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Disclaimer: Must I really continue this? I think everyone knows what it means, so let's just pretend that it appears on every chapter here on out. What say? Well, go on, read the chapter!
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 5: Packages and Breakfast Conversations at the Three Broomsticks ~`~`~`~`~
Hermione's sleep had only begun when she heard the light "Tap, tap, tap" of an owl at the window. Her eyes snapped open and she sprung from her bed on high, if a bit unbalanced, alert. She noticed the small barn owl hovering near the bright pane of glass. She walked over to it and carefully opened up the latch and lifted the window. Though still a bit woozy from lack of sleep, she could tell that it was a Ministry owl and came bearing important news, but whether it was for good or for bad, she could not tell.
"Thank you," she whispered to the owl as it set down its burden in her outstretched hands. It hooted softly in response before flapping its wings and turning around to return to the Ministry's Owlery.
Carefully she broke the wax seal and opened the thick and ornate parchment. Noticing the fancy script and messy scrawl at the bottom, she began to read.
"Dearest Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley,
"Our sincerest condolences are brought to you upon hearing the untimely death of your husband, Ronald. Arriving in a few moments after you finish reading this a larger messenger owl should be delivering the insurance money your late husband invested in in case of the unlikely event of his demise. All of us here at the Ministry of Magic are most grieved to see that you would need it so soon. Also, according to the new order set by our esteemed Minister of Magic, you must be notified that a train ticket to Muggle London will be included with the money so that you might return to your parents and remain in the Muggle world. With that, please let it be known that your husband shall be much missed, as shall you. Good luck to you.
"Sincerely,
Saroya Platt
Director of Magical Insurance"
Hermione dropped the letter on her nightstand and sat back down on her bed, glaring at the cleanly written words and the dirty message hidden in them. Barely two minutes had passed, in which she spent none of it thinking or even moving, when the promised owl flew in through the forgotten open window.
It was larger than the first, perhaps four or even five times more and it carried a large package that must have outweighed it by at least five kilos. She watched it set down the nice brown paper package tied up with strings, smiling softly as she remembered the Muggle song from a musical she'd seen as a child with similar lyrics. As soon as it had relieved itself of the load, it flew off, not even waiting for Hermione to do or say anything.
Without thinking, her hand instinctively reached over for the lopsided twine bow at the top of the box, wanting to open it and see exactly how much money her husband had left her, before she could even stop herself. As soon as her fingers gingerly brushed the rough paper wrappings she snapped them back as though burned. She stood swiftly, warily eyeing the package. 'Better to open it later,' she thought. 'I'll let the Professor-- er, Remus--do it. He should like to know that he'll finally have enough money to patch up his robes properly.' Moving reluctantly away from the box of money she headed to her door and opened it slowly.
She stepped out into the still and silent sitting room, glancing carelessly at the dusty shelves and messy carpets. Her eyes lit upon her couch last, and upon its occupant. Remus. Her Professor. Her husband. He looked so tired there, sprawled across the cushions with a wild abandon, his too tall feet hanging over the one far end. His sandy and gray hair lay about his head like a dim crown framing his careworn and lined face regally. Even in sleep he was serious and intimidating. Everything about him reminded her of an old patriarchal wolf. He was aged and wise, but terribly frightening when he felt that he or any of those he cared for were in danger. She leaned forward over him slowly, not thinking of anything except for the fact that he was so much like the animal that lay untamed and wild inside of him. She tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from his brow behind his ear.
The movement must have caught his attention for in the next second his hand whipped from his side to grab her wrist dangerously tight and he sat up in a startled fighting stance. Hermione squeaked in unbidden fear at the sudden change in his character, only further reminding her of the animal inside.
"Hermione?" he questioned upon seeing her face. He let her go sheepishly and pulled his feet down to the ground so that he might look a bit more presentable to his new young wife.
He sighed and looked at the ground swiftly. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, Hermione," he scolded gently. "Especially when I've been sleeping. You never know how I'll react."
She tried to make her lips curve into a smile, but it was as if the muscles in her cheeks had gone numb. Instead she opted for a neutral shrug before sitting on the low coffee table beside the sofa. "Sorry."
Remus waved his hand impatiently, dismissing the apology. "Never mind, no harm done. But what are you doing up so early?" He squinted at the window. "The sun's barely risen."
"I know," she answered him quietly. "But the owls woke me up so I came out to make something to eat."
He cocked his head to one side quizzically, much like a dog would. "Owls?"
She turned towards her room, looking blankly at the door, but seeing the unopened package perfectly in her mind. "Yes. They brought a letter. And a package."
"Well, I suppose sympathy letters? A little money from friends to get by on?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose you could say that." She shook her head absently, clearing it of the thought of the package. "Um, would you like some breakfast, sir?"
He looked about to correct her but smiled humorlessly and let it pass. "Sure. Sounds great." He stood and offered her his hand, which she very obviously ignored. He pulled it back uncomfortably as she stood up unassisted. "Would you like some help?"
She scoffed. "I don't need that much help going out to the Three Broomsticks, now, do I?" She wrapped her arms about herself, trying to push out the slight chill of the early morning, and smirked at his surprised expression. "It's one of the advantages to living in Hogsmeade, you know."
He smiled softly and picked up his robes from the chair it was haphazardly hung on. As he put them on, he watched Hermione wrap her noticeably Muggle coat over the dress she had worn yesterday and failed to change out of before going to sleep.
She opened the door to the flat, waited for him to exit, then stepped out and locked it behind them with a quick spell. She turned to him. "Do you mind if we apparate? I don't really feel like walking all the way there. Too tired, you know."
He raised his eyebrows in concern before quickly lowering them lest she noticed. "All right. You first."
With two light pops they had disappeared from the hallway of the building and into the main room of the Three Broomsticks which was, thankfully and blissfully, empty. Remus pulled out a chair from the nearest table for Hermione, but she openly moved to the other side and seated herself. Staring at her blatantly for a moment, he sat in his open seat.
He folded his arms in front of him on the table and, with a strained but jovial smile, said, "So, what shall we have to break the fast?"
She looked at him squarely. "Actually, I'm not really that hungry just yet. Do you mind if we talk for a bit first?"
Surprised but not about to throw away the chance for conversation with his quiet wife he agreed. "What about?"
She flushed abruptly, causing her face to turn from its pale ivory hue to a deep shade of a color somewhere between tomato red and violet. "Er, I know last night I was less than cordial with you. But, you see, I didn't really want to hear all of those things. You're my friend, sir, really you are, but I don't usually marry my friends. At least, not before knowing them for a very long time and knowing that our relationship could last. Ron," her breath hitched slightly but she continued. "Ron, he--he loved me. And I knew I loved him in return. We had an understanding. We worked well together as long as it was for something we both agreed on. And don't believe everything Harry has told you about our arguments from our school years. We were children, then, and prone to get heated about our views, especially Ron. He was...fiery. And passionate. And his love for me was much stronger than his anger. If he knew my opinion could not be changed, he wouldn't try to change it. He loved me." She wanted to say something more to explain the emotions they had shared, but, despite her large vocabulary, she could find no word that even came close to what it was like.
"I want you to know that I did not want to marry anyone for a very long time, but if I must, then I am glad that it was you who came first." Her cheeks color brightened for a moment before she went on. "I don't think I could have stayed with Snape for very long. He always has frightened me. And I don't believe he's ever done anything except tolerate me. And after he insulted me about my teeth in fourth year, I don't think I could ever do more than respect him. For he has deserved it in all his...and, I'm babbling, aren't I?" She looked at her hands. "Ron always said that I babbled. And most of it he said he couldn't even understand. He always wanted me to slow down, and maybe even say something intelligible every once and a while, but I just keep going on and on, like right now. I am sorry."
Remus smiled. "Don't worry about it Hermione. I've always liked a constant chatterer. You do remember Tonks, don't you? She could hardly ever shut her mouth at all. I used to tease her that if she didn't, one day in the middle of her rant a bird would land its droppings in there."
Hermione looked at him closely, surprised that he was talking of his late wife. This brought up a question that had been nagging her for sometime. His earlier answers just didn't seem enough. "Why did you ask me to marry you, sir? I mean, it sounds like you still really love her. Tonks, I mean. And you didn't have to. I would have gone with Snape easily enough without even really considering another option."
He hesitated for a moment before responding. "I do love her still, Hermione. I think I always will. She reminds me of Sirius. Sometimes I think that I married her for the wrong reasons. She was so much like him. I thought that I had perhaps married her so quickly because I didn't want to lose what little I had left of the Marauder sentimentality. She even asked me about it once. She thought that maybe I didn't really love her at all, and that I just wanted a replacement for my old school chum. And, at first, it was true. I didn't love her. I--it took me a long time to realize that I did love her. Too long. I had never told her that I did. Not until after she couldn't hear me anymore. Everyone just assumed that we had this unbreakable bond with our love, that we were the most affectionate couple to ever walk the planet. But I never told her and I--I regret that more than anything, Hermione." He drew in a slow and shaky breath. "I can still remember when the 'Condolence Letter' from the Ministry came along with a bit of money from her insurance. I couldn't open it then, and, well, to tell you the truth, it's still sitting on my desk, covered with dust and papers. I couldn't bring myself to take off the wrapping. It hurt too much to look at. Everything about it reminded me of her; even the messy bow on top of it reminded me of how she liked to have her hair. I--this doesn't answer your question, does it?"
She sat stunned, staring at him, before quickly looking back down at her hands. The box. He had one too. And he hadn't bothered to open it. Should she tell him about hers? Should she reopen that wound for both him and her? Could he understand and forgive her for it? Could she forgive herself for bringing it up? Did it really matter so much, this box?
"Hermione?"
The voice snapped her back to reality. She whipped her head up from its position. "What?"
He looked at her with concern, his hands uncertain about whether he should try to comfort her with them and risk facing another rejection or what. "Are you alright?"
She steadied his hands gently with her own. She could always tell him about the letter and the box later. "Yes, I--I'm fine. I just--I don't think I want to eat right now." She stood up. "Do you suppose we could start packing up my flat? Harry says that I am to move in with you at Grimmauld Place and I figure the sooner that we get out of that little hole of a flat I can begin anew."
He glanced at her skeptically before replying. "I suppose we could. I'll take you back then go get Harry and Hannah to help, all right?"
She shook her head. "No, I can get there just fine. I'll see you when you get them." She smiled stiffly. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."
With one last uncertain look, he disapparated to Grimmauld Place. She sighed and stepped out of the pub and into the street.
She began to walk down the road, glad for the complete silence of early morning and the solitude that it provided as well. She sighed slowly as memories flooded her of Harry, Ron, and herself in happier times of old. Turning her face towards home, she found that anew face began to find its way into her thoughts and she realized that she wasn't too displeased to see it there. He was, after all, her husband.
~`~`~`~`~ All right, another chapter done. Once again, it's not quite the best of anything, but look how quickly I got it out! Well, review and tell me what you think of it. And I WILL try to keep getting them out quickly, but I can't make any promises. Until next time!
Disclaimer: Must I really continue this? I think everyone knows what it means, so let's just pretend that it appears on every chapter here on out. What say? Well, go on, read the chapter!
~`~`~`~`~ Chapter 5: Packages and Breakfast Conversations at the Three Broomsticks ~`~`~`~`~
Hermione's sleep had only begun when she heard the light "Tap, tap, tap" of an owl at the window. Her eyes snapped open and she sprung from her bed on high, if a bit unbalanced, alert. She noticed the small barn owl hovering near the bright pane of glass. She walked over to it and carefully opened up the latch and lifted the window. Though still a bit woozy from lack of sleep, she could tell that it was a Ministry owl and came bearing important news, but whether it was for good or for bad, she could not tell.
"Thank you," she whispered to the owl as it set down its burden in her outstretched hands. It hooted softly in response before flapping its wings and turning around to return to the Ministry's Owlery.
Carefully she broke the wax seal and opened the thick and ornate parchment. Noticing the fancy script and messy scrawl at the bottom, she began to read.
"Dearest Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley,
"Our sincerest condolences are brought to you upon hearing the untimely death of your husband, Ronald. Arriving in a few moments after you finish reading this a larger messenger owl should be delivering the insurance money your late husband invested in in case of the unlikely event of his demise. All of us here at the Ministry of Magic are most grieved to see that you would need it so soon. Also, according to the new order set by our esteemed Minister of Magic, you must be notified that a train ticket to Muggle London will be included with the money so that you might return to your parents and remain in the Muggle world. With that, please let it be known that your husband shall be much missed, as shall you. Good luck to you.
"Sincerely,
Saroya Platt
Director of Magical Insurance"
Hermione dropped the letter on her nightstand and sat back down on her bed, glaring at the cleanly written words and the dirty message hidden in them. Barely two minutes had passed, in which she spent none of it thinking or even moving, when the promised owl flew in through the forgotten open window.
It was larger than the first, perhaps four or even five times more and it carried a large package that must have outweighed it by at least five kilos. She watched it set down the nice brown paper package tied up with strings, smiling softly as she remembered the Muggle song from a musical she'd seen as a child with similar lyrics. As soon as it had relieved itself of the load, it flew off, not even waiting for Hermione to do or say anything.
Without thinking, her hand instinctively reached over for the lopsided twine bow at the top of the box, wanting to open it and see exactly how much money her husband had left her, before she could even stop herself. As soon as her fingers gingerly brushed the rough paper wrappings she snapped them back as though burned. She stood swiftly, warily eyeing the package. 'Better to open it later,' she thought. 'I'll let the Professor-- er, Remus--do it. He should like to know that he'll finally have enough money to patch up his robes properly.' Moving reluctantly away from the box of money she headed to her door and opened it slowly.
She stepped out into the still and silent sitting room, glancing carelessly at the dusty shelves and messy carpets. Her eyes lit upon her couch last, and upon its occupant. Remus. Her Professor. Her husband. He looked so tired there, sprawled across the cushions with a wild abandon, his too tall feet hanging over the one far end. His sandy and gray hair lay about his head like a dim crown framing his careworn and lined face regally. Even in sleep he was serious and intimidating. Everything about him reminded her of an old patriarchal wolf. He was aged and wise, but terribly frightening when he felt that he or any of those he cared for were in danger. She leaned forward over him slowly, not thinking of anything except for the fact that he was so much like the animal that lay untamed and wild inside of him. She tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair from his brow behind his ear.
The movement must have caught his attention for in the next second his hand whipped from his side to grab her wrist dangerously tight and he sat up in a startled fighting stance. Hermione squeaked in unbidden fear at the sudden change in his character, only further reminding her of the animal inside.
"Hermione?" he questioned upon seeing her face. He let her go sheepishly and pulled his feet down to the ground so that he might look a bit more presentable to his new young wife.
He sighed and looked at the ground swiftly. "You shouldn't sneak up on me like that, Hermione," he scolded gently. "Especially when I've been sleeping. You never know how I'll react."
She tried to make her lips curve into a smile, but it was as if the muscles in her cheeks had gone numb. Instead she opted for a neutral shrug before sitting on the low coffee table beside the sofa. "Sorry."
Remus waved his hand impatiently, dismissing the apology. "Never mind, no harm done. But what are you doing up so early?" He squinted at the window. "The sun's barely risen."
"I know," she answered him quietly. "But the owls woke me up so I came out to make something to eat."
He cocked his head to one side quizzically, much like a dog would. "Owls?"
She turned towards her room, looking blankly at the door, but seeing the unopened package perfectly in her mind. "Yes. They brought a letter. And a package."
"Well, I suppose sympathy letters? A little money from friends to get by on?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose you could say that." She shook her head absently, clearing it of the thought of the package. "Um, would you like some breakfast, sir?"
He looked about to correct her but smiled humorlessly and let it pass. "Sure. Sounds great." He stood and offered her his hand, which she very obviously ignored. He pulled it back uncomfortably as she stood up unassisted. "Would you like some help?"
She scoffed. "I don't need that much help going out to the Three Broomsticks, now, do I?" She wrapped her arms about herself, trying to push out the slight chill of the early morning, and smirked at his surprised expression. "It's one of the advantages to living in Hogsmeade, you know."
He smiled softly and picked up his robes from the chair it was haphazardly hung on. As he put them on, he watched Hermione wrap her noticeably Muggle coat over the dress she had worn yesterday and failed to change out of before going to sleep.
She opened the door to the flat, waited for him to exit, then stepped out and locked it behind them with a quick spell. She turned to him. "Do you mind if we apparate? I don't really feel like walking all the way there. Too tired, you know."
He raised his eyebrows in concern before quickly lowering them lest she noticed. "All right. You first."
With two light pops they had disappeared from the hallway of the building and into the main room of the Three Broomsticks which was, thankfully and blissfully, empty. Remus pulled out a chair from the nearest table for Hermione, but she openly moved to the other side and seated herself. Staring at her blatantly for a moment, he sat in his open seat.
He folded his arms in front of him on the table and, with a strained but jovial smile, said, "So, what shall we have to break the fast?"
She looked at him squarely. "Actually, I'm not really that hungry just yet. Do you mind if we talk for a bit first?"
Surprised but not about to throw away the chance for conversation with his quiet wife he agreed. "What about?"
She flushed abruptly, causing her face to turn from its pale ivory hue to a deep shade of a color somewhere between tomato red and violet. "Er, I know last night I was less than cordial with you. But, you see, I didn't really want to hear all of those things. You're my friend, sir, really you are, but I don't usually marry my friends. At least, not before knowing them for a very long time and knowing that our relationship could last. Ron," her breath hitched slightly but she continued. "Ron, he--he loved me. And I knew I loved him in return. We had an understanding. We worked well together as long as it was for something we both agreed on. And don't believe everything Harry has told you about our arguments from our school years. We were children, then, and prone to get heated about our views, especially Ron. He was...fiery. And passionate. And his love for me was much stronger than his anger. If he knew my opinion could not be changed, he wouldn't try to change it. He loved me." She wanted to say something more to explain the emotions they had shared, but, despite her large vocabulary, she could find no word that even came close to what it was like.
"I want you to know that I did not want to marry anyone for a very long time, but if I must, then I am glad that it was you who came first." Her cheeks color brightened for a moment before she went on. "I don't think I could have stayed with Snape for very long. He always has frightened me. And I don't believe he's ever done anything except tolerate me. And after he insulted me about my teeth in fourth year, I don't think I could ever do more than respect him. For he has deserved it in all his...and, I'm babbling, aren't I?" She looked at her hands. "Ron always said that I babbled. And most of it he said he couldn't even understand. He always wanted me to slow down, and maybe even say something intelligible every once and a while, but I just keep going on and on, like right now. I am sorry."
Remus smiled. "Don't worry about it Hermione. I've always liked a constant chatterer. You do remember Tonks, don't you? She could hardly ever shut her mouth at all. I used to tease her that if she didn't, one day in the middle of her rant a bird would land its droppings in there."
Hermione looked at him closely, surprised that he was talking of his late wife. This brought up a question that had been nagging her for sometime. His earlier answers just didn't seem enough. "Why did you ask me to marry you, sir? I mean, it sounds like you still really love her. Tonks, I mean. And you didn't have to. I would have gone with Snape easily enough without even really considering another option."
He hesitated for a moment before responding. "I do love her still, Hermione. I think I always will. She reminds me of Sirius. Sometimes I think that I married her for the wrong reasons. She was so much like him. I thought that I had perhaps married her so quickly because I didn't want to lose what little I had left of the Marauder sentimentality. She even asked me about it once. She thought that maybe I didn't really love her at all, and that I just wanted a replacement for my old school chum. And, at first, it was true. I didn't love her. I--it took me a long time to realize that I did love her. Too long. I had never told her that I did. Not until after she couldn't hear me anymore. Everyone just assumed that we had this unbreakable bond with our love, that we were the most affectionate couple to ever walk the planet. But I never told her and I--I regret that more than anything, Hermione." He drew in a slow and shaky breath. "I can still remember when the 'Condolence Letter' from the Ministry came along with a bit of money from her insurance. I couldn't open it then, and, well, to tell you the truth, it's still sitting on my desk, covered with dust and papers. I couldn't bring myself to take off the wrapping. It hurt too much to look at. Everything about it reminded me of her; even the messy bow on top of it reminded me of how she liked to have her hair. I--this doesn't answer your question, does it?"
She sat stunned, staring at him, before quickly looking back down at her hands. The box. He had one too. And he hadn't bothered to open it. Should she tell him about hers? Should she reopen that wound for both him and her? Could he understand and forgive her for it? Could she forgive herself for bringing it up? Did it really matter so much, this box?
"Hermione?"
The voice snapped her back to reality. She whipped her head up from its position. "What?"
He looked at her with concern, his hands uncertain about whether he should try to comfort her with them and risk facing another rejection or what. "Are you alright?"
She steadied his hands gently with her own. She could always tell him about the letter and the box later. "Yes, I--I'm fine. I just--I don't think I want to eat right now." She stood up. "Do you suppose we could start packing up my flat? Harry says that I am to move in with you at Grimmauld Place and I figure the sooner that we get out of that little hole of a flat I can begin anew."
He glanced at her skeptically before replying. "I suppose we could. I'll take you back then go get Harry and Hannah to help, all right?"
She shook her head. "No, I can get there just fine. I'll see you when you get them." She smiled stiffly. "Go ahead. I'll be fine."
With one last uncertain look, he disapparated to Grimmauld Place. She sighed and stepped out of the pub and into the street.
She began to walk down the road, glad for the complete silence of early morning and the solitude that it provided as well. She sighed slowly as memories flooded her of Harry, Ron, and herself in happier times of old. Turning her face towards home, she found that anew face began to find its way into her thoughts and she realized that she wasn't too displeased to see it there. He was, after all, her husband.
~`~`~`~`~ All right, another chapter done. Once again, it's not quite the best of anything, but look how quickly I got it out! Well, review and tell me what you think of it. And I WILL try to keep getting them out quickly, but I can't make any promises. Until next time!