Return To Hogsmeade
Chapter Three
-dutchtulips-
***
Back in she and Viktor's grand home of Aytos, Bulgaria, Portia Krum was relaxing in the breakfast nook, sitting over hot tea and brioches. Mrs. Krum was delicately sipping out of her china cup, reading from the Bulgarian wizard newspaper.
" 'Born into one of the vealthiest vizard families in Britain, Herm-own-ninny Clarke is indeed a descendant of the Clarke pureblood vamily that founded the small all-vizard village of Hogsmeade. Her vather is a now-retired Minister of Magic and all that it implies. . .' " Her voice trailed off as she looked up at Rowena Edwards, a reporter from Witch Weekly.
"Vhat have you found out?" Mrs. Krum promptly asked her.
"Well, no Clarkes have been the Minister of Magic over in England since about a hundred or so years ago," she replied.
The older woman sighed. ""Vhat about Hogvorts? Haff you checked Herm-own-ninny's school records?"
"Yes. The name Clarke does not show up on the records until about fifty years ago, when the Clarke family that founded Hogsmeade packed up and moved to France," Rowena reported.
Mrs. Krum slammed the newspaper to the tabletop. "Stars, vhat has happened to responsible journalism?" She looked back at Rowena. "Oh, you may go now."
As the young reporter left, Viktor came clambering into the room, seating himself across from his mother. "Good morning." He reached for the silver teapot, pouring himself a cup of the steaming amber liquid.
Portia turned her attention to her son. "Viktor, are you sure about this Herm-own-ninny? You don't even know her all that vell! Even though you haff dated her before, how do you know she may not be vhat she is seeming?"
Viktor stared at his mother. "Mum, I know her vell enouff. She is my bride-to-be, for heavens sake."
Mrs. Krum's shoulders dropped and she sighed. "You are reminding me so much uff your father. He had the vhole vorld in front of 'im! Could do anything he vanted! Even the impossible was not impossible to him! And then he vos villing to toss it all away for some gorgeous nothing like this Herm-own-ninny girl!"
Viktor was beginning to get angry by this time. Pushing away his tea and getting up from the table, the Quidditch star snapped to Portia, "Vell, Mother, that is your problem to be vorking out. Not mine," and he swept out of the room.
***
As it turned out, the next day was not going very well for Hermione either. After leaving her parents' house early that morning, she was marching up High Street on her way into uptown Hogsmeade, as she spoke rapidly into her magic comlink, which connected two wizards' conversations by the wizard wireless network. Currently she was arguing with Emma O'Sullivan, Head of the Dissolution of Matrimony office at the Ministry of Magic.
"Yes, yes, I know. I understand. But I think I can get the papers out to your office by tomorrow, if I hurry, and then can you start processing the divorce?"
Hermione listened for a moment, but obviously by her expression the response was not what she wanted to hear. "No, no, no, Miss O'Sullivan, I don't think you're quite getting me. I don't have three to seven months. I don't even have three to seven days! Look, I really need this, can't you just pull some strings or someth-"
"Hermione, is that you?"
Upon hearing this new voice, the curly-haired witch looked up, and then abruptly snapped off the comlink, swiftly ending her conversation. A round-faced young man was approaching her, and he looked particularly familiar. . .
"Neville? Is that you?" She inquired, staring at him.
He nodded eagerly. "Yeah!"
Immediately Hermione threw her arms around her old classmate, giving him a friendly hug. "Oh, it's so wonderful to see you, Neville!"
"You too!" He replied, embracing her gratefully in return.
As they broke apart, Hermione asked, slipping her comlink into her handbag, "So how have you been these past few years?"
"Great, really just fantastic," Neville smiled softly.
She sort of nodded, and then said, as an afterthought, "What's happened to you, Neville? You seem so much different than the last time I saw you. . .you look a lot, well, happier."
"Yeah," he nodded back, stuffing his hands in his robe pockets and saying, "I met a really nice girl," - this caused an involuntary smile from Hermione - "and back up in town I've got a great job, with Ron -"
She couldn't help a sigh from escaping her just then, and Neville gave her confused look. "What? What'd I say? About Ron?"
Hermione tucked a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear. "Yeah, yeah. . .I send the divorce papers, and Ron keeps sending them back. I don't think the concept has fully grasped that brain of his."
Neville's face fell. "You're divorcing Ron? That's such a shame. You know, everyone really thought that you two -"
"Yeah, I know what they said, Neville," she replied softly, interrupting him. "So I guess we've all got our little secrets, haven't we?"
"I reckon we do," he said, smiling.
Hermione returned it politely. "Well, I've got some things to do, I'll see you later on, okay?"
"Oh, all right," he said in his usual manner, and then started the opposite way up the street. "See you around, Hermione. I'm so glad we bumped into each other."
"Me too, Neville," she said, giving him a wave, and then turning back up the road towards the village. Spotting the Gringotts Accounting Office (the bank's main headquarters still in Diagon Alley), Hermione slung the strap of her handbag up higher on her shoulder and brushed quickly through the front door, the bell on the top jingling as she walked in.
A red-haired young witch was sitting behind the front desk, clutching a peacock quill as it skated across the roll of parchment in front of her. Looking up as she heard the bell jangle, her eyes widened, but not before Hermione's already were.
"Ginny?"
"Hermione?"
"My stars, I can't believe it," the curly-haired witch smiled at her sister-in-law. "This day is just one surprise after another."
Ginny smiled back. "It's great to see you again, Hermione. I never would've thought you'd come back."
"Yeah. . .well. . .I guess it was time I got some things sorted out, you know," she sighed. A moment of quiet passed between them, and Hermione sort of looked all around, waiting for the awkward moment to pass. But as she did so, she noticed something else. "Ginny!" She exclaimed, latching onto the redhead's wrist.
"Oh, oh yes," Ginny replied, blushing, staring down at the gold band on her finger. "Three years ago Harry finally got the sense knocked into him and he asked me to marry him."
Hermione suddenly beamed from ear to ear, and she reached across the desk to hug her. "Oh, congratulations! Even if it's somewhat belated," she added sheepishly.
"Harry told me you and Ron had quite the reunion the other day, by the way," she said poignantly.
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well. . .what do you expect. . ."
Ginny nodded sympathetically. "It's all right, Hermione. I understand."
"Thanks," she replied quietly.
Another moment of silence passed, and then Ginny changed the subject. "So. . .were you wanting to get some gold out of your joint account?"
"Joint account?" Hermione was confused.
"Yeah, yours and Ron's. Don't you each still have some money in there?" Ginny inquired.
". . .Yes," she replied slowly, a smile beginning to form across her face. "Yes, we do."
***
Ron's trusty, classic racing broom, a gleaming Tsunami, sped beneath him as he perched atop it, moving swiftly through rural Hogsmeade, making his way towards his cozy old house. Although he was still a street away, Ron could see all of the lights on in his home, which struck him particularly curious. Finally reaching his front yard, the redhead clambered off his broom, swung it over his shoulder, and burst inside of the house. What he saw made his jaw drop.
His entire house was spotless, not a speck of dust on the furniture or a grain of dirt in the carpet. There was a place for everything and everything was in its place, from knickknacks on the mantle to the throw pillows on the sofa. Crossing the room and entering the dining area, Ron's eyes rested on the table, which had been covered with a lace eyelet tablecloth and was adorned with a pair of candles in golden candleholders, and elaborate dishes and silverware arranged nicely and awaiting use.
And then, through the kitchen door out came Hermione, wearing a silk white Muggle dress with lavender robes buttoned neatly over it. She smiled over at him, despite the fact Ron was giving her the death glare. "Home at last, I see!"
"Bloody hell, 'Mione!" He exclaimed. "What in the name of Merlin have you done?"
"Oh, well, heavens, Ron, what kind of wife would I be if I didn't upkeep our lovely little home?" She said sweetly.
Ron ignored that, stomping into the kitchen and flinging open the door to the icebox. "What. . .did you do. . .with the butterbeer?" He demanded, his teeth clenched.
"Oh. That." Hermione appeared next to him, reaching inside and pulling out a tall glass bottle of clear liquid. "Here you are. Gillywater. Much healthier for you, you know."
Ron seemed to be too angry for words. He marched out of the kitchen and back into the immaculate living room. He started to reach towards the coffee table for something, but only noticed a bright pink candle burning atop it. "What have you done with my Quidditch Weeklys?" He demanded, grinding his teeth. "And this, what in the name of heavenly glory is this?" The redhead picked something else up off the table. "Doilies?! Where the hell did this rubbish come from?"
Hermione appeared in the doorway, straightening the hem of her lilac robes. "Oh, well, our joint account, of course."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "You took. . .my gold. . .to do. . .to buy. . .all of this. . .this rubbish. . ."
Hermione sighed. "Ron. . ." She pulled the scrolls out of her robe pocket, and then, referring to the house, "Why do you make me do this? If you'd just sign the papers, I'll put your gold back into the vault, all right?"
"Fine!" He snapped, snatching them from her grasp and fumbled for a quill.
Hermione then took the opportunity to start right in. "I went down to the accounting office today, and Ginny says you're not working as an Auror anymore. So Ronald Weasley, where in the name of Merlin did you get all of that money?" She wanted to know, arms akimbo. "You'd better not be doing anything illegal!"
"And if I am, what of it?" he replied. "That's really none of your business, now is it, Miss News Reporter? I don't ask you about your boyfriend, so don't you ask me about my private matters, got it?"
She froze, staring at him. "Who - who told you?"
Ron dropped his shoulders sardonically. " 'Mione, just because I didn't get the greatest marks on my N.E.W.T.s, unlike some people, that doesn't make me stupid." Sitting down on the sofa, he laid the scrolls on the coffee table, unearthed a rather crumpled quill, and stared down at the parchment. Softly he mumbled to her, "Stars, no one meets their soul mate when they're eleven years old, do they?"
Hermione turned around, staring at him. He glanced back up at her, and she was surprised to see a small smile etched on Ron's face. "I mean, what's the fun in that, right?"
"I, er. . ." she stammered, searching for words. As he continued to looked over the documents, Hermione looked around the living room, almost wistfully. On the mantle, she noticed, was a single purple rose sitting inside of a small glass vase, a Valentine's day gift she had given him back in seventh year at Hogwarts. "Wow," she murmured. "I can't believe you kept that." She paused. "Most witches and wizards forget that purple roses can stay alive like that for years."
Ron looked back up, rolling the quill between his fingers. "Yeah. . .," he said softly, and then glanced over at the clock on the wall. Jumping up, he said, "Well, stars, Hermione, look at that. I guess I'm going to have to sign these things some other time, or I'll be late for my big date!"
"Date?" She echoed, brow furrowing. "What are you talking about? Would you just write your name on the stupid lines? It's not that hard, you know!"
"Oh, hell, Hermione," Ron replied, "Some of that legal rubbish I can't even pronounce! Some other time, okay?" He paused at the front door before going out. "How much is this going to set you back, anyhow?"
"More than you'll make in a month!" She exclaimed, tousling her hair. "Now just sign the damn papers!"
He shook his head, almost half-comically. "No, no thanks." And the redhead let the door swing shut behind him as Hermione screamed in frustration after him.
***
To Be Continued