Come Back to Me

Hermione Granger was awakened early on the cool September morning by a muffled tapping sound. She tried her best to drown out the sound by rolling over onto her stomach, pulling her head under her pale pink flannel sheets, and pressing her two pillows firmly against her ears. However, all her efforts were in vain because the tapping just grew louder. She groaned indignantly and threw one of her pillows at the window where that infernal tapping was coming from. The impatient owl outside of the window jumped from the ledge outside, frightened by the huge pink mass that had just been hurled at the window. Hermione smiled to herself at her success in silencing the bird. She rolled over again with the intent of going back to sleep. After all, it was about 7:30 on a Saturday morning. No witch or wizard would ever consider voluntarily getting up that early on the weekend.

Hermione had mellowed some since her school days. Her job as the assistant editor of the Daily Prophet had kind of forced her to. She had come to terms with the fact that there were very few people who were like her and had the ambition (or obsessive compulsiveness as Ron preferred to call it) to get their articles in on time. Her first few weeks as the assistant editor had been extremely stressful. Of the twenty-two articles she assigned, she received three by the deadline she had given. Needless to say, she went ballistic and tracked down every last one of the writers she had assigned articles to and demanded to know why they hadn't given them to her yet. It was only her first week on the job; she didn't want to lose her well-deserved promotion from Goblin correspondent to editor already! A few ignored her and most made excuses, while one of the other assistant editors informed her that it wasn't a big deal that the writers hadn't turned in their articles on time. He advised that in the future she needed to make the deadline at least two weeks before she actually needed the article. She followed his advice, and ever since her life has been much less stressful. The advice had helped, but also she hadn't let the journalists think that it was okay to not hand in their articles on time. She'd had talks with quite a few of them, explaining herself and telling them what would happen to them and their jobs if they didn't submit their articles on time. Now she received most of the articles long before the deadline. She'd become one of the most successful editors, not to mention the youngest. At twenty, she was at least fifteen years younger than the other assistant editors. It was a stressful position to be in, but she's learned to manage. Needless to say, she'd learned to relax and enjoy the small things in life. Things like sleeping in late on the weekends.

She'd just about dosed off again when that God-awful tapping started up again, this time coming from the window on the opposite side of the room. She grumbled in frustration and decided to just let the bloody bird in. She tore off her covers and instantly regretted it as soon as the cool air of her room hit her warm body. She shivered as she swung her legs to the side of the bed at sat up. She stretched her back and arms before finally standing up. She really hadn't grown much since she was in fifth year at Hogwarts; she remained a petite five foot three.

"Oh alright, I'm coming. I'm coming," she grumbled as if the owl could hear her. She stumbled over to the window, eyes half closed. She stubbed her toe against an enormous volume of her wizarding encyclopedia she now regretted leaving on the floor. She cursed softly to herself and continued to limp to the window. She unlocked it and pushed it open to allow the large, brown barn owl into her room. She tried to push her hair out of her face so she could take the post from the owl. Her hair was still bushy like it had been in school. She'd learned a few tricks to keep the frizz down, but they seldom worked. After a few attempts, she successfully untied the parchment from the owl's leg. Before she had the opportunity to give it some water, the owl flew away. She decided she needed to brew some tea before she even thought about reading what the parchment said. She was pretty sure it was a note from one of her writers giving an excuse as to why he won't be able to submit his article in time. She got at least three owls from writers the weekend before a Monday deadline, giving excuses.

She walked down the stairs, through the spacious living room, and into the cozy kitchen she'd grown to love. She had bought this house right after leaving Hogwarts. It was right off of the main street in Hogsmeade. She knew she wouldn't have been able to move far away from Hogwarts. It was a small house, but she loved it and was proud of the work she'd put into it to make it her own. She began boiling the water, and she walked outside to her huge wrap-around porch, leaving the screen door open. She sat in her favorite rocking chair and just gazed around at the neighborhood, allowing her chocolate brown eyes to take in everything. There were a few others up and about, and she waved to her elderly neighbor as she walked by.

"Good morning, Mrs. Harthington," Hermione greeted her.

"Good morning, dear," the old woman replied. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, dear. Just fine," she said with a smile and a wink and continued on her way. Over the past three years, Mrs. Harthington had become like another grandmother to Hermione. Hermione went over to her house a few times a week to check up on her and chat for a while. Mrs. Harthington's husband had been killed years ago by a Death Eater, but she didn't like to talk about it. She had two daughters, but one was off in Romania working with dragons, like Ron's brother, and the other lived with her husband and three children in Scotland. Her three grandchildren go to Hogwarts, so Mrs. Harthington gets to see them from time to time. However, mostly she is alone, so Hermione likes to keep her company.

Hermione went back in her house to check on the tea. The water was finally boiling, so she poured herself a cup, dipped her tea bag in the steaming water, and took a long sip. She sighed as the tea warmed her from the inside, and she turned and grabbed the parchment the owl had brought. She was right; it was an excuse letter. It was the first of the weekend, but there were bound to be more. She finished up her tea and the biscuit she had grabbed for her breakfast. She went back upstairs, got dressed in a pair of faded jeans and her favorite bright red sweater, brushed her hair and teeth, came back downstairs, and plopped into the new overstuffed chair she'd just bought for her living room. She looked around the room, at the bookshelves and the photos of her and her friends from school waving happily at her from their frames. She was just reveling in the fact that there was nothing that needed to get done today. She enjoyed the novelty of being allowed to choose what she wanted to do for the day. Almost every weekend for the past few months she's had a lot of work to do for the Daily Prophet. However, she was now caught up and didn't have to think about work until Monday. She picked up the book she'd been reading from the table next to her chair and curled up for a nice morning of reading. However, just as she read the first sentence, that awful tapping started again. She sighed regretfully while putting her bookmark back in her book, walked over to the window, and opened it.

"Pig," she said happily as she recognized Ron's owl. The bird had grown considerably since it had been given to Ron. Pig hooted in delight as Hermione stroked his head and took the parchment from his leg. He flitted around the living room happily as Hermione read Ron's note:

Mione-

I was going to head over to Diagon Alley for the day and was wondering if you'd like to join me. There's something I need to tell you, but I would rather do it in person. Hope to see you then.

Ron

Well, it looked like Hermione now had plans for the day. She always enjoyed hanging out with Ron. Their years at Hogwarts had been a little tough, because they fought constantly. They thought it was because they had feelings for each other, and they tried dating in sixth year. It wasn't working so they both decided to break it off so they wouldn't lose their friendship. Since they graduated, Ron and Hermione had become a lot closer. Ron only lived a few blocks away and he worked for his father at the Ministry of Magic. They frequently met for lunch because the office for the Daily Prophet wasn't far from the Ministry. They'd gotten closer because they were both trying desperately to deal with Harry. Thinking about Harry made Hermione's heart ache.

Ever since Sirius's death, Harry vowed that he wouldn't rest until he killed Voldemort and as many Death Eaters as he could get his hands on. Harry had successfully become an auror, hoping that the job would allow him to hunt Voldemort full time. However, the new Minister of Magic, Percy Weasley (who had redeemed himself and reconciled with his family), and Dumbledore both agreed that it was too dangerous for Harry to constantly be hunting Voldemort. That Voldemort would strike Harry at his absolute weakest, which wouldn't be difficult if Harry spent all of his time and energy persuing Voldemort. Anyway, Voldemort hadn't been seen in at least three years, and no one knew where he could possibly be. So Percy Weasley and Dumbledore forbade Harry to search for Voldemort until there had been a sighting. In the mean time, he was given the easiest and most mind-numbingly boring cases to take care of so he would be ready when the time came to finally go after Voldemort. Needless to say, Harry was not quick to obey his orders, but after some very heated arguments between Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Harry finally realized that he would just have to wait for his revenge.

Hermione had been the one to finally convince Harry that he would have to wait to go after Voldemort. She pleaded with him so many times she'd lost count. Occasionally she would break down into tears during her pleading. She hated looking so vulnerable in front of Harry. She knew that she needed to be the strong one. She was supposed to be the one to convince Harry to stay safe. She wasn't supposed to act like some blubbering idiot in front of him. Still, she couldn't bear the thought of losing Harry to Voldemort. She was really good friends with Ron, but her relationship with Harry was completely different. He'd often told her she was like a sister to him. She knew she should have been glad to hear that Harry cared about her so much, but somehow she was disappointed. She hadn't been sure of the cause of this disappointment until she'd had a dream that she and Harry were engaged, and he kept telling her how much he loved her. It was then she realized why being thought of as a sister to Harry had been such a disappointment. It was because she was in love with him. Of course, she had never told anyone about her feelings for Harry. Mrs. Harthington had accused her of being in love with Harry a few times when Hermione talked about him with her. Hermione always denied it, but the old, wise woman would just smile a knowing smile and change the subject.

Hermione finally snapped out of her daydreams as Pig landed on her shoulder holding out his leg for her to tie on the note she had just written to Ron saying that she would meet him in front of his house in about an hour. She wondered what the information could be that couldn't be told to her in person. She hoped it wasn't anything too serious, but then again, she'd come to learn to expect the unexpected in the wizarding world.