Two Weeks Notice:
Chapter Five
-dutchtulips-
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In rural London, just outside of the city, one specific stretch of rolling grassland stood empty and deserted to the Muggle eye. However, to magical eye, the several acres of barren grounds were very much filled, and filled by a luxurious sight. Several open Quidditch fields had been constructed, golden hoops dotting the land. Also scattered about were handfuls of lodge houses, picnic shelters, and terraces, where chess, Gobstones, Exploding Snap, and other games could be played. At the entrance of the recently erected recreational area, a tall archway stood, with a large, colorful banner tied to it. On the banner were the words: Welcome to the 5th Annual Weasley Towers Company Outing!
It hadn't been an easy spot of land to acquire, and there had been much paperwork to fill out to ensure the permits for all of the construction, as well. But Ron, face of a powerful and popular company in the wizarding world as he was, had all the right connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. And not to mention, a little help from the masterful quill of Hermione's had also aided in clinching the permits.
Right now, the pair who had made Weasley Towers' company outing possible were taking full advantage of it. Out on one of the Quidditch fields, on brooms a hundred feet up, Ron was currently racing through the air, his Chudley Cannons robes billowing out behind him. Under one arm, the red Quaffle was tucked, and his eyes were trained on the golden hoops at the opposite end of the field. Once close enough, he gave the ball an exuberant throw directly for the goal.
Hermione - playing the Keeper - sailed wildly for the Quaffle, but didn't get there in time. She watched disdainfully as the ball zoomed through the center hoop, and, gritting her teeth in frustration, glanced back at Ron. He was yelling victoriously, and high-fived another player - a slender blonde - as she flew up to him, giggling happily.
"Nice goal!" Hannah exclaimed.
Hermione, who had just returned the hoops from retrieving the Quaffle, glared at the two of them. She opened her mouth to fling a well-chosen reply, but before she could, a player from her team flew into her line of vision, averting her attention.
"Hermione, over here!" Claudia called, waving her arms in the air.
She obliged, tossing the ball to her assistant, and then watched as she zoomed down the pitch, the Quaffle in her possession. As the Chasers were some distance away now, Hermione relaxed her attention on the goal hoops, drifting slowly back and forth between them.
"Having a rough day?"
She looked up, and saw Ginny - who was playing Seeker for Hermione's team - drop several feet to talk to her best friend. Her eyes, however, were still trained on the field, specifically on Harry, who was playing Seeker for Ron's team.
"They are getting on my bloody nerves!" Hermione shot back. "Could Hannah drool over him any more? And Ron just shamelessly lets her!"
"You've known my brother for sixteen years. Surely you know him by now," the redhead replied, and then, hiding a smile, "But Hannah seems to be annoying you much more than Ron, I daresay."
She didn't reply to Ginny's remark; the action was speeding back to her side of the pitch again. Hermione clenched her jaw, ready for the Quaffle. She could see it in the curve of Hannah's arm, and kept her eyes glued to it. As the blonde soared in, throwing the red ball vigorously toward the left goal, Hermione launched her entire body towards it, wrapping both arms around the Quaffle and saving it just in time, laughing as she did so.
Righting herself on her broom, Hermione gave Hannah a haughty glance, feeling victorious over her save. She then tossed the ball out to one of her teammates, but before it could be caught, Hannah intercepted it, flinging back towards the goal again.
Fiercely, Hermione burst forward on her broom to catch the Quaffle, but she didn't fly high enough. The red ball bonked her directly on top of the head and, stunned from the pain, she and her broom plummeted from the air and bounced to the ground.
Hermione thudded against the grass and stayed there, feeling dazed. She only realized after several moments that her eyes were closed, and thus opened them, to see Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hannah, and Claudia all kneeling around her.
"Oh, Hermione, I am so sorry!" Hannah wailed. "Are you all right?"
"I don't know," she replied, groggy. "Do I have a concussion? Someone ask me something."
Ron was the first to come up with something. He blurted out, "Name the three types of numbers in Arithmancy."
"Er... character, heart, and... social," she answered slowly. "Is that right?"
He shrugged. "How should I know?"
It was then that Hermione felt herself rolling her eyes at him, and thus knew she was okay. She started to sit up, lethargically, and as she did, Ginny reached over and slid an arm around her best friend's shoulders. "Here, let me help you up."
Ron put an arm around Hermione's waist, also helping her back to her feet. As the three of them hobbled off the Quidditch pitch together, he pulled out his wand with his free hand, quickly conjuring a couple of armchairs on the sidelines. Then he and Ginny carefully lowered Hermione into one.
"You sure you're OK?" Ron asked gently.
She leaned back into the chair, resting her head against the side. "Yes, I'm fine. Go. Play," she urged, waving her hand at the Quidditch field.
"Well, all right," he replied. "You just stay here and rest, then."
Ginny set her broom aside, and sat down in the second armchair. "Don't worry, I'll sit with her."
After Ron had left, rejoining the others on the pitch, Ginny turned back to Hermione. "You really caught yourself one out there!"
The curly-haired witch made an indistinct noise. "Well, I was trying to catch that arrogant move of hers."
"Listen to yourself!" Ginny exclaimed, not even trying to hide her amused smile now. "You're jealous!"
Hermione waved the comment off dismissively. "Oh, I am not. Why on Earth should I be jealous?"
I can give you one good reason, Ginny thought, following her friend's gaze in the direction of the Quidditch field, where Ron and Hannah were chatting amicably together. Hermione, she noticed, was still glowering.
But instead of pushing it, like she usually did, Ginny just shrugged it off instead. Sooner or later, it's going to happen, she figured. Not matter how long it takes. So, getting up from her chair, she said, "Aw, forget about it. You want to go over to the picnic shelter? They've spread out a huge lunch buffet."
Hermione pressed a hand to her forehead for a moment, but then followed suit, rising from her armchair, too. "Yeah, sure. Let's go."
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Dusk. The company outing had finally wrapped up for the day, leaving cleanup and the dismantling of the lodges and Quidditch fields to the Weasley Towers construction crew. Now that the event was over, Ron had enlisted a number of Ministry cars for the ride back into the city, where Apparation points were set up.
Ron had waved one of the vehicles over, and now he and Hermione were both clambering into the backseat. Smoothly it pulled away from the roadside, and they were on their way back into London.
He leaned back, feeling content and enjoying the ride. As he did, he attempted some small talk with Hermione. "Shame Harry and Gin left early on the Portkey. I was ready to offer Hannah a ride back to the London in the Ministry car; I thought she'd like that. I was surprised when Ginny offered her transport back. She knew you and me were leaving together, didn't she?"
He glanced over at her then, and noticed she was grimacing and holding her stomach. "Hermione, are you all right? You look pale."
She bit her lip, then managed to utter, "I, er, I think I ate something at lunch that didn't agree with me."
Ron's cheery expression immediately changed to concern. "Well, what did you have?"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Just some beef casserole, and some roasted potatoes! Well, and a few sausages, too."
"That's it?"
"Well..." She moaned. "There was this huge dessert tray... I couldn't stop myself. Pie, treacle tarts, éclairs... I wasn't very nice to my colon today."
"No, you weren't," Ron agreed. "Well, don't worry, we'll be back to Diagon Alley in twenty, at most."
"I don't even have that long," she wailed in reply. "I feel like I've swallowed a fire crab!"
He patted her affectionately on the back. "It's okay, don't worry. I've got an idea." Ron leaned forward, to the front of the car, and said to the driver. "Listen, my lawyer's ill. Can you please pull over? It's an emergency."
"I could, but I've got orders to get this car back to the Ministry at seven o'clock exact," the driver replied curtly. "Can't she wait until we get back to the city?"
"No, she can't," Ron said shortly. "Listen, just drop us off here. We'll get back to London ourselves."
"Fine." The Ministry driver glided the car quickly over to the side of the road, and Ron got the passenger door opened. He and Hermione slid out of the vehicle, and the moment he closed the door, the car had taken off.
The redhead quickly scouted the area. It appeared they were in a town square of sorts; several small buildings were scattered about, and street lamps lined the road. "Where are we?" He inquired.
Hermione, in her discomfort, looked around briskly, and then replied, "It's Puddlemere. A Muggle suburb of London."
"Ah," he replied simply, and then turned to her. Without another word, he slipped his arm around Hermione's waist, and then slung her arm around his neck. Half-carrying her, he entered the nearest building he saw, which was a small pub. A sign hung over the door that read: The Fat Cat.
Ron, with his best friend in tow, pushed through the entrance door. The bar was half-filled, with Muggles, and a few of them looked up, staring at them with curiosity, as the pair entered.
"Where's your bathroom?" Ron asked the bartender. "My friend needs one straight away, I'm afraid."
The man pointed to his left. "At the end of the hall down that way."
"Good." He let go of Hermione, and she dashed out of the room and down the corridor. Reaching the bathroom, she shut the door quite loudly behind her.
Now that he had gotten her here, Ron wasn't sure what to do next. He could feel the strange stares of the Muggles on him - they were probably because he was still wearing his Quidditch garb - but tried his best to ignore them. Hesitantly, he sat down on one of the stools at the bar. He opened his mouth to ask for a butterbeer, but then, remembering where he was, he promptly shut his mouth again.
The bartender gave him an odd look at this, but said nothing. Approaching Ron, he asked, a bit slowly, "Er... can I get you anything?"
"Uh... well... I'll have a..." The redhead struggled to think of a Muggle drink. At last he was able to remember one, one that shared a similar name with his favorite wizard drink. "Erm... beer?"
"Coming right up." The bartender walked away then, to fetch the requested beverage, but no sooner had he done so, than a person at one of the tables blurt out something to Ron.
"That's some mad getup, boy! Where're you from?"
Ron turned around, and looked at the person who had spoken, a middle-aged Muggle man. Absently touching his orange robes, he replied, "Just came from a Quid - er, I mean, a cricket game. Yeah."
"Never saw any cricket bloke wear that," the man commented, but nevertheless, the answer seemed to satiate him. He went back to his glass of scotch.
Ron breathed a sigh of relief, turning back to the bar. As he did, the bartender stepped over to him, placing a full tankard in front of him. "Here you are."
"Thanks," he said politely, picking it up and taking a swig. As he did, his face contorted. This tastes nothing like butterbeer! It's horrid! He thought. Hastily putting the glass back on the counter, he abruptly got up from his seat and marched into the back hallway.
"Hermione?" He asked, tapping on the bathroom door. "Are you nearly through?"
Her response was a faint groan. "Ohhh... just kill me now."
Ron sighed, slumping against the door. This day was becoming excruciatingly longer and longer.
---
After nearly half an hour, Hermione had finally emerged from the pub restroom, and as soon as she'd appeared, Ron had grabbed her and bolted out of the bar. He couldn't take a second longer of those Muggles staring at him. Now they were sitting on a bench near the roadside, contemplating what to do next.
"Ron, I am really sorry. It's my fault we're stuck here."
He merely shook his head. "No, it's not. It was an emergency."
"But we've probably missed the Apparation points by now! And we don't have any Portkeys, either," she added glumly. "And I'm not risking doing any magic in front of the Muggles. I suppose if we start walking -" She stopped. "Ron, what on Earth are you doing? Didn't you just hear what I said?"
He was withdrawing his wand from his pocket. Ignoring her protests, he said, "Come on, step up to the curb."
With a bit of reluctance, she did, and the moment she joined his side, he flung his wand hand out.
Bang!
Hermione was thrown back several steps as the noise, and once she'd regained her footing, she looked up to see what had caused it. A bright purple bus with gold lettering on the windshield was standing there in the road now - the Knight Bus!
Ron looked at her and grinned. "Problem solved, eh?" He said, as the doors opened to admit them.
Hermione allowed herself to smile back as she climbed onboard with him. Once they were both on the bus, they were greeted by the conductor, Stan Shunpike himself. He was many years older now, but was still as jolly as ever.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus!" He said energetically. "Ron Weasley! What a pleasure to 'ave you on our bus! And Hermione Granger, as well, o'course! Great to see you both! So, whereabouts are we taking you this evening?"
Ron grinned again, slapping Stan heartily on the back. "The Leaky Cauldron, if you don't mind."
"O'course, o'course!" He repeated. "For the two o' you, that'll be one galleon and five sickles."
"No problem," Ron said, reaching into his pocket to extract some money. As he paid Stan, Hermione stepped further into the bus, taking a seat atop one of the feather beds. After a few more moments' exchange with Stan, Ron walked over and joined her.
"We should be there in no time," he told her. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," she replied, and smiled. "Thanks again for asking."
"Of course." Ron looked at her, silent for a long moment, mulling over his next words. "Listen," he started to say, "I am sorry that these last couple of months have been... unbearable for you."
"Not at all," Hermione remarked. "You know me. Unbearable would have been... bearable."
He looked amused for a moment, and then, as offhandedly as he could manage, "Well, then, I reckon it's good that your two weeks are almost up?"
She drew her legs up underneath her on the brass bed. "This is it," she said, letting out a long breath. "I'll secure the final arrangements for the Beast Division benefit gala, I'll make sure Hannah is properly set up, I'll look over the final draft of your speech for the Budleigh Babberton groundbreaking, and then... I'll never darken your doorways again."
Ron nodded. "Well, erm... great. Stupendous," he said, almost murmuring it. He glanced out the bus window then, unable to look at her or say anything more.
Hermione too had fallen silent, and after a few minutes, she slid closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder and gazed out the window along with him.
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To be continued...