Chapter 7

Hermione sat heavily at her desk and sucked in several deep breaths. When her pounding heart didn't slow, she took even more, even deeper breaths. She licked her lips, once… twice… it wasn't working. Her lips felt dry and rough, like sandpaper; her throat and tongue felt sticky and swollen. In a haze, she jumped up and almost tripped over herself as she hurried to get a bottle of water, which she quickly guzzled down. Panting slightly to catch her breath, she tossed the now empty bottle in the trash and ran her hands over the sides and back of her neck. Taking yet another deep breath, she closed her eyes and forced her mind to clear.

After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and blinked blankly. Still blank, she walked slowly back to her desk, appearing as though she were in a trance. Falling back into her chair, she crossed an arm over her chest. She rested her other elbow on her arm and began to play with her bottom lip, pinching and tugging at it lightly. It was an old habit and a sure sign she was deep in thought. This was a strange… experience for her. She'd never experienced anything like it. She didn't even know what to call it. Furrowing her brow, and subconsciously tugging her lip even harder, she thought over the strange, and possibly compromising, situation.

The far off look in her eyes disappeared and she sat up to grab some writing equipment, not noticing the slightly throb in her mildly abused lip. Quickly, she drafted a letter, moved her quill several inches down the parchment and drafted an identical letter. She repeated the process twice more, folded the parchment three times, taking care to make the edges sharp, and carefully split it into four separate letters. Each letter was placed into an envelope and sealed with a charm to ensure only the intended recipients would be able to open and read them. She carefully addressed each one, unintentionally pressing just a bit too hard on the envelope because of the tension that had found its way back into her body.

Just as she finished addressing the final letter, she froze, her hand poised just above the envelope. She bit her bottom lip and sucked on it somewhat hard. It was an even older habit that had led to toying with her lip a long time ago as an ill-fated attempt to break the habit as a whole… or at least avoid a suspiciously swollen lip. These days she only did it in more dire moments, when she was mulling over something so hard it threatened to give her a headache, and confusion and uncertainty were at play, more often than not preventing her from reaching a satisfying conclusion.

"How the hell am I supposed to send these?" She thought, realizing she didn't know where to get an owl nearby. She hesitated a moment, shot a quick glance at Bill's door and jumped up. She semi-slunk out the door and walked briskly down the hall, trying very hard to seem as though she were very busy and knew exactly where she was going, though at least one of the two was completely untrue, and the other pretty debatable. She was so distracted, she almost didn't notice the young man kneeling in the middle of the hall, gathering a slew of parchments from the floor as people passed by, uncaring they were stepping on them, and kicking them further and further down the hall. She nearly did the same thing, until she crashed into him, knocking him over and nearly toppling over herself.

"I'm so sorry!" she and the young man both apologized quickly.

"No it's my fault, I should have been paying more attention to where I was going," Hermione insisted.

"Well I shouldn't have been crouched in a busy hallway like that," he returned quickly and he bent to gather the parchments once again. Hermione quickly ducked to help him causing him to flush a deep red. "No please, Miss Granger… ma'am, you don't have to do that." Hermione barely batted an eye at the fact that the stranger knew who she was.

"Do you work here? You seem a bit young," Hermione inquired somewhat bluntly, purposefully ignoring his protests as the heavy hallway traffic began to steadily thin as people reached their apparent destinations.

"Yes… well, kind of. I'm a paid intern ma'am. A minimum wage go-for," the boy explained. His tone grew harsh, but not so much at her question as in embarrassment and contempt at himself. "I'm only 16 so they're allowed to keep me that way for a few more years easy. Not that it maters… they'd never hire me for a better position anyway.

"Because you were born without magic," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

"Uh… yeah. It's called being a squib. How did you know?"

"I know what it's called; I just choose not to use it. None of those terms matter much to me. Your bloodline or magical abilities don't make you; they're just a small part of who you are," Hermione spoke firmly as they finally finished gathering the parchments. She handed her stack to the awe-struck boy. "Anyone who was raised with magic would automatically use it to gather everything, even if there wasn't this much to gather. Just as someone who was not raised with magic would only use magic to gather everything in a case like this one. There were so many parchments, and so much foot traffic, the only reason to not use magic to collect them all would be if you couldn't." Hermione explained simply. "So tell me…" she trailed off significantly. They boy raised his eyebrows, waiting expectantly. Hermione quirked her own and bobbed her head forward just slightly. After a few moments of just eyeing each other significantly, he finally caught on.

"Oh!" He blushed deeply and looked to the side. "I'm Reginald… but please call me Reggie."

"Right, well Reggie I don't suppose you could point me in the right direction to find an available owl?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Of course," Reggie brightened considerably, happy at the chance to help. "We have an owlery open to all employees. If you'd like I'd be happy to show you the way."

"That'd be great," Hermione smiled gratefully as she followed him down the hall.

"When we get there you can register your wand too. You did bring it right?' he glanced over at Hermione and bobbed his head in approval when she nodded in confirmation.

"What do you mean register my wand? Hermione asked searching her brain for the facts she'd learned about Gringotts over the years.

"It's this cool system they just put into place a month or two ago. You just have to register your wand, which registers your 'magical signature'. Then, whenever you want to send out something you just have to send out your 'signature' and an owl will come to you. The man in charge of the system was even kind enough to hook up a button system so I can call an owl too." By now they had travelled the length of the building to now be near the opposite rear corner from Bill. Reggie gestured for her to enter the door-less entry before him. Inside, the area looked just like the owlery at Hogwarts. "Norman? Someone here to see you," Reggie called out as he entered behind Hermione.

"Come in. Come in," a startlingly deep voice called in response. Hermione had a wild thought, wondering if James Earl Jones was secretly a wizard with an owl fetish. "I'll be out in just a moment." Hermione quickly scraped the idea; the voice was too deep even for Mr. Jones himself. She swore she could feel the deep baritone reverberate deep in her chest. They waited patiently, listening to the soft sound of items being shuffled around for a moment or two before a figure appeared in a doorway Hermione hadn't noticed before.

When he finally entered the room, Hermione couldn't help but to stare momentarily. Norman was slightly on the pale side, even for an Englishman, with classic Norse looks. His eyes were an impossibly pale blue and his hair was so light she couldn't tell if it was blond or white or both. He was neither thin nor muscular and didn't seem quite six feet tall. Overall, Hermione was disinclined to believe her was the owner of the voice they'd just heard. At least, until he spoke.

"Good afternoon miss," he greeted politely. His and Reggie's lips twitched in amusement as Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw dropped, just a bit, in disbelief. She doubted she'd ever be able to reconcile his voice with his appearance.

"Norman, Miss Granger here was looking to send out something and register her wand," Reggie explained in an overly solemn tone as he drew himself up to his full 5'6'' frame importantly. "Miss Granger, may I present Norman, the head of our external mail system."

"Please, just call me Hermione," Hermione insisted, fighting off embarrassment as she politely extended her hand.

"It's a pleasure and an honor milady… Hermione," Norman half whispered as he lightly grasped her hand, turned it palm down to rest upon his own, and bowed over it in long forgotten manners of a time long past. Hermione flushed, unused to such gentle, chivalrous treatment. Norman straightened, and grasped her hand lightly between his own.

"You probably don't remember this… but you saved my great-granddaughter's life. And the child she was carrying. She lived in a small town at the north coast of England. Death Eaters had taken over… she was… was tortured and a woman… a monster intended to take her child from her right then and there and leave her for death. It was months before the baby would be ready to enter our world… they were both doomed to die slow, merciless deaths.

Just before it happened, there was chaos. Men and women of all ages stormed the village, saving countless lives, all under your command. They were all so committed to you and their cause. And you… you stopped… a second later and I would have lost the two of the most important people in my life. You stayed with her, giving her first aid until medics arrived. If you hadn't she wouldn't have lasted… and the comfort of your presence… I can never thank you enough. None of us can," Norman's voice cracked throughout his story, his words delivered haltingly as he struggled to hold onto his composure. He finally broke off, tears streaming down his cheeks, unable to say anything more. A few tears few down Reggie's face as well, moved by the story his old friend had never shared before. Also moved by the memory and the raw emotion it in sighted in her, and seeing it reflected on Norman's face, Hermione sniffled and cried freely.

"Cheryl and Luca," Hermione whispered, holding the man's hands tightly.

"You remember?" Norman gasped. He squeezed her hands painfully tight and lifted them to his face reverently. He cried openly now, painfully, sobs wrecking his shoulders as he whispered "she remembers. I can't believe she remembers. Oh Merlin thank you," softly over and over like a prayer.


Unseen next to the doorway to the owlery, Bill was hidden, leaning heavily back against the wall, his body suddenly feeling weak. His arms were crossed over his chest tightly, almost in a self-hug, while he struggled to breathe around the lump in his throat and fight against the pinprick of tears in his eyes.


Reviews make the pen flow faster