Two Weeks Notice:
Chapter Four
-dutchtulips-
---
Only a few days later, Hermione was back to her old self, her dress and style neat and proper again, and the load of books and folders returned to her arm. At the present moment, however, she had several of them spread across the corner table at the Three Broomsticks, studying them intently. Seated across from her was Ron, who was in turn studying her intently, though he did it furtively, nimbly, as he feasted on his lunch of shepherd's pie.
"So, any good prospects?" He asked her, around a mouthful.
She nodded affirmatively, shuffling through some papers. "Yes, actually. A number of good résumés have crossed my desk. Kevin Whitby has some impressive qualifications, served as assistant to the Minister for a number of years. And here's Malcolm Davies. He has a strong background in -"
"No," Ron cut in, setting down his fork. "I'd, er, I'd like it to be a witch."
"Ah. I see," Hermione said shortly. "Is there is specific reason for that, or do I really want to know? Should I only screen applicants who are part Veela from now on? Do you have any hair color preferences I should know about?"
Ron cringed at the remark. I should have known better, he thought, mentally kicking himself. He looked up at her apologetically, and as he did, he saw how tightly Hermione was clutching the forms in her hands, and it caused a surge of suspicion to creep up inside of him, and he couldn't resist it.
He reached over at that moment and laid his hand on hers, and the contact caused the papers to slip from between her fingers. "Sorry," he said, as gracefully as he could muster. "Are you okay? I'm getting the feeling that there's something else bothering you. You haven't looked at me the entire time we've been here."
"It's... it's nothing," she softly uttered. "I... nothing."
"Come on, please," Ron pushed gently. "You can tell me."
Finally Hermione looked up at him, and he saw that her usual luminous brown eyes appeared lank, somber. "It's just, well, my parents. Every... every couple of weeks I meet with them and we have a family dinner together. We like to keep up on each other's lives. Well, my mother does, anyway. She's... well, every time I see her, she nags me relentlessly." She paused for a moment to rub at her eyes. "It drives me so crazy, that now I look for excuses to cancel my visits."
"What does she do that drives you so batty?" He wanted to know, his lunch long forgotten now.
"She just... she doesn't think I chose the right job, she wonders why I'm not married yet, when am I going to give her grandkids..." Hermione rattled off. "She's been pressing me that way ever since I left Hogwarts. I guess she thinks that, as good as I was in school, I should have a better career." Pause. "Last night was one of our dinners together, and her badgering hasn't put me in the best mood today."
Ron straightened in his chair. "Well, listen. How about we forget about work for the rest of the day and I take you someplace? Cheer you up. How does that sound?"
She looked at him skeptically. "I don't think so. I've got way too many things to do today!"
"Aw, come on," he pressed. "It couldn't have been fun getting nagged when that's always been your job!"
She surprised him then, actually laughing at Ron's joke. "Yes, I suppose that's where I do get it from."
"Well, then, come. We'll finish this up tomorrow. I'll take you out this evening. Anywhere you want. Okay?" Ron beamed at her.
Hermione looked unsure for a long moment as she gathered her papers together, but when she finally looked up at Ron again and saw the infectious smile he was giving her, she relented. "Okay."
---
The Three Broomsticks, as was always the case, was filled with magical folk of all shapes and sizes, and so the cozy room was equally immersed in chatter. It didn't matter, even, that it wasn't a weekend - the tavern had been Hogsmeade's biggest attraction since it had been standing, and thus it was always packed with people. Nevertheless, Ron was glad that Hermione had picked their old favorite watering hole in which to spend the evening. The perfect mixture of cheerfulness and comfort forever hung in the air.
And, as Ron had noticed, Hermione was taking perfect advantage of it. The two of them were sitting at a table near the back of the pub, the redhead pleasantly sipping on his pint of mulled mead. He actually wasn't paying very much attention to his drink, however, as he had been spending most of his time staring over his tankard at Hermione. On her side of the table, a tall bottle of spiced rum sat, half-empty, as she had been filling and refilling her glass the whole evening.
"So... I just, I don't understand it," Hermione was saying, albeit somewhat lethargically. "What is... what is wrong with me?"
Ron shrugged. "Well, tonight... large amounts of alcohol."
She continued on as if she hadn't heard, and truth, probably didn't. "My mother can't expect me to be exactly as she wishes... can she? Because I am... I am my own... person! I can live however I... want!"
Setting down his drink, the redhead reached into the snack bowl on the table and pulled out a handful of Bernie Bott's every-flavor beans. "Of course you can!" He agreed heartily.
"Best... student in our class at Hoggy... er, Hogwarts!" She slurred. "And yet my... my mum.. all she can do is.. nettle me... about... getting married! It's as if she thinks I've... never been on a single date! And I've... been on dates! Plenty of men have enjoyed my company!"
"Er, Hermione? You might want to lower your voice," Ron warned. People at the tables near them were now giving the two of them strange looks.
Again, Hermione spoke right over him. "I dated Viktor Krum several years ago, didn't I? Bulgarian Quidditch star, he was, too!" She took a gulp from her drink. "And Cormac McLaggen, I went out with him, too! See? See, I've been... on, on dates!"
"Yes," Ron agreed, almost indifferently, as he chomped down on a banana-flavored bean. "You have, Hermione. Plenty of wizards... have fancied you." For one brief minute, he grimaced, but was able to wipe it from his face before she noticed.
"Right!" She replied, suddenly slamming her hand on the tabletop. "So then, what is my mother... so bloody worried about? I could get married any old time!"
Ron leaned forward, picking up his drink again. "Well, have you noticed," he told her, "that the only noteworthy wizards you've dated were when you were still in school? Not many mentions of any men you've been involved with after Hogwarts. Have there... have there been many?" He asked hesitantly.
Hermione let out a groan. "Well, no, I suppose not many," she admitted. "But I... that's not... fair! I'm not naive, you know! There was this one bloke, around a year ago... Justin Finch-Fletchley, actually! And... we had a great time together! Do you remember him from school? But I... I only spent a few days with him... he's working for the French Ministry now..."
"Well, there you go. Look at all of these blokes," the redhead replied. "Maybe it's just that they're all wrong for you. You hadn't anything in common with Krum, really. McLaggen had a screw loose. And Finch-Fletchley was a blithering dolt, if you ask me."
"Oh, no!" She disagreed. "Justin was very nice! We both loved studying and reading. He was very smart." Pause. "Though... I reckon maybe that's not very romantic sometimes. But... I don't know. I guess I'm just not a romantic... you know, person. Never really... felt that way about anyone, I guess. When I... dated Viktor, I blabbered about S.P.E.W. almost every time we were, you know, alone. Don't know why I did that..."
It was at that moment Ron surreptitiously grabbed Hermione's glass and hid it underneath the table. "No idea, really. I myself would have found it very arousing," he commented facetiously.
She hadn't noticed that her drink had gone missing, as she kept clutching at the empty air. "I don't know... maybe... maybe I'm just not very physically romantic."
Ron's eyebrows shot up at her words, and even though he figured it was caused by her drunkenness, he was still slightly shocked that Hermione was being so blunt. "You know, Hermione, I'm not entirely sure I'd like to hear about your sexual exploits tonight," he told her, a bit anxiously.
"You're right. There's no way I could be... horrid in bed," she replied, misconstruing his comment. "I'm like a manticore! I can bend like a pretzel." Hermione looked up at him then, an odd look in her eyes he hadn't seen before. "That's what men want, isn't it? I'll bet that's... what you want, Ronald. And I bet I could give you a manticore-pretzel thing."
And, without another word, she leaned right across the table and gave Ron a big kiss, right on the lips.
It was several long moments before Hermione broke the kiss, and when she at last pulled back, she mumbled to a stupefied Ron, "You're a... really good listener, you know."
He opened his mouth to reply, but before he had a chance, she moaned and finally passed out, falling into his lap. "Hermione?" He asked. "You OK?" He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently, but still, she was unresponsive.
Sighing, Ron got up from the table, realizing at once what he had to do. Carefully he swung Hermione's arm around his neck, and then he slipped his arm underneath her knees, lifting her right off the ground, and headed for the exit door with his best friend in tow. As he passed the bar, he said to Madame Rosmerta, "The back table with the rum was us. What do I owe you?"
"No matter, I'll put it on your tab, Ron," she told him graciously.
"Ta, Rosmerta," he said, as politely as he could, and then, angling Hermione awkwardly though the door, exited the tavern.
---
The next morning was a sluggish one for Hermione. Though her previous night's alcohol consumption had given her a whole night's sleep, she didn't exactly wake up feeling refreshed. She normally Flooed to work every day, but on this particular morning had found she didn't really have much energy to do so. Her townhouse was just down the road from the Leaky Cauldron, so she'd opted to enter Diagon Alley that way.
Before she'd left the pub, she'd ordered a tall, hot cup of mint tea from Tom, and now was finishing up the last of it while sitting on the park bench just outside the entrance of Weasley Towers. She'd hoped the hot drink would sober her up, and it had, a little.
"Good morning!"
The sudden, jovial voice startled Hermione, and she nearly spat out the last swig of her tea. She glanced up slowly, and saw Ron seating himself on the bench next to her. "Please," she said slowly. "Not so loud."
"Sorry," he replied sheepishly.
"You know, uh, I... well, I don't have too many memories from last night," she stammered, "But, uh, we didn't... you and me... we didn't, well, you know..."
Hermione's face was blushing so scarlet at the insinuation that Ron couldn't resist have a little bit of fun with her. "It was a beautiful night. You made sounds I've never heard a woman make before."
"We didn't..." She repeated, aghast.
"Well... maybe not physically," Ron told her, relenting. "But spiritually, you are the best I've ever had."
Hermione pressed a hand to her upper chest, feeling her hammering heart slow back to normal. "Oh, well, that's a relief," she said, and laughed softly. "I, er... well, anything crazy I said or did, I just... well, sorry. It was just, er, a mistake."
"It's quite all right."
His voice had such a dreamlike quality to it that it caused Hermione to look back up at him in confusion. When she did, she noticed that Ron was gazing her, something glowing in his blue eyes that she couldn't quite identify. Surprisingly, though, it didn't make her feel edgy, as most of Ron's scrutinizing stares seemed to do.
He looked at her for quite awhile, and probably would have for even longer, but then something seemed to break him out of his reverie and he stood up from the bench. "Well, I... I have some work to do, so I'd best get to that. You get some rest, and I'll see you later. Come in when you're feeling better."
"Thank you," she replied gratefully, and watched Ron depart, running a rakish hand through his hair as he slipped through the office building's revolving door. And as plain a sight as it was, strangely and suddenly it made her smile.
---
By mid-afternoon, Hermione was feeling much more herself again. Her head had stopped hurting, and was actually hungry at lunch. And it had also helped that she had stopped by the Apothecary for a draught of restorative potion, as well.
Sitting at her desk, she had a number of legal papers organized around her workspace, and a large scroll, the ends almost touching the floor now, was sitting in the center of the desktop, on which Hermione was busily scratching away. She was so wrapped up in what she was doing, she hadn't immediately heard the entrance of a new person, until they spoke.
"Hermione?"
The curly-haired witch looked up to see her assistant, Claudia, standing in the office doorway. "What is it?" She inquired cordially. "If Percy's asking for the estate reports, I'm almost -"
"Oh, no," Claudia cut in. "It's just, there's a Hannah Abbott here to see you."
Hermione's brow furrowed for a moment, trying to recall if she knew why. After a minute of pondering, though, the answer finally bobbed to the front row of her brain. "Oh, oh yes. She's here to interview for my position. Send her in."
Neatly Hermione shuffled her legal papers into a tidy pile and set them aside, clearing away her workspace. She quickly twisted her parchment into a scroll, and as she placed it aside the rest of her thing, she looked up to see her old schoolmate walking smoothly into her office, a pleasant smile on her face.
"Hermione!"
Rising from her chair, she extended her hand to Hannah. "It's nice to see you. It's been several years, hasn't it?" Hermione said cordially. As they shook hands, she gave her old schoolmate an appraising look.
Hannah carried a professional aura, with her golden blond hair done up in a French twist on the back of her head, and the red robes she was wearing were crisp and ironed. "Yes, it has. I didn't even know what had became of you career-wise until I heard Ron Weasley had hired you as his lawyer. And now you're quitting!"
Hermione managed a casual shrug. "Yes, well... I felt it was time to move on, you know. Anyway, please have a seat, and we'll get started." She lowered herself into her desk chair once more, waited for Hannah to get settled, and then began, her tone promptly businesslike. "I'm sure you've read the job outline and I'd like to discuss some of your qualifications. Now, as you know, Weasley Towers is a real estate entrepreneurship. So I am assuming your experience with wizard estate law is par, or else you wouldn't even be here."
Hannah hadn't even seemed to notice the sharpness in Hermione's voice. "Of course, of course!" She replied brightly. "So, tell me, what is it like to work with Ron? He seems to have taken great strides since we knew him at Hogwarts!"
The curly-haired witch wordlessly folded her hands on her desktop, not sure how to respond. "Working here at Weasley Towers can be quite... rewarding, yes. I hope you will find yourself up to the challenge."
"Oh, I'm sure I will," Hannah said, smiling, "If you find me satisfactory for the position, that is! I've been working abroad for several years, at both the Bulgarian and Italian Ministries, but lately I've felt it was time to come back home, and dedicate myself and my work to England once more. All charity begins at home, don't you agree?"
"How brilliant. You're hired!"
Both women started at the new voice, and looked towards the doorway. Ron was standing there, leaning against the baseboard with a witty smile on his face. He stepped into the room to shake Hannah's hand, which she did, vigorously.
"Ron Weasley! How lovely! I didn't know I'd be meeting up with you right away," she said, grinning. "It's so nice to see you again, after all these years. I'm amazed by what you've accomplished since we left school."
"It is quite a gem, I must say," he replied with a chuckle. "But these last several months, I daresay it's Hermione who has been helping me keep this place like a well-oiled machine. We've had the best rapport that sometimes we even finish -"
"- Each other's sentences," Hermione quickly said, allowing a faint smile to cross her lips as she gazed at Ron.
He grinned at her, pleased. "Exactly."
"Sounds like an amazing team," Hannah beamed.
"Hermione?" Claudia popped her head back into the doorway. "Percy's requesting to see you. He wants to see your estate reports."
"Ah, yes, of course!" She exclaimed, jumping up from her chair and gathering up her scrolls. As she stuffed them into her bag, she said, "Hannah, why don't we set up a proper interview for tomorrow, say around one o'clock -"
"Oh, no, that's quite all right," Ron cut in, who was now sitting on the corner of his lawyer's desk, looking at Hannah. "I can finish up with Ms. Abbott, here."
Hermione looked hesitant for a moment, and replied, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "Aren't you coming to the meeting?"
"Perce only asked to see you, didn't he?"
"Well, yes, I suppose it seems so," she replied, almost airily, and started to walk out of her office. At the door, though, she momentarily turned back. Ron and Hannah were talking animatedly now. "Ron?" She asked, trying to get his attention. "Ron? Ronald!"
He finally looked up. "Er, yes?"
"Are we... are we still on for the Quidditch game tonight? Wimbourne Wasps at the Appleby Arrows?" She wanted to know.
Hannah perked up at the line of conversation. "Oh, I adore a spot of Quidditch myself. I'm a big Ballycastle Bats fan."
"Are you?" Ron asked, interested. "The Bats are quite good. But I have to say, I'm a Cannons man, born and raised. One day we're going to take the World Cup again."
"So... are we... are we meeting for the game?" Hermione asked again, a bit louder, becoming slightly agitated.
That seemed to catch Ron's attention. "Yes, yes, of course," he agreed brightly. "Seven o'clock, right?"
She started to reply, but he was already chatting away again with Hannah, who was giggling occasionally at his words. Hermione sighed, feeling the disgust well up inside of her, and turned around, walking briskly out of her office.
---
Just outside of Appleby, England, along a rolling stretch of countryside, sat the large Quidditch stadium that was home to the Arrows. Outside of the entrance, Apparation points were set up, and various debris laying together in the grass - cans, glass bottles, empty flower pots - was clearly a pile of used Portkeys.
Inside the arena, seats were filling up quickly, as fans arrived to watch the game. The game itself had not yet started, and so the stands were not yet as loud as they usually were.
In the top box, in two of the prime seats, sat Ron and Hermione, both looking down at the field and anxious for the game to begin. Ron was wearing a pale blue jacket, to show his support for the Arrows, even though he was still sporting an orange Cannons t-shirt underneath. Hermione, next to him, was wearing a pale blue blouse with the shape of a large arrow on the front, formed by silver sequins.
"So... what did you think of Hannah?" Hermione asked as evenly as she could, sipping from her bottle of butterbeer.
Omnioculars pressed against his eyes, he replied, "Oh, I loved her. She's great."
"Er, well... wonderful. Me too!" She said, faux enthusiasm dripping out of her voice.
Ron discontinued his study of the Quidditch field, lowering his Omnioculars and slinging them round his neck. "She's very polite, flatters me constantly, easy to talk to," he went on. "Very effervescent, everything I'm looking for in a new attorney."
"Well, erm, good," Hermione murmured, chugging more butterbeer.
"Since she's just moved back to England, she hasn't got anywhere to stay at the moment, so I've rented her out a room at the Phoenix Inn," Ron told her. "And since she seems to be so keen on Quidditch, I thought it to be courteous to invite her to the company outing."
"You did?" Hermione blinked. "Well... I can throw a Quaffle, you know."
And without missing a beat, the redhead quipped amusedly, "Yes, at my head, I've experienced that." Leaning over the box, he said, "I think I see the Wasps down there. The game must be starting in a minute."
And indeed, the next moment, seven black-robed Quidditch players and seven blue-robed players soared out of their individual starting gates. Everyone in the stands began cheering loudly and pumping their fists when they saw the teams taking position. Hermione seemed to be the only one out of joint, however, as she sat far back in her chair, arms crossed, grumbling to herself.
---
To be continued...