Separate Worlds

Chapter Six

Hermione shook her (now straightened) hair back from her face, scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror closely. She put her graduation cap on, tilting her head this way and that, the tassel swishing back and forth slightly. Running her fingers over her gown nervously, she put her honours medallion on over everything and stepped into the waiting queue. She watched people step up to the platform one by one as their names were called, their robes slowly changing from blue to white and back to blue again. Her ears pricked up at "George Filzenze." She could see the immense crowd that had gathered to watch, their whoops and whistles loudest among the cheers. "Stephen Gourney!" She was next. Wringing her hands in a sort of nervous state, she scanned the crowd for her parents.

What is wrong with me? I'm never this nervous...You would think I was a bride on her wedding...oh, that isn't helping. I wish...I wish Harry was here, and...Ron.

"Hermione Granger!" Shaken out of her reverie, Hermione took a deep breath and walked out onto the platform. She could see her parents now, snapping pictures with a Muggle camera. And a few seats away...Seamus. He gave a sort of half-wave and she waved back uncertainly. Her diploma was placed in her hand, the Headmaster, Dr. Mark E. Surgrose, shook her hand heartily. "One of our top students!" He beamed at her and she smiled weakly for the wizard photographer.

"Great job, that's my girl." She settled in between her parents, her father unrolling the diploma curiously.

"How did you get your hair so smooth and shiny?" Her mother asked. She was always curious about the wizarding world, particularly when it came to cosmetics.

"Oh, a Hair Potion." She looked up as Coral Biello, a friend of hers, approached them.

"Hermione! Aren't you glad we're finally out of this place? No more homework, no more tests, no more Bubotuber pus...I got covered in boils twice trying to dilute it...vile, stinky..."

"But Coral, you'll have to use Bubotuber pus all the time...didn't you major in Dermatology?" Her face fell.

"Damn it." She looked quite sad for a moment. "But that's okay, I've already been hired! Teen Witch magazine needs a columnist for tips on keeping a 'fresh face', whatever that means...I told them I'd take the job."

"That's great! I, on the other hand, have no idea where I'll get a job."

"I could hire you." Both girls looked up as Seamus approached them, hands in the pockets of his merino wool slacks. Coral quite blatantly gave him the once over.

"Seamus, I really appreciate it, but why would a joke shop need a MediWitch?" Her father interrupted her, saying,

"Actually, joke shops would need medical staff to test the safety of their products, as well as for research purposes. Particularly as there's magic involved."

Coral glanced from Hermione to Seamus and back again. "Oh, Hermione, that would be great for you! You're so into the research and all, and you'd be able to lighten up around all those joke products." She grinned slyly. "Plus you get to hang around this guy."

The aforementioned Guy suddenly became very interested in a loose thread of the dress robes he was wearing and pretended not to hear.

"Coral, you're terrible." She turned back to Seamus, intrigued. "And what would this job entail?"

Suddenly he was very business-like. "Well, like your father said-" Dr. Granger looked extremely gratified, "You'd mostly do research and chemical stuff; you'd have a whole team under you, so they can do all of the actual tests...unless you want to do them, of course. Hours: not that demanding...actually not demanding at all. Work on your own prerogative. Pay's great though."

She mulled it over. "Anything else?"

"Well, there is one hitch. Our headquarters are in Diagon Alley, so you'd have to move back home."

Hermione's mother broke in, saying, "That would be wonderful! We really have missed you, dear...do come home."

Hermione felt somewhat trapped. "I...well..." She finished weakly. "I suppose."

Her parents beamed.

*****

"Dr. Granger, I'm Gray Berklin. I'll be helping you with the research on ingredients, side effects and things like that. That woman over there is Eliza Crenshaw; she'll be doing most of the chemical work with you. The room over there is the test lab; you'll be watching over if there are any side effects to our test subject-"

"There almost always are," Dr. Crenshaw interrupted,

"And that's it basically. Any questions?"

"No, thank you," Hermione answered. "And do call me Hermione."

"Hermione it is then. I hate to do this to you on the first day of the job, but we will have to get started. We are rather behind on research." He summoned a stack of expandable files. "We'll have to sort through this."

She picked up a set of files, and began her work.

A few hours later, neck and eyes sore from reading, Hermione sat cross-legged in the living room of her new apartment. The cream tones had a calming effect on her frazzled nerves. A carton of Chinese take-away sat on the coffee table, chopsticks stuck into the noodles; the television was on.

"And in our economic report, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes has reported a 50% uptake in stock; the shops, which have slowly spread across Europe, are a popular destination for people interested in the more humorous side of the occult. It has enjoyed increased popularity...most interesting." The newscaster brandished an obviously fake wand (pink with a poof ball at the end) at the anchor. "I'd zap you with this, I really would."

Hermione suppressed a giggle. Most successful wizarding companies had Muggle branches connected to them, complete with Muggle bank accounts and Muggle security measures. She just didn't think the Wheezes were one of those companies.

She wondered if Ron had joined the family business. She knew he had wanted to, but as the company looked shaky at the time, Hermione had gotten him a job at the Ministry. Obviously Fred or George had got some sense knocked into them and finally got to work.

She wondered if Ron was still seeing Fleur.

Hermione took those thoughts to bed with her that night; she could see Ron in her mind's eye much more acutely now: the light sprinkling of freckles, his stylishly short hair, forever messy, cleanly cut facial features, the captivating blue eyes that had enthralled her from their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express. She could still remember the first thing she said to him directly:

"By the way, you've got dirt on your nose, did you know?" She shook her head at that now as she slipped under the covers. The phone began to ring, but she stayed where she was, lulled by sleep, reassured by the answering machine.

"Hermione, this is Seamus. I was wondering if you'd like to go out Saturday night...I'll be waiting for your call. Goodbye."

She had to smile. She filled her thoughts with Seamus as she tried to go to sleep, but her dreams...

Her dreams held Ron. Dreams of being held and being loved, deep conversations and joking spats, secret smiles and passionate kisses. She shivered at the thought. Lovemaking was always so sensual, yet so fierce between them. And it was never just sex. Always making love.

This isn't getting you anywhere, she thought. Your marriage is over, Hermione.

She felt sick at the very thought. It had always been in the back of her mind, not something to think about. But what now? She had finished school, was back in England. She still loved-No, not love. It's lust, she told herself. I'm a grown young woman and Ron is just another young man I was attracted to.

It's not like I'm still in love with him...am I?