Chapter Two

Disclaimer: My thanks to JK Rowling for having such a splendid imagination and for allowing us to play around with her characters in the fanfiction universe. She gets all the credit for anything you recognize; the plot for this story is entirely mine (though I don't get paid).

Chapter Two

The book she had chosen to wile away her worries lay ineffective upon her bosom, pages pressed flat against her chest, her hand resting upon the splayed-open spine. Her breath caused a gentle rise-fall of the book, and to any onlooker, it would look as if she lovingly cradled a child to her bosom. The book was not forgotten, merely a means of comfort as she slipped deeper into sleep. It wasn't long before the dreams began. She gripped the spine of the book harder, her eyes moving sharply beneath their lids, as though subconsciously she hoped leather and parchment could make the dreams go away....

"No." She refused to believe him. Harry had always hated Professor Snape, but aside from Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, he was the one she looked up to the most. She wouldn't believe him. Snape wouldn't have done something so ... so heinous ... so unfeeling. Would he?

She refused to believe it.

~ o ~

A charmed dawn broke through the window of her bedroom, forcing her eyes open. Alarm clocks never had worked well for her...she had learned to sleep through noise of varying levels throughout her years at Hogwarts...but she never could sleep unless the room was dark. Hence, the charmed window; she had developed the charm herself, and even Filius Flitwick had been impressed. She had it set to brighten at six a.m. every morning, being of the mind that sleeping any later was time wasted. It was a good thing she didn't have to set it every night as she always fell asleep before she thought about doing so, usually with a book draped across her chest. This morning was no different.

Still, she felt no driving need to get out of bed. The errands of the day weighed her down. Not that there were too many...she had very few, as a matter of fact...but the errands she needed to take care of today meant there would be less money in her bank vault. She had to pay her mortgage and her suppliers, and there was that trip to Gringotts, which made her want to burrow her head deeper into the pillow and go back to sleep. Except that she couldn't sleep with her stomach in knots and the gears of her mind churning. The bills were multiplying. Her savings was dwindling. Lately, every day was a struggle, and she wasn't so sure anymore that her business venture was going to succeed.

Responsibilities were responsibilities, however, and she eventually dragged herself out of bed and climbed into the shower to wash away sleep. The water trickled through her hair and slid down her face, slowly waking her, coalescing her thoughts, even somewhat solidifying her determination. It was not productive to lose hope, she reminded herself. If she lost hope, her dreams would be lost as well. If worse came to worse, she knew she would never be destitute. She would just have to sell her shop and get a "real" job. The bookshop could always be reopened at a later date, and she would make wiser, more profitable choices the next time around. A lump rose in her throat. It couldn't come to that. She wouldn't let it come to that. Things would get better ... she hoped.

A cup of coffee and she was out the door before seven o'clock, wanting a good two hours before the shop opened to send her owls and go to Gringotts. A nice, brisk walk on a clear morning always worked wonders for her state of mind. She breathed in the crisp, air of late winter, enjoying the way it made her feel alive and strengthened her resolve to do better, to make everything work. She loved clear mornings, even though they were colder than overcast days, and the cornflower-blue of the sky was doing wonders for her mood. By the time she reached the post office, a smile had unconsciously appeared, and she was beginning to feel a little silly that she had felt so hopeless just moments before.

The clerk looked up from his book, noticing Hermione's wind-brushed cheeks and breathless smile, and grinned in return. "Oi, lassie. Yer lookin' brigh' 'n' cheerful this mornin'. Wha's the occasion?"

"Oh, nothing really, Andrew. It's just a beautiful morning, is all," she said, handing the postmaster five pre-addressed envelopes. "I need to send five today. They need to be there by tomorrow at the latest." She handed him a Galleon in payment, the last coin in her purse.

He eyed the empty purse warily and held up a hand. "It's on the 'ouse today, lassie. I owe yeh fer findin' me tha' book las' week. The missus is readin' it for the third time, yeh know." He winked at her conspiratorially.

Hermione laughed and placed the lone Galleon back in her purse. "Thanks, Andrew. I appreciate it." She wasn't about to argue. Walking around with an empty purse was asking for trouble. Too many "what-ifs" plagued her mind every time she dared to venture out Knutless.

"'Ave yeh 'eard the lates' bi' o' gossip, lassie?" Andrew leaned in closer, elbow on the counter. He always loved imparting the latest gossip of Hogsmeade. He felt rather smug, too, when he beat Madam Rosmerta to it. "Seems Connor go' 'imself in qui' the pickle las' nigh'. Tried kissin' ol' Rosie affah a few, an' now ol' Connor's sportin' a face fullah pink spots. Two Healers a' the pub refused tah 'elp 'im, so Connor's paradin' down the street this mornin' an' grinnin' li' a Cheshire a' all the passers-by. Qui' a sigh', tha' 'un."

Hermione stifled a laugh behind her hand. "Oh, good one, Andrew. I hadn't heard about that yet. Now I'm sorry I didn't go down to the Three Broomsticks last night."

"Yup. Yeh missed a good 'un, fer sure. Don' be a stranger, alrigh', lassie?"

"I'll see you later, Andrew," she called over her shoulder as she left, still giggling and keeping an eye out for the miscreant Connor.

~ o ~

At least Apparating is still free, she thought as she reappeared outside Gringotts Wizarding Bank in Diagon Alley. She hesitated merely a second, trying not to be too upset that she was withdrawing funds from her personal account when her business should be grossing enough to pay for the essentials. She hoped this wasn't going to become a habit, especially since she hadn't put anything into her vault for going on a year. Just as she placed her hand on the handle of the giant oak doors, a familiar voice called out from behind.

"Oi! Isn't that Hermione Granger, friend of the famous boy who spat in Voldie's face and made him die?"

Hermione spun around to see none other than Harry Potter bounding up the steps two-at-a-time towards her. The sky whirled overhead as Harry picked her up and spun her around.

"Harry!" she screamed. "Oh, Harry. I've missed you so much! How have you been? What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be with the team in Ireland."

"Oh, they rearranged the schedule this season. Some nonsense about the Minister's daughter's wedding...."

She swatted him on the arm. "How is Ellie? You still making her jealous with Ginny?"

"Aw, she's over it. Since Ginny married that great brute, Alpin, Ellie doesn't mind so much anymore when she visits. Still don't know what she sees in him," Harry grumbled.

"Her two children are probably awfully glad she does see something in him. Oops! Make that two-and-a-half. Did you know Ginny's pregnant again?" Hermione grinned, partly because she was ecstatic for Ginny and partly because she knew the news was going to make Harry wince.

"Don't remind me." He shuddered at the thought. "At least she's getting the children she wanted." He waved his hands like he was glad he had no part in it.

"Yes, she's very happy." Hermione nodded.

"Sickeningly so," Harry agreed, falling silent for a moment.

Family was important to him, especially since he had lost his mother and father at such a young age. If it weren't for the Weasleys, he would never have had an example of a normal family, of parents who loved their children. Still, he had grown up in an environment where love was not given freely and was conditional. He didn't think he would be that kind of parent, but at the same time, he didn't know how to be a parent.

Truth be told, children made him nervous. After getting back together with Ginny the year after Voldemort had been destroyed, they had spoken often of their future. Whenever she talked about having kids, though, he froze up inside. He had no idea how to relate to a small child, much less a baby. He had never been around any other children other than Dudley until he went to Hogwarts, and then he only knew children his age and older. It really was understandable. Ginny understood, and she wasn't willing to wait around years to see whether this was just a temporary anxiety or a lifelong one. In the end, they had parted amicably.

"I went to the Weasleys for dinner last night. Ron won't be able to come to the wedding. It seems a Horntail mother was killed, and she has two babies that need tending."

Hermione worked hard at not showing her relief, as it seemed to upset Harry that Ron wasn't going to be there. Ever since she and Ron had parted soon after Voldemort was killed, it had been really awkward being around him. His family still accepted her as one of their own, which was wonderful since she was still good friends with Ginny, but Hermione tried to avoid family functions that Ron attended.

"He was supposed to be your best man, wasn't he?" she asked.

"Yeah. Well, Ellie's brother is going to stand in Ron's place. It's no problem. He let us know far enough in advance. There's still a month to go, and announcements haven't been printed yet." Harry brushed off the subject as if it didn't matter, but it was obvious that it did matter very much.

"So," Hermione said, trying to change the subject. "What are you doing in Diagon Alley today? Is Ellie with you?"

Harry grinned. "Well, I heard the most beautiful witch in Great Britain was going to be here, and I had to come." He winked at Hermione and shied away from another swat. "No, Ellie's not here. She's visiting a sick aunt in Yorkshire. Supposed to be away for a week."

"Oh, it's too bad that you won't get to see very much of her while you're home." Hermione's tone sounded more disappointed than Harry looked.

He shrugged and looked at his feet. "Just gives me more time to do other things," he said. "Besides, after next month, I'll be seeing her every day I'm home for the rest of my life."

Hermione looked at him curiously. He didn't sound like a man dying to be married. "You need to talk about it, Harry? I'm here, you know."

Harry's head jerked up, and his eyes twinkled to cover for his momentary lapse in joviality. He grasped her hand in his. "More than that, I'd love to get dinner tonight with you, if you'd accept a date from Puddlemere United's humble Seeker."

Hermione giggled. "It's a date. Be at the shop by seven. I'll close early. I think Harry Potter visiting Hogsmeade is considered a special occasion ... if not a downright holiday."

~ o ~

Even though she had looked forward all day to her "date" with Harry, she still felt a pang of guilt at closing early. She had only two customers all day, and one hadn't bought a thing. Her practical side wanted to stay open just in case another customer stopped in, and it kept nudging her to go owl Harry and make it nine o'clock instead of seven. Then her common sense prevailed. How many times did Harry make it into town anyway? She would post a note on the door, and undoubtedly anyone who stopped by...if anyone stopped by...would understand and come back tomorrow.

Seven o'clock on the dot, Harry walked in the door and made sure she knew it, too. "Her-MY-oh-NEE!" he sang. "Tell your practical side to take a flying leap off the Astronomy Tower, and let's go!"

From somewhere in the maze of shelves, Hermione's laughter rang out. "You know me too well, Mister Potter."

A couple of bumps and thuds preceded Hermione as she very dustily made her way to the front, wiping her hands on her jeans.

"There's my little dust bunny." Harry mockingly turned up his nose.

"This coming from the poster boy for cleanliness," she snorted. Harry had sent her a poster-size photo of himself during the game between Puddlemere and Chudley. He was reaching out for the Snitch and was covered goggles to boots in mud.

"Liked that picture, did you? I thought of you when the photographer sent it to me." Harry grinned like a little boy overjoyed with the thought of a romp in the mud and ran a hand through his hair. "Well? Let's go. Brush off that dust. I have reservations at Madam Puddifoot's."

"You do not," Hermione chided, cast a couple of Cleaning Charms, and thought briefly before Transfiguring her clothing into something a little more dressy-but-casual. "No, really. Where are we going?"

"Oh, nowhere special. Only Madam Rosmerta caught me on my way here and threatened me within an inch of my life if I didn't bring you to the Three Broomsticks."

She laughed. "I knew something like that would happen. What do you expect? People around here aren't used to seeing anyone famous...well, at least since you went to school here. Dark-Lord-Slayer-turned-Puddlemere-Seeker is a pretty big deal to them." She tried to keep a straight face as she said it, but ended up giggling by the end.

"Ha ha. Very funny, Miss Smarty Pants. Still can't tell your own jokes with a straight face. Haven't changed much." He tucked a much cleaner Hermione under his arm and headed for the door.

"Oh, wait. Almost forgot...I have to lock up," she said as she pulled away to douse the lights and lock up the till. She ushered him out the door, placed the note her common sense side told her would suffice...to Harry's great amusement...and locked up tight. She threw up a few wards for good measure.

"Expecting trouble?" he asked, eyes widening at the last ward she threw up. He hadn't heard that one since their missed year at Hogwarts.

"One can never be too careful. Con..."

"Constant Vigilance, I know. But that particular ward was one Minerva used to lock up the meeting room at Headquarters. You don't need that, do you? Or is there something you aren't telling me?"

The apprehensive look in his eyes made her pause. It had been a while since she had seen Harry look so concerned. Ever since the war, he had been so carefree, not wanting to take much too seriously. Even when he and Ginny had split, he had adopted the stance that it just wasn't meant to be. Everyone knew the thought of kids scared the pants off him, though, so no one was too surprised at his attitude.

She threaded her arm through his and started to walk in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. "Well, for some reason, I've had this really eerie feeling for the past few weeks. I'm probably being silly, but I swear it feels as though someone is watching me. I'm okay during the day; it's just the nights are kind of creepy."

"There's nothing else going on? Strange visits? Anyone say anything odd?" He stopped walking and turned her to face him.

"No. If there were, I'd tell you. Honestly! It's just my overactive imagination. I think maybe I've just been alone too long. You know, with my parents still abroad and all my friends so far away or busy with their own lives, no one would know if something happened to me until the deliveries started to obscure the windows...." She trailed off, feeling a little foolish at having divulged one of her relatively minor fears.

"Hmm ... let's see, books piled high against the windows. Nope, I doubt anyone would notice even then," he chided her.

She swatted him on the arm, hard.