Chapter 15: Step Two and a Flight
Ginny crashed into me just beyond the door. "Oy! Hermione, you have to keep walking to get to the books."
At my name being spoken a set of muddy brown eyes swiveled to me. As Ginny indignantly shoved me further into the room, a sly smile spread over the face of Ronald Bilius Weasley.
"Good morning, Hermione," Ron said cheerfully, knowing full well that I would rather die than speak to him.
Cursed social conventions. "Good morning Ronald," I said in the frostiest voice I could muster.
Ginny, however, felt less constrained by society. "What are you doing here?" she demanded of her brother.
"It's a store, Ginny. Anyone can come in," Ron retorted. "I'd like you both to meet Rita, my wife. She's quite the reader."
Sure enough, a bombshell blonde waltzed over, several books in hand. Had she worn more clothing she would have been a classic beauty that might have rivalled Fleur herself. As it was, her hair had a slightly fried look about it, belying any pretense that she was a natural blonde. She had the barest baby bump, only noticeable because of the skin tight shirt she wore.
In a heavy French accent she said, "Oh hello, 'zis must be ze 'ermione and Ginevra you've told me about. 'Ello, I am Rita."
"Bonjour," I said rather flatly. Ginny didn't even deign to greet Rita, she only glared. I decided to intervene before Ginny did something drastic. "Comme il fait beau. Enfin du soliel! C'est bien agreable, vous me trouvez pas?"
Both Rita and Ron stared at me with slightly gaping mouths. I politely said, "Oh, I might be a bit rusty on my pronunciation."
Looking panicked, Rita said, "Oh, you speak my language quite well. A few more years and you might be able to hold a conversation." But even as she said this, Rita's "accent" slipped in and out, French blending into… American?
I almost wanted to laugh at her comment. I was nearly fluent in all of the Romance languages, especially French, as well as a few other languages.
In all reality both the fake accent and the bleached hair was probably a child's attempt at imitating Fleur. I hoped I was there when Fleur met her new sister-in-law. Fleur was kind, but also stubborn and so much more than a pretty face, despite how the media portrayed her.
I glanced at the books that filled Rita's arms and nearly collapsed with laughter. "I haven't read any books from that section," I said, fighting back a snicker. "Aren't those the adult romances?" (I'd heard that they could hardly count as romances as the couples in such books were too busy with other things to actually speak to each other.)
At Ginny's snort of derision, Rita's cheeks blushed bright red with anger. At least there was one thing she would have in common with the rest of the Weasleys.
Fuming, the blonde took a few steps closer to me. Dropping the painful accent, she hissed, "Listen Granger, Ron used to be yours, but he's mine now. Maybe if you read a few of these books and stopped dressing like a nun you wouldn't be destined to die alone."
My mind barely registered the confirmation that Rita was American. I was reeling when she continued, "You may think you're so wonderful and smart, but that's exactly why you'll never attract a man. So yes, while I read my adult romances, I'll be going to bed each night with a rich auror while you have a cat."
I stumbled back a few steps. As much as I didn't want them to, Rita's words confirmed all of the clandestine feeling nestled in my heart. Blinking back angry tears, I said, "Ginny, I forgot something important. Let's go."
The shopkeeper, a Muggleborn I'd gotten to know quite well looked panicked. "Is everything okay Hermione? I've never seen you leave without buying anything."
I glanced back at Ronald and Rita. "I don't care for your less discerning customers."
Mavis narrowed her eyes at them. "That's Weasley's new Jezebel?"
At my nod, Mavis waved me out with a look of understanding.
Ginny, however, hadn't heard me as she was too busy berating her brother. "No, I am not getting your tart season tickets. Merlin's beard, you don't get season tickets anymore!" At Ron's attempted protests, Ginny hissed, "Percy gets your season tickets."
Ron's face was starting to turn red, and I just didn't have it in me to deal with a temper tantrum. "Ginny, we need to go see about that dedication we're speaking at."
Turning from her brother, Ginny nodded. After the war there were countless monuments and memorials built, and each one had some major figure from the war speak at it. Though they had grown less frequent with time, there were still far too many to speak at all of them, and there were only so many ways to talk about the war.
As often as possible, we "war heroes" attempted to dump these responsibilities on each other. Ronald was the only one who actually enjoyed speaking at them, and he actually got pretty offended when he wasn't asked to speak. THe catch was that Ronald Weasley is rubbish at public speaking. The public quickly learned to abstain from asking Ron. More often than not, such things were kept a secret from him. I knew my comment would leave Ron in a foul mood for the rest of the day.
To make Rita's day even better, as we left I heard Mavis say loudly, "That will be seven sickles and three knuts for your porn."
Ginny and I cackled as we left, but mine wasn't as lighthearted as I hoped it would be. When I fell silent, Ginny looked concerned. "Hermione, what did she say to you?"
I smiled halfway. "Nothing that wasn't true."
"That's complete dragon dung and you know it," Ginny said harshly.
"The best insults are the true ones," I said reflectively.
"Hermione Granger, shut your face before I slap it," Ginny threatened. Looking at the time she said, "I know exactly where we should go."
"Exactly where we should go" turned out to be Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. The cashier, likely a Hogwarts student on their summer holiday gave us an incredibly disinterested greeting before a pale, freckled hand darted out of the backroom and smacked the back of the boy's head. "Honestly Thomas, I'm starting to doubt your dedication as a prankster. You have to show zest for all things in life. I wouldn't let that greeting pass for anyone except maybe Percy. But of all people to greet so dismally." George shook his head sadly.
George Weasley had grown into a fine man, one with even more charm than he had in his youth. He came out to embrace each of us with an easy grin.
"You'd think any teenage boy would be thrilled to see two such beautiful women," Ginny said, her hands on her hips.
"Don't mind Thomas, he's having a bit of a fight with his boyfriend," George said easily as Thomas grew more sullen. Then the ginger glared as his employee. "But we've talked about keeping a professional from customers, especially customers who are friends and family."
The teen wasn't phased, and at his unchanged demeanor George looked at him threateningly. "And if Thomas doesn't straighten up soon I'll be giving him the same greeting as ickle Ronniekins."
At that Thomas immediately straightened up and pasted a smile to his face, leaving me to wonder what "special greeting" Ron could expect upon visiting the shop.
George walked us through the shop and his various new experiments in the back room. All the while I kept a close eye on the clock while I rehearsed various nonchalant ways to get Ginny out. I overanalyzed it to the point that once the clock struck elevent I almost didn't realize it. I mentally kicked myself. Harry had instructed me to have Ginny at Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor at exactly eleven thirteen. Apparently that time had some kind of significance for the two. I didn't question it.
As soon as George finished his explanation and demonstration of a hard candy that cause the growth of a rather impressive beard, I cleared my throat. "That's quite the achievement, George. Ginny, I just remembered I wanted to get some ice cream before going off to America. I'm not very excited for American food, so I wanted to leave on a good note."
"Sure," Ginny said, rising.
"Oh, I would love some ice cream!" George said, rising as well, stroking his impressive beard. However, at my murderous glare he backpedalled, "Unfortunately I'm incredibly busy here. Curses."
Ginny looked at her brother a bit oddly, but after growing up in the Weasley family, very little counted as odd behaviour.
"Ah, then we'll leave you to your work," I said, subtly ushering Ginny out of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
"Ice cream is a rather odd last meal," Ginny observed as we strolled down the sidewalk. "I've heard good things about American ice cream. I would've guessed you would want fist and chips or something like that."
"Cravings are strange things," I said with a shrug.
I could tell that Ginny didn't fully believe me, but I was confident that she didn't suspect the truth. Glancing at my watch, I sighed in relief to see that we were right on time. Opening the door, I exclaimed, "Harry! Fancy seeing you here."
As we planned, Harry was in place doing a fantastic job of looking and acting natural. It was only the fact that I was his best friend that let me see how truly nervous he was.
Ginny smirked at her boyfriend. "Are you stalking me, Harry Potter?"
"Do I need to?" Harry asked with that cocky grin of his. The two leaned in for a kiss and I cleared my throat.
"I'm going to make a run to the ladies' room," was the only thing I could think of.
And so I stood there in the ladies' room, staring at my own reflection. When I heard Ginny's impressively loud squeal of "Yes!" I was conflicted. I was ecstatic for Harry and Ginny; no two people deserved it more. But the emotions felt twisted, and the scene of Ron proposing was all too prevalent in my mind. I didn't expect Harry and Ginny to part the same way, instead I was greeted with the nagging suspicion that Ron had cheated because something was wrong with me. It was an irrational thought I knew, but it was a persistent one.
I clutched the sides of the sink, staring at my own reflection. I felt like it should be distorted in some way, the way I had looked in the shattered mirror that rested in my closet. I felt shattered, not in a heartbroken sense, rather in the sense that I was broken, possibly in a way that couldn't be fixed.
Remembering the torrent of emotion accompanying my own proposal, I knew the couple wouldn't miss me, making it all the easier to slip away. I arrived at the airport a little over an hour early, and since my visit to Flourish and Blott's had been interrupted, I was forced to seek out several Muggle books. I had been hoping to spend the plane ride researching, but instead I selected several American bestseller in hopes of learning more about the culture.
Despite all of my intentions and preparations, I spent a good portion of my time staring out the window at impossible heights. I felt slightly queasy-I wasn't particularly fond of heights-but at least in a plane I could appreciate the beauty of the scenery. On a broom I was always too consumed by my seemingly impending demise.
After a series of layovers, I found myself in the bustling Salt Lake City airport. The drastic relocation was just what I needed to push my emotions into the back of my mind. I'd never had a reason to go to Utah or Idaho before, and all I knew to associate with the two states were Mormons and potatoes respectively.
I don't know what I expected. Utah didn't look alien the way some places did when you first visited. But what didn't meet my expectations was Hazel. At most I expected a modest sign with my name. What I found was Hazel hyperactively waving a massive glittery sign welcoming me back to America.
It was painful to look at, and I was tempted to stow away on an airplane.
Hazel squealed when she saw me, and I knew it was too late to escape. What ensued was a car ride filled with excited chatter. The car ride felt like it lasted eons longer than the plane ride had. Hazel's chatter continued when we made it to the Pocatello branch of MACUSA. It was a steady stream even as she placed form after form in front of me.
After a while Hazel's chatter began to feel kind of comforting. Unlike other "fans" of mine, Hazel at least had some tact and she avoided any mention of Ron. She frequently asked questions, but I rarely had to answer them because she would immediately answer them with whatever she thought the answer was.
Before I realized it, Hazel began growing on me. She was growing like a fungus, but she was growing on me nonetheless.
A/N: So Hermione made it to America! Things are going to start picking up pretty quickly now that I'm out of school for a while. Thanks to a guest comment I've decided to keep updating once a week but try to make the chapters longer. I appreciate the feedback, and now that I've written my last thirteen-page essay for a few months I'll try to pick up the pace. I just didn't want to start major plot points and then have to drop the writing for the sake of finals. I want to deliver writing that is enjoyable to read that I can also be proud of.
A shoutout to gracefulhorse for their comment correcting a typo from last chapter that I've fixed since. I literally was drifting in and out of sleep while I typed and my mind switched out one philosopher for another. I was more awake typing this chapter, so hopefully there are less typos.
Follows, favorites and reviews all encourage me greatly to keep writing!
