Thank God for Labor Day. I can't take another day wandering around the stupid, enormous, hilly campus. Happiness for staying at home and lying around so I can "rest my foot" all weekend long.
Anyway, I have two things to address. Number one: I know that most of you have a particular feeling about whose in the right here, and it's generally split down the middle between Ron and Hermione (though I do think Ron's got a few more fans at this point). And all of you hope to see one of them have a solid victory over the other. This won't happen. In real life, how often is a rift solely one person's fault? Not often, you'll find. And so it is here. Hermione did a bad thing in leaving, but she had good reasons, as you're beginning to find. Therefore, while there will battles and wins on both sides, I wouldn't expect an out-and-out "It's all my fault, I apologize, let me grovel at your feet" anytime soon.
Number two: I got Hermione's middle name wrong, as was pointed out to me in one my reviews. It's Jean, not Jane. Damn my laziness! Though you'll probably notice it in the first couple sentences here. What? I'm on crutches, damn it, with an icky hospital sandal to match. I'm not going all the way up the stairs to go find some book to find out how to spell one little charm. Sorry, but I'm not quite that invested. But, if you tell me what it is, I promise not to do it again.
By the way, interesting fact. If I had waited my usual day or two to post a new chapter, I would've gotten five reviews. Because I waited, I ended up getting fourteen. What are you trying to say here, people?
Anons:
EH - DAMN IT! I'm so angry I did that. Especially to switch it with Umbridge's ... I'm very disappointed with myself. I don't mind getting the spells wrong so much (because there are so very many of them), but to get a name wrong is so ... aggravating. Oi. Anyway, moving on. Well, they had things to do involving Polyjuice Potion that you will find out later, but also they had to do things like in DH, such as buy groceries and get directions in town. Floating eggs and bread tend to attract attention. And three years is a lot of grocery getting and direction asking, to say the least. You are insanely close, the closest yet, in fact. However, only for part of what she was doing, and there's going to be a lot more I bet you won't guess – but it would be pretty cool if you did. I'd be impressed.
ST – Initials are going around. Glad you like it, and life has no guarantees.
Shonnarae – Always happy to hear you enjoyed it, of course. In this chapter, though, it's not really the RHr interaction that's important.
Paloma – Aw, that's awesome! This sounds insanely stupid and American and tourist-y of me, but my sister just had a stay down in Cambridge and she spent some time in Barcelona and a couple other cities nearby and absolutely loved it. Moving from that moment of dorkiness ... Well, thanks. I'll try and get you an e-mail, but it's not working too well, so I'm not sure it'll reach you. It's alright, you're not the first person to give me suggestions. I have a pretty set storyline, though. Not to mention, I feel the Weasleys have given up quite enough and I can't imagine killing one of them off. I MISS YOU, FRED!!!!
I'm a dork.
Disclaimer: Sure, I own HP. That's why I'm wandering around with a hospital slipper that smells like blood, chemicals, and old people. Pleasant image, huh?
It was almost eerie, how normal it felt. Creeping down the staircase, her feet muffled with slippers and spells. Casting Muffilato on Ron and Harry, who were perched on the couch and armchair in the sitting room respectively, without ever opening her mouth. Surveying the room quickly and instantly settling down by the fireplace, as the best place to view her two friends without any creaking floorboards or dips in cushions to give her away. In fact, the only thing that seemed odd at all for Hermione was the setting. Spy tactics and comfortable middle class settings were both familiar but clashed so entirely, like memories from two different lives.
"She says it's all from using too much Polyjuice. It's pretty interesting; we've never really noticed it before. Sure, the uppers probably knew, anyone who goes into Potions and all that, but Polyjuice isn't that commonly used among the younger set, so I'll bet it's never been an issue. Still, at the rate we used it as kids ..."
Hermione turned her attention to the conversation. Ron was pulling at his lip thoughtfully. "Yeah. We'll have to make sure and limit our use from now on. And I'll pass it on to George, see if he can do anything about those side-effects. He's been itching for a new project for ages."
"Thank him for those new apps on the brooms again. Kingsley was telling me the other day they pretty much saved Warwick and Coontz after they got into it with a couple of those rebel goblins. It was nearly fifteen of them versus those two. Barely got away." Snorting, Harry added darkly, "Of course, if those idiots in the Cooperation department would listen to what we've been saying for years and just treated them on the same level as wizards ..."
Ron rolled his eyes. "You know how those lot are. Take Bolongs, Fudge's nephew. Even more of a prat than Fudge ever was, blustering on about his fond feelings for mermaids and such while killing bills for better wizarding relations with elves left and right, idiot if there ever was one."
"Says the president of SPEW," Harry commented, grinning a little. Hermione nearly fell over sideways in surprise. Ron merely shrugged.
"What can I say? It's pretty hard to run an organization with over a thousand people when your second-in-command keeps asking if we're ever going to look into nargle rights."
Harry nodded understandingly. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking about shiftily. Blowing out a large breath, he took the plunge. "Speaking of Spew ..."
"S-P-E-W," Ron corrected with the hint of a smile.
"Right, that." Harry gave Ron a look over his glasses so reminiscent of McGonagall Hermione had to let out the smallest of chuckles, which thankfully went unnoticed. "Are we ever going to talk about ... that?"
Ron's eyes widened innocently. "I thought we already were."
"Ron," Harry said warningly.
"Ah, you're referring to my errant, home-again ex," Ron remarked coolly; Hermione thought, not for the first time, that he must have begun to channel Fred at some point. "I'd really rather not."
Harry sighed, sitting up and scratching his head. "I know. But we ought to really, you know, discuss it or something." He looked slightly terrified at the very thought. "It's just, she's back, and I know you've got to be thinking, well, something, and you haven't said anything. Except, you know, about her looks, and that hardly counts."
Hermione had a sudden knowledge of this conversation had started, and desperately wished she had come down just a minute or two earlier.
Ron seemed to be doing some desperate wishing of his own. "Look, mate, you said you two had it out, and that's all good for you. But things with me and her are different, alright?"
"I know." Harry met his eyes squarely. "Things don't change though, between you and me? No matter where things land with you and Hermione. I don't want something to come between us."
"Course not. Nothing's done so far, has it, then?"
Uncomfortable silence filled the room for a moment as Harry become amazingly interested with a picture on the wall while Ron picked at a spot on the couch. Then Harry, still staring at the picture asked, in a somewhat strained voice, "So, do you still love her?"
Startled, Ron glanced up. Harry had not moved his eyes; a faint blush colored his cheeks. Ron's own ears turned a bit red, but he answered steadily.
"Why don't we ask Hermione?"
Only years of training kept Hermione from screaming out loud at his brazen admonition. Instead she took a few calming breaths, wondering if it were possible if he were bluffing. The fact that he was looking directly at her, wearing an unpleasant smirk that smacked of George, made her very doubtful.
Harry squinted in the direction that Ron was. After a few moments he apparently noticed something as well; at any rate, he sighed heavily and said, rather irritably, "Come on out, Hermione."
Shell-shocked, her jaw dropped like one of those old Muggle cartoons, Hermione tapped herself with her wand. Within moments, the spell was lifted, and she was perfectly visible in a very uncomfortable situation. It was like someone had stolen her security blanket and slapped her in the face all at the same time.
"How?" she managed to croak.
Ron kept smirking, obviously pleased with himself, leaving Harry to answer. "Do you remember when Dumbledore took me to get the first Horcrux?"
She didn't trust her voice. Instead, she jerked head the tiniest bit in assent.
Harry rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flicking between Hermione and Ron. "Well, he did this thing, where he sort of ... felt around, and just knew the spells. He'd done it before, just sort of looking and touching and knowing spells were in place, and how to look through them. So we thought, a couple years back, that we'd try and work on it, too. Luna's best at it by far, no idea why, but me and Ron have been doing pretty well at it. It's easiest, though, if you're familiar with the person's magic that you're looking for. It's sort of distinctive, like yours. Yours has got this sort of ... I dunno, clear outline to it. Mostly this sort of light purple tinge. And it feels very orderly, too, so it's pretty simple to pick out."
Ron chimed in with, "Sort of like your magic has to be a know-it-all, too."
Hermione whistled slightly, ignoring the jab. "Impressive. You've been busy."
"Well, not all of us can go off on Ministry-funded vacations whenever we feel the need," Ron informed her, standing up. "Harry, I'll see you at work. Remember the case file on Urran. Don't want that nasty little bastard squirming free again, not with the Magoons in our jurisdiction."
With a nod to Harry, he began to leave the room. He paused next to Hermione; leaning towards her, he murmured, "Next time you want to play spy on us, be a nice little sneak and try stealing Harry's invisibility cloak. It's only thing that'll hide you from me, now that I know to have a lookout for you."
With that adoring sentiment, he performed a jerky half-turn and disappeared.
Hermione glared at the place where Ron had just stood. "I'm going to have a wild stab here and say he's still upset with me."
"You shouldn't've spied on us."
"Of course I shouldn't," Hermione conceded, walking over to the spot on the couch Ron had just vacated and lowering herself down on it slowly. "I've gotten too used to it, I suppose. I won't do it again."
Harry didn't appear to know what to say to this; he began to nod, stopped, opened his mouth, closed it, then snapped his eyes back to the painting.
Hermione hated to make him more uncomfortable, but she had to ask. "D'you ... do you think he still loves me?"
Far from looking uncomfortable, Harry's spluttered in absolute terror. "Hermione!" was about the only thing he seemed able to say.
"You asked it first," Hermione pointed out dryly.
"I didn't think you were listening in at the time," Harry countered, blushing much more than before. "I ... well, I don't know, really ... I shouldn't answer that."
Hermione leaned forward, eyes pleading. "Please, Harry."
Harry let out frustrated sort of grunt. "Yeah, alright, fine. I don't know for sure, of course, because you stopped him from answering and all, but he's been in love with forever. I'd imagine he still is today."
Hermione digested this for a moment. "So he's never dated anyone else?"
"Hermione!" This one almost knocked Harry off the couch.
"Harry, I need to know this from you rather than someone else."
"True." The moments of silence were all that Hermione needed, but Harry went on anyway. "There was this girl. Her name was Reena ..."
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
"And apparently they went out for nearly five months a little less than a year after I left. Reena's a stupid name, don't you think?"
Ophelia grimaced in a companionable sort of way. "Only a year? You sure you really like this guy? Because I think he's a serious ass."
"Harry says that she wasn't really like me or really that far from me, either. Just this girl from his Dad's department that he met about eight months after, well, you know. Harry said she was smart enough, but sort of boring." Hermione scowled at the coffee mug in her hand (she'd picked up the habit from Ophelia). "I bet she was some tall, sweet, blonde type."
"Honey, you've just described me. Except for, you know, the sweet part," Ophelia amended upon reflection. She reached across Hermione's new desk to carefully remove the mug, which was now shaking like Hermione's hands, and set it down. "Maybe we should talk about something else."
As if on cue, a tap came at the door of Hermione's new office. A second later, Roland's head popped into the room. "You wanted t'see me, did you?"
Ophelia turned to Hermione questioningly; they didn't spend much time with the man outside of general interactions. Hermione signaled for her not to mention anything quite yet. "Yes. The Disillusionment Charm we worked for the last year, the more complex one – you're the one that made up, along with Clelia, isn't that right?"
Roland bobbed his head in confirmation, confused. "It was us, yeah."
"And as far as you know, that's the most powerful type of Disillusionment Charm that anyone's come up with?"
Again, Roland nodded, hesitantly. "Is there a point to this, Granger?" he asked wearily.
Hermione blew out of her mouth noisily before smiling at him politely. "That's it, actually. Thanks very much."
Eyebrows cocked, Roland withdrew slowly and shut the door behind him.
Ophelia turned to Hermione. "What was that about?"
"Ron caught me spying on him last night, and I was using that charm. Harry says they've been working on sort feeling out and seeing magic, like Dumbledore used to. I wonder ..." Her mouth pursed in concentration.
Ophelia was on the verge of asking what, exactly, she was wondering, when a large bang and yell emitted from outside the office.
The two of them leaped to their feet and sprinted to the door, which Ophelia threw open with a large clack. Outside, a panting Roland stood with his wand inches from the sallow face of Kregan. Kregan, for his part, looked most menacing, his own wand twitching uselessly in his limp hand at his side.
The scene held for a moment, the two men staring at each other with intense dislike. Then Kregan noticed Hermione leaning on the outside wall of her doorway; snarling, he yanked back from Roland and swept down the hall in the opposite direction.
"What in the hell was all that about?" Ophelia asked loudly, causing the small crowd, which had gathered to watch the impending showdown, to disperse while muttering small excuses and throwing backwards glances at the diffused conflict.
Roland glared, eyes narrowed, at Kregan's back for a moment before answering. "I dropped in at Randy's office before walking back down this way again, and I found that little rat listenin' in at your door. When I asked what he was tryin' to do, he got all flustered and tried to curse me." Roland's wrinkled nose indicated exactly what he thought of this.
Hermione, however, was far beyond his mild discomfort. Only bad things could come of Kregan listening in to her conversations, she knew that much. From now on, she decided, it would be best to make sure not to say anything very important while in the Ministry.
AN: Can't complain about length this time up! Ok, well, you can, but considering how long this is and how long it took me to write it (you may laugh, but sprained ligaments HURT), I will totally ignore you. I've gone off my original idea very slightly in that I'm going to let you know a bit more of what Hermione was doing in her little sojourn than I initially planned. Don't look too disappointed, now. I was just looking over the structure of this and pre-writing some stuff I'd like to go at the end (yes, I really am that well organized, with stories, anyway) and decided that I needed to clear up some details, or the whole thing wouldn't end up making that much sense in the big climax (that sounded dirty), which would be sad. Well, I've got another fic I've got to write tomorrow, so it's time for me to go to bed. Ok, I'm going to listen to my Jack's Mannequin CD a couple times, then go to bed. Night-night. Love? Hate? Review!
P.S. Hey! Guess what? This whole thing is actually over three thousand words (ANs included, unfortunately), which may combine to make this my longest chapter EVER. Pretty cool, huh? Ok, now I really am done. Bye!
