Chapter Eighteen
Author's Note: Thanks for reading!
The library was as good as empty when Hermione walked in through the glass doors exactly two minutes after the building had opened. George hadn't stayed late the night before. She had told him that she needed a full night's sleep in order to be in the library first thing, refreshed and prepared to study. When he had left, he had chastely kissed her goodbye and hugged her tightly. Hermione figured that intense snogging sessions would have to wait for some time until both felt comfortable with the other's feelings. While she missed the feeling of his delicious lips and skillful hands, she knew it was for the best. Taking things slowly allowed them to get to know each other in a way that wasn't merely superficial.
Most of the Ministry librarians still looked sleepy and displeased about having to be at work early on a Sunday. However, a few nodded at Hermione in recognition. Hermione knew that she was one of the most consistent patrons of the large Ministry library. She wandered up the tapestry-lined, spiral staircase, at one edge of the building, stopping when she reached the fourth floor; the level of the library where books and texts relating to Magical Creatures were housed. As she strolled along the all too familiar, relevant rows, she gently fingered the outer bindings of the books without really paying attention to the titles or actively seeking applicable texts. She had already spent so much time perusing the exact same bookshelves without any luck in the past that it was becoming difficult to remain hopeful about her project. The hours of unhelpful work she had done were beginning to feel like an exercise in futility.
"A Lesson in Development: How our Nation was Built on the Backs of House Elves," Hermione muttered aloud, reading the title off the rough, hard cover of a book that she had pulled from the top shelf. Idly flipping though the book, she sighed; the author was clearly in favour of retaining House Elves as a worker class. Discouraged, Hermione tucked the book under her arm, nevertheless, thinking that perhaps she might be able to find some useful antidotal evidence in its pages. Absentmindedly, she grabbed several other texts that she had already been through and added them to her stack. There always could be information that she missed on her first read through.
"House Elves: A Questionable Genealogy…Dignity in Duty: The House Elf Wish to Serve…The Wizard, The Witch, The Natural Order, And our Intrinsic Right to Subvert Lesser Species for our Favour," Hermione shuddered at the blatant prejudices contained in some of the titles of the books that she pulled from the shelf and carefully balanced against her hip with her free arm.
"Hmm…what's this," Hermione mumbled, noticing a very slim stack of parchment held together by three staples. "House Elfs are People To," She read the typewritten text off the front page, frowning at the obvious errors and the unsophisticated notion expressed by the title.
"Ugh, figures that the first pro-House Elf literature I find could have been written by a first-year," She internally groaned. "Well, I ought to still cover all my bases," She thought, placing the thin, book-like object on her stack of texts. Slowly, Hermione ambled out of the rows of shelves and towards the centre of the building. She easily found an empty table and placed her stack of books atop it. The library was deathly quiet; Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if she was the only one occupying the fourth floor. Sighing, she pulled a chair up to the table and sank into it. Leaning on her elbows and letting her face rest heavily in her hands, she stared at her books momentarily.
"You can do this, Hermione," She murmured to the emptiness. She reached into her beaded bag and located a stack of fresh parchment and her favourite feather quill. Grabbing the nearest book, she opened it to a random page. Muttering a curse under her breath, she started reading. She knew that her heart wasn't in the right place that morning and that she was growing exceedingly discouraged with what was starting to feel like a Sisyphilian task. Glancing up from the page, she furiously shook her head, causing her messy curls to cover her face. Pushing her hair back, she willed herself to focus. "I know you can do this, Hermione." With a deep breath, Hermione turned to the table of contents of her book, knowing that if she was going to do research for the day, she ought to do it right. Flipping to a relevant chapter, she started reading thoroughly while scribing detailed notes.
Hermione didn't know how long she had been working, but figured it was about mid-afternoon when she heard heavy foot steps behind her. With a jolt of shock, surprised that she wasn't alone in the library, she turned to see who had joined her. Sucking in her breath, she instantly recognized the intruder who was confidently striding down one of the aisles of books.
"George…w-what are you doing here?" She sputtered far too loudly for the library setting.
"I wanted to see you,"
"How did you know where to find me?"
"I talked to Oliver, who talked to Holly, who talked to Klara, who figured you'd be here," George laughed. "I thought you might need a break…so, what say you, can I treat you to lunch?"
"That would be brilliant," Hermione smiled. George was right: she did need a break. Her vision was becoming fuzzy and her head was clouded with the information she had been retaining all morning. Giving her head a quick shake and stretching out her cramped limbs, Hermione eagerly jumped up from her chair. Leaving her stack of books on the table for the librarian to file away, she gathered her notes and stowed them in her beaded bag.
"Are you ready to go?" George asked with a grin. He promptly slid his free hand into Hermione's and gave it a slight squeeze. As they wandered towards the spiral staircase, he didn't remove his hand from hers.
-o-O-o-
After leaving the Ministry library, Hermione and George located a nearby café and filled in, still hand-in hand. The café was one of Hermione's favourites. It was remodeled from an old heritage house and, as a result, was exceptionally cozy. Unique artwork and oil paintings covered the earth-toned walls and a large collection of odd knickknacks and keepsakes were arranged on various bookshelves that were scattered throughout the café. The smell of baking always filled the establishment, likely because they made all their own bread on location. Claiming one of the empty, circular tables near the large bay window at the front of the café, George raised two of his fingers to catch the attention of one of the servers who was idly leaning against the main counter. Lazily, the server sauntered across the small floor of the café to take their order. Hermione stared intently at the narrow, plastic menu, still feeling unsure about making eye contact with George. After their waiter left with their order, George and Hermione sat in silence for some time. The awkwardness was palpable, but it wasn't overly uncomfortable. Ever since the previous night and George's abrupt declaration of his affection, many of Hermione's misgivings had been alleviated. She was feeling far better about the situation than she had in some time. Any remaining unease wasn't accredited to confusion about their arrangement or concerns that her feelings were unrequited, but from the knowledge that he was equally smitten with her.
"Ah, so, what is everyone going to say about…this" – Hermione cautiously remarked motioning between her and George – "Your family….how do you think they'll take it all."
"Oh Merlin…I don't know," George chuckled self-consciously. "I've been playing over different scenarios in my head, and it literally could go so many ways."
"They could be really happy," Hermione said positively.
"They could…" George speculated.
"Or they could be really skeptical, or really unimpressed, or really disappointed, or really disapproving, or really unpleased," She continued, the optimism fading from her voice with every item on her list.
"They could be all of those things," George replied.
"Ah…do you think it would be best if they just didn't find out…for the time being at least," Hermione suggested with a guilty smile. She was sure that lying to his family was not ideal for George, but given the circumstances, thought it might make the most sense.
"You mean not tell them?" George asked mischievously.
"Well…maybe," Hermione carefully responded.
"What about Fred and Ginny?"
"I don't know, do you think we should tell them?"
"No" – George laughed boisterously – "I'm guessing those two are the worst to tell." His amusement was infectious and Hermione found herself echoing his laughter with chiming giggles of her own.
"I know. They would get so far ahead of themselves," She said through her giggles. In her mind, Hermione could easily imagine the way Ginny would pester her for details, wanting to know far more than appropriate regarding her relationship with George, Ginny's older brother.
"Oh Merlin. Fred can a bit intrusive when it comes to me and girls. Ever since he got married, he's been giving me such a hard time about settling down. With you involved, he'll be infinitely worse," George shook his head ruefully but good-naturedly.
"And your Mum…she'd-"
"She'd have a fit," George finished her thought. "And I'm not sure in a good way or a bad way to be entirely honest."
"So maybe just keep this to ourselves?" Hermione suggested.
"Until we've figured everything out," George agreed as their waiter returned with their lunches. Hermione smiled instinctively as she picked up her roast beef sandwich. A secret affair just seemed so clandestine, but at the same time, it seemed like the wisest approach. Involving George's family too early would only unnecessarily complicate matters further.
"So, when's your next game?" Hermione asked idly, placing down her sandwich. It seemed to her that they had exhausted the topic of the privacy of their newfound relationship.
"Ah, Wednesday…verses the Cannons," George replied causally. "You should come,"
"Perhaps,"
"No, you definitely should, all the WAGs get a private section of the stadium,"
"WAGs?"
"Wives and girlfriends," George explained with a chuckle.
"Oh," Hermione coughed in surprise. She was sure George wasn't intentionally referring to her as his girlfriend. It seemed far too sudden for that. Nevertheless, that it could be the natural interpretation of his comment had shocked her. She felt her face grow warm as a blush arose on her cheeks. "I might come. If I can get off work in time," She muttered, hoping he hadn't noticed the pink flush on her face.
"You should…It should be a good game and Holly will most likely be there….and it would be nice to know I have someone in the stands cheering me on…I'd really appreciate it if you came," George said, his brilliant blue eyes glittering good-naturedly.
"I'll consider it," Hermione answered coyly, knowing that she'd likely attend. The pair continued to make easy going conversation as they finished their meals. Throughout lunch, Hermione could feel the grin threatening at the corners of her mouth as George animatedly told her about his time playing Quidditch in Egypt. Somehow one simple conversation had managed to make everything between them seem so much easier and more straightforward. The internal debate that had been operating within Hermione's conscious since her and George's first kiss was finally in hibernation. She leaned back in her chair, sipping water through a straw, enjoying their time together.
"Well, I suppose we should get going," Hermione sighed as the waiter cleared away their empty dishes and dropped a bill on the table.
"Guess so," Nonchalantly, George tossed a generous collection of Galleons and Sickles onto the table. "So what's the game plan now?" He asked expectantly, grinning rakishly and holding out his hand to Hermione.
"Umm…well, my plan for the day was staying in the library." Hermione replied regretfully as she shyly took his outstretched hand in hers. Holding hands with George was still a novelty. Holding hands in public seemed exceptionally peculiar; it felt, to Hermione, that they were declaring themselves as a couple to the world as a whole, something that, while pleasant, was still jarring. "Would it be awful of me if I were to go back there and get back to work?" The combination of the hearty lunch and the enjoyable conversation had resulted in Hermione becoming reinvigorated regarding her House Elf project. Her head was clear and her spirits lifted and she was sure that she could return to the library and make significant progress in her research.
"I'll walk you there," George offered with a grin.
"You don't have to," Hermione replied. "The library is literally across the street. I'm sure I can manage getting there on my own,"
"Yes, but I have nothing much going on today. I'd rather just spend that time walking across the street with you," George chuckled, playfully nudging Hermione's side with his elbow.
"Ok…that would be nice," Hermione murmured. George's sweet talk was always affective at winning her over. With her hand self-consciously tucked into George's, the pair wandered out of the café and into the afternoon sun. It pleased Hermione to see that the cold spell that had affected London for most of the winner was evidently coming to an end. The street was active with people, although Hermione didn't notice any faces she recognized. They reached the cement stairs leading up to the library – a formidable, sand and rust coloured brick building with countless pillars and windows – when Hermione reluctantly led go of George's hand.
"What is it, Mione," He asked.
"This is the library, George," She pointed out. "If you remember, it's where you were taking me…unless you wanted to come in with me,"
"Yah, might as well," George chuckled. "I don't know if I can ever say that I've been in a library twice in one day before,"
"Alright," Hermione commented, opening up one of the double, glass doors leading into the building. "But I warn you, it will be terribly boring," She laughed.
"That's ok…I'll leave if need be," George grinned casually, glancing around his surroundings. "You know, this place is really quite spectacular. I mean, I don't quite understand why you spend so much time here or anything…but it's quite nice,"
"I know," Hermione agreed adamantly, purposely disregarding his teasing. She went to the library so frequently that she often failed to appreciate the splendor of the ancient building, but George was correct; it was phenomenal. The impressive foyer boasted several intricate stained-glass windows which lit the burgundy carpeting in a pattern of dancing and flickering blues, greens, and yellows. There was something about the building that was reminiscent of a cathedral, which to Hermione – who always had a certain reverence for books – seemed perfectly appropriate. The insides of the library were stocked with shelves and shelves of tomes, literature, and spell books. It was lit by nothing by a multitude of elaborate candelabras, all of which had been enchanted to avoid the threat of the highly-flammable books catching fire. Gothic stone figurines of real and mythical animals stood in the corners of all the library levels. The combination of the old books, the dim candle lighting, and the statues gave the building an unquestionable eeriness, but Hermione loved it nevertheless.
Hermione and George wandered through the library towards the spiral staircase. The tapestry that lined the stairwell was a mismatch of scenes in muted coloured embroideries. The glorious needlepoint displayed stories from wizard history and mythology. Some of the images moved across the fabric, changing as they strolled up the stairs, while other pictures remained still. Hermione loved the artwork and how it told the stories with which she was so familiar in nothing but images. She was fascinated by the way the tapestry seamlessly melded together fact and folklore in such a beautiful medium. Other than the vast collection of books, the tapestry that wound up the stairwell was Hermione's favourite part of the library.
"Ah, Mione…is that you?" George asked midway between the second and third floors, pointing at a spot on the pictorial.
"What's that? Oh er, that, ah, is me," Hermione muttered in a slightly embarrassed fashion. After the battle of Hogwarts, the tapestry had been altered to include a huge, detailed illustration of Harry's duel with Voldemort and other scenes from the Battle at Hogwarts. Tucked in the corner was a tiny, delicately stitched image of Hermione destroying the Hufflepuff Cup Horcrux.
"I had no idea you were such a star, Mione," George laughed.
"I'm not," Hermione shrugged off his observation and continued up the stairs. "There's lots of people on this tapestry. Look…your mum's right there," She pointed out an image just before the third floor of Mrs. Weasley besting Bellatrix Lestrange in the Great Hall. George remained silent, but his proud grin said everything.
The fourth floor was still deserted when Hermione and George entered it from the staircase. Hermione made a beeline for the table she had used all morning and was startled to see that all her books were still positioned across the table in the exact way that she had left them. Most likely, she figured, no one had even been on the floor since she and George had left for lunch. Hermione pulled out the same chair she had been using earlier while George sat at the table across from her. After rummaging through the unending compartments in her beaded bag, Hermione found the stack of parchment she had been using earlier to record notes.
"So, what are you doing here?" George asked after she laid her parchment on the table's surface.
"Um, well, I'm not entirely sure, to be honest," Hermione admitted. "Right now I'm just hoping to come across something useful…something I can build my argument upon,"
"Hmm…what do you have so far?" George glanced across the table to peer at Hermione's notes on her parchment.
"Ugh, very little," She groaned. "I think I might be one of the only people willing to champion the cause of House Elves. So not finding much…feeling that it's a bit of an uphill battle…"
"What about this person?" George questioned, picking up a book Hermione had pulled from a shelf earlier. It was the make-shift text that had been constructed from a thin stack of parchment and several staples. "House Elfs are People To," He read the title aloud. "Hmm…sounds as if you could do much better."
"The problem is, right now I don't know if I could," Hermione chuckled, but her feigned good-natured tone failed to mask her deep-seated frustration. "Maybe I should just go before the Ministry with 'House Elfs are People To.' Who knows, it could be convincing."
"I don't know if this is that bad," George replied, flipping through the crude book. "She actually talks to House Elves…and records the interviews…she's very impassioned about the issue…there could be something useful hidden in here. Maybe Matilda Malvena McGuire is worth your time," He laughed, reading the name of the author off the front cover.
"But George, it can't possibly be worthwhile. Look at it…it-it's riddled with mistakes…it's largely incoherent. It's not even published by a reputable source." Hermione observed with a genial chuckle. She took the book from George and leafed through it, pointing out some particularly offending passages. The writing had caused her grammar-conscious sensibilities to respond adversely and for her to worry that perhaps only truly daft people supported the House Elf cause.
"Don't write off a potential ally that quickly, Hermione," George suggested kindly. "You never know where you're going to find your necessary inspiration."
"Maybe," Hermione admitted skeptically, remaining doubtful about Matilda Malvena McGuire's defence of House Elves. "So, I'm going to get to work here…did you want to stick around?"
"I think I'm going to head home, if you don't mind," George smiled. "But come over when you're done. I'd like to see you and, besides, you left your parka and gloves and stuff at my flat yesterday."
"Right," Hermione blushed. She had left in such a hurry that she hadn't realized that she had forgotten her winter accessories. "I'll be there once the library closes."
"Brilliant," George replied lightly. "See you for dinner," George stood up from his chair, but before he turned to leave, he leaned across the table and kissed Hermione softly on her lips. Hermione smiled after he removed his lips. The tender peck was nothing compared to the lengthy snogging sessions, but somehow it was all more sweet and special.
"I'll see you then, George," She replied with a content grin before he turned and disappeared into the library stacks.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading. If you get the chance, leave a comment. They're always extremely appreciated!