Hermione was just settling down to a long morning of paperwork, when there came a sharp knock at her office door.
"Come in!"
It was Anna. She came in softly, and closed the door behind her. "I just wanted to say sorry for Saturday. I let things get out of hand with Harry, and your boyfriend."
Hermione raised her eyebrows. That had not been what she was expecting. "Don't worry about it, please. It wasn't your fault. It was Harry's; he was the rude one."
"No, but I don't want friendships to be ruined over me!" said Anna quickly.
Hermione swallowed. "Our friendship isn't ruined, Anna."
"Friendships, especially like what you and Harry have, are too precious to waste over a petty argument." Anna's pale hand rested on the desk. "Please, Hermione."
Hermione looked up at her assistant; she smiled. "It's okay, Anna. I'll fix it up. Maybe I overreacted a bit."
"Just a bit," winked Anna.
Hermione tried to frown and failed. "Out you get, I'm working!"
"Promise you'll owl Harry?"
Hermione gave a pause, just to be irritating. "Promise."
"Thank you." The blonde witch turned and headed out of the office.
"Anna?"
She paused in the doorway. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
Hermione smiled to herself as the door closed, and she pulled a piece of blank parchment out of her desk. Perhaps she had overreacted, just a little.
Dear Harry,
Okay fine, maybe I overreacted. I'm sorry for the yelling. You better apologise to Anna, though. But I do know how frustrating it is when you think you recognise someone, only it's not them.
And I'm sorry for saying you have a hero's complex. If anyone should have one, it's you.
Sorry sorry sorry etc. etc. etc. anyway see you at the Weasleys bye.
Yours,
Hermione Granger
Muggles Relations
Ministry of Magic
London
/
Two notes landed on Hermione's desk, delivered by a smiling Anna.
The first one, note A – from Harry.
It's all good, Hermione. Hey, I'm really sorry. I got really carried away. I don't know what came over me. It's obvious that it was a mistake and I'm sorry.
Also sorry sorry etc etc and I will see you at the Weasley's on Saturday! Merry Christmas etc etc.
Yours,
Harry Potter
Who knows what I do
Auror's Office
The Magical World of I Am Very Sorry
Hermione gave a little chuckle as she deposited the note in her drawer – she knew Ron would have a laugh at it.
Then she slit open the second letter, letter B – just a small note.
Dear Hermione,
What about putting her next to Percy?
Love, Luna.
Hermione smiled. What a fabulous idea.
/
The Weasley's tent had been set up once again. Mrs Weasley, incredibly stressed, was rushing about the inside of it, fixing tables and chairs and straightening dishes on the counters. Luna was waving her wand, hanging up bunting and fairy lights from the tent's poles; George was tiredly sweeping the leaves out of the tent, and Ron was decorating the large tree in the corner.
Mr Weasley was outside, casting charms to raise the temperature. Doing a Christmas dinner outside in the middle of winter would not have been a good idea – at least, not without some warming charms.
Hermione was in the kitchen with Fleur and Bill, giving one last check to the turkey and ham. She was wearing a red dress and black heels, her hair somewhat tamed with a headband. For now, however, the whole ensemble was hidden beneath a grey jacket and scarf – it was still freezing outside, as Mr Weasley had not yet perfected the warming spells.
Hermione bounced up and down. "Are you sure it's not ready?"
"It's nearly ready," said Fleur, peering into the oven. "You simply must calm down, Hermione."
"No time for calm," burst out Hermione. "The guests will arrive any second – "
"No stressed cooks allowed in the kitchen," said Bill from the kitchen chair, where he had been puffing away on his pipe; smoke wrapping around him like a dragon. "It ruins the vibe."
"No smoking in the kitchen," shot back Hermione.
"Hey, mum's not here."
"And I'm not telling," said Fleur, striding through the smoke and leaning down for a kiss.
Hermione sighed. Ron had been strangely distant all day. She had been oddly reminded of the Summer before Bill and Fleur's wedding, when she and Ron had been separated, forced to do chores from morning till night …
"Shoo," said Fleur, picking up Hermione's wand from the table and pushing her out of the kitchen. "Go and help outside."
Hermione hurried to the giant tent, and peeked through the opening. The silver gold decorations on the tables were stunning, set up against the warm red of the tent. She wandered over to the Christmas tree, where Ron was currently standing, using his wand to levitate decorations up onto the tree.
She stood watching him for a moment. He had grown up so much in the past year. What with the loss of his brother and sister, he had been forced to look after his parents and George, as well as the added responsibility of a girlfriend.
It was little wonder that he had quit Auror training and moved out, into his little icecream shop.
Almost as if he was thinking the same thing, his shoulders drooped. Hermione took a step forward and placed her brown little hand in his.
She glanced at him, and was surprised to see a tear running down his cheek.
She leaned against him and carefully wiped it away with the corner of her scarf.
Ron gave a little hiccup. "It's just – it's the tree we had when we were kids – me and Ginny would watch the twins decorate it, and Ginny would always put the star on."
He looked down, and Hermione saw what he had been looking at, the last item in the decorations box – a gold star, perfect for sitting just at the top of the tree.
"It was always Ginny's job to put it on." His shoulders started to shake.
Hermione wrapped her arms around him, and leaned her head on his shaking shoulder. She promised herself she would never let go. A tear slid down her cheek too, and her grey scarf grew wet with pain.
"You know," said Ron, softly, "I think we all know she's still alive. We just don't want to talk about it. It's easier to think she's dead, than to know that she was his all that time."
Hermione nestled deeper into Ron's shoulder. "I know, Ron."
"We all know."
"Would you rather we talked about it more?"
"No."
"Okay."
And the two hugged silently in front of the Christmas tree, watching the little golden star sit in the box. It wasn't going anywhere.
/
Anna pulled open her wardrobe door with a bang. There was but a small selection to choose from; certainly nothing that would be suitable for Hermione's party.
She snorted. What a waste of time. Nothing but a bunch of mudbloods sitting around, chatting about ways to incorporate muggles into wizarding society. What a blast.
The clothes in her wardrobe stared at her; it was full of black work robes, three black Death Eater robes (less heavy than the work ones, with more range of movement), and a grey robe which she had been given when she had arrived at the manor – her memory gone, her clothes tattered, and clutching the wand and the stone, which were both now hiding under her wardrobe.
In the end, she slammed her wardrobe shut with a bang. Clearly nothing in there was going to work. "I'll have to go to Narcissa," she muttered.
The Malfoy Manor was being used as the temporary headquarters for Death Eaters on the run. There were over thirty bedrooms set up in the basement, and, as a general rule, the people downstairs in the basement were supposed to stay downstairs in the basement, leaving and exiting by a tunnel that let out in the garden. Anna, however, was an exception.
She passed several glaring Death Eaters on her way to the stairs, and she purposefully ignored the jeers as she climbed the marble steps to the top of the stairs and opened the unfriendly, splintery wooden door.
The door opened into the mansion that was the Manor. She made her way down several corridors, flights of stairs and visiting rooms, and at last made her way to Narcissa's suite, only having passed several house elves.
She knocked on the door carefully, and checked her hair in a nearby mirror.
"Enter!"
She opened the door. "Good afternoon, Narcissa."
The mistress of the house was reclined on a luxurious sofa, reading a book. Behind her, a fountain rushed; the water silver in the candlelit room. Narcissa cast the book down and sat up slowly. "Oh, you're still here? I haven't seen you in a while, thought you were dead. It is you, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am. It's Anna. Yaxley said – "
"Oh yes, yes, I remember. He said to help you if you needed anything. For your latest mission, correct?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"You can drop the ma'am," snapped Narcissa, massaging her temples. "You're not a common Death Eater, are you. I assume that you're rather important, if your mission requires my help. Or maybe you're not, and Yaxley just wanted to keep me busy. I wouldn't be surprised."
Anna was tempted to fire back a harsh reply, but bit the inside of her cheek and held her tongue. "I was just wondering if I could borrow a dress. I'm going to a party tonight and don't have anything suitable."
"Oh, is that it?" Narcissa lay back on the couch with a groan. "The wardrobe's over there. Take your pick. Just don't choose the Green Nepsilon dress; it's priceless."
Anna nodded her thanks, and picked her way across the room to the door that Narcissa had pointed to. It was indeed luxurious; hundreds of dresses lined walls of the room, and shoes were scattered along the floor. She quickly picked out a deep blue dress that shimmered – clearly magical – along with some silver heels.
"I suppose it's some Death Eater party you're going to, down in the basement?" scowled Narcissa.
Anna stepped out of the wardrobe and made her way to the door. "No, it's part of the mission."
"Part of the mission? What on earth can you mean?"
"I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to give out what my mission is." Anna waved to the woman. "Thanks for the dress!"
"You know, Anna, if you don't tell anyone anything, one day you're going to burst," drawled Narcissa.
Anna paused in the doorway.
She opened her mouth to say something – and closed it.
Then she left to get ready, back in her cold room in the dungeon of the Manor.
/
Guyssss I'm sickkkk please send reviews and tea xx