Disclaimer: I am not the fabulous Ms. Rowling, and sadly, no matter how many times I read the books, never will be. She owns everything, except Joseph Gillams, who I'll send her as a present.
The Sound of Chocolate
"Good morning, Miss Granger!"
"Nice to see you, Miss Granger!"
"Your Daily Prophet, Miss Granger!"
Hermione hated going to work. This was quite strange, since she had loved getting up three hours early every single school morning to study before breakfast. But work, especially in the office, was terrible. From the second she stepped inside the building at ten to nine every morning, until the second she disapperated out of it, she was treated deferentially because of who she was. Or more importantly, perhaps, because of whom she was friends with. Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Not that she wished she wasn't friends with Harry – she loved him dearly, as a brother, of course - but one of the unfortunate products of said friendship was the attitude of those around her. People she had went to school with would call her 'Miss' and those twice her age would open doors for her, and tip their hat to her (which was quite a thing to see when the hat was a foot tall). And Hermione hated it with a passion.
It had never been very easy for Hermione to make friends – her first months at Hogwarts were evidence enough to support this – but now, despite the fact that the Order was full of people her age, and that she had certainly grown up since first year, she found it impossible to become more than an acquaintance with any of them. Whenever she dared enter a room where others were sitting around, having a coffee break, the chatter stopped and some bloody person always asked if 'Miss Granger' needed something. So 'Miss Granger' had taken to working through coffee breaks and eating lunch outside of her office only when a friend was visiting.
All in all, Hermione found working in an office to be the worst possible thing she had ever imagined. She hadn't even wanted the job. Head of Information, and one of the Inner Circle; it was all a sham to keep her from going on missions. All because of bloody stupid Ron Weasley. Not content with making her the safety guard, he had gone one step further (behind her back, of course) and asked his father, now Head of Logistics, to pull a few strings and get her a nice, sensible desk job.
And then, they'd thrown her a party.
She had been congratulated again and again by a group of people she didn't know, and generally it was believed that she should be happy to get out of the war unscathed. Unscathed. As if they even knew. And there were tinkling laughs, and waiters carrying far too many dainty nibbles. Hermione remembered sitting by the wall, struggling to gain some understand of why a party would be held in the middle of a war, while people were fighting, and dying. She hadn't wanted the job, just as she hadn't wanted the party. And then she was aware of Arthur Weasley sitting beside her, asking her if she would at least try, if only for the sake of Ron. Hermione had looked up and seen Ron's troubled face. Reluctantly, she had agreed. For Ron. She was then gently steered towards a group of people and the congratulations began again, this time, punctuated with questions.
Hermione vaguely remembered hearing the scrabbling of a pen, but there were so many people, that it wasn't until the next morning, upon opening the paper, that she thought about it properly. In such a short article it was amazing that they had made so many mistakes. She was described as 'Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived's long-time muggle-born girlfriend.' She was said to be 'thrilled and proud at the achievement of a life goal'. And when Ron saw it, he promptly threw it in the bin.
Ron. How Hermione missed him. It had been what – five weeks now? Just days after she had returned from her last ever mission – the one where they had finally recovered the mysterious object the Order was now attempting to understand – Ron and Harry had been called away again. And not one peep from them since. Hermione thought about the two of them, both her best friends, one now more than that, and wondered why they had felt the need to leave her behind. She was so frustrated at the fact that she couldn't help, that they wouldn't let her. All through school they had needed her, but now… now they just told her the Order needed her more.
Hermione reached her office, this particular morning, at five to nine. She put her bag on the desk, closed the door and read the few messages that had accumulated since the night before. Ten minutes later, she cleared all her papers off her table (filing them appropriately) and took out the strange runes she had been given the night before. She had seen them before, she was sure, but they were unlike the runes she had previously learnt. Three books lay open on the desk, and as she flipped through a fourth, she wished she were back at Hogwarts, where the library was easily ten times larger than that of the Order.
Some hours later, she was still quite stumped, and getting impatient. If harming a book had not been such a serious offence in her eyes, she would have flung the large tome across the room in a second. As it was, she couldn't help but slam the book down on the table with much more force than necessary.
"Hermione! Studying as always!"
A voice from the door way put an end to her agitation. She caught a glimpse of red hair and her heart soared, thinking it was Ron. Of course, it wasn't, and she knew it couldn't be. Nevertheless her face broke into a smile when she saw who her unexpected visitor was.
"Ginny! I'm so happy to see you! You're back earlier than expected! I didn't think I'd see you till the end of the week!" Hermione rose, and hugged the redhead happily. She drew back to look at her best friend.
"A new scar! What happened?" Hermione said, her voice full of worry at the freshly closed wound on Ginny's cheek.
"Nothing, nothing. Don't worry!" Ginny replied. "I've seen you look worse!"
Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ginny playfully, conjured another chair, and motioned at the other girl to sit. They idly chatted, both catching up on each other's news. But Ginny was watching Hermione very closely as Hermione spoke animatedly about Joseph Gillams last patrol, in which he had attempted to apprehend a cat he thought to be an enemy animagus. He had ended up in St. Mungo's for two days and the cat had turned out to be of the common alley variety.
"… and then he tried to cast an immobility charm on the cat – the poor thing was probably half-crazy with terror – but what he actually did was –"
"So you haven't heard from Harry or Ron then?"
Hermione looked taken aback. She struggled to answer the question.
"No, I ha – "
"And you're worried about them?"
Hermione stuttered as she answered, the quick rate of direct questions taking her by surprise.
"Well, of course I a – "
"And you're jealous. And you feel guilty. And confused about why you feel guilty."
" I… How do you know that?"
Ginny smiled, her eyes gleaming. "Weasley intuition, of course."
"Of course," echoed Hermione.
"But let me tell you this, 'Mione, 'cos we're friends," Ginny's voice was serious and low, as though telling a giant secret. "Ron and Harry, though possibly somewhat lacking in the brains department, are the world's best War Mages. So are you. And – trust me here – some day they are going to need you more than ever, and when that day comes, you'll be there, by their sides. And in the end, I'm sure neither of them would have it any other way."
"I know, I know! But once, once they actually needed me to get through the day. Now I'm just someone they can call if they need a… a runic translation," Hermione vented all of her frustration from the last few weeks. "I'm sick of being in here sorting paperwork when they're out there risking their lives!"
"Hermione, didn't it ever cross your mind that they're trying to protect you?"
"I know they're trying to protect me! But I'm not five any more and I can look after myself! I should be helping them!" The last part was shouted, and Hermione vaguely wondered how she had come from laughing amiably to shouting in such a short space of time. Her anger spent, she took a deep breath before continuing, quietly, "I don't want my friends to be killed when I can save them, Ginny. I don't… I don't want it all to happen again…I don't want a repeat of my parents' death…"
The last few words were whispered, and Ginny wrapped her arms around her friend. Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek. She held on to Ginny, feeling some of the hurt she felt slide away. Ginny moved back, and took both of Hermione's hands in hers, saying;
"Cheer up, old girl. I know I can't say anything to make it all go away, so I won't try. The boys should be back next week, and then you should talk to them about it. But until then, dry your eyes, and we'll go out for lunch. I know a lovely little café we can apparate to. How does lots of chocolate sound to you?"
Hermione smiled, and rubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.
"Chocolate sounds perfect."
A/N: This took a while to write, because I kept thinking Hermione was over-reacting. I would really love if people could tell me what they thought of this chapter, but of course, compliments are also always welcome! ; )