TWO
JUNE 19th 2005
Hermione woke with a start, a scream barely held in the back of her throat. Shaking, she sat up, absentmindedly stroking the slur carved on the white skin of her forearm. The sunlight inched across the floor of her bedroom, brightening the end of her bed. Forcing herself up, Hermione groaned, rubbing her face.
As she walked toward the bathroom she clicked on the radio. The soft sounds of McFly filled the room. She was sure a shower was exactly what she needed. A reset. Yesterday had jarred her. Hermione wasn’t used to imbalance and spontaneity anymore. She had a routine and stuck to it. Go to work, hang out with friends, do the shopping, make dinner, etc. Apparating home had not been in the routine. She couldn’t deny the rush it gave her though. Magic had coursed through her so violently she could almost see it. Part of her wanted to go back to those days on the run. All she wanted was Harry. Her best friend. The light through all that darkness before the Battle of Hogwarts. But Harry was gone. And she was still here, all alone.
Water flattened her puffy hair to her face and she closed her eyes, trying to push Harry’s smile out of her head. She was Hermione Wilson now, she was not the Hermione Granger that had fought beside the Order of the Phoenix. She refused to be the Hermione that watched them all die and couldn’t recover. She had to be the Hermione that had moved on. The Hermione that had survived. She would not let it overcome her again. She couldn’t. It was all too much to handle. The dreams she had every night were enough, not to mention being reminded while awake.
Hermione dressed in a smart skirt and blouse - preparing for the dinner she would have that night with Maura. They had met five years ago at the library when Hermione had fallen asleep among the research volumes. Maura’s oldest daughter had been looking for a volume that happened to be to the right of Hermione’s sleeping head.
The small cafe a block from her tube stop was empty, as it usually was this early in the morning. Alex, the barista, smiled from behind the counter.
“G’mornin’ ‘ermione,” he placed a cup before her, “‘ere’s yer cuppa.” He took the two pounds from her and placed them into the register.
“See you tomorrow, Alex! Thank you so much!” Hermione smiled at him before closing the door behind her and walking briskly to the station, sipping on her tea with a splash of milk and a drop of honey.
As her final meeting of the day ended, Hermione let out a sigh. The wisps of her baby hair blew away from her face, tickling her forehead. The day had been long and she was ready to be with her friend and listen to her talk about her hellish ex-husband and how her girls were doing in school. All she wanted was the distraction. And maybe a drink. Or several.
Hermione walked quickly to the tube, catching the Central line towards Holborn. As Hermione waited for her transfer at Holborn, the bustle in the tube station grew louder. The child crying next to her, the teenagers across the platform, the click of heels. The sounds swelled to deafening levels and abruptly came to an equally as deafening silence. The clock next to her stopped clicking and the station flooded with warmth. Her ears pounded with silence, her own heartbeat the only sound in the station.
The vinewood wand was in her hand, drawn, at the ready. The last seven years living as Muggle drifted away and she was with Harry and Ron, running along Tottenham road, preparing for Death Eaters. The warmth grew stifling and she backed against the wall, eyes searching the station, hoping and praying that it wasn’t Death Eaters. That something else was happening. A small, bright, blue wisp flitted across the tracks, coming towards her. She moved closer. A Patronus. Hermione was inches from the edge of the track, her wand hand stretched out towards the little wisp.
A train sped past and the sounds of the station roared back to life. Hermione jumped away from the tracks, crying out from the now thunderous sounds in her ears. The people around her turned to look, eyes flickering to the wand in her hand. She blushed, stowing the wand quickly away. She scanned the station once more, her heart racing. Someone had cast a Patronus Charm. They must have. But why? If there were no Dementors in the station, there would be no need for the spell. She must be seeing things. Hearing things. The thought scared her. What if something had happened to her brain? Maybe a curse or a hex had been placed- no.
She was living as a Muggle now and that’s what it must be. Some sort of Muggle delusion. Though, it’s not like she could go to a Muggle shrink and explain her terror about wands and dark wizards. They would call her crazy and lock her up. No. She must just be tired. It had been a very trying night yesterday, her sleep was fitful and nowhere near restful.
As she boarded the next train, the trembling in her hands just wouldn’t stop. It was getting frustrating, all the recent, unexpected reminders of her old life. It was one thing to think about those she lost, when she was in her own home, but confronted out in the open like this? It was too much for her, and too much for the Muggles who had heard her cry out, wand at the ready. She felt like she had seven years ago, heart racing, death at every corner. What if there was someone here? Watching her?
The Wizarding World was at peace - at least that’s what the Sunday Prophet told her. An owl still dropped it at her window every Sunday morning. The world was a very different place than it was when she was fighting Death Eaters in coffee shops and running from Snatchers in the forest. The first year after the war Kingsley had given her an Auror shadow, just in case any of Voldemort’s rogue followers tried to ambush her. None did, though, and when she had insisted Kingsley get rid of the detail, he had no reason to deny her the request.
It was a quick ride to Green Park station. Tourists ambled about in the early summer evening, many probably walking toward Buckingham Palace or 10 Downing Street. Hermione walked deliberately past them and past the Ritz to the front door of the Wolseley. The large cafe had ornate windows lining the street and the inside was just as spectacular with large, black columns and sparkling chandeliers. It was their favourite place to go when they wanted to feel ‘fancy’.
“Hermione!” Maura waved from their usual table in the back along the long booth. “My love,” she kissed Hermione quickly on both cheeks, “I am so happy to see you!”
“Me too, it’s been a long few days and I could really do for a drink,” Hermione said as she flopped down across from Maura on the plush leather bench, grabbing for the drink menu.
Maura grinned, “I think today is a bubbly kind of night!” The server appeared the moment Maura spoke. She ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of them. “Now, tell me everything. How is the new position? Have you picked a new flat yet? Do you have your own assistant?”
“It’s fine, nothing too hard. It’s very similar to what I used to do, now I just actually have the authority to tell people what to do. It’s rather dull, honestly. And now I don’t get to do any marketing work - just approving what everyone else does. And yes I have my own assistant. She’s a delight. Her name is Elise and she knows how I take my tea.”
“Someone who knows how to take your tea! She’s definitely a keeper!” Maura laughed, tossing her long ginger hair behind her back. The red hair glinted under the dim light of the chandelier.
Ginny’s hair splayed out behind her on the castle floor . Hermione quickly closed her eyes, trying to push the empty stare of her friend from her memory.
“Hermione?” Maura’s soft voice pulled her from her thoughts and she opened her eyes. “Are you alright?”
Hermione forced a smile, “I’m fine, I just need a drink,” the young server walked over and uncorked their bottle. The bubbles tickled her lips and her smile spread across her lips with more ease. “Really, I’m okay. Just tired, and starving. Shall we start with oysters?”
“My love, please let us do this again soon. I have so many more things to tell you about the horrendous things Stephen said to Maeve’s teacher,” Maura squeezed her hand tight as they stood outside of Maura’s flat. Hermione was ready to go home.
“We will, I promise,” she waved at her friend as she climbed the stairs. Hermione swiftly turned to catch her bus. She felt lighter now that she had created some sense of normalcy with Maura. Her ex-husband, Stephen, continued to be a menace, but a hilarious one at that. He was, in all senses of the word, an oaf. Hermione had heard him put his foot in his mouth more times than she could count. And quietly listening to Maura talk about her was something she could do for hours.
The bus was crowded as she scrambled to the top level, sliding past a man to sit next to the window. Little patters of rain started to trail down the window as the streets of London passed beneath her. She really loved being with Maura. She reminded Hermione of her mother, Emilia. Maura’s smile was vibrant and infectious. It brightened every room she was in, just like her mom’s had.
It was easier to not be sad about her parents. They were still alive, living a fulfilling life. But they were living in Australia, as Monica and Wendell Wilkins, in a small cottage outside of Perth. She had gone to visit them after the Battle of Hogwarts and tried to reverse her memory charm, but the charms were permanent unless a practised Legilimens could get in there and get the memories out by force. It would be far too dangerous to attempt, for they could end up with no memories at all, just shells of people.
Hermione decided to get off her bus early and walk the rest of the way home in the hopes she could clear her head. The summer air was cooler than when she had left this morning, causing a shiver to run through her. Her short heels clicked on the street as she turned into Max Roach Park. She wondered if she should stop by Tesco and pick up some things for the day tomorrow. It was a Saturday and she planned to stay in and watch rubbish television all day. Maybe she should make a cake and take it over to Maura and her girls.
A flash of blue-white to her left caught her eye, she spun to face it, warmth spreading over her. In seconds her wand was out. Without taking her eyes off the wisp of light Hermione kicked off her shoes, grounding herself. There was no way she could run with those shoes on.
“Who’s there?” she called out, proud that her voice wasn’t shaking as badly as her left hand was. Her wand hand was as steady as ever, trained on the blue wisp. It pulsed and moved away. “Who is here?” Hermione called out again, eyes straining in the darkness surrounding the light. Against better judgment, she stepped towards the Patronus. Death Eaters couldn’t often cast Patronus Charms, so maybe it was safe to follow the little light. Even with her thoughts easing her shaky breaths, Hermione kept her wand up, prepared for a fight.
After walking for several minutes the Patronus stopped. She tried to make out what kind of animal it was, to find any clue to whose Patronus it could possibly be, but the charm did not find a corporeal form. The blue light grew brighter, forcing Hermione to shield her eyes.
“Hermione Granger,” the Patronus spoke, the sound almost deafening. She prayed there were no Muggles around to hear the deep male voice. “This is not the way. You can change it all.” She couldn’t place the voice but it sounded so familiar. The voice was gruff and rugged. Her panic swelled again and the Patronus disappeared in a blast of white light. On the ground among the dark grass, bright red glinted in the moonlight. It was small, smaller than the one she had used in her third year, but the sand was bright gold, surrounded by shiny red metal. Runes that even she didn’t know were etched into the two outer rings.
Where had this come from? She knew she had to take it to the Ministry, to the Department of Mysteries. Looking around for Muggles, Hermione prepared to apparate. She didn’t want to go back to the Ministry, but it was the right thing to do. The time turner started spinning rapidly and she was ripped backward, a familiar tug deep in her gut.