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She didn't think that she could fall asleep but before she knew it, the sun was pouring in her window like fresh lemonade and she was groggy. Wiping her eyes, she gazed out of the casement, perplexed by the beautiful simplicity that thrived in the bustling little town.
Hermione could see why so many vampire tales took place in Romania; it was the perfect location. There was a gothic air that hadn't quite struck her while she was overrun with anxiety and carsickness, but in the light of day it was quite easy to see why Bram Stoker had chosen this country as Dracula's home.
From her limited research, Hermione had discovered that Romania was the fourth fasted growing country in terms of tourism, but she doubted that the quaint village she was much of an attraction to those seeking what they considered the 'true' Romanian experience.
It took painfully long to get presentable the Muggle way, and years of robes made jeans and a pullover quite awkward-feeling and binding. She wasn't surprised to find Mihail pacing outside her door earnestly; it appeared that his enthusiasm had increased overnight.
"Ah, you're awake! Very good, very good." He seized her by the wrist and toted her down the winding hallway, too keen to notice that he was bouncing her off the walls. Years ago Hermione would have found his exuberance trying, but a career in public relations helped her develop amusement in discovering the quirks of others.
"Where are we going?" She asked, dodging a dangerously low-hanging painting.
"The representative is here, thankfully, and a meeting is set!" He could barely contain his bubbling impatience, bouncing on the heels of his feet as though he was dancing. "No time to waste, Mrs. Granger!"
She sighed; knowing that if they were to continue to meet and communicate it would be most vexing for her to address her improperly. "It's Ms. Granger, Mihail. But feel free to call me Hermione."
His face twisted in confusion at her offer, lips contorting crudely in an attempt to pronounce such an unusual name. "Air-Mine-Eye?"
She smiled and shook her head infinitesimally, "Ms. Granger's fine."
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Breakfast, it appeared, was what all the hubbub was concerning. Mihail plied her with sausages; assorted meats that she did not wish to know the name of, and an abundance of wine. "Isn't it a bit early to be tippling?" She asked, more to herself than to her translator.
"It's never too early, you've got to wash the throat before next course." She assumed he meant palate but found his description far more amusing than her own. Hermione took a sip to be polite, but couldn't bring herself to get smashed at nine-thirty in the morning.
"When are we to meet this Board's favorite representative?" She asked, only mildly interested. She supposed she should feel insulted that the Muggle Board of Relations did not wish to deal directly with her, but she was sensible enough to realize the appeal of having a Ministry member on your side.
Mihail spat out his eggs in order to reply in haste, "At twelve-noon, he traveled the night to expedite the process. There's a meeting room where I've set up a ron-dee-voos." He explained, pleased with his word choice.
"What branch does he work at? Would I know him?" She asked, discretely regurgitating her almost solid orange juice back into her opaque glass.
"I'm not sure, it all happened so quickly. The Board didn't see it necessary to inform me," he frowned, disappointed by the slight. Hermione was quick to change the topic, taking his lead and babbling on about nothing, leaving her picked over plate behind as she clambered to her feet in an effort to explore.
"How long has this inn been here? It seems so…colonial." She asked, glad to see him perk up.
"Oh, it's been two and half century, it's got a fascinating history…" He began, pointing out ancient draperies with gusto, whispering the alleged price of the antique carpeting and rattling off the dates of the renovations. "Of course, all of this would be a bit less…consumption of the time, no, if it were done with magic." He hissed the last word dramatically, as though he were breaking the rules by saying so.
He chattered all the way back to her room, letting her get a word in edgewise in order to inquire after how one is to dial out from the telephones.
"Which room are we meeting at?" She asked, checking her watch quickly to find that it was a bit after ten. He wrote down the room number on a napkin and left her to her own devices.
It took three tries for her to finally grasp an outgoing line, and two more attempts to dial the phone number Ginny had scribbled for her. After half a ring, Hermione heard the line click and she braced herself for the pain. "HELLO? HERMIONE, ARE YOU THERE? AM I SPEAKING INTO THE RIGHT PART OF THIS BLASTED CONTRAPTION…?" Ginny shouted, and it pained Hermione to realize that she was screaming into the earpiece.
"Flip it, Gin, and I can hear you when you speak normally. Didn't we practice this?" She asked with more patience than she felt. Hermione heard her friend scramble to fix her position and hoped to Merlin that Ginny would find fit to speak with an inside voice.
"H'llo? You there, am I speaking alright?"
Hermione smiled in spite of herself and assured Ginny with the utmost confidence that she was, in fact, quite hearable. "How's it going, Gin?" She inquired out of more interest than mere pleasantry. She was missing England, and her friends, horribly. She had always thought that she was a well-adjusted person capable of adapting to most circumstances, but she was surprised to find herself growing more homesick by the hour. She had been out of the country several times before, but in spite of what Kingsley thought to be true, the timing could not have been worse.
"It's all going well," She responded vaguely, more keen to hear about Hermione's adventures than to rehash the mundane circumstances she was trapped in. "You're so lucky, to be out and about having an adventure abroad. I'm really quite jealous, wish I could be fighting vampires and rescuing villagers." Ginny said longingly, and Hermione could practically hear her salivate.
"Hate to disappoint, but it's none too exciting. Can't even use my wand, we want to make a good impression on the Muggle Board of Relations, so I'm stuck living like a Muggle." She could barely process her own prejudice, she had lived like this for more than a decade without complaint, but Ginny seemed to sympathize.
"Oh, that's awful. Maybe you'll run into Dracula, that'd certainly spice things up." She teased, and Hermione was struck with an overpowering longing to see her friend's face, witness her expressions and decipher exactly what it was that was running through her little red head.
"How's…everybody?" Even on Ginny's worst day that wouldn't have slipped by her. She knew it was only a matter of time before the conversation turned to him.
"They are all very well, though some of them are still moping about and waiting for you to come home with bated breath." She didn't bother to sensor her thoughts, and while it was a refreshing quality that Hermione normally enjoyed, today she found it quite draining.
"Ah, well, tell everyone I say hello." She said, not feeling equal enough to play along.
She should have known that Ginny would not drop the topic so quickly. "It's been quite dull at the dinner parties without you around. The awkward silences are at an all time low and we are coming dangerously close to acting a normal manner. I don't like it one bit." She stated decidedly, finally mastering her indoor voice.
"I don't know what to do, what to say, or how to act anymore, Gin." She said tiredly, feeling the distance in their conversation. "I don't even know what I want, it's just all so...confusing."
She heard Ginny sigh and, for the first time, wondered how she really felt about this whole mess, and how much she censored her thoughts from Hermione. "I can't tell you what to do, though if I did I'm rather certain you wouldn't listen anyway."
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