Two Weeks Notice:
Chapter Three
-dutchtulips-
---
Hermione sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. It'd been only a few days since she told Ron she wanted to quit, and right away she'd sent several résumés and had a number of interviews with a few businesses at which she was hoping to be employed next. But to her surprise - which had now become aggravation - it hadn't been going as well as she'd hoped.
Sitting across the desk from Owen Dervish - company head of Dervish and Banges, Hermione cocked her head at the handsome young blond man, listening almost indifferently to what he was saying.
"You know your qualifications are beyond outstanding, Ms. Granger," he told her politely. "And I'm thrilled you applied for our patent attorney opening. I would love nothing more than to allow you to fill the position right away. However..."
Here it comes, she thought, rolling her eyes.
"... Ron Weasley owled me this morning and told me that you are... absolutely essential to his organization."
Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration. Only the third time today, she thought. Out loud, she remarked, quite unceremoniously, "Of course he did. Well, thank you for your time."
She got to her feet and left Mr. Dervish's office without saying another word to him. Grumbling as she stomped into the reception room, Hermione hardly paid attention as she tossed a pinch of Floo power into the blaze of the fireplace that was there, stepped into the emerald flames, and shouted her destination. She knew what he was trying to do, what trick he was trying to pull, and she was festering with anger about it.
With a whirl, Hermione stepped across the fireplace grate and found herself back in her office. A tawny owl was perched on her desk, next to a pile of letters he had apparently dropped there. With yet another sigh, she walked over to her desk and picked them up. They were all from the various places she'd applied for employment. She tore into the first one and, seeing it was a rejection, tossed all of them aside. Hermione knew they'd all declined her, and for the very same reason - one she knew perfectly well by now.
Brushing out of the room, she stormed down the hall towards her boss's office, and once there, gave the double doors a strong, careless shove.
The person she'd burst in to see - Ron - was sitting on the sofa in his office, a glass of elderflower wine in one hand and an issue of Quidditch Weekly in the other. He seemed startled, but only by the noise. The sight of an incensed Hermione standing in his office was, regrettably, something he had been expecting all day.
"You tosser!" She shouted at him.
Ron's only response to the insult was to casually set his magazine and glass aside. "Why, hello to you, too," he greeted calmly.
Hermione threw the office doors closed again, and then turned angrily back to her boss. "You owled everyone except for the Hog's Head and told them not to hire me! I am unemployable!"
The redhead got up from the sofa and crossed the room to his desk. "Okay, well, listen. You have a contract with me, that explicitly says that you will work for me at least until Budleigh Babberton is finalized, or I can stop you working anywhere else. And there's no loopholes, because you drafted it! And you're the best." He smiled. "Now, honestly, I personally believe you wrote it that way on purpose because, deep down, you don't really want to go. Does it kill you how well I know you?"
Hermione glared at him wordlessly, feeling her face grow warm at his comment. And the grin he was flashing at her wasn't helping much, either.
---
"I can't believe you're still going over that contract."
Hermione glanced up from the papers on her desk and over at Ginny, who'd just walked into her study, carrying two bottles of butterbeer. She handed one to her friend, who took it gratefully, and sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk.
Hermione leaned back in her chair and rubbed at her eyes. "Ah, I'm sorry, Ginny. I know I invited you over tonight, but this contract is driving me bananas. I can't believe I could've drafted something so stupid."
"Stupid? Are you crazy?" Ginny exclaimed. "I've looked over it. That's an impressive work!"
"Yes, but I'm trying to get out of it," she replied. "And... unfortunately, Ron's right. The more I read it, the more I know there isn't a single crack to slip through. I'm too damn meticulous for my own good."
"I don't know, I think maybe..." Ginny started to say, but then abruptly stopped herself. She took a long swig from her butterbeer, as if to avoid finishing her sentence.
But Hermione wasn't going to let her off that easily. "You what?" She inquired, peering at her friend. "What was it you were going to say?"
The redhead set her drink to the desk, and then said slowly, "I... well, I was going to say, that I... you know, maybe Ron's right. Maybe you don't really want to leave."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up, taken aback at what she'd just heard. "What! How can you be serious?"
"Oh, come on, Hermione! We both know what I'm getting at!" Ginny leaned forward then, plunking her elbows to the desktop. "You know as well as I do that you had another reason for taking the job, other than just saving Flourish and Blotts from being torn down." Her voice dropped lower. "It was because of him."
The curly-haired witch looked away from her friend at that moment, slouching far back in her chair. "I don't know anything of the sort," she replied smoothly. "There's nothing keeping me at Weasley Towers. Nothing. No one, either."
Ginny only shook her head. "Okay. Fine. Whatever." She paused for a moment, and then closed the line of conversation as quickly as she had opened it. "So, you can't break the contract. But if you're really wanting to get out of there, I suppose... well, Ron can stop you from leaving the company, but he's also the only one who can sack you from it."
Hermione finally returned the redhead's look at those words, her eyes lighting up as she understood what Ginny was implying.
---
The next morning, Hermione stepped off the lift and on the top floor of Weasley Towers, Ltd., a silly grin pasted on her face as she walked down the hall the direction of Percy's office for the weekly faculty meeting. Her hands, usually full of papers and folders, hung unusually empty at her sides today. She breezed casually into the office, where Percy and Ron were both seated, waiting.
Ron sat up straighter on the sofa when Hermione walked in, and immediately noticed that her appearance, usually so prim - robes buttoned all the way up to the collar, hair neatly styled - was immensely more relaxed. Her long nutmeg hair hung loose and bushy, and her robes were wrinkled and the buttons in the wrong holes. She was also chewing away at something in her mouth.
"I am so sorry!" Hermione said brightly, bumping into Percy's ficus plant as she walked past his desk. She made no move to pick it back up; instead dropping down on the sofa next to Ron. "I am really late! I'm very sorry to have kept you waiting!"
Percy looked annoyed as he snatched his potted plant from the carpet and, turning back to the two of them sitting on his couch, mumbled, "Forty-five minutes, for your information."
Hermione pretended not to hear. "It is such a crazy morning in Diagon Alley today, pushing through all of those people just to get to the office!" She explained.
"Well, in case you've forgotten, there is an invention called Floo powder," Percy remarked, displeased. "Not to mention your ability to Apparate..."
"Sorry, Perce!" She said, giving a light shrug. "I don't know where my mind has gotten to!"
The elder Weasley rolled his eyes, but said nothing. "Anyway!" He exclaimed, "Onto business matters! Estate reports! Abraxan's Knoll is due for filing this week! Hermione, I assume that will be on -"
Bang!
The immense noise filled the room, throwing Percy, who had been standing, back several feet, causing him to crash into the wall and topple to the floor. He sat there for several moments, dazed, before he was finally able to gain his composure and look up to see what had happened.
Ron was still sitting on the couch, a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face as he stared at his lawyer, who was looking sheepish as she reached into her mouth and pulled out what looked to be a wad of bubble gum. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, to be exact.
"Sorry!" She apologized, as Percy got to his feet. "I blew too big of a bubble, I guess! I had no idea that was going to happen!"
"I'm sure not," the elder Weasley replied, though it was obvious he was not entirely convinced. He was staring, red-faced, at Hermione, as if he were fighting down the urge to reach over and slug her.
It was precisely at that moment that Ron chose to intervene. Clutching Hermione's arm, he said pleasantly to his brother, "Actually, if you'll excuse me for a minute, Perce, I need to confer with Hermione for a moment."
Without another word, he got up from the sofa, half-dragged Hermione out of the room after him, and down the corridor in the direction of his office. "Mad, you are mad," he started to say.
"I am?" She asked, pretending to be confused.
"Yes, you are. I know what you're doing." Ron's tone seemed tight, but he was showing no outward signs of being angry that it was hard to say if he really was. "You're thinking if you show up late and slack off and annoy everyone, that's going to get you fired. Well, I'm not falling for it! Not at all."
The fake, ditzy expression dropped off Hermione's face at that point, and because Ron was still holding onto her, she dragged him into his office with her.
He turned to her questionably, and saw that her normal, serious look had returned. "Ron, I have a spastic colon," she told him earnestly. "I also have insomnia, mostly because you Floo me relentlessly. And when I am finally able to get a few minutes' sleep, I dream that you're going to call me. I think about you during every meal of the day, and I even think about you while I'm geting dressed in the morning! Not in a good way," she clarified, noting his smirk, "but in a 'I'm-so-distracted-I-can't-match-my-clothes!' kind of way, so then I change my clothes again, and about four more times after that! So basically, I have intestinal problems, I'm not getting enough sleep at night, and today is the first day in my life that I actually slacked off at work! And I can't stand the thought of that!"
Ron looked at her, stunned by her outburst. Finally, he said softly, "I... I won't call after midnight."
But she was shaking her head. "You will, Ron! You know you will! You always do." Hermione paused for a moment, as if she were having trouble trying to say her next words. "I just... I can't... I don't think we can see each other, professionally, anymore."
The redhead stared at her for another minute longer, his surprise turning into compassion. At last, his voice sounding very reluctant, he told her, "All right. All right, fine. Stay on until you can find a replacement, then I'll let you sod off."
Hermione's eyes immediately brightened at Ron's words, and she grinned widely. "Oh, thank you. Thank you," she replied happily. "And I promise, I'll find you someone really good. Better than me, even!" She laughed and then leaned forward, wrapping him up in a big, warm hug.
It was so unexpected, Ron could hardly move. He tried to think, to say something, but the only thing filling his mind was how very aware he was of Hermione's lithe body pressing into his, her arms tight around his shoulders. Finally, slowly, he was able to reciprocate, and he did - returning the hug, encircling his arms gently around her, breathing deeply.
The minute Hermione had felt Ron's hands touch her back, straight away it made her alert of how long she'd been holding him. And even though she wasn't even looking at him, the thought of it was causing her face to redden. She tried to let go, but she couldn't. It felt as if some invisible force was holding her back - whether it was her embarrassment, or something else entirely that she wouldn't let herself think about.
But the moment was broken when someone entered the office, causing the door to rattle open loudly. The sound was enough to break Hermione from her reverie, and, as if he'd caught fire, she broke apart immediately from Ron.
It was Percy, his head and shoulders poking through the ajar door, looking quizzically at them. "Are you two through?' He hissed impatiently. "I'd like to finish the meeting before dinner time, you know!"
"Oh, of course," Ron blurted, composing himself quickly. Then, to Hermione, "You?"
She nodded, a little too energetically. "Yes. Er, yes."
"Well, then, after you," he said politely, pulling the office door open for her, and she gave him a cheerful beam and walked out, following Percy back to his office. Ron brought up the rear, watching Hermione's hair swinging from side to side, and as plain a sight as it was, strangely and suddenly it made him smile.
---
Harry was certain the world was coming to an end. There was no other way to explain the crazy thing that was happening.
Ron was losing at chess.
At the beginning of the game, when Harry had come over to his friend's apartment for an evening of chess, per Ron's invitation, he had quickly captured several of his pawns and even one of his knights. He at first thought that the redhead was sneaking in one of his famous playing tactics, but Ron seemed so detached that he knew that couldn't be it. Harry had never been very skilled at the game, and was never able to pick out his strategies until after Ron had clobbered him. But now, after over sixteen years of losing, the most amazing thing was happening - Harry was winning a game.
So of course, he knew immediately something had to be wrong. Pulling his gaze away from the chessboard and up at Ron, Harry noticed for the first time how distracted his best friend looked. He let out a sigh. "You're not concentrating," he said, realizing. "This offends me."
Ron shrugged and leaned back in his chair, still staring at the pieces but no longer paying attention. "Sorry," he mumbled. "It's just... I lost her this afternoon. And... it really upsets me, because... I've come to rely on her for everything, and I trust her completely. I really... well, she means a great deal to me, and I don't want her to go."
Harry nodded in understanding. "It's like that with women. Think about it like chess," he said, gesturing at their game. "Chess is straightforward. It's all about patterns. Black pieces, white pieces. Pawns are sacrificed. Knights trounce. Someone wins the game, someone loses. But relationships?" He raised an eyebrow. "No way. It's practically the exact opposite. They're unpredictable. You don't win or lose, really, when it comes to women."
"Well, what about you and Ginny? Wouldn't you call marriage winning?" He asked curiously.
A smile broke the corners of Harry's mouth. "I suppose I would," he replied drolly. "But Ginny won, too. That's what I'm getting at." He paused to lock eyes with Ron. "You feel like you've lost Hermione, without even considering that she probably feels the same way about you."
"But she wanted to quit! She begged me for ages!" Ron exclaimed, puzzled. "She doesn't have anything to lose!"
Harry, however, only shrugged in reply. He put a hand momentarily over his face to hide his involuntary grin. It's so obvious, yet he can't even see it.
---
To be continued...