A/N: Same shit. Oh, I know that Harvard University was founded after the Salem witch trials. Just pretend that it was founded before the witch trials. The beginning of this chapter is a little boring as well as the middle. But the ending is good. Really good. I certainly got a kick out of writing it.
Rating: Hmm… There's a lot of swearing in this chap (in the end), so might as well make it an 'R'.
Disclaimer: If you want one, go back to chapter one.
Title: Amnesiac
Chapter Two: Guilt (or 'Road Rage')
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
Draco strode purposefully through the long winding corridors of Hogwarts, stopping only to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's Office. He noted that several of the portraits he had passed looked at him curiously.
"Blood lollipop," he said to the gargoyle and it leapt aside to allow him entry.
"Not a particular favorite sweet of mine, though at least the vampires favor it." Draco started, turned. Albus Dumbledore stood just behind him, smiling. "Hello, Draco. Come inside. I believe you'll be wanting some privacy." Draco followed him wordlessly, entering the magnificent room that hadn't changed since the last time he had been there. Fawkes, the phoenix, was sleeping on his perch, head tucked under wing. The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses looked on, some greeting him.
Dumbledore swept past the enchantment laden desk and sat at the chair behind it, gesturing for Draco to do the same with the other chair standing nearby. He inclined his head, politely refusing. Instead, he began to pace.
"So, Draco. What brings you back to Hogwarts?" He didn't answer immediately, just continued pacing until Dumbledore cleared his throat. Draco looked up and suddenly brought his hands to his head, rubbing it gently before shoving them through his hair.
"How is Miss Granger, Draco?" Draco laughed. "You know me entirely too well, Professor." Dumbledore chuckled.
"It took quite a bit of time." Draco quickly sobered. Looked at Dumbledore.
"She's well."
"You've read the reports from the American Ministry of Magic?"
"Yes. Impressive and thorough, as always. Even the wizarding world knows Harvard. After all, it did start out as a school for wizards before those Puritan bigots started the witch trials."
"Yes. A true pity that it was forced to change into a muggle's university." There was silence for a moment.
"She's a Healer. Doctor. Doctor for people who have lost control of their minds. Graduated from Harvard with honors and magna cum laude. Fifth degree black belt probably from her parents' insistence."
"She is gifted. The moment she arrived here, many already recognized her for what she was." Draco's eyes iced over. "I don't suppose many of those recognized that she was powerful enough to become a threat to Lord Voldemort in her seventh year?"
Dumbledore sighed.
"I did feel she was strong in her magical ability, by far stronger than any of the other students. Even Harry. Ahead of her class and her time. Already trying to conceive a potion to cure lycanthropy, more, I suspect, for Remus Lupin. Brilliant. I believe she is the only person as well as student that ever gained any remnant of respect from Severus Snape."
"She was that close to completing the potion?"
"Very close." Draco looked away. "If I had done something, she'd have already finished that potion and become as famous as you."
"Do not burden the blame, Draco. There was nothing you could have done to stop the attack. If you had tried, you would have been in greater danger than Hermione." Draco closed his eyes and opened them again. "I know. But I still feel like a bloody fucking coward for not trying."
Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Why did you contact her, Draco?" Draco rubbed his hands against his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe I've gone bloody fricking mad. No," Draco stopped to let out a short bark of laughter. "Insanity is the legal term and 'mad' probably is the same. In her opinion at least."
"Is it guilt, then? That you know living the life of a witch is far easier and long living than a muggle's?" Draco paused. "I actually really don't know. You know that she has no idea of what happened between the ages of eleven to seventeen. She has absolutely no idea of those missing years. What if she has children and they ask of what happened in her childhood? She won't know. She won't know about anything that happened. Its only right that she knows. Knows who she was. Is. Even if she hates me or whatever, I want her to know." Dumbledore looked at him, bemused.
"Draco, you are turning quite unlike what many of us expected. Even your father couldn't taint you."
"That man isn't my father. He's a monster that preyed on innocents. He can rot in hell or Azkaban, I don't care. He is not my father."
~~~~~~~~~~
Langley, Virginia
Hermione laid her head on her desk. Her head was still pounding. Her face was pale, she knew. After sitting there for three hours trying to sort out each of the memories that had come out of nowhere to attack her. As she did so, she kept chanting to herself: "I am not going mad, I am not going mad, I am not going mad…." And then she laughed at herself.
I'm the doctor, she thought. I'm the one who's supposed to helping others, not be a victim myself. Or patient. She brought her hand up to rub at her forehead. The gesture did little to relieve the ache. A look at her watch told her it was late. Rising slowly, Hermione gathered up her briefcase and laptop and exited the room.
Seated safely in her car, Hermione drove fast and dangerously, trying to take her mind off what had happened that afternoon. Impossible. How can I ignore these…memories if I don't even know what they mean? Already, she decided to have a nice long talk with her parents.
Parking her car in the apartment garage, she took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Hermione leaned against the elevator sidewall, her hand gripping the rail.
"Hey! Hold that for me!" Hermione jerked her head up and automatically pushed the open door button on the wall. A man, dark hair and blue eyes, dashed across the garage, jacket flapping and tie blown over his shoulder. Alex, Hermione recognized. Alex Richter, the young executive for an advertising firm that lived three doors down from her own apartment. He stepped into the elevator, catching his breath and grinning gratefully at her.
"Thanks."
"Your welcome." The elevator doors slid shut soundlessly. Alex glanced at her. Hermione had moved her gaze to the opposite corner of the elevator. And he kept on hoping. Ever since he had met her on the day he moved in and she, the nice neighbor, had come over to greet him, he had thought her beautiful. Almost serene, like an angel, with her clam expression despite much talk among the other neighbors about Hermione's workaholic attitude. Never frazzled or out of place. Though it was a little surprise that she profiled criminals. Even the human ugliness of that didn't seem to bother her though he knew it sometimes did.
Shifting, Alex could breath in her scent of wildflowers. He grinned sheepishly to himself. Hermione was lady, he thought. Another glance. A lady with an excellent figure and face and sharp mind. Both of them waved good byes to each other when they stepped out, Hermione without another look at Alex, Alex giving in to temptation and letting his gaze linger after her.
Hermione entered her apartment, habitually tossing her brief case to the sofa in front of the T.V. and laptop on the kitchen table. Huffing out a breath, Hermione headed toward her bathroom, and turned the water on in the bathtub. Going back to her living room, she shut on the small stereo. Rock wouldn't work right now, Hermione thought. Definitely not. Hermione went back to the bathroom, her movements more graceful as her mind was soothed by the majestic sounds of Mozart. Slipping out of her clothes and into the tub, Hermione laid her head on the edge, her body relaxing. The hot water warmed her limbs, the music floating gently in the air.
If I fall asleep in the bathtub, I'll drown, Hermione thought groggily. Hermione reached for the soap and lathered it over herself slowly, her movements more sluggish than graceful. The water lulled her… and the phone rang. Gritting her teeth, Hermione damned the caller, told him/her to do things she would never say out loud, and stepped out of the tub. Wrapping a towel around her, Hermione dashed to the phone, yanking it off the cradle and to her ear.
"Whoever this is, you can go screw yourself and then go to hell and screw the devil as well for all I care because-"
"What crawled up your ass?" Hermione blinked. "Trish?"
"No, its Danny Glover. I wanted to know if you could date me and then we could make sweet sweet love-"
"Okay, that's enough Trish." Trish laughed. "Did you get my email?"
"Yeah. Since when do you judge when I need to get laid, hmm?" Trish laughed again. The phone crackled a bit from the long distance call. Trish was probably still in Boston.
"I'm your favorite cousin, remember? I know everything about you, same with you and me."
"A comforting thought. I just love it when somebody knows all of my secrets. Like the time when I lost my virginity." Trish snorted.
"That guy was an ice bastard. Real stiff too. Remember when you couldn't shake him off, we pretended to be lesbians to scare him away?"
"Thank God we did it on the phone. I really wouldn't have wanted to have kissed you like you were my lover."
"Yeah. That's gross. And illegal. Incest is illegal, right?"
"In some states. So why'd you call?" Hermione could almost feel Trish shrug. "No reason. Just felt like talking to someone." Hermione shifted, leaning her shoulder against the wall to both support and brace herself.
"What happened?" Trish sighed. "Bryan dumped me fifteen minutes ago."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione rubbed her head again. The girl talk with Trish had been full of accusations of what a bastard Bryan was and how Trish could go and kick his ass in front of his co-workers to humiliate him. Of course, Trish was going to pick the best fantasy and then do it. Hermione only hoped Trish would be a little more delicate this time. The last time a lover had cheated on Trish, she had viciously sworn at him in public and then kicked him in the groin, adding in a few punches that Hermione had taught for the sole purpose of self-defense. One of the bystanders had called 911 and Trish had been held in for assault by the local authorities. Hermione had bailed her out. Then she had delivered an ear blistering lecture about self-control and the proper use of tae kwon do and jujitsu.
Jesus, Hermione thought again, the corners of her lips lifting a bit at the memory. Of course, Trish hadn't listened a word to her lecture. Only said that he had deserved it. Hermione could only hope that something like this wouldn't happen to her.
Going back to the tub, Hermione discovered that the water was already cold. Sighing in disappointment, Hermione drained it and dressed in loose pants and shirt, her standard pajamas. Soon, she was settled on her sofa, enjoying iced tea and viewing the news channel. Hermione was idly flipping through a magazine before a story caught her eye.
"Just in, yesterday, in London, England, a small explosion that seemed to have been generated by a leaking propane tank outside a small house. The cause of the ignited fire is still being investigated. The explosion left one dead and seven others injured. Witnesses nearby claims that three men, two dressed in dark matching clothes or dark robes and another in jeans and white shirt with pale blonde hair and light complexion. They had supposedly started arguing and yelling violently, all drawing a sort of sticks at each other. The two men seemed to have ganged up against the other man and then the explosion occurred. Strangely enough, when witnesses were questioned again, they seemed to have no memory of the incident. The three men also seemed to have disappeared and notices have been put out. Now back to you, Jon."
Hermione sat back. An explosion of unknown cause? Propane just didn't ignite itself. This was something interesting. And sad. One dead. She felt the first stirrings of pity and clicked the T.V. off. Men drawing sticks at each other… Why did that seem familiar? Sticks… yelling…wands. They weren't sticks. They were wands. Where had that come from? Hermione wondered As if. Wands were used for spells and magic and she certainly knew that magic didn't exist. Only in fairy tales.
As she walked to her bedroom and crawled into bed, a nagging thought stayed with her.
Magic didn't exist.
Right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
July Fourth
Westchester County, New York
"Trish, just shut up."
"Oh, come on, Hermy. Sing along. It wouldn't hurt to have a little fun."
"Not when it's to Enrique Inglesias." Hermione rolled her eyes to prove her point as Enrique wailed about love lost.
"Why not? He is so hot-"
"He is so much like a man whore, I can't stand it. Isn't he engaged to that Russian? No, don't start singing. Not when I'm driving."
"Russian? Oh, Anna Kournikova, you mean."
"Whatever."
"I don't know. Probably, what with that music video he did. 'Escape'."
"Ugh. Can't he sing anything decent?" Alex smiled as Hermione and Trish continued arguing about Enrique. He had been invited to the Grangers' annual July Fourth celebration, a habit they had started only three years after they moved to the States. So far, the last several hours in the car with Hermione, all the way from Virginia to Boston to New York had been both a delight and educational experience. He never knew a woman could drink so much coffee. Or drive so recklessly. Or smell so great. He was drawn back to the present to Hermione's voice.
"Enrique sucks. Period."
"No, he does not-" Hermione held up a finger. "Nope. Don't try to convince me. He sucks. That's it. I don't give a damn about what you think. I don't like him. Now, its my turn to pick the next CD." At a stop light, Hermione riffled through Trish's CD collection. "Oh my God. What do you listen to? Kylie Minogue? No. N*Sync? Eww…"
"Hey, that's good shit."
"No, it isn't. Its pure trash. How old are you? This is like for fourteen year old teenagers with no taste. Incubus? Who are they? Here, let's just try it." Hermione popped in the CD and perked up when she heard the guitars. "Hey, this is good. Don't touch. We are listening to this until we get to my parents'."
"But that's another hour!"
"Suck it up, soldier. I'm not in a great mood." And they sat in silence, listening to Incubus and Hermione swear at New York drivers in general.
"Goddamn idiots. A-hole just tried to cut me. Why the hell is that van tail gating me? Isn't that illegal? Stupid morons with their heads stuck up their butts. Hey!" Hermione slammed on the brakes, throwing Trish forward into the back of the driver's seat and Alex against the seat belt. The SUV in the other lane beside Hermione had cut in front of her just as Hermione had stepped on the accelerator, bumping the side of the SUV passenger door. Both drivers stopped and slammed out of their cars.
"You asshole! You cut in front of me!" The SUV driver was dark haired with glasses. He glowered at her. "That was a perfectly legal move and you're the one that just decides to hit me! If you hadn't-"
"Hell, if you hadn't tried that at all and stayed on the other frickin' lane, this wouldn't have happened! I was even under the goddamn speed limit. What the hell-" Trish watched the argument escalate and even Hermione looked ready to unleash a roundhouse kick. Awesome, Trish thought. Always wanted to see one of those in real life. But Hermione managed to restrain herself by pulling at her own hair. Trish took a moment to treat herself with a small look at Alex. She had always had a crush on him ever since she saw him in Hermione's apartment on a visit. God, Trish thought. Hermione, you are so lucky as well as blind.
Alex watched the verbal duel with wide eyes. How he ever thought Hermione was nice and mild mannered, he didn't know. He watched Hermione snarl at the man and was glad he wasn't the other driver.
"Hey, break it up, break it up." A uniformed police officer with a handlebar moustache stepped between them, shooting them both warning glances to keep silent. "Do any of you have passengers in your car?"
"Yeah," Hermione said, still glaring at the other driver. "My cousin and a friend. They both saw the whole thing. You can question them." Hermione waved absently to Trish,. Trish stepped forward. "Yeah, I saw the entire thing." Trish steadily explained everything, even admitted that Hermione had just barely been under the New York State speed limit before the hit. The policeman, Officer Kessle, nodded and took notes, asking both Hermione and the other driver their sides of the story.
"Alright. It seems that the lady here was doing fine before you tired to cut her, sir." The officer held up his hand before the other driver could argue. "This is an accident. I can file an accident report and see that you both exchange insurance papers with names and car license. Here," Kessle handed both drivers piece of paper to write the appropriate information. Both of them exchanged papers without looking at the other's.
"And here is the accident report. Both of you have a nice day and Happy July Fourth." Kessle strode back to the police car and drove off. Hermione stomped back to her car and into the driver's seat. Slammed on the accelerator and shot another venomous look at the other driver. He glared back.
Silence reigned in the small car.
"First one to say anything will have their arms ripped out of the sockets and be beaten to bloody death with them."
A/N: How was that? Yeah, I know, Hermione was very off at that last part. But hey, spend half the day in the car does that to ya. I found that last part very fun to write.
Rating: Hmm… There's a lot of swearing in this chap (in the end), so might as well make it an 'R'.
Disclaimer: If you want one, go back to chapter one.
Title: Amnesiac
Chapter Two: Guilt (or 'Road Rage')
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland
Draco strode purposefully through the long winding corridors of Hogwarts, stopping only to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's Office. He noted that several of the portraits he had passed looked at him curiously.
"Blood lollipop," he said to the gargoyle and it leapt aside to allow him entry.
"Not a particular favorite sweet of mine, though at least the vampires favor it." Draco started, turned. Albus Dumbledore stood just behind him, smiling. "Hello, Draco. Come inside. I believe you'll be wanting some privacy." Draco followed him wordlessly, entering the magnificent room that hadn't changed since the last time he had been there. Fawkes, the phoenix, was sleeping on his perch, head tucked under wing. The portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses looked on, some greeting him.
Dumbledore swept past the enchantment laden desk and sat at the chair behind it, gesturing for Draco to do the same with the other chair standing nearby. He inclined his head, politely refusing. Instead, he began to pace.
"So, Draco. What brings you back to Hogwarts?" He didn't answer immediately, just continued pacing until Dumbledore cleared his throat. Draco looked up and suddenly brought his hands to his head, rubbing it gently before shoving them through his hair.
"How is Miss Granger, Draco?" Draco laughed. "You know me entirely too well, Professor." Dumbledore chuckled.
"It took quite a bit of time." Draco quickly sobered. Looked at Dumbledore.
"She's well."
"You've read the reports from the American Ministry of Magic?"
"Yes. Impressive and thorough, as always. Even the wizarding world knows Harvard. After all, it did start out as a school for wizards before those Puritan bigots started the witch trials."
"Yes. A true pity that it was forced to change into a muggle's university." There was silence for a moment.
"She's a Healer. Doctor. Doctor for people who have lost control of their minds. Graduated from Harvard with honors and magna cum laude. Fifth degree black belt probably from her parents' insistence."
"She is gifted. The moment she arrived here, many already recognized her for what she was." Draco's eyes iced over. "I don't suppose many of those recognized that she was powerful enough to become a threat to Lord Voldemort in her seventh year?"
Dumbledore sighed.
"I did feel she was strong in her magical ability, by far stronger than any of the other students. Even Harry. Ahead of her class and her time. Already trying to conceive a potion to cure lycanthropy, more, I suspect, for Remus Lupin. Brilliant. I believe she is the only person as well as student that ever gained any remnant of respect from Severus Snape."
"She was that close to completing the potion?"
"Very close." Draco looked away. "If I had done something, she'd have already finished that potion and become as famous as you."
"Do not burden the blame, Draco. There was nothing you could have done to stop the attack. If you had tried, you would have been in greater danger than Hermione." Draco closed his eyes and opened them again. "I know. But I still feel like a bloody fucking coward for not trying."
Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Why did you contact her, Draco?" Draco rubbed his hands against his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe I've gone bloody fricking mad. No," Draco stopped to let out a short bark of laughter. "Insanity is the legal term and 'mad' probably is the same. In her opinion at least."
"Is it guilt, then? That you know living the life of a witch is far easier and long living than a muggle's?" Draco paused. "I actually really don't know. You know that she has no idea of what happened between the ages of eleven to seventeen. She has absolutely no idea of those missing years. What if she has children and they ask of what happened in her childhood? She won't know. She won't know about anything that happened. Its only right that she knows. Knows who she was. Is. Even if she hates me or whatever, I want her to know." Dumbledore looked at him, bemused.
"Draco, you are turning quite unlike what many of us expected. Even your father couldn't taint you."
"That man isn't my father. He's a monster that preyed on innocents. He can rot in hell or Azkaban, I don't care. He is not my father."
~~~~~~~~~~
Langley, Virginia
Hermione laid her head on her desk. Her head was still pounding. Her face was pale, she knew. After sitting there for three hours trying to sort out each of the memories that had come out of nowhere to attack her. As she did so, she kept chanting to herself: "I am not going mad, I am not going mad, I am not going mad…." And then she laughed at herself.
I'm the doctor, she thought. I'm the one who's supposed to helping others, not be a victim myself. Or patient. She brought her hand up to rub at her forehead. The gesture did little to relieve the ache. A look at her watch told her it was late. Rising slowly, Hermione gathered up her briefcase and laptop and exited the room.
Seated safely in her car, Hermione drove fast and dangerously, trying to take her mind off what had happened that afternoon. Impossible. How can I ignore these…memories if I don't even know what they mean? Already, she decided to have a nice long talk with her parents.
Parking her car in the apartment garage, she took the elevator up to the fifth floor. Hermione leaned against the elevator sidewall, her hand gripping the rail.
"Hey! Hold that for me!" Hermione jerked her head up and automatically pushed the open door button on the wall. A man, dark hair and blue eyes, dashed across the garage, jacket flapping and tie blown over his shoulder. Alex, Hermione recognized. Alex Richter, the young executive for an advertising firm that lived three doors down from her own apartment. He stepped into the elevator, catching his breath and grinning gratefully at her.
"Thanks."
"Your welcome." The elevator doors slid shut soundlessly. Alex glanced at her. Hermione had moved her gaze to the opposite corner of the elevator. And he kept on hoping. Ever since he had met her on the day he moved in and she, the nice neighbor, had come over to greet him, he had thought her beautiful. Almost serene, like an angel, with her clam expression despite much talk among the other neighbors about Hermione's workaholic attitude. Never frazzled or out of place. Though it was a little surprise that she profiled criminals. Even the human ugliness of that didn't seem to bother her though he knew it sometimes did.
Shifting, Alex could breath in her scent of wildflowers. He grinned sheepishly to himself. Hermione was lady, he thought. Another glance. A lady with an excellent figure and face and sharp mind. Both of them waved good byes to each other when they stepped out, Hermione without another look at Alex, Alex giving in to temptation and letting his gaze linger after her.
Hermione entered her apartment, habitually tossing her brief case to the sofa in front of the T.V. and laptop on the kitchen table. Huffing out a breath, Hermione headed toward her bathroom, and turned the water on in the bathtub. Going back to her living room, she shut on the small stereo. Rock wouldn't work right now, Hermione thought. Definitely not. Hermione went back to the bathroom, her movements more graceful as her mind was soothed by the majestic sounds of Mozart. Slipping out of her clothes and into the tub, Hermione laid her head on the edge, her body relaxing. The hot water warmed her limbs, the music floating gently in the air.
If I fall asleep in the bathtub, I'll drown, Hermione thought groggily. Hermione reached for the soap and lathered it over herself slowly, her movements more sluggish than graceful. The water lulled her… and the phone rang. Gritting her teeth, Hermione damned the caller, told him/her to do things she would never say out loud, and stepped out of the tub. Wrapping a towel around her, Hermione dashed to the phone, yanking it off the cradle and to her ear.
"Whoever this is, you can go screw yourself and then go to hell and screw the devil as well for all I care because-"
"What crawled up your ass?" Hermione blinked. "Trish?"
"No, its Danny Glover. I wanted to know if you could date me and then we could make sweet sweet love-"
"Okay, that's enough Trish." Trish laughed. "Did you get my email?"
"Yeah. Since when do you judge when I need to get laid, hmm?" Trish laughed again. The phone crackled a bit from the long distance call. Trish was probably still in Boston.
"I'm your favorite cousin, remember? I know everything about you, same with you and me."
"A comforting thought. I just love it when somebody knows all of my secrets. Like the time when I lost my virginity." Trish snorted.
"That guy was an ice bastard. Real stiff too. Remember when you couldn't shake him off, we pretended to be lesbians to scare him away?"
"Thank God we did it on the phone. I really wouldn't have wanted to have kissed you like you were my lover."
"Yeah. That's gross. And illegal. Incest is illegal, right?"
"In some states. So why'd you call?" Hermione could almost feel Trish shrug. "No reason. Just felt like talking to someone." Hermione shifted, leaning her shoulder against the wall to both support and brace herself.
"What happened?" Trish sighed. "Bryan dumped me fifteen minutes ago."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Hermione rubbed her head again. The girl talk with Trish had been full of accusations of what a bastard Bryan was and how Trish could go and kick his ass in front of his co-workers to humiliate him. Of course, Trish was going to pick the best fantasy and then do it. Hermione only hoped Trish would be a little more delicate this time. The last time a lover had cheated on Trish, she had viciously sworn at him in public and then kicked him in the groin, adding in a few punches that Hermione had taught for the sole purpose of self-defense. One of the bystanders had called 911 and Trish had been held in for assault by the local authorities. Hermione had bailed her out. Then she had delivered an ear blistering lecture about self-control and the proper use of tae kwon do and jujitsu.
Jesus, Hermione thought again, the corners of her lips lifting a bit at the memory. Of course, Trish hadn't listened a word to her lecture. Only said that he had deserved it. Hermione could only hope that something like this wouldn't happen to her.
Going back to the tub, Hermione discovered that the water was already cold. Sighing in disappointment, Hermione drained it and dressed in loose pants and shirt, her standard pajamas. Soon, she was settled on her sofa, enjoying iced tea and viewing the news channel. Hermione was idly flipping through a magazine before a story caught her eye.
"Just in, yesterday, in London, England, a small explosion that seemed to have been generated by a leaking propane tank outside a small house. The cause of the ignited fire is still being investigated. The explosion left one dead and seven others injured. Witnesses nearby claims that three men, two dressed in dark matching clothes or dark robes and another in jeans and white shirt with pale blonde hair and light complexion. They had supposedly started arguing and yelling violently, all drawing a sort of sticks at each other. The two men seemed to have ganged up against the other man and then the explosion occurred. Strangely enough, when witnesses were questioned again, they seemed to have no memory of the incident. The three men also seemed to have disappeared and notices have been put out. Now back to you, Jon."
Hermione sat back. An explosion of unknown cause? Propane just didn't ignite itself. This was something interesting. And sad. One dead. She felt the first stirrings of pity and clicked the T.V. off. Men drawing sticks at each other… Why did that seem familiar? Sticks… yelling…wands. They weren't sticks. They were wands. Where had that come from? Hermione wondered As if. Wands were used for spells and magic and she certainly knew that magic didn't exist. Only in fairy tales.
As she walked to her bedroom and crawled into bed, a nagging thought stayed with her.
Magic didn't exist.
Right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
July Fourth
Westchester County, New York
"Trish, just shut up."
"Oh, come on, Hermy. Sing along. It wouldn't hurt to have a little fun."
"Not when it's to Enrique Inglesias." Hermione rolled her eyes to prove her point as Enrique wailed about love lost.
"Why not? He is so hot-"
"He is so much like a man whore, I can't stand it. Isn't he engaged to that Russian? No, don't start singing. Not when I'm driving."
"Russian? Oh, Anna Kournikova, you mean."
"Whatever."
"I don't know. Probably, what with that music video he did. 'Escape'."
"Ugh. Can't he sing anything decent?" Alex smiled as Hermione and Trish continued arguing about Enrique. He had been invited to the Grangers' annual July Fourth celebration, a habit they had started only three years after they moved to the States. So far, the last several hours in the car with Hermione, all the way from Virginia to Boston to New York had been both a delight and educational experience. He never knew a woman could drink so much coffee. Or drive so recklessly. Or smell so great. He was drawn back to the present to Hermione's voice.
"Enrique sucks. Period."
"No, he does not-" Hermione held up a finger. "Nope. Don't try to convince me. He sucks. That's it. I don't give a damn about what you think. I don't like him. Now, its my turn to pick the next CD." At a stop light, Hermione riffled through Trish's CD collection. "Oh my God. What do you listen to? Kylie Minogue? No. N*Sync? Eww…"
"Hey, that's good shit."
"No, it isn't. Its pure trash. How old are you? This is like for fourteen year old teenagers with no taste. Incubus? Who are they? Here, let's just try it." Hermione popped in the CD and perked up when she heard the guitars. "Hey, this is good. Don't touch. We are listening to this until we get to my parents'."
"But that's another hour!"
"Suck it up, soldier. I'm not in a great mood." And they sat in silence, listening to Incubus and Hermione swear at New York drivers in general.
"Goddamn idiots. A-hole just tried to cut me. Why the hell is that van tail gating me? Isn't that illegal? Stupid morons with their heads stuck up their butts. Hey!" Hermione slammed on the brakes, throwing Trish forward into the back of the driver's seat and Alex against the seat belt. The SUV in the other lane beside Hermione had cut in front of her just as Hermione had stepped on the accelerator, bumping the side of the SUV passenger door. Both drivers stopped and slammed out of their cars.
"You asshole! You cut in front of me!" The SUV driver was dark haired with glasses. He glowered at her. "That was a perfectly legal move and you're the one that just decides to hit me! If you hadn't-"
"Hell, if you hadn't tried that at all and stayed on the other frickin' lane, this wouldn't have happened! I was even under the goddamn speed limit. What the hell-" Trish watched the argument escalate and even Hermione looked ready to unleash a roundhouse kick. Awesome, Trish thought. Always wanted to see one of those in real life. But Hermione managed to restrain herself by pulling at her own hair. Trish took a moment to treat herself with a small look at Alex. She had always had a crush on him ever since she saw him in Hermione's apartment on a visit. God, Trish thought. Hermione, you are so lucky as well as blind.
Alex watched the verbal duel with wide eyes. How he ever thought Hermione was nice and mild mannered, he didn't know. He watched Hermione snarl at the man and was glad he wasn't the other driver.
"Hey, break it up, break it up." A uniformed police officer with a handlebar moustache stepped between them, shooting them both warning glances to keep silent. "Do any of you have passengers in your car?"
"Yeah," Hermione said, still glaring at the other driver. "My cousin and a friend. They both saw the whole thing. You can question them." Hermione waved absently to Trish,. Trish stepped forward. "Yeah, I saw the entire thing." Trish steadily explained everything, even admitted that Hermione had just barely been under the New York State speed limit before the hit. The policeman, Officer Kessle, nodded and took notes, asking both Hermione and the other driver their sides of the story.
"Alright. It seems that the lady here was doing fine before you tired to cut her, sir." The officer held up his hand before the other driver could argue. "This is an accident. I can file an accident report and see that you both exchange insurance papers with names and car license. Here," Kessle handed both drivers piece of paper to write the appropriate information. Both of them exchanged papers without looking at the other's.
"And here is the accident report. Both of you have a nice day and Happy July Fourth." Kessle strode back to the police car and drove off. Hermione stomped back to her car and into the driver's seat. Slammed on the accelerator and shot another venomous look at the other driver. He glared back.
Silence reigned in the small car.
"First one to say anything will have their arms ripped out of the sockets and be beaten to bloody death with them."
A/N: How was that? Yeah, I know, Hermione was very off at that last part. But hey, spend half the day in the car does that to ya. I found that last part very fun to write.