A Busy Day.
Hermione Granger got up bright and early on this hot summer day in the middle of July. Fred and George Weasley were opening their store in the Diagon Alley, and Hermione, being practically part of the family already, was certainly expected to be there.
She was already in the bathroom brushing her hair up into an unkempt ponytail when Ron walked in with a deliciously smelling breakfast tray and coffee. She saw him through the reflection in the mirror and grinned. Tossing the hairbrush aside, she hopped out of the bathroom and nearly knocked the food over while giving him an enthusiastic hug.
Ron carefully put the tray down and drew her in for an animated kiss. They were young and full of energy and technically didn't even need coffee to wake themselves up in the morning, but over the years of living with the Grangers it became a natural habit. That is why several minutes later when they finally broke apart, they immediately went for the two hot lattes sitting in the midst of syrup-soaked pancake stacks.
After a few hurried sips, Hermione put the cup back down and plopped onto the bed while pulling the tray towards her.
"Mmm, baby, these are amazing! I swear if you weren't already set with the Quidditch career, you could open up a restaurant and literally rake in the cash with your exceptional culinary skills!" Hermione moaned as she licked off the syrup from the fork she used to pile eggs onto her pancakes.
"You're only saying that so I would continue bringing you breakfast in bed," Ron laughed and leaned in to peck her lips lightly. At this she made a sad face and pretended to pout.
"Ronnn. You're so awful! I am actually hurt that you would say that. You have to make it up to me now…" She exclaimed sarcastically while playfully batting her lashes.
Ron smiled and moved his face right up to her lips, before saying -"Ill make it up to you. Later, since right now we need to be leaving if we are going to make it there on time" in a very monotonous voice, squeezing in words between kisses.
In the waiting room of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, Harry Potter was rapidly losing control over his consciousness. Caleb Ralis was sitting in the chair next to him, shooting worried looks at everyone in the room, while getting up and pacing around from time to time. They have been waiting for over an hour now, and still the line seemed not to be getting any thinner. Few of the people in front of him included a girl sporting two large wings growing out of her shoulder blades, an old man with a kettle attached to the bald spot on his head and a slightly younger fellow whose nose was growing inwards as if someone had forcefully wrung it inside out.
At first Harry eyed them with interest, but thirty minutes later he could barely even stay upright in his chair, let alone use his brain to take in and study the appearances of others.
Every time he closed his eyes he could see a tall dark faceless figure looming on him, and almost every other time there was a girl standing nearby. The blonde girl, the one he first saw at Hogwarts and the one that nobody else could see. He used to wonder why. He used to think that someday he would find out who she was and why she was or rather wasn't there. By about his third year there, however, he started to give up. He kept seeing her and dreaming about her, and even asking others for ideas on how to find out more, yet nothing ever became of it, so eventually he simply had to admit defeat.
But as he was sitting in the hospital now, the idea didn't seem too ludicrous, and perhaps he finally had his chance. Maybe he could find the psych ward and tell them all about the "symptoms" of his hallucination, and they would know exactly what was wrong. Did he dare even hope this? Harry sat there in a kind of stupor, weighing everything up… Having come to St. Mungo's for a completely different, physical reason, he was now entertaining ideas about getting a consult from a shrink.
He turned to Caleb and considered asking him to go and find the right floor, but before he could open his mouth to speak, a tall nurse came out from behind the staff partition and called his name.
"Harry Potter? This way please."
Meanwhile at the Leaky Cauldron pub, a middle-aged woman was ordering what felt like the tenth drink that hour, while slurring like crazy, even on the simplest one-syllable words. She wasn't planning on ending up there at all when she left her house the previous morning, but somewhere between the ten AM cappuccino and the two o'clock piece of pizza, she all of a sudden started feeling that she just didn't have the strength to do what she set out to, and thus was desperately in need of a courage-building cocktail. She was still drinking those cocktails twenty-four hours later, having passed out at the inn the night before and forced to get a room.
This was a new morning, a new day, but she was still sitting pathetically at the same old dirty bar, talking to the same retarded bartender whom she has gotten to know pretty well, unable to make herself leave.
I have to go through with it, I have to – she kept repeating over and over in her head. I have no other choice.
She really didn't. There was only one way for her to go, and right now she was stalling, but not changing the course of events. But she had a good reason to be afraid. A reason to feel that no one would want to see her, help her or even listen to anything she had to say. She told them all to go to hell once, and now she expected nothing more, nothing less, than the same thing from them. They will tell me to go to hell. She thought bitterly and sobbed quietly into her martini. She pulled out a compact mirror from a purse and scowled at her mascara-leaked, bleary-eyed reflection. She didn't yet know if everyone would want to send her to hell, but she sure as crap looked like it.
She was about to order herself another dry martini when someone gasped loudly from right behind her –
"Petunia Evans?!? Peta? Good God. Is it really you?"
Petunia whipped around instantly, nearly flinging herself off the barstool. Who here could possibly still remember her and let alone know her childhood name? Forgetting all about another martini and the drink that was still in her hand, she blinked the smeared mascara away and stared intensely at the speaker. Her own mouth dropped open as soon as she recognized the features on the stranger's face as her old best friend's, from way back when she went to school in the magical world.
There she was, all five foot ten of her, standing so casually in front of Petunia… The blonde with the perfect body. And judging the way she was dressed - a very large bank account.
Lucius Malfoy had never planned to unveil the most important family secret to his teenage son. His only son. Well, not just then, anyway.
Draco was too precious, too important to him, in order to be placed under so much danger, which his knowing the truth about the Malfoy lineage would certainly invoke. The boy was brilliant, that was true, but he was still only a teenager - a hormonal adolescent who by no means could control the feelings of infinite power and superiority that came naturally with his birthright. He was arrogant and self-worshipping enough as it is, and knowing that he was the last in line of the great Salazar Slytherin's posterity could only go too hard to his head and ultimately land him in trouble of gigantic proportions.
But his boy turned out to be even smarter and more persistent than the father ever dreamed he could be, and he, Lucius Malfoy himself, was cornered. He weeded the truth out of his parents, and Lucius has always thought that if one can find the means to get what he wants against all odds, then he deserves to get it. Draco had obviously deserved the truth.
Lucius had no regrets about it. The Malfoys never had regrets. What's done is done, there was no way of turning back the past. And he wouldn't want to. Even with all of the illegal time turners that he owned and presently kept in the depths of the manor's basement. Besides, it was not as if he had told Draco the entire truth. There was more to it than the simple matter of the boy's true lineage. Other people and their identities were involved, and that will forever remain undisclosed, until such a time comes when Lucius will deem it necessary for his son and heir to know everything to the last drop.
And that time has not come yet.
Ron and Hermione arrived at the Diagon Alley right after Molly Weasley did. They were supposed to meet Bill, Fleur, Fred, George, Ginny and the rest of the gang before making plans for the day, together.
They walked down the street looking for the store that they were sure would be displaying horribly bright, crazy colors and sporting ridiculous product demos outside the front door. Sure enough they saw almost exactly that, five minutes later.
"Fred! Get down here right now!" Molly Weasley was yelling at her son, who was hovering high up above the pavement affixing a brand new sign to the building that contained his ready-to-be-opened joke store.
"Ok, ok mum no need to get worked up about it. I am about done anyway."
"Good. You almost gave me a heart attack. Come and let me hug my favorite Diagon Alley store owner!"
"Owners, mom! Are you forgetting there's two of us?"
Tears have appeared underneath her eyes as both of the twins came rushing at their mother and kissed each of her cheeks at the same time.
"Ooh I can't believe that you actually did it! Fred, George, I am thoroughly impressed,"- Hermione spoke up, after Molly had stopped talking and proceeded to wipe away the now freely flowing tears off her face.
"Oh Hermione, you have no idea what that means to us. Hearing you say that, I mean." George Weasley immediately offered.
"Since you know, - nothing is ever good enough for you..." Fred couldn't resist chiming in after his twin, but had to bite his tongue right after.
They had really put a foot in it this time. Everyone knew that what the twins just slipped about Hermione was true, but nobody has ever been stupid enough to say it. The Weasleys knew perfectly well that their youngest son's girlfriend was not the world's most easygoing creature, but they also knew that Ron and Hermione were an excellent match, and therefore swore to never do anything that could ruin the relationship. They were more than happy to make fun of them in secret of course, but would never dream of saying such things to their faces.
And now the twins have finally slipped, causing Molly, Ron and most importantly Hermione to stare at them dumbstruck.
In an attempt to fix the situation, after seeing the startled looks on everybody's faces, Fred and George hustled to assure the young couple that they were in fact kidding, -
"Oh gosh, Mia, please don't look at us that way! You know he didn't mean to say it." George was pleading desperately, nudging Fred subtly in the ribs, asking for his help.
"He's right. I'm very, very sorry! Let's all forgive and forget. We love you, Hermione, you know that, and we are very much looking forward to having you as a sister in law one day!" Fred looked sincere, and Hermione knew it to be true. After standing in silence for another couple of minutes, she finally relaxed her features and stomping her left foot, replied -
"You know, you two are unbelievably thickheaded. I stand by what I said before. It's shocking! It is no wonder that we all doubted you would ever have the skills or smarts to open anything beyond a Hogwarts broom closet! Forget about a Diagon Alley shopping store."
That was a surprisingly excellent comeback, which left the Weasleys gawking at the cheeky witch, without having anything to say. Until Molly had finally found her voice and coaxed at all of them:
"There, there dear, should we all go inside?!" She was impatient for the outburst to be over. "We know Fred and George are not as bright as you. Let's not take anything they say too seriously!"
"Sure Molly." Hermione replied coolly and grabbing Ron's hand, led the way into the store.
Half an hour later she walked out of it with Ginny and Fleur in tow. The girls decided to take a break from the rest of the predominantly male family, and go have lunch somewhere in London where they haven't been yet. Mostly for Fleur's benefit, since this young, French girl did not know England very well, and was eager to see new things and try new places. Ginny suggested a Squatters Brewery, which she had heard served spectacular fish. So the three of them set off in that direction, chatting merrily, discussing the upcoming school year and their life plans for after Hogwarts.