This fic is my entry for round 4 of the QLFC
Prompt: Hotel
[creature] Cat
[dialogue] "We're disorganised mourners"
[object] Clock
Hermione Granger liked making plans. Or, to be exact, she liked making plans and religiously following them to get everything she wanted to. From obtaining a delay before having to give a book back to the library to being the best student in every school she set foot in, Hermione always found a way to achieve her goals.
That was until Hogwarts, as involving magic in plans could sometimes backfire. Still, Hermione got most of what she wanted. Sure, there was a little misstep that changed her into a half-cat creature in second year and she spent a whole night hiding from the slobbery Cormac Maclaggen in fifth year. Still, Harry ended up killing the Basilisk and she obtained a personal invitation to the exclusive Slug Club.
Then war happened, and plans were not enough anymore.
Researching became meeting dead ends after dead ends, with only a few cryptic words left by a shady Headmaster to give her hope.
Going on a secretive mission with her boys became crying at the entrance of the tent while hoping for Ron's return.
Winning became burying friends and finding herself in the eye of the mediatic storm that followed the battle of Hogwarts.
But the war was won, something she had been working for long before most people called it a war. Once again, she had obtained what she wanted. Except she hadn't. There were too many lives lost, on both sides, too many things to rebuild, and it took her a solid month of peace at the Burrow to realise she was one of those things.
The years of fighting had left too many scars, had either emptied or overfilled too many parts of her. So she did what she did best and made a new plan. Several new plans. Plans to be happy, career prospects, even her love life got a plan of its own, and she found an unexpected pleasure in picturing herself married and maybe even pregnant by her twenty-fifth birthday. Getting married implied dating, which she wasn't doing at the moment, Ron and her agreeing on the fact both needed to heal properly before starting a relationship, but surely they would both be fine in a matter of months. They had to be, especially now that it was written in her neat handwriting on a paper she never planned on showing to anyone for the sake of her dignity.
She went back to Hogwarts with Ginny, hoping a quiet year in her favorite place in the world would be enough to get her life back on tracks. Yet, as autumn passed by, she found herself more and more disappointed, both in the castle and herself. Sure, things were quiet, but the lack of plotting with her boys to uncover some mystery or another made things not only dull but boring. If that wasn't enough, the castle was full of the memories of the battle. The tables covered in food and the overall happy atmosphere reminded her of how it used to be, however, the chatter of the students couldn't cover the screams and the vision of the bodies aligned against the wall. Neither new tapestries nor clean floors could ever disguise the cold limbs of Fred who stayed desperately immobile under the collapsed wall.
The Christmas break would change it all, she decided on a particularly boring lesson. It didn't. While the weight of Fred's absence was still heavy on everyone's mind, people were moving on. Harry and Ron were training to become Aurors, Arthur was now Head of his department, Ginny was shamelessly showing her boyfriend just how much she had missed him, as she hadn't seen him since summer, and Bill and Fleur had their hands full with little Victoire, who was learning to walk and causing havoc everywhere she stepped foot in.
Only George was the same, hiding his grief behind the pride of the success of his shop, but still very much heartbroken. Hermione hadn't been surprised to realise he had become her favorite to be around during the holidays, a feeling that was mutual. The two of them had gotten closer during the summer and while she had always known him, she could now truly call him a friend. Her being the only one not treating him like an old broom on the verge of losing its magic had done wonders for their relationship, and so at the approach of the Easter break, it was obvious for her that she offered him to escape his family and go on an adventure.
Her letter was short, 'We're disorganised mourners and deserve a break from it. Want to run from the family for a week-end and move the pity party to somewhere fun?' and his answer was even shorter, 'I'll take care of the hotel.'
Hermione had been worried, George being the type to carve a hole in a mountain, cover it in covers and pillows and call it a palace, but had decided against protesting. He needed this as much as she did, after all. All her latest plans might have failed, but she was still an obsessive caretaker. If getting them sick or stiff was what George needed to feel better, she'd do it.
Still, she had to hold back a relieved sigh when George Apparated them in front of a small hotel in Wales. They had some fun on the beach, despite the cold wind and the dark clouds, and found themselves tired but satisfied when they eventually came back and sat on a couch under an old clock. The ticking was relaxing, and she felt like dozing off for a minute. Crookshanks, her faithful cat that had until then refused to get away from her since she had found him back after the war, immediately settled on her lap, purring loudly when she ran her hand through his tangled fur.
"So..." began George after observing the cat with a mistrustful eye, "Want to tell me why you asked for some time away? People might get the wrong idea."
The last part was said in a teasing tone and the boy comically wiggled his eyebrows to emphasise the joke, but Hermione could hear the genuine interest for her motivations behind it.
"I just couldn't stay in London. Or at Grimmauld or the Borrow, for that matter. I just… I couldn't breathe anymore."
George stayed silent, leaving her time to organize her thoughts before explaining herself.
"The thing is… All I've known since I was twelve is the war, even if no one was calling it like that at the time. And somewhere along the way, I lost myself. And now the war is over, and people just expect me to go back to my old self like nothing ever happened. Everyone seems to know what they're doing with their life, or at least what they want from it, and I'm just stuck in the past, always expecting enemies to appear from every corner. Merlin, I can't even empty my beaded bag or go anywhere without it!"
Angry tears were starting to blur her vision, and she breathed deeply to hold them back.
"You've spent your teenage years working on this project of a joke shop, Luna spent her time researching magical creatures and trying so many activities, magical and Muggle alike, to find something she truly liked. You all built yourselves up. Even Ron and Harry! They always wanted to play Quidditch and become Aurors, they had friends to just hang out with, girlfriends, even. I never allowed myself to think of what would come after the war, because I was just so sure I wouldn't make it and the priority was to keep Ron and Harry alive through every crazy thing that we did. But now the war is over, and I don't have dreams, nor ambitions, hobbies, or even a goddamn family, and everyone expects me to just move on and make a life out of this mess. I don't know how I'm supposed to do that and I'm just so jealous of everyone who does."
"Well," said George after a moment of silence, "I don't know about dreams and ambitions, but I could help you find hobbies. Or just have fun, in general. Merlin knows we could both use a little fun."
"What are you offering?"
"Nothing much, maybe just meet from time to time and have fun the way we did earlier. Let our hair down for a bit, as our lovely Minnie would say."
The joke attempt was unheard, as Hermione was already diving into project planning.
"Like, once a week, a month? For a whole week-end or different lengths of time?"
"No. No, no, no," intervened the red-head with a roll of his eyes. "You can't just schedule fun. You just wake up in the mood for it someday and decide to make something out of it, nothing more."
"Well, we don't have to save special occasions for it, but we can't just send each other letters to say we want to have fun this very day. I have classes and you have a shop to run!"
"It's nice of you to make such a nice transition, because it is high time someone teaches you the art of skipping classes."
The girl opened her mouth to protest, ready to lecture her friend about the importance of assiduity on a school report, but he already had his wand out and got up to inspect the clock against the wall.
"First lesson, skipping to sleep or hang out is boring. We'll start working on your creativity. Now, ever used a clock to pull a prank on unsuspecting residents of a hotel?"
Half an hour later, George, Hermione and Crookshanks were hidden under the staircase, trying and failing to hold back their laugh as a strict-looking witch fell into their trap.
Things were finally moving forward for Hermione and maybe, just maybe, not planning it was the best part of it.