Fights and Fantasy
Morning arrived all too soon and Hermione awoke, attempting to shake off any lingering concerns and sustained fogginess from the previous night. Her head was still slightly ringing from the wedding festivities as she crawled out of bed to prepare herself for her mid-day shift. Pulling herself together, she silently went through her morning regiment, conscientious to not wake Ginny who was still sleeping off the fun in which she had engaged. Without sound, she slipped out of the Burrow, cursing Fred's ability to charm her into sharing so many bottles of champagne.
A cappuccino and a half later, Hermione felt sufficiently ready to greet customers. She pulled her apron over her head and slunk out of the back room, hoping that her neat plait and cheery smile gave the impression that she was fully capable of performing her tasks.
"Good to go, Hermione?" Lydia's question was teasing, decked in amusement but also mixed with understanding. Hermione nodded, feeling an intense gratitude for the other girl's consideration and for Sunday's lack of rushed Muggles, impatient for their on-the-way-to-work caffeine, yet fully prepared to insist that their drinks were mixed to perfection. To Hermione's relief, her shift ran smoothly into the afternoon. Even in her less than stellar state she was still able to create beverages and serve the Muggles who were looking to enjoy their lazy Sunday mornings reading or visiting in a quiet café.
Towards the end of her shift, however, things became startling unpleasant.
Hermione heard the chimes on the door and glanced up from behind the counter, mentally assuming her best friendly yet professional demeanor to greet the particular customer. A slight gasp passed her lips at the sight of a red-faced Ron charging into the café followed closely by Harry who looked bewildered but was visibly trying to calm down his friend.
"Harry! Ron! What are you two doing here? What's going on?" Hermione exclaimed, sounding neither friendly nor professional.
"Hermione, we need to talk," Ron announced abruptly.
"Ron, settle down," Harry commanded. He tried to place a gentle hand on Ron's shoulder, but the red-head merely shrugged it off and continued his march into the café.
A horrified Hermione scanned the shop, nervous about the scene the upset Ron was creating. The costumers, however, seemed completely unaware of the distraction in their midst, as all were still focused on their food, newspapers, or conversations. Hermione cast a grateful look at Harry, communicating her relief at the timely silencing spell for which she realized he was responsible. Knowing that she had no reason to keep her voice contained, she lashed out at Ron, surprising even herself with the venom in her tone:
"What is going on Ron?"
"What is going on me? What is going on with you?" Ron replied in a mocking tone.
"Honestly, Ronald. I don't know what you're talking about or why you are here."
"Why are you trying to get off on my brother?" Ron demanded in an angry voice.
"Wh-what are you going on about?" Hermione's infuriation rose to match Ron's.
"George. You don't think I notice the way you're looking at him. With all that lust," His retort was steeped in bitterness.
"Oh sod off, Ron. You were probably so happy to be paired with Lavender because now she'll finally put out." Ron's response to her harsh accusation was nothing but silence so she continued her rant: "Besides, what makes you think you can come here, to my work, to tell me how I can or cannot feel about George. My fiancée! You have no right; none!
"I was your boyfriend,"
"That's right. You were my boyfriend," Hermione could feel the heat rising to her forehead. Ron's interruption had hurt and confused her. "You're not anymore." She noticed that two Muggles had started to open the shop's glass door, but abruptly turned and left, confused looks dancing on their faces. Hermione inwardly thanked Harry again for providing the charms that hid her outburst from the public.
"Only because of this stupid Ministry of Magic thing…" Ron's comment frustrated Hermione further; even with Harry's silencing charm she didn't like him discussing magic in her shop, not when her reputation was at stake.
"We were broken well before Ministerial Decree 7391, Ron. And you know that." Hermione's voice sounded sure despite her uncertainties.
"Th-that's not true…" Ron's faltered, the statement lacking conviction.
"No Ron, we were over. It's fine. It happens. But we were long over." Hermione hated saying the words; it disturbed her to think that she might be hurting Ron, but it was a relief to finally be able to voice that which she knew was true.
Ron hesitated briefly; he was clearly unsure how to respond to the finality of Hermione's assertion. After blinking several times at Hermione, he turned to look at Harry who had been standing by the entire time clearly uncomfortable. His gaze returned to Hermione.
"Fine, we're done," Ron eventually admitted.
"Ron, you have to understand. Think about how we didn't keep in contact when I was at Hogwarts. We didn't write. We didn't visit. Did you even miss me?" The plea sounded pathetic, Hermione reflected, but it was something she needed to ask.
"I-I just always assumed it would be me and you." Ron bypassed her question.
"I know,"
"I guess we just weren't meant to be, Hermione."
"Ron, I think we'll find one day that it's for the best," Hermione did all she could to convey love in her statement; Ron was still one of her best friends even if that was all that he was.
"I-I suppose," Ron answered, his voice tired. "Come on Harry, let's just get the hell out of here," He continued wearily.
"Yah, sure mate, we'll get going," Harry told his friend. Harry glanced at Hermione and looked at her with caring in his green eyes. His look managed to express sympathy, understanding and ask for forgiveness for leaving. Breaking his stare, Harry turned to leave the store with Ron.
"Goodbye Harry; Goodbye Ron," Hermione called to their retreating backs, desperate to ease the hostility. She didn't want them to leave on a sour note.
Ron turned back around and gave Hermione a smile that was a mix of fondness and understanding.
"Bye, Mione," He responded. His voice was gentle.
With that, the two wizards left the Muggle shop. As soon as their images faded, the store seemed to come alive, Harry's silencing charm broken. Hermione sighed, determined not to break down, and returned to her tasks.
-o-O-o-
Hermione drifted through the remainder of her shift, her argument with Ron playing heavily on her mind throughout. It had been painful, to say the least, but freeing. She knew that the conversation had been long overdue. Their relationship was no longer in a state of confused limbo; instead she was officially broken up with Ron. Ron: one of her best friends, someone with whom she had gone through so much, someone she thought she would go through much more. She begged fervently with an unknown that her previous encounter with Ron would not be their last. Maintaining a friendship with him was essential; he was not someone she was willing to give up on entirely.
Exhausted, Hermione returned to the Burrow after her shift. She stumbled up the stairs to her room, prepared to take a long nap to try to sleep away the day's earlier unpleasantness. Her plans were derailed at the sight of her small, grey owl tapping at the window. Hermione groaned audibly, concerned about how long he had been there pestering at the emptiness to let him in the room.
"Ok, Pip. Come on in boy," She spoke tenderly to her owl, cracking open the window slightly to allow the tiny ball of fluff to enter. The bird fluttered into the room and dropped a letter in Hermione's hand. Never much one for human interaction, Pip eagerly accepted a treat and swooped out to window and into the distance. Hermione deftly opened the parchment in her hand and quickly scanned the large, bold printing,
"Hermione, Can you come over to the shop around closing? I have a surprise for you. Wear something comfortable, George."
"What is all this about?" Hermione spoke aloud to no one but herself. It was all so much to process: her argument with Ron, her lingering confusing from the previous night's interaction with George, the remaining frustration towards the Ministry. A quick look at her watch told her that she still had several hours until George would be expecting her. Knowing that she needed to clear her head of all its fogginess, she decided to walk the distance into Diagon Alley. Slipping out of her work shirt, she pulled a soft, baby blue sweater over her head and slid on a pair of well-worn jeans. To best complete the walk she had ahead of her, she dug a pair of comfortable trainers out of her closet. After re-doing her braid, she was out the door, ready to discover what George had in store for her.
-o-O-o-
The walk from the Burrow to the Leaky Caldron was a long trek, but it was necessary. The time alone in the sun, the fresh air, and exercise proved to be therapeutic. Her endorphins kicked in and began to buoy her spirits. By the time Hermione was taping the back wall of the Leaky Caldron with her wand in the familiar pattern, her mind had lost its murkiness and she felt invigorated and refreshed, prepared to meet whatever George had to offer. With confidence, she strode into Diagon Alley, stopping occasionally to peruse shops or to chat with well-wishers. Even though a year had elapsed since the defeat of Voldemart, it was still not unusual for Hermione to be approached by witches and wizards who wanted to thank her for her role in dark magic's downfall. It was a sharp distinction to go from the cafe where she was The-Girl-Who-Serves-Coffee to the wizard world where people knew her as The-Girl-Who-Assisted-The-Boy-Who-Lived.
Finally, she found her way to the Weasley Wizard Wheezes. The sounds of bangs, whirls, and laughter reached her before the shop actually came into sight. Entering the store, she smiled instinctively. The Weasley twins never failed to bring joy with their unique brand of entertainment, as evidenced by the many grinning faces that populated the store. The sight of an almost life-sized hologram of Harry zipping around near the ceiling of the shop on his broom elicited giggles from Hermione. The image Harry was clad in traditional Quidditch garb in the bright Magenta of the twins joke shop. He was shouting out warm welcomes to the awed patrons.
"I can't believe you're profiting off your friendship with Harry," Hermione told an approaching Fred in mock disbelief.
"Don't worry your head over that, my favourite little dancing queen." Fred replied, greeting Hermione with a warm hug. He was clearly in his element in the shop as he made rounds to personally welcome customers, looking calm yet cocky in the bright robes.
"Welcome to Weasley Wizard Wheezes!" Fake Harry shouted from above their heads.
"Harry gave us permission for that" – Fred gestured above to the image of Harry who was now doing loop-de-loops on his broom – "In fact, he even lent us his voice. George and I couldn't quite capture his dulcet tones."
"Speaking of, where is that brother of yours," Hermione asked.
"And here I thought you were coming to see me" – Fred feigned an expression of sadness – "He's in the back. I'll be out here if you want visit with the handsomest Weasley." Hermione chuckled and rolled her eyes while Fred pointed in the direction of the door to the back room.
"Thank you for visiting Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Expelliarmus!" Fake Harry hollered, dipping and rising on his broom, while Hermione made her way through the purple door leading to the twin's work space. She entered the spacious workshop and gasped at the wonders it offered. The room was chaotic yet neat; there was clearly an order to the mess. It was filled with various test tubes, bottles and caldrons. Some of the caldrons were clearly in use, as a mix of coloured smoke puffed out of some, while others vibrated in place, straining against their contents. The counters were covered in fabrics, feathers, and other materials the twins needed for their creations. Gurgling, hissing, snapping, and ringing sounds filled the room. Hermione found it amusing that the self-proclaimed non-academic Weasley twins had created a potions, charms, or transfigurations nerd's ultimate fantasy room. While most would prefer to be on the store's floor, enjoying the finished creations, Hermione immediately fell in love with the place where the products were invented. She knew she could happily spend hours in this room, exploring the process the Weasley's went through to complete their goods.
"Hey George," Hermione called out, finally noticing the tall red-head hunched over a large caldron in the midst of the room's amusements. George's shaggy hair was haphazard and his work space was cluttered with a range of potion's ingredients. At Hermione's greeting he climbed off his stool, stretched his arms out and rolled his head from side to side, relieving the tension that had obviously build up from leaning over his work. Removing the protective goggles and arms-length gloves he approached Hermione and acknowledged her with an awkwardly quick hug.
"What are you working on?" Hermione asked keen to break the silence but also out of genuine curiosity.
"I'm working on an upgrade to the daydream charms" – George continued at the sight of Hermione's interested gaze – "Right now we have a problem. If you take one, you'll continue daydreaming through anything. We need to come up with a way that makes it possible to daydream in class but to wake up immediately if your professor calls on you. We're getting too many complaints from customers that their professors are on to them."
"Hmm," Hermione scanned his workbench, noticing a piece of parchment covered in messy scribbles. "Might I have a look?" The irony was not lost on Hermione that she was about to assist George in making it easy for students to not pay attention to lectures, but her love of experimentation and interest in the science outweighed her prefect tendencies. Hermione studied George's notes for some time, making some markings and calculations of her own with her brain functions operating at top speed.
"Any thoughts," George asked once Hermione had paused for some time.
"What if you added knotgrass and lessened the amount of starthistle?" Hermione wondered out loud.
"That's a thought." George riffled through one of the many cupboards, locating the ingredient to which Hermione had referred. The pair added ingredients, played with ratios, and mixed the substance. Occasionally one would break the silence to make a suggestion or take notes on the parchment. While they were in the midst of experimenting, Fred stuck his head through the door to inform his twin that the store was closed and that he was heading to their shared flat above the shop. George's head jerked to the ornate clock on the wall.
"I had no idea we were working for so long," He exclaimed in shock.
"Are you two going to come up for dinner?" Fred questioned the pair. George looked to Hermione for her queue.
"I'd rather stay and work," She offered.
"Yah, if you don't mind, we'll stay here for a bit. I think we're getting close on this,"
"Ok" – Fred ginned – "Guess it will just be me and Angie." Fred hung his magenta robe on a nearby hook and practically skipped out of the room while the other two returned to their positions hunched over the bubbling caldron. After several additions, George gave the caldron three quick raps with his wand. The mixture swirled and bubbled before turning a frothy pink that Hermione thought resembled strawberry ice cream. She regretfully considered how she was unable to create anything that looked so appetizing for the café patrons.
"Hmm…this might be what we're after," George carefully measured a teaspoon of the concoction into a smaller container. They watched as the liquid solidified into a jelly, candy-like substance.
"Now what," Hermione asked staring tentatively at the cubed mixture they had created.
"Well, you can either be test subject or experiment observer. As newbie, it's your choice," George grinned during his response.
Feeling brave, Hermione gamely picked up the sweet.
"Sure there's not an unsuspecting first year we can experiment on?" She joked. "Should I just swallow this whole thing?" Hermione asked, turning the cube around in her fingers.
"Ahh, I don't know how strong it's going to be, so a smaller bite might be smart. Although, I don't mind trying it if you're nervous."
Hermione shook her head. Mustering up her Gryffindor courage, she took a small nibble. It was juicy, sweet, and did indeed taste slightly of strawberries. Within seconds, she drifted into her subconscious.
-o-O-o-
"Hermione, Hermione," George's gentle voice tore her away from her glorious haze as she slowly reconciled with reality.
"Hi," She said softly, still overwhelmed by the wondrous feelings from which she had emerged.
George grinned at her inebriated-like demeanor.
"How you feeling, Mione?"
"Really, really, really, good," She mumbled in a manner out of character from her normal, articulate self.
"I can tell," George playfully ruffled Hermione's hair, messing up her carefully constructed plaid.
"Hmm…and how long did you feel out of it, Mione?" He asked, spinning his quill expectantly, prepared to take notes on her answer.
"No more than a couple seconds," She said. "Why? How long was I actually gone?" She inquired while George jotted some notes.
"Really! I waited about twenty minutes before trying to wake you."
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Not sure actually. Do you think you'd be able to describe what it was like?"
"Ahh" – Hermione struggled to formulate words to capture what the experience had been like, still not fully connected with the actual world – "well, as I said it felt really short. And it wasn't anything tangible. No real images or anything I can actually remember. It was more like an amazing feeling," She paused so George could catch up with his writing. "It-it was like so glorious. There were colours. Think of what it's like at dawn, that's what it was like. Lots of smells. Like fresh parchment, old books, strawberries. I think there was music…It was…just so fantastic," She concluded airily, knowing that words couldn't adequately describe the trip.
"But it was a good experience?" George looked up over his notes.
"It was amazing," She replied distractedly with a fixed, distant smile and starry eyes lighting up her features.
"Hmm…I think we're on the right track, but maybe we need to adjust the proportions. I think it might be too strong," George put down his parchment of notes and grinned at Hermione, clearly finding her dazed state entertaining.
"No. It's perfect like this. I love it so much. It's so brilliant George," Her response was soft and dreamy.
"Ok, sweetie, that's great, but I think it's time we head out. Do you think you can walk alright?" He asked kindly.
Hermione gave her legs a quick shake. They felt wobbly but secure enough to stand on. However, hopping off the stool indicated otherwise as Hermione quickly swooned on her unsteady base. Fortunately George was near and ready; he caught Hermione swiftly and wrapped a strong arm around her, holding her to him.
"Ready to go?" He teased, continuing to prop up her lilting body.
"Lead the way," She grinned faintly. "Let's go."
Snuggly attached to George, the two slowly glided out of the shop. George recited the necessary security charms for the store and the pair clumsily started the climb up the stairs to the twins' flat.
Author's Note: You guys, thanks so much for your kind comments! It means so much and makes the writing experience so much more enjoyable.