Hermione on Holiday

Chapter 5 Mallets, Money, and Meditations

Gripping her horse's reins in her left hand, Hermione wielded the mallet with her right, and was gratified to watch the ball fly off in the distance. She felt like a champion Beater in Quidditch. She wasn't just Brainy Girl.

At the same time, she couldn't suppress guilt feelings entirely.

Lots of things need to be done. Voldemort is on the rise. Elves are enslaved all over the Wizard World. Harry is in mourning over losing Sirius. And I'm just sitting here on my arse.

Guilt morphed into a bit of defiance, even though the only thing she was defying was her own sense of responsibility.

Dammit, I've been doing my part! I encouraged a lot of students to learn self-defence in Dumbledore's Army. I risked my life to bring down Death Eaters at the Ministry. Aren't I entitled to a bit of fun?

Mrs. Weasley was right. Fighting evil should be a job for adults. I'm just sixteen. And we've been fighting Voldemort in various ways since we were eleven, trying to keep the other side from getting the Philosopher's Stone. It's somebody else's turn.

A frightening thought came to Hermione.

I've got a choice. Unlike Ron and Harry and the others, I could bail out. Be a Muggle girl. Leave the Wizard World to solve its own problems.

The moment she thought it, she shook her head.

But I can't just walk out on my friends like that. Harry, the Weasleys, Neville, even Luna grows on you after a while. And they may need a Brainy Girl. And is there anybody else that understands about the elves?

When the ball came back in response to her boomerang charm, Hermione swung her mallet and struck it violently, putting all her frustration behind the blow.

At home came the arguments. Her parents didn't yell at her – they never did – but they were clearly concerned about how she was spending her time and money, and they harangued her about it over dinner.

"But I didn't use the family's money," Hermione insisted. "It was a gift from Harry. I helped him win an award in Fourth Year, and he shared some of it with me."

"Using money from one boyfriend to help impress another boyfriend?" asked Mum.

"They're neither of them my boyfriends, Mum!" Hermione's cheeks flushed at the thought. She definitely didn't feel that way towards Harry and she had yet to determine the depth of her feelings for George.

"It's not the money itself that bothers us, Minnie," said Dad. "It's whether you are learning to manage it properly. Every day at school you go to the dining hall to eat, and every night you go to your dorm to sleep, and it all seems free. You don't see the tuition that's been paid for room and board and the rest. We're not begrudging the tuition; that's not the point. But do you think you'll be able to provide all of your life's needs just by waving a wand?"

"No, it doesn't work this way."

"Girls can go in for football nowadays, or a lot of other sport. Instead, you've developed a fascination for polo. Polo is a rich man's sport, because it requires spare cash to maintain an expensive, trained horse. The American scholar Veblen even suggested that rich people like polo just because it advertises that they have spare cash. He called it 'conspicuous waste', and he wasn't just talking about manure piles."

Mum slammed down her fork. "Darling, do you have to say 'manure' when we're eating dinner?"

"Sorry."

"What concerns me, Minnie," said Mum, "is this: have you given any more thought to preparing for college? Muggle college, I mean."

She's right. I can't just stand there and proclaim: I'm a Muggle girl. If I want it to be an option, there are things I will have to do. Out loud she said: "George is teaching me about computers."

"That's a good idea, as far as it goes. Computers seem to be the future. But there's the matter of proving that you've gotten a secondary education. Could that headmaster of yours, Dumbledore, help out there?"

"Maybe. I'd have to ask. Yes, Mum, I WILL think about it more."

But on Saturday, when she led the polo pony out of the stable and hoisted herself up into the saddle, she was determined to push the disturbing thoughts out of her head and concentrate on pleasant things: her horse, the fresh air (she tried to ignore the scent of manure), the lovely lawn to ride on.

"Hermione?"

She twisted in the saddle and saw a familiar head of red hair, attached to a body dressed in what was obviously intended to look like Muggle clothes. "Fred!"

"Actually, I'm George. I'm the one who put the charm on your balls." He didn't seem offended that, even after six years, she couldn't always distinguish the twins. She guessed that almost no one could.

"George. But what are you doing here?"

"Scouting for ideas. We run a novelty shop, y'know. So when you told me about a new sport I knew nothing about, I thought I'd have a look."

"Well, you can watch if you like. But I may not be able to introduce you to my mate – I don't have a cover story prepared."

"I understand. Statute of secrecy and all that. After all, part of my Dad's job is to help keep wizard artefacts out of Muggle sight."

"Well, pardon me for leaving, but I promised to meet my mate at the far end of the pitch."

"Certainly. Cheerio." He made an exaggerated wave and bowed slightly.

Hermione urged her horse into a gallop, crossing the lawn to the predetermined spot. She didn't want to admit it, and certainly the Weasley twin had meant no harm, but she was a bit disturbed to have the Wizard World suddenly intrude on the Muggle World. She hoped the twin would behave himself, something the twins rarely did.

At the far end, her heart leapt as she saw the handsome George Hanover ride onto the pitch, on his own beautiful horse. It was such a romantic sight.

Maybe Mum is right, and George is turning into my boyfriend---

TO BE CONTINUED.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: The idea of asking Dumbledore for advice about faking "Muggle" school records is from SANDEFUR. Part of Hermione's opening soliloquy was edited by Briee)

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: When Hermione's Dad talks about girls playing football, he is referring to soccer)