Chapter 9: The Inherent Mundanity of Wednesdays
September 19th, 1973 happened to fall on a Wednesday. It also happened to be Hermione Granger's birthday. It seemed an auspicious turn of fate, one of the few granted to her lately, that Hermione's birthday fell during the doldrums of a school week, and not on the weekend. This meant there was far less opportunity for people to focus on it, busy as they were with classes all day, and having homework which would necessitate their attention in the evening. Hermione ventured that she couldn't have asked for a better day of the week on which to have her birthday fall. Wednesday, she thought, was quite possibly the most mundane day of the week. Bitterness over the end of the past weekend still lingered on in the hearts of the Hogwart's students (and likely a fair few Professors as well, Hermione reasoned), and the coming weekend still seemed ages away, not yet worth getting excited about. People were hardly in a celebratory mood. And that was exactly how Hermione wanted it.
Still, the mundane nature of Tuesday was only so powerful, and it didn't do anything to stop Hermione from being reminded of her birthday almost the second she woke up on September 19h, 1973.
"Happy Birthday Hermione!" Lily trilled, her beaming face dominating Hermione's field of vision the moment the other girl opened her eyes. Hermione smiled around a yawn, having not yet entered the realm of the fully awake, a space which Lily was clearly already occupying. She was jolted very quickly into full awareness, however, by the act of Dorcas cannonballing onto her bed and shouting her own birthday greeting at far too loud a volume for so early in the morning. All the noise had the effect of rousing Mary as well, who offered small smile and a quiet, "Happy Birthday, Hermione," from her bed across the room.
"Thank you," Hermione said, smiling helplessly in the face of her dorm-mate's birthday well wishes. It was true that for the sake of practically she didn't want all that much attention paid to her birthday, but she couldn't help but appreciate having it acknowledged with such genuine enthusiasm by her new friends. Neither Parvati nor Lavender had ever done anything more than toss out a half-hearted, "Oh, I didn't know it was your birthday today," to Hermione as afterthought, and their tepid offerings had come only after they noticed she had an unusual amount of letters and packages (first year), or they overheard her birthday being remarked upon by Harry and Ron at breakfast (second year). Her former roommates had certainly never remembered of their own volition, and there was nothing to indicate that would have ever changed. While there may have been a lot of downsides to having been forcefully transplanted in the 1970's, having found true friends in her dorm-mates, especially in Lily and Dorcas, was most definitely an upside.
Though Hermione had spent much of the previous week insisting to her friends that no one need bother to mark the occasion of her birth with gifts, her efforts had been in vain. After joining Hermione and Dorcas on Hermione's bed, Lily revealed a package from behind her back, tossing the gift at Hermione with a mischievous smile. It had been wrapped impeccably, which didn't surprise Hermione a bit given whom it was from. Hermione almost hated to disturb the paper. She'd always had an appreciation for a well wrapped present. When she finally did tear open the pretty package, she found that Lily had gifted her with a beautiful, red leather journal, embossed on the cover with a scattering of roses. Hermione gasped at the sight of it, struck by the intricacy of the design and the lovely, delicate lines of the roses.
"It's absolutely gorgeous, Lily, thank you," she breathed, staring at the journal in awe. "Did you get the roses for my name?" Hermione asked, tracing a rose lightly with her finger.
Lily nodded eagerly. "Yes! I thought it was fitting, both of us with our flower names."
"It's perfect," Hermione said sincerely, feeling incredibly touched and unexpectedly emotional. She reached forward to hug Lily tightly in thanks, almost overwhelmed by her friend's thoughtful generosity. Of course, it would be far too dangerous for Hermione to use the journal as a true diary in which to unburden herself and divulge her many secrets. Even if she hadn't been in possession of particularly burdensome secrets, the concept of keeping a diary had been somewhat spoiled for Hermione her 2nd year, given what had happened to Ginny. But she would treasure Lily's gift nonetheless, and she was certain that eventually she would think of a proper use for it.
"We'll have to visit the stationary shop in Hogsmeade when we go in October," Lily suggested. "They have lots of fancy quills and ink to choose from."
Hermione nodded. Her inaugural Hogsmeade visit, along with her birthday, was yet another milestone which she hadn't gotten the chance to experience in 1993, having been taken away too soon from her original time to be able to go to the village with Harry and Ron. She frowned. Well, likely it would have been just her and Ron. She thought of Harry and his unsigned permission form. It was so terribly unfair. Hermione knew that one of the things Harry cherished most about Hogwarts was that he was able to escape the influence of the Dursley's there. Now they were negatively effecting him at school as well.
Hagrid had signed her own form straight away, and Hermione was very grateful to have her large, inherently good-natured, friend as a guardian her in the 1970's. After all, if Dumbledore had placed Harry with the Dursley's, she had to count herself as quite lucky that she hadn't ended up in a similarly abhorrent position herself. If the headmaster hadn't been aware of the abusive nature of Harry's extended family when he had left him there as a child, he had surely been made aware of it after Harry's arrival at Hogwarts. It had become very troubling to Hermione, if not downright unconscionable, that Harry was sent back there every year. It was quite possible, she acknowledged, that there was information of which Dumbledore was privy to and which she was unaware. But that didn't mean she wasn't disturbed by the situation.
Hermione glanced once more at the beautiful journal Lily had gifted her, setting it carefully aside on her night stand. One of the most difficult and painful things about having become friends with Lily was knowing that Harry would have been so loved by her had she survived. Hermione had known that in the abstract back in the 1990's of course, but to actually come to know Lily personally and see just who Harry had been deprived of, juxtaposed with knowledge of what he had been subjected to instead, was a different matter entirely. But these were dark, unhappy thoughts, Hermione knew, and perhaps her birthday wasn't the best time to be getting lost in them. She shook her head, attempting to clear it.
Luckily, Dorcas was ready to distract her with a present of her own. In contrast to Lily's meticulous wrapping job, Dorcas' attempt was considerably less polished, though still charming. Hermione smiled at the reflection of the blonde's personality. The messily wrapped package contained a set of magical nail varnishes in a variety of colors and with different magical properties. Dorcas explained that one changed color based on mood, rather like a muggle mood ring except presumably based on actual emotion and not the temperature of one's hand. Another was simply an indestructible clear coat, which Dorcas deemed the most boring selection of the bunch, but which Hermione suspected was actually the polish she would utilize the most. Hermione smiled in thanks, charmed by the gift even if she wasn't typically prone to wearing nail varnish. Perhaps it was something which she would become more prone to under the influence of female friends. In any case, it would be fun to experiment. She reached forward to hug Dorcas as well, thanking her for the polish and pledging that she would try some out that night.
Mary had got her a present as well, a box of magical chocolates, which she presented to Hermione with a soft smile. All three of the girls indulged in a piece immediately, despite the fact that they hadn't yet had breakfast.
"It's your birthday, Hermione, who cares about spoiling your appetite," Dorcas declared, tossing a strawberry nougat filled piece into her mouth. "Have cake for breakfast, that's what I say!
Hermione did, in fact, have cake for breakfast, though of the pancake variety. Lady, the hawk which she had received as a gift from Hagrid, arrived while she was in the midst of indulging in a particularly syrup drenched bite of them. There was some oohing and awing from the general vicinity about the presence of a hawk in the dining hall, as Lady hadn't had much opportunity to deliver Hermione letters yet. Most people were expressing awe at her majesty (as the bird seemed to feel, and Hermione agreed, was her due) but some, notably Peter Pettigrew, seemed slightly frightened as she swooped across the table.
Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes. Hawks and owls were both birds of prey, it was hardly any more dangerous to have Lady about the breakfast table than a screech owl. Perhaps it was the influence of her guardian, but she couldn't help but feel that some people were far too fussy about creatures who were perfectly reasonable as long as you treated them with care and respect. She didn't know Peter Pettigrew well, but his tendency be squeamish about and/or frightened of practically everything was both off-putting and tedious.
Lady was carrying a short note from Hagrid, wishing Hermione a happy birthday, and confirming their tea for that later that afternoon. Hermione smiled, penning a quick response in the affirmative, and sending Lady on her way. A nice tea, that was all the fuss she needed. Now that the portion of the morning where she was showered with presents had concluded, Hermione was hopeful that they rest of the day could proceed as normally as possible, to be concluded with a nice, relaxing tea with Hagrid. It is sometimes a dangerous thing to hope. It can have a way of tempting fate.
Tea with Hagrid was as lovely as Hermione had anticipated. At four thirty, promptly after classes had finished for the day, she made the trek down to her guardian's cottage, primed to tell him all about her pleasingly ordinary day. Hermione had devoted little thought to her birthday in the space between breakfast and the conclusion of her last class, consumed as she had been with her usual, daily academic tasks. Remus had come over to wish her a 'happy birthday' over lunch, which had been very sweet of him, but otherwise Hermione had had little time to dwell on the occasion. She chose to remain diligently focused on her school work, just as she would have been had it not been her birthday. Technically, after all, it wasn't. Not in the true, full, sense of the word anyhow.
Now, having arrived at Hagrid's, Hermione was being treated to a walking tour of his garden patch, where he was pointing out all of the latest developments.
"Your pumpkins are coming along nicely, Hagrid," Hermione volunteered, for lack of anything else to say. She wasn't a poor Herbology student by any stretch of the imagination, but she was no Neville Longbottom, and her knowledge of hobby gardening was considerably limited.
"Aye," Hagrid said gruffly, seeming a little skeptical. "They could use a little help. Halloween is coming up, mind yeh, 'bout a month out now."
He eyed his pink umbrella, which was propped up against the side of his garden shed, in what Hermione was sure he thought was a subtle, fruitive manner. Hagrid's telling glance was, in fact, just that; telling. Especially when Hermione could make a highly educated guess about just what happened to be contained within that pink umbrella, namely, the remnants of Hagrid's snapped wand. She hid a smile. Hermione had a feeling that Hagrid's pumpkins were about to get a lot bigger very quickly. The man was currently surveying them gloomily, not looking entirely pleased with their magically unaided development thus far.
"Eh," Hagrid said eventually, tossing out a dismissive wave in the direction of the gourds. "Enough about the pumpkins, let's go in for tea, Hermione. I already got the kettle on and all, wouldn't wanna burn the cottage down on yer birthday," he smiled wryly. "Not exactly what I had in mind for markin' the occasion."
Hermione giggled, ducking under Hagrid's arm and following after him into the cottage. She spent the next 45 minutes enjoying the coziness of her guardian's small kitchen, reveling in the pleasant warmth emanating from the fire in the stove, and indulging in not just one, but two, cups of tea as she caught Hagrid up on the latest goings on from up at the castle. With some minor editing of events, naturally. Call it her inner Slytherin, but she didn't want to worry the man needlessly. There was no point in making him aware of the escalating animosity between her and Sirius Black. Besides, she had perceived that Hagrid had a certain fondness for the Marauders.
The way the gamekeeper told it, he was forever chasing them off from the forbidden forest in order to prevent them from getting into shenanigans. Hermione could tell, though, that he found the Gryffindor boys and their various antics more amusing than exasperating. She suspected that Hagrid being forced to shoo them away from the edge of the dark forest on a bi-weekly basis was a ritual both parties actually enjoyed. In light of this, Hermione had no wish to spoil the pleasant atmosphere of the afternoon by getting into her negative feelings about Sirius. She could always vent to Lily, who had proved to be a far more receptive audience for such diatribes. Instead, she settled contentedly into her tea, chatting pleasantly about inconsequential things with Hagrid, and generally enjoying the man's company.
It was around six o'clock, just when they were winding down for the afternoon and it was almost time to for Hermione to get back up to the castle for dinner, when Hagrid looked sideways at her from beneath his voluminous crown of shaggy hair. It was with an endearing nervousness that he presented her with a small, sloppily wrapped package. Taking it from him with a smile and a token protestation that he needn't have bothered to get her anything, especially having so recently gifted her with Lady, Hermione couldn't help the pleased feeling blossoming in her chest in response to Hagrid's gesture.
Not for the first time that day, she found herself feeling almost overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the people in her new life, however treacherously discombobulated and secretly unruly that new life happened to be beneath the surface. Now all she had to do was prevent any of these lovely people from glimpsing beyond the veneer of normality which she had been working so hard to construct and present to the world ever since she had arrived in the 1970's. An easy task, surely. Hermione snorted, almost upending her tea as she attempted to juggle the cup along with the package from Hagrid.
Eyeing his rather spotty wrapping job, Hermione reflected that she would have to get Dorcas down for tea with Hagrid sometime soon. If nothing else, the two had present wrapping ability in common. She tore into the package, gingerly at first, before being forced to adopt a more aggressive technique in order to rid whatever lay within of its abundant trappings. Hagrid appeared to have utilized an entire roll of spellotape for some reason, but Hermione managed to eventually pry everything apart in order to reveal the small wooden box which had been hiding beneath the paper.
"A jewelry box?" she asked, brow furrowed.
Hagrid nodded. "Aye," he confirmed. "Now go on and open it, lass."
Hermione did so, uncovering a small, gorgeously carved, long-stemmed, wooden rose looped on a leather thong, meant to be worn as a necklace.
"It's rosewood," Hagrid explained softly as Hermione fingered the carving. "Carved it 'meself, the box as well."
The amount of detail on the rose was stunning, from the tiny thorns on the stem to the folds of the flower. The carving was beautifully rendered. Hermione could scarcely believe Hagrid had done it himself, that his immeasurably large fingers had been able to create such delicate object. The rose was only about the size of one of his fingernails.
"Hagrid, it's wonderful," Hermione breathed, feeling a bit choked up despite herself. "I love it. Here, help me put it on, would you?"
She lifted her hair, turning in her seat so that her back was to Hagrid. He stood from the table, shuffling over to her and taking the necklace from the box, draping it over Hermione's head and securing it with a knot of the leather thong at the back of her neck. Hermione dropped her hair, letting the necklace settle naturally on her. The rose sat just above the scar that she bore as a result of her ruined time turner, the tiny, wooden, leaves of the stem tickling her sternum.
Roses, it seemed, had become something of an unexpected theme for her this birthday. Beyond her parents, she'd never had people give much thought to the symbolism or meaning of her name before, and certainly not embodied in such thoughtful gifts.
"Hagrid," she asked curiously. "Did you chose a rose because of my name?"
"Aye," he said, confirming her suspicions. "Thought right away when I met you that your name suited you. It's a beautiful variety of rose."
Hermione was suddenly overcome with the intense need to hug Hagrid, and she let the impulse take her, surging forward and flinging herself at her guardian, burying her face in his large chest.
"Thank you," she whispered somewhere into the depths of his beard. And if one or both of them were crying, neither of them mentioned it.
After leaving Hagrid's, Hermione went on toenjoy a nice, quiet dinner, seating herself happily amongst Lily, Dorcas and Mary. She sipped her pumpkin juice with idle contentment as they oohed and awed over her new necklace, all three girls expressing surprise over the fact that Hagrid had carved it himself.
"Everyone has hidden depths, I suppose," Lily mused as she examined the intricately carved rose.
The red head let go of the necklace, which Hermione was still wearing, letting it drop back to settle once more against the other girls chest. Lily's ever discerning eyes lingered for the scantest moment on the place where Hermione's scar lay hidden beneath her sweater. After an uncomfortable minute, she tore them away to shoot Hermione one of the astute, inscrutable looks she seemed to specialize in, and which never failed to make Hermione vaguely nervous when they were directed at her.
Lily couldn't possibly be aware of just how right she was about hidden depths though, Hermione reassured herself. And she certainly didn't know just how much her dictum applied to the girl sitting next to her. Hermione forcibly brushed aside any nervous thoughts. Lily had only been talking about Hagrid, surely, and Hermione had most likely only projected a possible deeper meaning onto her friend's statement as a result of the paranoia which had clung to her like a suffocating, stifling blanket ever since she had arrived in the 1970's. It was nothing to fret over, and the conversation quickly moved on, so Hermione did as well, choosing to give no more thought to what she was sure had simply been an offhand comment.
All and all, Hermione thought that the evening, and her birthday, such as it was, was settling quite nicely into itself. She did a bit of studying in the common room after dinner, indulging in an evening cup of coffee as she did so. Coffee wasn't usually something she would allow herself so late, but it was her birthday, after all, so she figured she was entitled to a little indulgence. Dorcas' influence, perhaps. Although Hermione doubted that the blonde would consider coffee much of an indulgence, no matter what the time of night someone drank it. She, Lily and Mary had retreated to the dorm a while ago, leaving Hermione to herself and allowing her to get some studying done without distraction in relative peace and quiet.
A couple hours or so after she had begun, Hermione stretched, setting aside her newly completed Transfiguration essay and glancing at her watch. It was almost curfew, but she had a little time to nip down to the owlery and visit Lady before resuming her studying. She'd already seen her familiar at breakfast that morning, but only briefly, and visiting the hawk sounded like the perfect idea of a study break. Plus, it had the added bonus of allowing her to stretch her feet a little bit too; burn off some of the excess energy the coffee had imbued her with. Stowing her study materials and glancing at her watch once more (she had just enough time, she thought), Hermione climbed out of the portrait hole and began making her way to the owlery.
She had a nice little tête-à-tête with Lady, chatting softly with her about mostly nonsensical things, the bird clicking her beak at her in a manner which was alternately understanding and disagreeable. They had a pleasant chat, but it wasn't long before Hermione decided she had better cut the visit short and head back to Gryffindor Tower. She was just rounding a corner on the sixth floor, hurrying slightly in order that she should make curfew, when she ran headlong into a broad, distinctly male chest.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" a voice asked, the tone distinctly sinister. "A little, muggleborn mouse out for an evening stroll all by herself? Don't you know what a dangerous pastime that is little girl? You could be happened upon by a snake."
AN: Cliffhanger? Sort of. Kind of a shortish chapter for me, but the next one should be full of action, believe me. It's a scene I've had written from the beginning and basically what prompted me to write this story. Not to build it up too much if you end up hating it lol! But I don't think you will. Hopefully. I loved writing the bonding moments between Hermione and everyone in this chapter. When it eventually comes time for Sirius to get her a gift I'm going to have to think of something really amazing, because I may have used all my best gift ideas in this chapter. Rambling author's note, sorry. Until next time y'all, reviews are love.
