Chapter Nine: Soup
Your patience and understanding is a beautiful thing. I love you all.
Again, nothing is ever mine. Except for the plot. And even then, sometimes I wonder if I'm not just a very convincing thief.
During the war, there was never a moment when Hermione wished she was dead. Not when she was tortured, not when she was left alone in the woods with Harry, not when it was almost the end when Death Eaters invaded the castle- Hermione had never once ever wanted to be dead, and for it all to be over.
Now, sitting across a long, newly repaired house table from Percy Weasley, wedged between Harry and Ginny, with Weasleys surrounding her, Hermione wanted to die.
She avoided his eyes as a sloshy brown-ish soup filled her bowl, over-animatedly telling Harry and Ginny how the giant piece of wall had fallen on her, while managing to spill soup all over herself. Percy's large blue eyes had been carefully fixed on his bread roll as he picked it apart, twirling bits between his fingers and only smiling vaguely when asked questions. It was terrible.
And enthralling.
Hermione had counted the number of freckles that sprayed across his knuckles as he pulled apart his roll- 37. She had counted how many words she could fit into a sentence before she could take a breath- that one had made her lightheaded and the answer was 45, if she was really trying. She had tried not to count how many times he adjusted the bridge of his glasses- the answer was oddly 12, which seemed an awful lot for a grown man. She had thought about perhaps asking him if he wanted her to repair his glasses, but then reminded herself that Percy was one of the brightest wizards of his year, much as she had been in hers, and that if he really wanted to repair his glasses, he could've done it himself.
All of these thoughts played in fast forward in her brain before she could really grasp any of them singularly, and reminded herself that what had happened between her and Percy was being kept a secret from her two best friends. Things that perhaps Harry had thought she had kept secret, she had always told Ginny. And when she felt she couldn't say something to Ginny, she had run to Harry and spilled her heart out. Never in her entire life had she not told both of them something.
Maybe that was what was killing her.
Or maybe it was the fact that exactly every 15.7 seconds, Percy and her locked eyes for a moment in time, confirming together that no one else had picked up on any of the awkwardness, and that they were still in the clear. It was a terrifying and thrilling moment, and then as quickly as it happened, it was gone.
"How long do you think it'll take before the Entrance Hall is done, Percy?" Hermione's head snapped up from her soup as Ginny made the first attempt at including him in the conversation. Their part of the table quieted considerably as Percy adjusted his glasses- now for the 13th time.
"Well, that really depends on when the castle returns to being a sentient being." He stared thoughtfully at his bread as he tore it into smaller pieces. "Once the castle's main vascular system is repaired enough, the magic that's imbued into it should start working in our favor. That's why it's so imperative that we finish the main buildings as quickly as possible. The sooner we can get those buildings running, the school will start to take its own course and help us as much as it can."
They stared at him as Hermione rolled her eyes- she was used to this reaction.
"In plain English, Perce." George fed him dryly, taking a large chunk of bread and ripping it between his teeth.
"A sentient being is just a big fancy phrase for living." A very small voice down the table squeaked, as they all turned to stare at him. Dudley had been relatively silent since his arrival- it was different to hear him venture an opinion of any kind. "It means that your school is alive."
"Quite right." Hermione jumped in. She was used to making difficult things sound simple- it had been something she had done consistently for years for Ron, and even sometimes for Harry. "It means that the school lives and breathes just like us. It makes sense- think about the moving staircase, the room of requirement. The school is alive as much as we are." She dunked her bread in her soup, carefully avoiding Percy's eyes. "It's as if the school has a heart defect. As soon as we fix that, Hogwarts natural processes through magic will help us rebuild faster."
"Blimey." George breathed reverently. "Then what's taking so long with the main buildings?"
"It's a delicate process." Percy mumbled. The group stared at him again, and he cleared his throat. "It's-it's a delicate process. It is exactly like heart surgery. Everything needs to be reattached just so. Even if tiny cement slabs aren't exactly lined up, the enchantments that hold the building together and create that magic will be absolutely obsolete."
Hermione noticed Dudley's nervous glances, and shot Percy a look, telling him to quit while he was ahead. The last thing they needed was for Dudley to think the school would come back to life and destroy things, like in a terrible comic book or movie. Percy's startled gaze told Hermione that she would have to explain or apologize later, and her stomach knotted. She had been doing everything in her power to stop herself from thinking about later. Later meant that she was going to have to talk to Percy- later was dangerous and scary.
"So give me a guess then. How long?" Ginny pursued. Percy broke their intense stare to go back to his roll.
"Probably a few days, if we're lucky. If we're not, a week or two." The table groaned together. Another week or two meant that they certainly wouldn't be starting school this year at the correct time, and this had already been discussed with the planning group. If the school couldn't open in time, it meant that the school wouldn't open at all this coming year- the theory was that then they would be able to take their time to repair whatever needed fixing and not rush through it. Most of their friends agreed that while it was mandatory, it was something none of them were looking forward to.
"Well shit. That's just the worst news I've heard all day." George finished his soup and banged the bowl on the table. "I'm off then, Gin, Harry, mind coming with me back to the Entrance Hall? We could use the extra hands." Ginny and Harry nodded and smiled and followed him to where Mrs. Weasley was collecting bowls, Dudley trailing behind them, looking lost as usual. With Bill and Fleur rapidly speaking in French, Charlie on a tangent to Luna next to him about dragon ear-wax removal aids, Hermione and Percy were left to stare at their soup awkwardly.
A knot tightened in Hermione's chest. What was she supposed to do? Say thanks for the snog, oh and sleeping with me the other night. Can we do it again? This time with less sleeping? She shoved the thought back away into her head and found her skin tingling and pink. She glanced at him swiftly to find that his cheeks were almost as bright as his hair and stifled her urge to giggle. She got to her feet and collected her bowl, muttering goodbyes to everyone, and headed to Molly to drop off her things.
"Need any help in the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley?" The older woman smiled at her as took the bowl and pointed her wand at it, the bowl suddenly whisked clean.
"Not at all dear- soup hardly makes a mess on anything but clothes- TAYLOR. PUT THAT DOWN IMMEDIATELY." she screamed across the hall. A young boy had picked up one of the candles and was brandishing it at a young girl. "Besides, I wouldn't want you to exert yourself- TAYLOR I MEAN IT."
Hermione smiled to herself as Mrs. Weasley chased after the young man in question; wand brandished in the air, and picked up the tray of bowls she had left behind. She needed something to do, and Molly would understand that she needed something to get her mind off things. One of the older children held the door open for her, and as she stepped across the still being repaired Entrance hall, she realized something. She had absolutely no idea where she was going. The kitchens would normally be downstairs, and had been left generally intact, but until more pieces of the building were done and the stairs repaired, there was no way to get down there. So where had Molly and the other kitchen staff set up to make all the food?
"Ze kitchens is een a tent outzide." Fleur's musical French came from behind her- she and Bill were also carrying trays of bowls and spoons. "Come. You follow me. I vill show you 'ere."
"Are you sure you're feeling up to working, Hermione?" Bill's eyes were worried and dark as Fleur steered them towards a rather large tent that had 7 small smokestacks somehow on top of it. "I mean, after the fall you took and-" he cut himself off before he could say Ron's name. Hermione beamed at him in the most reassuring smile she could manage.
"I need something to get my mind off things. Let me wipe bowls or fold dishtowels or something. Please." Bill cast a cautious glance at Fleur, who shrugged, and ducked under the tent flap. He piled his tray on top of Hermione's carefully, then grabbed her shoulders.
"If you need anything, you come find me. Any of us, and we'll take you back to your tent so you can get some rest." He laughed a bit, and released her. "Even Percy. I know he's a bit of a wang, but honestly, he's decent enough underneath. I'll be in the Entrance Hall helping out- ask Fleur if you need to find me."
Hermione kept her lips firmly pursed together at this, and nodded with a grim smile on her face. Percy was perhaps the last one of the Weasley boys she'd like to run to for help right now.
Well, besides Ron, of course. She ducked under the tent flap, and swiftly got to work.
