A/N: It's your boy Petrificus Somewhatus, back with my second outtake installment, once again featuring the true protagonist of this story, Hermione Granger-Gibbons. This outtake takes place over the same time period as the prior chapter, Theme Week.
For anyone concerned after my prior author's note, I want to assure you that the situation in Eucla has improved significantly. I'm now receiving three meals and a cracker dessert almost every day. The night traumas, for the most part, have also ceased, and I am fairly confident that I will actually get paid in 2021.
Thanks to Nauze, Saliient91and Taliesin19 for the beta, and an additional thanks to Sal/Tal for graciously removing the majority of the shackles. Those things were really starting to chafe.
Climax, Saskatchewan
Conference Eve
Hermione felt contentment wash over her as she entered the hotel bar. Over the years, the Climax Conference had become an annual oasis away from the infantile behavior she was subjected to at the clinic the rest of the year. Here she was surrounded by like-minded people, dedicated to actually improving…and learning…and being non-lazy non-morons. No one here was having contests to see who could stick the most cotton balls in their mouths, or how many pencils they could stick in the ceiling, or changing the coffee station supply labels to entirely inappropriate phrases with accompanying illustrations.
She'd spent the last few hours networking and spreading the word about the clinic's expansion plans, and based on the near universal excitement, it was clear that big things were in store for P.I.M.M.P.L.E. Unlike Harry, who had barely paid attention when she'd laid out the program, these people actually cared and were interested! Harry's reputation from the war, and more importantly, his ability to solve so many seemingly unsolvable magical maladies had spread throughout the world. If the planned expansion was as successful as her most conservative financial projections promised, she could cut an additional five years off of her retirement plan.
She was in such a good mood; even the notification that the infants hadn't opened the clinic on time had barely fazed her. She smiled, imagining the infants' faces when they realized they wouldn't have access to the coffee maker. It was good to be Climaxing again.
Hermione settled into her now familiar seat and smiled as the bartender handed over her Shirley Temple. Since her first drunken night at the conference several years ago, Hermione had vowed to never imbibe during a professional gathering ever again. While the night in question had been utterly brilliant and inimitably satisfying, it was imperative that such a thing could and should never happen again, especially amongst her peers.
As Hermione sampled her fruity concoction, she allowed herself to recall that amazing evening; the night those years of pent-up and repressed desires were unleashed in a frenzied onslaught of feverish lovemaking. Over the years she had always scoffed at the idiots who said that she and Harry were like siblings. She knew if they ever came together, that the experience would be the polar opposite of what most of the fools had predicted and, as usual, her hypothesis had been spot on. It had been somewhat weird…but it had been the best kind of weird. Having such a monumental event happen in a city named 'Climax' seemed utterly appropriate, as the pair had visited that particular location multiple times during the evening.
So. Many. Times.
Hermione had felt a measure of sympathy for the maid who had to clean their room the next day because of the copious amounts of bodily fluids strewn about their hotel room. By the time they had collapsed in exhaustion, it was a veritable Harry/Hermione dribblepalooza. Like a sister, indeed.
When she'd awoken the next morning in a hung-over daze, Harry's elbow nearly pushing her off the bed in an unconscious attempt to inhabit the entire space, Hermione had her first inkling that she had made an incalculable error in judgment. And after listening to Harry's constant whinging during the subsequent day, it became clear that the prior evening had been a mistake. His list of complaints was numerous and never-ending; the conference was boring…the coffee wasn't as good as Tracey's…he was tired and wanted to go back to their room and sleep…the off-white paint on the conference room walls was slightly off, etc. The list went on…and on…and on.
While the prior evening had been amazing, it was clear to her that it would have to be a one-off. She and Harry were too different and their foibles annoyed each other too much already. The sex, amazing as it had been, would complicate their already bizarre dynamic to untenable levels, and the paradigm shift would be too monumental to weather. By midday she had made up her mind that a talk with Harry over supper was necessary. This could never happen again.
The final presentation of that day, however, convinced her that more drastic measures needed to be taken. While the majority of the presentation, focused on the potential of ritual magic, and specifically on the theories of the legendary Canadian wizard Cadavar Canuck, had been very compelling, the presenter's seemingly quick, uninformed dismissal of Focus had grated on her nerves. She knew it was her own insecurities at play but it felt like the speaker was specifically targeting her for no apparent reason. As compelling as the bulk of the man's presentation had been, she couldn't stop focusing on how hurtful his casual dismissal of her and her myriad accomplishments had been.
Harry had picked up on her annoyance and, of course, instead of trying to ease her insecurities, piled on further. She'd never managed to have her planned 'talk' over supper because Harry wouldn't shut up about how brilliant the presentation was and how spot on the presenter had been about Focus. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Harry stepped up the attack once he realized how well his plan was working. She was then barraged with what felt like a million references to 'Intent' and its never-ending 'Importance'.
Harry's comments that evening had been more cutting than usual and Hermione realized that he had been emboldened to dig the knife deeper than ever because they had recently taken their relationship to an entirely different level. Or perhaps she was simply more sensitive now that they had been so intimate. But whatever the reason, to preserve their personal and business relationship, she knew that drastic action would be necessary…much more severe and unequivocal than her planned 'talk'.
The events of the prior evening needed to be wiped from Harry's memory banks and he needed to find the idea of sleeping with her repulsive to ensure she would never be tempted to make such a mistake again.
It had been a simple thing in the end. She'd had ample experience from wiping her parents' memories and compelling them to move Down Under during the war. She simply waited for Harry to fall asleep after letting him slide it in one final time, wiped his memories, and then cast several compulsion charms to ensure that the boy would never want to venture down under with her ever again. Compelling him to immediately think of the word 'sister' whenever her name was mentioned as a potential romantic partner had been a particularly inspired choice in her humble opinion.
There was a moment where she had felt a twinge of guilt as she pondered the myriad ethical lines she was crossing, but then an image of Harry's smug expression as he cheerfully opined on Daffy Dumbass flashed in her mind, silencing any moral qualms that remained. She felt the devil on her shoulder, whispering in her ear in a voice bearing a remarkable resemblance to Bill Weasley.
"It's the only way," Devil Bill advised, "he's already an absolute dickhead, and now that you've slept with him he'll be the Master of Dickheads." Despite Devil Bill's odd turn of phrase, he was absolutely right.
She was broken out of what her therapist referred to as 'Harry spiralling' by a friendly voice. "Hermione Granger-Gibbons?" It was the presenter from that fateful afternoon a few years ago.
"Yes," she said, plastering on a false smile. She prayed that the man had forgotten the politely scathing comment card she had left outlining the specific issues she'd had with his presentation.
"I finally tracked you down!" he enthused before grabbing a nearby chair and taking a seat. "I wanted to talk to you about the review you left a few years back."
So much for ignoring the elephant in the room.
"About that," she began, "I was in a bit of a bad place that day and I'm afraid I took it out on you. Most of your presentation was quite fascinating," she answered honestly.
The man laughed and waved off her apology. "Not a problem, you actually gave me a lot to think about."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. While the man did not forget, unlike some people, he did forgive.
"I convinced you that Focus is important?" she asked, enthused that she'd gained another convert.
"Not really, no," he answered with a shrug. "I just don't get it. At all. I'm Halcyon by the way. Halcyon Riverlaw. But you can call me Hal." Apparently, wizards' having ridiculous names wasn't exclusive to England.
"Can you excuse me for one second?" Halycon asked before walking to the bar and ordering a beer. She watched as Halycon poked a hole near the bottom of the can and placed his mouth over the opening. Within seconds, he had popped the top of the can and literally inhaled its entire contents. He quickly returned to his seat as if nothing abnormal had occurred.
"Where were we?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, but what just happened?" Hermione asked, struggling to remain moored.
Halcyon frowned as he gestured toward a nearby muggle telly showing a sporting event. "It's a Canada thing. Whenever the dumb hockey player scores a dumb goal for your dumb team you're supposed to shotgun a beer. Hockey is so dumb and has some really dumb traditions, but the law is the law."
"You don't seem too excited about it," she observed.
"Hockey is fine, I suppose, even if it is a bit basic. It's a nice distraction while I wait for Canada's real team, the heart and soul of the country, to resume again in the spring."
Halcyon now seemed giddy, ecstatic even, at the change in topic.
"Canada's team?" she asked.
Hal stood up and turned so he was now facing away from her. "Check it out," he commanded, pride evident in his voice, as he pointed with his thumbs to the emblem on the back of his jacket.
It was a picture of a large red maple leaf with the head of a blue bird in the center.
"Pretty badass, right? It's the Toronto Blue Jays. The greatest team in the world, located in the greatest city in Canada."
A nearby patron of the bar overheard the proclamation and shouted "Toronto! Fuck yeah!" before immediately engaging in a complex series of high fives with Hal. After several minutes the pair concluded their machinations, and Hal took his seat once again. It appeared to Hermione that everyone in Canada absolutely loved Toronto.
Although the recent happenings had unmoored her slightly, Hermione did her best not to show it. "So you're from Toronto?"
"I wish," Hal grumbled. "Anyway, enough about me, what questions do you have about Toronto?"
Day One
Hermione sipped her virgin daiquiri and did her best not to focus on the poor attendance at her seminar that morning. She knew that it was a hard sell to get people enthused about the financial and psychological benefits of a magically organized kitchen space in the workplace, but she had foolishly hoped for more. It was by no means the end of the world though.
The presentation had been a means to an end; a chance to become more comfortable at speaking in front of a crowd on a minor topic before she blew the Wizarding World away in a few years. When she presented her findings on Focus the last thing she wanted was to stumble over her words. Before she could learn to fly she needed to learn how to walk, and from that perspective, her presentation had been a massive success. Focus on the Focus, she repeated in her mind.
There had been one other bright spot. Her new friend Hal had made a point of attending and had even commented that it was 'not bad' and 'somewhat compelling'. Muted praise aside, the fact that her friend had made the effort for her warmed her heart. Even though they had just met and his opinions on her Focus were ignorant and wrong, Hal showed that he was a true friend. After he'd gotten the Toronto talk out of his system last night, Hal had turned out, Focus opinions aside, to be quite calm and engaging. They'd hit it off so well that they agreed to meet for dinner the next night.
She spotted him entering the restaurant and gasped as she realized that Hal was not alone. He was accompanied by HER…the woman whose research on defying death had revolutionized the field of study related to Octogenarian Charms (OC's). The seismic impact of Grow Young With Magic, known more commonly by the acronym GYWM, was almost as well known as Dummy SnakeInTheGrass' work on intent. And if the woman ever actually managed to complete her study, it had the potential to eclipse Crapne's efforts. Maybe. Hermione had been entranced with the woman's work since she'd stumbled upon it years before, only finding fault with the title. It was clear to Hermione that Live Forever would have been a much more compelling and apt title for the study.
"You're-"
"Genre definer Valyriie Walchorn at your service," the woman interrupted as she extended a hand in greeting. "Only joking!" the woman continued before Hermione could utter a word. "I'm not that egotistical to say such things about myself. Or am I?"
"What?" Hermione finally managed, suddenly unmoored by the odd exchange.
"You can call me Val," she continued as Hal set the armful of beers he was holding down on the table.
"Vancouver's defense is shit. Just getting prepared," he supplied as she heard "Goal!" ring out in her periphery.
"Here we go," Hal mumbled as he picked up a can and rapidly downed its contents.
"Anyway," Val interjected, "Hal said your presentation on the Intent of Kitchen organization was modestly engaging. Congratulations!"
Hermione bit back on the insult she wanted to levy at the woman. Using the 'i' word was obviously an innocent mistake, right? The woman seemed so nice and sweet. Surely Val wasn't purposely trying to annoy her.
"It was actually focused on the benefits of Focus related to the Kitchen space and its positive impact on the myriad factors at play," Hermione replied.
"Oh, right. Sorry." Val said, looking very innocent and sweet. Hermione wasn't sure why but it didn't quite sound sincere. It was probably her imagination.
Hal shot his friend an annoyed look. "Someone promised that they would go to your presentation with me but they were nowhere to be found this morning."
"Anyway," Val interjected, "what are we drinking?"
Before Hermione could answer, Val had reached over and taken a sip of her daiquiri.
"They forgot to put the alcohol in your drink. But don't worry, we can get that sorted in a giffy," Val said as she waved for the waiter.
"Oh no, I'm fine," Hermione reassured, ignoring the odd way that Val had pronounced 'jiffy'. "I make it a point not to drink at professional gatherings."
Before Val could respond, Hal shouted "For fucks sake, eh!" and shot-gunned another beer. Apparently Vancouver had sacrificed another goal.
"Aww, come on," Val cajoled adorably, ignoring Hal's outburst. "One little drink isn't going to hurt anything. Besides, you have Hal and me to make sure you behave yourself. We're very responsible and mature."
Val began nodding her head, apparently agreeing with her own statement. It was a bizarre self-reaction, but Hermione found it oddly endearing and earned.
Normally, such an attempt would have never worked. Hermione was simply too strong willed and stubborn to be talked into doing anything irresponsible or foolish, but Val looked so gosh darn sincere.
"I suppose one wouldn't hurt," she blurted unthinkingly.
"Excellent," Val replied as she rubbed her hands together in triumph. The grin now adorning Val's face seemed slightly predatory and just a tad bit evil, but Hermione was sure it was nothing.
"Shots! Shots! Shots!" Val chanted as she began pounding on the table.
"Wait," Hermione replied unmooredly. "I just want something mild…some wine perhaps. Not a shot, and most definitely not multiple shots."
"Of course," Val answered as she laid a reassuring hand on her arm. "A nice glass of wine sounds lovely, right after we take an itty bitty shot to get the ball rolling. Don't worry. You can trust me."
Every fiber of her logical being was screaming that this woman shouldn't be trusted in any way…but her likeability was off the charts! And GYWM was so sweet and endearing! Hermione was sure everything would be fine.
"All right," she acquiesced, "but no tequila."
Val recommenced her chant and Hermione found herself, for reasons she couldn't quite identify, joining in as well. What the hell was happening? Forget being unmoored…the entire damn dock seemed to have been dislodged from the shore.
She heard a loud crunch and realized that Hal had smashed his third empty can flat using his forehead before placing it on top of his head.
"Hat trick," he supplied in explanation. Val nodded in understanding.
Day Two
As she took a bite of her sandwich, Hermione silently thanked the potioneer that had devised the hangover cure. After the copious amount of alcohol she had consumed the evening prior, there was no reality where any food, magical or otherwise, would have remained in her stomach otherwise.
The prior evening was a blur as she could only remember brief snatches of the time spent with her new friends; Hal and Val convincing her to charm a sign to say "Ask me about Orange Juice!" and pinning it on the back of an unsuspecting person sitting a few tables over, Hal's dissertation on Tim Horton's coffee, Val opining on the untapped erotic potential of graveyards and alarm clocks.
It had been a stupid evening…very, very stupid…but it had been fun. The most fun she'd had in ages.
And now, not only was she suffering no ill effects from her alcoholic indulgence, she was actually energized from the surprise presentation that had just concluded, presided over by Hal and Val, or Hal-Val Productions as they referred to themselves.
Their discussion on magical bonds, Focusing specifically on Veela and Soul Bonds, was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Some of it…a lot of it…made no sense, and at times seemed a bit mean spirited, but they had expertly conveyed the impact on love and devotion related to magical bonds in a ridiculous yet effective way.
They had thanked a bloke in the States that had looked over their work and offered some crucial suggestions as well. While Hal and Val had expressed their mild appreciation for the man, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that this person…this god among men….deserved more praise.
Much, much, much more.
Apparently she hadn't been alone in being impressed, as the audience let out a collective roar of appreciation when HVP announced that they would be presenting a follow up session the next morning. Hermione could not wait to see how they built and expanded on everything they had established in Part 1. Perhaps they would speak on bonds borne out of magical oaths…a much more interesting and compelling subject in her opinion.
She was broken out of her musings as her two new friends plopped down at her table.
"Well?" Hal blurted, "What did you think?"
"I thought it was brilliant," she enthused honestly, "It was the Toronto Blue Jays of magical presentations!"
Apparently she had said the magic words as Hal began repeatedly chanting "Joe Carter" and commenced high-fiving nearby diners, while Val stood and began doing the dance commonly referred to as 'the robot'. After several minutes, they both composed themselves and sat back down.
"Sorry about that, but we always react that way when we are really happy or excited," Hal supplied.
"So, it's like a signature reaction?"
Hal and Val nodded in understanding.
Hermione thought such a thing was a brilliant idea. Whoever came up with that idea was a genius.
"Anyway," Val began, "I can't believe that you didn't pick up on all the hints we were dropping last night!"
"Hints?" she replied in confusion. As drunk as she was she couldn't remember any mentions, subtle or otherwise, regarding what they had planned.
Hal and Val immediately started giggling like schoolgirls. "We dropped so many clues!" Hal exclaimed. "Remember when I asked you if you were looking forward to the next day's sessions?"
"Yes."
"And I said something about the conference rooms?" Val supplied.
"And then I mentioned how fascinating I thought glue was?" Hal continued before she could answer. "I thought for sure that you would make the connection between glue and bonds…and then would deduce that Val and I would be presenting a detailed examination on Veela and Soul Bonds. It was so obvious!"
Val nodded enthusiastically in understanding.
Hermione was quite certain that no rational human being could have inferred anything from those exceedingly vague bits of information, but her friends looked so pleased with themselves that she couldn't bring herself to verbalize it. "Amazing," she praised falsely.
Once again it appeared that she had said the magic words as Hal began beat-boxing in excitement. Val immediately bounded from her seat and started popping and locking along to the beat.
A chant of "Go Val! Go Val! Go Val!" broke out from a nearby table. Hal conjured a square piece of cardboard, which Val used to perform an elaborate set of break dance moves. How many signature reactions did her friends have?
As she finished up her dance, folding her arms across her chest and striking the classic hip-hop pose, Val nodded in thanks to the table that had cheered her on. In unison the entire table began weeping, clearly overwhelmed at being acknowledged by THE Valyriie Walchorn.
Hermione was still absorbing everything that had happened as Hal and Val took their seats once again.
"So, what looks good?" Hal asked dully as he began to peruse the menu.
Before she could answer, she felt her wand vibrate due to the reminder spell she had cast hours before. She frowned, realizing that she still needed to address the infants' latest transgression.
"What's wrong?" Val asked.
"It's nothing. My colleagues at the clinic goof off when I'm not there, so I've set up monitoring charms to make sure they are actually working. They closed the clinic two minutes early yesterday and I-
Her explanation was interrupted as Hal and Val audibly gasped at her words. "That's awful!" Hal exclaimed. "What are you going to do about it?"
Hermione shrugged. "I'll probably just let it go. It's only two minutes and I already disabled the coffee maker after they were late in opening up the other-"
Once again she was interrupted by the vociferous and panicked wheezing of her friends. "This is their second transgression in as many days?" Hal asked in horror.
"Well, yes. But it's only two minutes. No harm-"
"Do you think the Toronto Blue Jays, the greatest team in all of sport, would have won their unprecedented two championships with that attitude? If they walked off the field two minutes early every game the other team would be able to score at will!" Hal interjected passionately as he jumped up from his seat and began executing a series of Active Groin Stretches, most likely in an effort to calm himself.
Hermione bit back on the urge to point out that winning two championships didn't sound that impressive and such a feat had most certainly been surpassed by many other teams. And his analogy was severely flawed on several levels. But Hal looked furious and she had no desire to add fuel to the fire.
"What do you suggest?"
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Val replied. "You have to make them shit on the floor."
It was a patently absurd and utterly disgusting idea. Under any other circumstance, she would have thought it was a joke and severely judged anyone who suggested such a thing. But Val looked so sincere and so gosh darn likable. Maybe the idea had some merit.
She gazed at the earnest face of her friend and found herself unconsciously nodding in agreement.
As Val began performing the Running Man in celebration, Hermione composed her Howler. As she dictated out her message she did her best to ignore the niggling sense of dread forming in her stomach. One more violation would automatically invoke a shutdown of the clinic, and making Harry and Tracey have to vanish their own feces seemed like it would most definitely provoke at least one of them to act out in retaliation.
She hesitated as her wand hovered over the envelope, awaiting her final tap of approval so it could be on its way. Perhaps this was a mistake.
"You're doing great, sweetie," Val reassured as she moon-walked to the buffet line.
"Be like Prince Fielder and swing for the fences, Hermione," Hal encouraged as he pantomimed the swinging of a baseball bat before trotting around the dining area as if he'd hit a home run.
What's the worst that could happen? Hermione mused as she activated the Howler with a tap. She was sure everything would be fine.
Day Three
Hermione stared at her lunch, her stomach roiling as she tried to fathom what had transpired over the last few hours. She'd watched as the audience at HVP's follow up seminar were virtually bouncing in their seats in anticipation of what was to come. It was clear to Hermione that she hadn't been alone in her excitement to see how the brilliant minds of Hal and Val would build on the brilliant foundation that they had brilliantly established.
She couldn't have been more wrong.
Hermione watched as the audience seemed to go through all the stages of grief as Hal and Val systematically and brutally destroyed everything they had created the day prior, going so far as to make fun of and insult their own established characters theories.
In theory, this could have been fine, if there had been a point to it. But as hard as she tried, Hermione couldn't find any logical reason beyond the fact that Hal and Val thought it would be funny. Their incessant cackling and howls of delight were a clear indication that, unlike the thoroughly unmoored attendees, Hal and Val considered Part 2 to be a rousing success.
But HVP's follow up presentation wasn't what had left her so unsettled. What she found disconcerting was how much she personally enjoyed watching them make their admirers suffer. With every audience member that sprinted toward the exit, Hermione's own grin grew wider. Were her new friends awful? Did it make her a bad person that she enjoyed how awful they were? If she was honest with herself, she loved every awful minute of it.
Her only criticism was it lacked the polish of the first installment and included, entirely too many, unnecessary, pauses. When Hal-Val mentioned that they had cruelly cast aside their prior collaborator, opting instead to work with Hal's spouse, everything was made clear. As brilliant as Hal and Val were, it was obvious that their genius paled in comparison to the handsome linchpin that had shepherded the first installment to unparalleled glory.
As she dug into her meal, she couldn't stop thinking about this mysterious man in the States. She wondered if he loved The Beatles as much as she did…if Paul was his favorite…if he did the entirely normal thing of preparing spreadsheets ranking their discographies. She wished she could see his album rankings.
Her musings on American Adonis were interrupted as Hal and Val sat down at her table, both holding a stack of comment cards, presumably from the session that had just ended. Hermione assumed that they would not be pretty.
"So what did you think?" Hal asked.
"Uhh…it was not what I was expecting," she answered as politely as possible.
Her response caused Val to donkey laugh as Sal began celebrating with another shot-gunned beer. Classic signature reactions.
"So, did you enjoy the ballet last night?" Hermione asked, desperate to change the topic of conversation. She had seen the ballet company a few months prior and was curious what Hal/Val thought of their performance.
Hal looked at Val in annoyance. "Someone promised to go with me but backed out at the last minute."
Val looked thoroughly unashamed, offering nothing more than an unconcerned shrug of her shoulders.
It was clear to Hermione that Val had not been a very good friend to Hal, again, but as much as she tried, she couldn't manage to be annoyed with the woman. She was just so likable, gosh darn it.
"Oooh, I almost forgot!" Val exclaimed in excitement, pulling out a smaller stack of comment cards from her pants pocket. "I watched the recording of your kitchen management seminar. Great stuff! I even wrote down a few comments," she enthused, handing over the cards.
"Wow, really? Thank you!" Hermione replied honestly.
"It's what friends do," Val answered with a warm smile.
"Anyway," Hal ploughed forward, "I thought the performance was somewhat interesting."
"Really?" Hermione asked. "I saw them in London and thought they were amazing."
"Somewhat interesting…amazing…same thing basically," Hal replied, looking thoroughly and unabashedly serious. "I thought the Russian dancer stole the show if I'm being honest. She was clearly head and shoulders above the others."
"She was fine, I suppose," Hermione replied, "her cankles were somewhat distracting. I preferred the French paramour, and the blonde dancer was quite excellent as well. Her icy, stoic demeanor was very intriguing."
"I'M SURE SHE IS JUST BIG BONED AND SHE STOLE THE SHOW!" Hal suddenly screamed, drawing confused stares from the patrons seated nearby.
"Calm down. I thought Natasha-"
"HER NAME IS NATALIA!" Hal interjected angrily before forcing himself to calm. "Her name is Natalia," he repeated in a much quieter voice.
"Sorry for going all Dave Steib on you there," Hal said, clearly embarrassed by his outburst. I can't explain it, but for some reason I really, really, really, prefer Natalia over the other two you mentioned. For me, she's the John Olerud of ballet dancers."
"Anyway," Val said, "any word from the Infantile Englanders?"
"Nice," Hal said before high-fiving Val.
"So far, so good," Hermione replied. "No more notifications."
"See? Nothing to worry about. Locking the bathrooms and forcing your employees to shit on the floor is standard HR protocol. Everyone knows that."
Not for the first time, Hermione could not believe the absurd nonsense being spoken by the creator of GYWM.
Day Four
Hermione could not believe she had forced Harry and Tracey to shit on the floor. Not that they didn't deserve it, she'd meant every word of her Howler, but as expected, the children had lashed out, and the Level 3 lockdown had been automatically initiated, placing the clinic on lockdown.
She'd hoped to relax and enjoy the final morning session of the conference, but all she could do was think about what nonsense awaited her upon her return to England. She had planned on rescheduling her international portkey and spending a few days in Toronto to, as Hal described it, soak up the 'quintessential Canada experience,' but that option was gone. She needed to return to London and deal with the 'time-out' that her children had been placed in as soon as possible. She'd even purchased that stupid absurdly expensive coffee maker that Tracey and Harry droned on about constantly as penance for her disciplinary overreach.
As annoyed and worried as she was, Hermione was really looking forward to the closing discussion of the conference. She wasn't sure how the organizers had managed it, but they had somehow convinced Draco Malfoy to give a talk about everything that had transpired at PrimJax. The intent of the talk was to inform other professionals of what NOT to do if they wanted to be successful. Just as Harry's reputation had crossed the ocean, PrimJax had become synonymous around the world for mismanagement and under-perfomance…Incompetence with a capital 'I'. Getting to listen to Malfoy squirm and own up to his mistakes for ninety minutes would be a wonderful distraction before her trip back to England.
While Hal had risen early and joined her for breakfast, Val was nowhere to be found. They had saved her a seat, but as the minutes passed, Hermione wondered if this would be another in a long line of broken Val promises. As if on cue, Val plopped down into the seat beside her, drawing an annoyed roll of the eyes from Hal. "You are such a George Bell," he mumbled in frustration.
"Morning!" Val greeted them with a bright smile, ignoring Hal's comment completely.
"Good morning," Hermione greeted, doing her best to plaster on a smile.
"What's wrong?" Val asked.
"Hermione's husband and the other lady didn't take too kindly to her punishment," Hal supplied. "She's headed home right after this to deal with the aftermath."
"Really?" Val replied. "I guess that wasn't very good advice. Sorry about that!" she supplied, her lip jutting out in a pout.
Hermione knew she should be mad…Hal and Val had convinced her to make Harry and Tracey shit on the floor! That was an insane thing to do! But as the girl stared at her, her eyes filled with regret and unabashed sorrow, Hermione's heart melted.
"It's fine," she replied. "Nothing I can't handle. Incidentally, Harry and I aren't a couple."
"Really?" Hal replied. He seemed to be genuinely shocked at the news. "I remember reading some of the accounts of your adventures at school. The sexual chemistry between you two was off the charts."
"No," Hermione replied, doing her best to conceal her grin as that amazing night flashed in her mind once again, "Harry and I are just friends…more like brother and sister. I'm actually in a relationship with-"
"Oh, look!" Val interrupted, "they're about to start."
Hermione's eyes flashed to the stage, anxious to watch Malfoy squirm. But unfortunately it wasn't Malfoy who had approached the lectern; it was one of the people running the conference.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm sorry to inform you that Mr. Malfoy will not be speaking today. I suppose we should have expected this. Primjax has been nothing but a disappointment."
The entire crowd nodded in understanding.
"But I have good news!" the man enthused. "We have a visitor from England who has graciously agreed to step in on short notice. It is impossible to state the scope and magnitude that her discoveries have had on the magical community, so I will keep my introduction short: Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you the Golden Goddess, Daphne Greengrass!"
The profanity-laced tirade emanating out of Hermione's mouth was drowned out by the ecstatic exultations of everyone around her, including Hal and Val. Hal was frantically grabbing anything and everything within arms reach and smashing it on his forehead while Val had started doing the cabbage patch up and down the aisle, high-fiving everyone she passed.
Traitors.
The sea of noise continued in full force for what felt like an eternity, only ceasing when the she-devil waved for the crowd to quiet.
"Thank you for such a warm welcome," the dumb dummy began, "now, I know most of you are expecting me to speak on Intent, but I'm afraid that won't be happening this morning."
As one the crowd audibly groaned, thoroughly destroyed at the news. It was clear that they were desperate for more Daphne Greengrass and the Importance of Intent. The Lice Queen held up her hands and the crowd instantly quieted. As devastated as they were at the news, they were still anxious to hear whatever pearls of wisdom the dummy was going to provide.
"My presentation today will focus on the most extraordinary bit of magic I have ever participated in...something I never would have thought possible when I began-"
Pfaffne stopped abruptly and shot the crowd a knowing smile. "Whoops. Wrong speech."
The wave of uproarious laughter at Preencrass' stupid joke was the final straw, and Hermione fought the urge to 'Pettigrew' the entire auditorium. She commenced with her breathing exercises and tried to focus on positive thoughts like her therapist had instructed.
She slowly inhaled through her nose. It can't get any worse, she repeated gently to herself before releasing the gentle breath gently through her mouth. Eventually the harpy's voice broke through her meditations.
"I'd like to touch on a new topic today…something I will be speaking about in much greater breadth and depth in the near future."
Dumb Dumb paused and waited for the excited oooh's'and aaah's to die down before continuing.
"As Important as Intent is, it is absolutely crucial that we as a magical community identify the areas that scholars have wasted years studying with nothing substantial to show for their efforts…the magical roads to nowhere. I'm speaking, of course, of the Fallacy of Focus."
"You have got to be kidding me," Hermione muttered before apparating out of the auditorium and into the hotel bar. It was barely 9:30 in the morning but fuck it. She was in Canada after all. When in Rome…
FUDG FUDG FUDG FUDG
Gibby,
Good news! I made it safely back to England!
Bad news! I stopped by the clinic and the infants somehow managed to exceed the lowest of low expectations I had set for them in my absence. I'm going to be here a bit longer than I originally anticipated, cleaning up their mess. Could you send Ringo back with that book outlining how to clean up hazardous material? In addition to my office being coated in an inhuman amount of phlegm, the black-light charm yielded some truly disturbing results that need to be addressed as soon as possible.
Anyway, you know the drill. Please prepare something yummy to eat and make sure there is plenty of wine at the ready, and don't even think of using the H, T, DG ,or I words. And just to be safe, please try to avoid referring to anything even tangentially related to grass. Flowers, herbs, seeds,etc. Anything remotely horticultural is a no go for the foreseeable future. It's probably best if you steer clear of mentioning any and all colors and hues as well, just to be safe.
Hugs,
Hermie
P.S. I suggest you switch from tea to coffee as your beverage of choice because I'm bringing home the nicest fucking coffee maker you have ever seen.
FU-DG FU-DG FU-DG FU-DG
Author's Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of JK Rowling's or Petri's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons on the STS Discord server, living or dead, or actual events on the previously referenced Discord server is purely coincidental.
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.