Hermione spent the week in a complete daze, replaying that day in her head time and time again, turning it over in her mind and analyzing every moment, trying to understand what had actually happened. She sat at the kitchen table in the Burrow in her pajamas, rolling her toast around in a runny egg with her fork while Mrs. Weasley flitted about the house in incomprehensible joy. Harry and Ronwere both struggling to keep from falling asleep over their breakfast.
"Well, obviously we HAVE to have a garden wedding!" She sang as she charmed the duster and it hurdled past Hermione's head into the living room. "There will be peonies and roses and hydrangeas! Fleur and Ginny can help me make the cake! Oh it will be positively stunning, Hermione!" Hermione rolled her eyes as she refused to look up from her plate. Mr. Weasley then trudged down the stairs, preparing to head out to work. He gave Mrs. Weasley a quick kiss on the lips.
"Still going on about the wedding, Molly?" he questioned sweetly as he patted her bum lightly.
"I am just so excited! It is going to be positively lovely!"
"Yes, dearest, it sure will be. If it is anything like Bill and Fleur's-" Hermione slammed her palms on the table, silverware and glasses clanking together loudly as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley ripped their heads toward her, Harry and Ron nearly jumping out of their chairs in a startle.
"Can we PLEASE for five seconds," Hermione growled, "act like this isn't bloody normal? Do you not understand that I am marrying someone who could very well be my father? My best friend's godfather? Against my will? Just please, can we stop pretending that this is a celebration? I can't stand this for one more moment!" She put her head in her hands as she exhaled deeply, and felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I know this is difficult," Mrs. Weasley cooed at her as her hand vibrated against Hemrione's trembling back. "I thought maybe a little lightness-"
"Diminishing the severity of this doesn't hide what it truly is," Hermione whispered in her hands.
"I know, dear." The boys both gathered their breakfast plates and juice in their hands and furtively exited the kitchen.
"I wish I could talk to my mum," she muttered sadly. Hermione's parents remained in Australia indefinitely. She refused to lift the memory charm to protect them, and now she was basically an orphan. Mrs. Weasley was the most of a mother that she would ever have again. She pulled the chair out and sat down beside her.
"You can talk to me about anything, Hermione. Please know that. I love you as my own and I will be here for you through everything." Hermione looked up at her, her eyes bloodshot from holding in tears. Hermione had been keeping her emotions at bay for days, and she felt them finally bubbling to the surface, boiling over like a pot of water on a hot stove.
"I'm just unsure," she began.
"It's natural to feel scared before your wedding day. I was terrified! I managed to put my dress on backwards and inside-out and it wasn't until after the ceremony that my mother told me! Of course, Arthur didn't notice at all. Men," she rolled her eyes and smiled. Hermione shook her head.
"It's not that I'm scared though," Hermione continued. "I trust that Sirius will take care of me and treat me well. I just don't really know," she hesitated for a moment, trying to figure out what it was she was really trying to say, "how to be a wife. Especially to someone with twenty years more life experience than I have. I don't know how to relate to him or talk to him as a husband rather than an adult authority."
"But you are an adult now too, Hermione. And Sirius is easy enough to talk to, you know that."
"Yes, but, I'm sure he still sees me as a thirteen-year-old, huddled behind Harry and Ron." Mrs. Weasley gave a little chuckle.
"I assure you that Sirius, in no way, sees you as a child. Yes, he has known you since you were thirteen, but he's watched you grow over the years. He knows how fine of a witch you've become."
"And you don't find that a little bit weird? That he's known me since I was thirteen? Since before I actually had boobs?" Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and smirked. "I'm serious! I was flat as a board back then!"
"Hermione, stop," she managed to say between giggles. "Are you worried he won't find you attractive?" Hermione did not answer. "You are stunning and I am very sure that has not gone unnoticed by Sirius." Hermione bit the inside of her lip. "Or are you worried about-" she trailed off as she raised her eyebrows, implying things that Hermione chose not to think of.
"I'm not sure what I am worried about. I'm just worried." Mrs. Weasley stood as she kissed Hermione on the top of her head.
"I don't think you have as much to worry about as you think, love. Sirius might have been a bit of a dog back in his day, but he is a very fine man and I think you should allow yourself a little bit of grace right now. Perhaps a chat with Sirius might clear things up a bit?" Hermione couldn't imagine talking to Sirius in this way. "Or you could write him," she suggested. "I often find I speak clearer in a letter." Hermione groaned as she rested her face back into her hands. A letter didn't sound like too awful of an hadn't spoken to Sirius since that evening, and even then, they did not speak about anything. He was a little too drunk to make completely coherent thoughts anyway. "There are some quills and parchment in the upstairs desk. Errol will be back with the post shortly."
"I think I will use Hedwig," Hermione said as she headed toward the stairs.
"Very understandable, dear. He has lost his eyesight and most of his feathers. A bit embarrassing, really."
Hermione stared at the blank parchment in front of her for what seemed like hours, begging the words to write themselves so she didn't have to force her hand to take the responsibility. She began with the only thing she could think of:
Sirius,
I hope this letter finds you well.
She shook her head as she crumpled the paper into a tight ball and threw it behind her shoulder. She was writing to her fiance, not to someone notifying them of their broom's extended warranty. She started over.
Dearest Sirius,
I am sure that you understand my silence for the past week, as I understand yours. But now I feel that we should discuss the situation at hand. I hope this letter is not finding you at an inconvenient time, but I wanted to express my feelings and concerns to you as my fiance and my equal, as strange as it may sound right now.
I do not doubt your ability to be a good husband to me, but I do doubt my own ability to be a good wife. I always imagined that I would be courted before my wedding day, and that the transition would be much easier. I feel as though I don't know you aside from a mentor. I don't know your favorite color or favorite food. I don't know what side of the bed you sleep on or your annoyances. I want to know you the way I know Harry and Ron, but it is difficult for me to get past knowing you one way for nearly six years and suddenly needing to know you in a different way. I ask for your patience with me as I get acquainted with this entire ordeal.
With love,
Hermione
P.S. You mentioned you 'saved my life.' Care to elaborate?
Hermione looked at her valediction. 'With love.' It took her an hour to finish writing this letter and she was not going to start over. The closing would stand. She folded up the parchment and tied it snuggly to Hedwig's leg. She whispered to her and off she flew into the muggy morning air. She sighed deeply as she watched Hedwig become nothing more than a speck in the sky as she disappeared toward London.
It was approaching night time and the sun was setting when Hedwig returned, a new piece of parchment strapped to her leg. Hermione jumped up as the snowy owl sat in the windowsill, looking as though she was about to fall asleep from her full day of flight. Harry went to untie the letter when Hermione slapped his hand away.
"Ouch!" Harry yelped dramatically. "What was that for?"
"Sorry, Harry. But this is mine."
"Ohhh," Ron called from the couch as he sprawled out, taking up every inch of the furniture, "is that a love letter from Sirius?" Hemrione rolled her eyes.
"Hardly a love letter. But I will be reading it in my room."
"If you have to read it in private, it's a love letter!"
Hermione plopped down on her bed and uncurled the parchment very carefully, her heart racing for some reason.
My dearest Hermione,
Hermione scoffed as she recognized he purposefully one-upped her salutation.
I was so pleased to receive your letter. I too have been hesitant to make contact, as I have been giving you your space to take everything in. I know that everything has been happening so suddenly and I was clearly not the person you expected to end up married to, but I promise you that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and hopefully relatively happy. As far as being a good wife to me is concerned, the most important thing to me is that you are comfortable. Aside from marrying me in what I assume will be a garden wedding at the Burrow, I will never make you do anything that you do not wish. If friendship is the only fruitful part of this marriage, then I will welcome that. You may come and go as you please, as long as you remain safe. That is my only condition.
With love,
Sirius
P.S. On the subject of saving your life, as well as courting you, let's get a drink. Tonight. Come outside and I will be waiting.
Hermione's heart nearly beat out of her chest as ran to the upstairs window and peeked outside as the shadows from the setting sun engulfed the countryside. She did not see Sirius, but she believed he'd be on his way soon. She threw on some jeans and a flowy top, allowing just a hint of cleavage to show at the neck and combed her fingers through her bushy hair, throwing it up into a messy bun. Effortless, yet gorgeous. She dashed down the stairs and burst through the front door before anybody could ask where she was headed. Sirius's letter helped to put her mind at ease, and for the first time in a long time, she felt something similar to excitement.
As she shut the door behind her, she spotted Sirius in the side garden. He smiled when he saw her, and plucked a daisy from the ground.
"For you, Hermione," he said as he handed her the flower, looking at her in a way that he had never looked at her before. She felt her face turn pink. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a t-shirt under a black leather jacket. She had never seen him dressed this casually before, but his outfit of choice made her ease somewhat. Seeing him in this light made it easier for her to relax, like the first step to stop seeing him as an authority. He held out his hand for her to take. "Shall we then?" She placed her hand in his, begging it not to tremble, and they disapparated into the night.
