Summary: Ron announces that he's getting married is six weeks to a woman nobody has ever met. Meanwhile, someone is trying to kill Mr. Weasley and the Minister has asked Hermione to look into a special project for him. How long will Hermione be able to play the supportive friend and perfect employee before she takes matters into her own hands?
A Note of Explanation: I feel that Hermione has tremendous potential to be neurotically funny if she weren't busy worrying over Ron's homework and Voldemort killing Harry. Therefore, I have set this story in the not too distance future of the trio were the world still has dangers but they have been allowed to mature and grow in relative safety after the demise of their mortal enemy (and no, I do not go into detail as to how this was accomplished because that is a tale for another story). Perhaps not everyone will agree with my vision of the future but keep in mind that this is just for fun.
Furthermore, this story is not in the 1st Person but it is written entirely from Hermione's perspective. Therefore, we see things as she sees them and when she sees them. Some of the characters will not be fleshed out to everyone's liking but that is because Hermione—our brave heroine—can not be bothered with becoming buddies with all the supporting cast.
Finally, I like reviews but I won't hold chapters for ransom. This story is completed and I will update every other day until all the parts have been uploaded. These characters do no belong to me nor am I making money off this, which is unfortunate since I could really use some.
Without further ado . . .
"When defeat is inevitable, it is wisest to yield."
--Quintilian
Some days are harder than others, and then there are the days that are put into motion to remind you that as bad as your life is, it could be much, much worse.
Hermione heaved a sigh of relief as soon as she pushed open her front door and pulled herself into her flat. Her shoulders were sore from the tension that had been her constant companion for the last six weeks and her feet felt as though they had been squished up into tiny balls and then made to tango for three solid hours (although that wasn't too far from the truth). Sighing again, she elbowed the door closed hoping that the lock would catch but not caring enough to check. Really, someone breaking into her apartment and stealing all her dusty furniture might just be the best thing that had happened all day.
She stood there for a moment taking in the barely used kitchen appliances and the immaculate bookshelves and felt tears prick at her eyes as she tried to figure out when her existence had become so sterile and static . . . and lonely.
Shaking her head as if to toss off her depressing thoughts, she muttered, "Should have taken Fred and George up on their offer."
The thought of the handsome twins who had chosen tonight of all nights to show that they had a human side brought a small smile to her face. Proving that they were capable of being nice— thought perhaps not tactful—they had taken turns keeping her company for the duration of the evening. They had complimented her, insulted nearly everyone else (for her amusement they maintained), and concluded the night with wagging eyebrows and sly suggestions that they continue their mini-party back at her place. Though all the positive attention had gotten her through the night with less booze than she had originally planned, it was the underlying concern and overwhelming support the twins had given her that had truly warmed her heart.
Lost and not knowing what to do with herself, she almost moved to the kitchen to make something to eat before she realized that the burning in her stomach had nothing to do with hunger and everything to do with bone deep disappointment, the kind that was likely to linger for the rest of her life. "But no need to get all sentimental. It's only the end of my childhood, my dreams, and my chances at future happiness."
Her words echoed in the entranceway and she imagined them traveling throughout her home, getting into the hard to reach corners and under her too neat bed. There was nothing to stop their progress, only knickknacks and things. No warm bodies, no warm feelings, just space and stuff.
The despair that had been threatening all night finally slipped past her guard and began to choke her. Her knees shook before giving out completely. She collapsed against the wall, drawing her legs up and resting her chin on them as the tears started. She remained there for a long time, allowing her sadness to take control because she knew that tomorrow she would have to face the world again with her head held high. It was what they expected and truly, after putting up with her outrageous behavior, it was what they deserved.
But tonight was her time, her last time she vowed, to mourn the loss of her everything. Moving to lay down in the narrow hallway, the stress of the day finally took its toll and she drifted off into a fitful sleep.