Sixteen

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I intend no infringement and am making no profit.

***

"Pass the potatoes!"

"What'd you do with the butter?"

"Mum, can you please tell those two to shut it?"

My head was spinning with the maddening but lovable chaos that typified Weasley Sunday evening suppers. The twins were at their boisterous best; Ron had brought Luna and was trying to protect her from their playful jibes; Ginny looked as though she was currently enduring a sizable headache...likely a lingering reminder of their night on the town; and Harry simply seemed amused, regarding the large family with a contented look in his emerald eyes.

I glanced over at Mrs. Weasley to find her looking as flustered and frustrated as ever, but Mr. Weasley, happily settled in the chair beside me, seemed oddly unperturbed. He flashed me a gentle smile and offered me some more wine, which I accepted gratefully. Feeling slightly off-kilter was truly the only reason I'd been able to withstand the sheer volume of the Weasleys up to that point.

Finally, when everyone was satisfied with his or her food acquisition and was busily eating, Ginny found herself able to make her voice heard.

"How's your apprenticeship going?" she asked me, sawing away at a piece of meat. I took a small bite of my own and nodded encouragingly.

"It's terrific so far. They've agreed to let me start doing full days on Saturdays beginning next month, too."

"Will you get done faster that way?" Harry queried. He was torn between paying me due attention and watching the peculiar way Luna cut her food with a bemused expression tugging at his lips. Like most of her little quirks, it was impossibly endearing. Ron was smiling as he passed her each dish.

"No, I still have to do a minimum of a year's study. It's much better preparation, though," I pointed out, the persistent feeling of distraction that had been dogging my mind mollified by academic discussion. "And once I've finished the requisite number of cases under the Healers' supervision, I'll be able to start handling patients on my own."

"So what ever happened with Madam Pomfrey, dear?" Mrs. Weasley called from the opposite end of the enormous table. "Ginny told us she offered for you to be her successor at Hogwarts."

"She did," I affirmed. "In fact, she's already sent me the letter officially offering me the position once I've finished my apprenticeship. She wants me to study under her next summer and for the fall term. She'll retire around Christmas provided I'm doing satisfactorily."

"Why wouldn't you?" Ron scoffed. "No worries there. You'll be a better mediwitch than she's ever been."

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley and I exclaimed reprovingly.

"What?" he demanded, looking defiant. "She was never all that compassionate. Remember second year when Harry broke his arm, and Lockhart practically attacked him and made his bones disappear? She blamed the whole thing on Harry!"

"Well, she really did have a point," Harry spoke up placatingly. "I shouldn't have let the stupid git near me."

"But what choice did you have? You'd broken your arm!"

"True," Fred piped up. "What were you supposed to do, wrench it away from him?"

They continued to debate the merits...or relative lack thereof...of Madam Pomfrey's beside manner, but I couldn't bring myself to feel at all ungracious towards her. She had a quick temper, to be sure, and she could be rather judgmental at times; yet she was also an astonishingly understanding woman once one began talking with her. I also couldn't possibly ignore the fact that she had sacrificed hours of her valuable time and energy to aid me in the brewing of the potion that had, quite literally, changed my life.

That particular train of thought brought me soundly back to the object of my previous preoccupation, a trap into which I didn't want to fall again. I shoved my recollection of what had passed the evening before into the furthest reaches of my mind.

"You're all being prats," Ginny sniffed irritably. "Look what she did to help Hermione!"

Murmurs of acquiescence passed around, and everyone grew silent again. I was still contending with the niggling feeling that Ginny was suppressing the urge to say something to me. Trying to determine what...and whether I should simply invite her to ask her questions and have it over with...was becoming exhausting.

A moment later I looked up from my carrots to find her watching me speculatively. I raised an inquiring eyebrow and opened my mouth to speak, but her eyes immediately grew wide and she shook her head, firmly but surreptitiously. Not wanting to respond if she was so anxious to avoid attention, I returned my focus to my supper.

Once we had, under Mrs. Weasley's sharp supervision, downed at least two helpings each, she announced that she would fetch the dessert she'd prepared. Ginny wiped her mouth hastily on her napkin and rose to her feet. "I'm too full right now, Mum," she said, glancing over at me significantly. "I'm going to go listen to the radio for awhile."

"I'll come with," I automatically offered as nonchalantly as I could. I followed her out into the living room. Once we'd crossed the threshold and the jarring sound of loud voices dissipated, she released an audible sigh of relief. Her pained expression and, presumably, her headache seemed to vanish.

She flipped on the Wizarding Wireless Network, though it was undoubtedly just to substantiate her white lie and held no appeal for her. A slow, droning voice and the underlying crackle of magical energy began to issue from the small set. Flopping down on the sofa, she watched me hawkishly as I assumed a seat beside her.

"So," I began hesitantly.

"Fleur's pregnant." It was a rather abrupt non sequitur. I jumped slightly in my seat.

"Is she? That's terrific," I enthused. "Bill must be thrilled."

"Not nearly as much as Mum," she confided with a wry smile. "She's already bugging Fred and George to start settling down now that the shop's doing so well."

I chuckled. "I take it she wants a lot of grandchildren?"

"You have no idea." She shook her head in exasperation. "Oh, and Tonks and Remus have set the date, too. Next month. They decided pretty suddenly...she just showed up a couple days ago and told us."

As this update involved me much more directly, I questioned her for a few minutes about their plans. Apparently they had decided that while Remus was popular as a Hogwarts instructor, it would not be wise to hold the wedding at that location. It was certainly undesirable to draw any more attention than strictly necessary to the marriage of a well-liked, normal witch and a despised werewolf, war hero though he may have been.

"Mum's offered to let them have it here," she related, "and I think that would probably be best, personally. They were at Bill's wedding...they know how decent we can make the place look if we try."

I was left with little to do in response, growing increasingly fidgety and discomfited under her intense gaze.

"So where were you last night?" She finally relented, bursting out with the question. I furrowed my brows, perplexed.

"I went out for supper... I Flooed here first, but your mum said you four had gone out to eat earlier."

She nodded. "Yes, she told us when we got back. We tried your flat, but you weren't there."

"No, I was still out."

"We performed a locating charm so we could catch up with you," she continued, a sharper edge entering into her voice. "It wouldn't work. We even Apparated to London and tried it. You must gone quite a ways just for supper..."

She was doing a pitifully poor job of disguising her curiosity. I sighed. "I was out with Severus. Is that what you're trying to pry at?"

A sheepish smile skittered across her face. "Yes. He asked you out for supper?"

"Well, not exactly..." I reached over and turned up the volume on the Wizarding radio gradually, not wanting to advertise to the others our need for privacy. Then I curled up completely on the couch, moving closer to Ginny and lowering my voice. "He stopped by my flat last night just as I was leaving to find something to eat. He was dropping off the letter I got from Madam Pomfrey."

"About the apprenticeship?"

"Mm-hmm. Anyway, I admitted that I was hungry and asked him if he'd already eaten. I honestly didn't expect him to be so amenable to going out, but..."

Ginny gawked at me. "Where did you take him?"

She cocked her head in confusion when I burst out into sudden and inexplicable laughter. I sobered immediately when I noticed heads turning inquisitively in the kitchen. "Well, I didn't choose the place. He rather took me..."

"Where?" She looked as though she still wanted desperately to maintain an unbiased, controlled expression concerning a tale of whose conclusion she might not necessarily approve, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. We both leaned forward even more, the long, pendulous strands of our hair beginning to tangle between us.

"He took me to his grandmother's home in Greece."

We were so close that I could see the flecks of gold and green in her wide turquoise eyes. "You're kidding!"

"Not the slightest. Apparently his grandmother was Greek, and she passed away last summer while he was in Azkaban. When he got out, her solicitor contacted him and told him he'd inherited the house."

"Is it nice?"

"Girls!" Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the kitchen. She ambled into the living room and shot us a look of mingled confusion and concern at our obvious attempt to conceal our conversation. "What are you two up to?"

"Just stupid gossip, Mum," Ginny replied gaily. "What's going on?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't like dessert? Those boys"...she turned and gave the four males in question a formidable glower over her shoulder..."are going to finish off that pudding even though I told them to leave you some."

"It's fine, Mum. We're really not hungry anymore."

"Well, all right..." She sounded unconvinced. "Hermione, dear, would you like to come back next week as well? Remus and Nymphadora will be here. I'm sure Ginny's told you they've decided to have the wedding here..."

"Yes," I replied, "I'd love to come back."

She shook her head fondly. "I'm sure she'll want to discuss dresses with you...you're both to be bridesmaids, after all. It's going to be very Muggle, from what I gather."

I wasn't so sure how I felt about that revelation. I'd never participated in a wedding.

"Merlin knows they'll have to be quick about it if they want to have it before she begins showing," she continued with an increasingly displeased, maternal countenance.

"Wait...what?" Ginny and I demanded shrilly in unison.

"Oh, dear. I shouldn't have said that..."

I was reminded forcibly of Hagrid bemoaning the very same thing years ago, but there was no recanting the statement...she'd caught our attention fully. "Just don't tell anyone else," she begged. "Let them do it on their own time. After all, it's not as though they knew when he proposed. She only found out a few days ago."

We solemnly promised, thrumming with the secret. Mrs. Weasley returned to the kitchen and resumed bellowing at Fred and George for one mishap or another. Ginny and I stared at one another in thinly disguised awe, unsure which topic of conversation would now be more fulfilling...my evening with Severus or Remus and Tonks as parents-to-be.

"Well," Ginny remarked rather loudly. "This is turning out to be an interesting day. Anyhow, you were saying...?"

I related the details of our Apparition and the subsequent exploration of his grandmother's property, the shy but exceedingly hospitable house-elf, and our conversation in the living room. I could see the cogs of feminine intuition beginning to whir in Ginny's mind and wondered, not for the first time, what it must be like to possess a sixth sense for reading between the lines.

"He would be willing to have someone else there, but he didn't say in what context," she mused. "You still don't know if he wants to have a serious relationship."

"No-o," I admitted slowly, "but that's not a detail he would just come out and say."

"And you didn't ask him?"

"It was our first date!" I exclaimed vehemently. Harry and Ron both put down their overloaded spoons and stared in our direction. "It wasn't even technically a date. I was just glad to be there," I hissed in an undertone. "I don't know how to approach these things. I wasn't going to ask him anything about his future yet," I finished, loathing the desperation creeping into my voice.

"You should have," she threw back. "Otherwise you'll have no idea if he even wants to pursue anything with you."

I must have broken out into a telltale flush because Ginny let out a crow of triumph. "Something happened, didn't it?" she surmised smugly. "After dinner? Or before? Did you even eat?" Her lascivious grin suffused my face with even more intense heat.

"Of course! It happened after... He kissed me," I confessed.

Her lips were stretched amazingly wide in a giddy smile. "Oh, Hermione!" she gasped, clasping her hands together and wringing them excitedly. "Was it... serious?"

"You could say that."

She cocked an eyebrow. "Was it good?"

I suspect a rather glassy appearance overtook my eyes. She whistled softly and suggestively. "Then you do know he wants to pursue something. What happened then?"

I could feel the skin drawing tightly across my face as my expression darkened. "He said we have too much to discuss, and he took me home."

" 'Too much to discuss'?"

I nodded, feeling the prior night's desperation and melancholy settling into my chest once again. "He promised to get in touch with me soon, but he didn't specify precisely when. I hadn't heard from him up until I came here, and I didn't want to bother him..."

"No," she insisted adamantly, "it's probably best to let him do it on his own time. Can you imagine what he would do if you just showed up at his door uninvited? He'd hex you into the next century."

He was undeniably capable of it, and it wasn't a pleasant thing to envision, I reflected with a grimace. Ginny combed her fingers loosely through her hair and tossed it over her shoulder reflexively. "You're just going to wait it out, then?"

"I've no other choice."

She stretched out her legs and braced them against the carpet, burying her small frame deeper into the lumpy comfort of the old sofa. "You're not forgetting what we talked about, are you?"

"No," I assured her.

"Are you going to discuss it with him?"

I honestly hadn't reached a conclusion pertaining to when it would be best to broach the subject...during the course of our next conversation or under other circumstances. For hours the previous night, I'd paced restlessly around my living room, alternating between drinking irresponsibly liberal amounts of wine and fretting over our imminent meeting. Admittedly, my uncertainty about when it would take place had only heightened the anticipation and anxiety. Finally, somewhere past four o'clock in the morning, I'd collapsed into an exhausted, wine-muddled sleep, my dreams spiced by the distant sensation of long, warm fingers trailing an erotic wake along my forearms.

"I don't know."

With her usual perception, Ginny understood that I couldn't hope to meaningfully explain a question that plagued me so deeply. She simply nodded, and we sat there in companionable, ponderous quiet, enjoying the soft warbling of the radio and the clattering of cutlery echoing from the kitchen.

***

I fought my way tooth and nail through an unbearably long and stressful week. The Healers were impressed by my continued tenacity, but once I returned home, the determined facade would collapse beneath me. I attended diligently to my work, spending my evenings poring over professional journals and reviewing for the next day's topics, but I had trouble concealing from myself the devastating fact that my heart simply wasn't in it.

Infuriated by my sudden dependence on another person, I passed every spare moment reading and researching, trying my utmost to banish thoughts of Severus altogether. Dashing from one errand and commitment to the next helped admirably, but at night I would bury my head underneath my blankets in frustration. I could feel the phantom heat of his hands on my back, proving that it was impossible for me to wholly ignore him.

That Friday dawned unseasonably cool and oppressively rainy. I stubbornly refused to go for my usual morning run, instead treating myself to a bit of a lie-in and a luxurious breakfast. Work was surprisingly uneventful...the accident-prone masses seemed to be hibernating in an attempt to escape the deluge...and when I had completed my shift, I gathered my things and took off at a brisk pace. I had only the next day and the Saturday following left in the month, and I intended to enjoy them before commencing Saturday shifts in addition to my regular workload.

It was understood when I stepped through the dingy glass window and found him waiting expectantly that no words needed to be exchanged. The harsh breeze tore at his hair and long coat, and the sudden realization of how different he looked...how far removed he was from the man who had the week before exuded such welcoming passion in a small, warm kitchen half a world away...made me clench my jaw in shock. Silently we walked the several blocks to my flat, his dark Muggle clothing perfectly in keeping with the atmosphere. I inhaled deeply, taking in what freshness remained of the day before succumbing to the writhing nervousness in my stomach.