Not In Kansas Anymore

Chapter Fifteen: Dawn to Dusk

"It's been a long time Luna." Hermione slid into the chair across from Luna's desk without being asked.

The chair turned around to reveal the limp blond hair and watery blue eyes gone. Time had been good to her, flawless skin, long blond eyelashes, thin eyebrows, and hardened eyes. Of course her teeth were white, but Hermione imagined them to be a little bit pointed. "No one has called me that in a long time."

"Not since the war I suppose, you disappeared, we thought you died," said Hermione inflicting the tone that it hadn't been much of a loss.

Leaning back in her chair Luna barked unfeelingly, "I did die, after you stole Ron from me."

Rolling her eyes Hermione's head lolled; "He was never yours."

Huffily Luna pouted. "He could have been."

Licking her lips to give her composure time to find itself Hermione said. "So all these horrible articles are about revenge?"

"No. You just make good press."

"Thanks," spat Hermione bitterly.

"Glad to be of service," quipped Luna, picking up a nail file and getting to work on the talons she had for nails.

For a moment they sat in a calculating silence, Hermione openly eyeing Luna and Luna covertly measuring Hermione. Relenting Hermione started. "I don't give a damn about what you say of me, or about Harry for that matter, but could you please leave Ron and Draco out of your rag?"

"How noble of you to defend your friends," commented Luna blatantly.

Biting her tongue Hermione kept her anger harnessed; "That wasn't an answer."

"First thing I learned after I died."

Casually Hermione crossed her legs and began waving her foot to a rhythm only she could perceive. "Libel," she uttered under her breath, deathly serious.

"You wouldn't?" gasped Luna, not believing the threat for a moment.

Brushing her hair back Hermione chided, "Oh, I would, the only reason I didn't sue Rita was the fact I was a naïve little fourteen year old girl with no tits who still believed in happily ever after."

The file hit the desk top with a sharp clatter, "Give me one interview with you and I'll drop the bashing."

"Rita taught you well," poked Hermione, knowing exactly how to twist Luna's buttons.

*

"Percy made you down right condescending!" hissed Hermione.

Ron shook his head, "How did Percy do that?"

"You are so much more like him than you're willing to admit. You expect me not to work? What am I going to do all day? Knit? Cook? Clean up your mess? Laundry? I hate laundry."

"You really want to work?" gaped Ron in disbelief.

Nodding her head furiously Hermione confirmed, "Yes. I. Want. To. Work. Make. A. Living."

Taking everything in with very small steps Ron said. "Okay, you'll work. Where?"

Shrugging free spiritedly Hermione said, "I'm not sure yet, I've got about thirty applications I'm filling out."

"Okay," then Ron made a near fatal mistake. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

Her hand connected with his face sharply, he fell backward and only heard her shoes clicking back up the stairs.

*

"Do you agree to these terms?" asked Hermione clearly, looking at the defeated mass that had been star writer Dona le Vooulg.

"Yes," she grumbled, dashing off a flourishing signature.

Straightening her stack of papers Hermione had accumulated through a series of summer meetings with this vile person she said. "Good. Then we have no further business here. Have a nice life."

Her hand was actually turning the knob when Luna spoke up in a last ditch effort. "Do you really want that?"

"Definitely."

Luna's head fell on the table amongst stacks of legal papers and broken quill pens, exhausted, extinguished, exhorted.

*

Hermione snapped the quill and launched it into the fire. "Accio!" said Draco lightly for perhaps the sixteenth time that afternoon. "Repair!" he said then to the pen. "Hermione, just because Ron wants you to be his little house wife does not give you liberty to destroy all my good quills."

"It should."

"But it doesn't," mentioned Draco pointedly, grabbing the next quill Hermione was preparing to rocket into the blaze.

"Well it should," groaned Hermione, bracing her feet on the bottom of the couch and tugging vainly at the half quill Draco was clutching.

Not even straining Draco commented lightly. "No it doesn't. I am not going to surrender my quill to you."

Letting go Hermione fell into the coffee table, pouting and holding her hand out. "Quill for the restraint of my anger?"

"Nope," he leaned back, walking the pen up and down his longer slender fingers.

"Fine, we're no longer speaking," flounced Hermione without an ounce of feeling.

Moments passed in relative silence, Hermione breathing heavily and flipping pages, fingering her wand occasionally and looking longingly at the feather Draco was nonchalantly twirling. Draco was lazily watching the quill, humming a random tune. Abruptly he said, "Do you really want this?"

Hermione answered quickly, "Defe-I don't know."

*

"Draco!" Hermione sang out, stepping triumphantly out of the fire.

A voice answered from the left. "Kitchen!"

Curiously Hermione carried her purse down the hall, a spicy smell meeting her nose pleasantly. "I didn't know you cooked."

Scoffing Draco's harsh voice answered as she bowled into the room. "I don't."

"Then what--?" began Hermione. "I see," she nodded knowingly, seeing the Chinese food cartons lined out on the counter and Draco standing regally, his shirt rolled up to his elbows, ladling the food on to two large plates.

"May I have this meal?" he asked, presenting her with her portion of the fatty food.

"Oh yes," sighed Hermione, accepting her plate and taking it greedily to the library, calling over her shoulder as she kicked off her shoes, "Come on."

She burst into the library to find Draco already with noodles dangling out of the corner of his mouth. "Hi," he mumbled. "Take a seat."

*

"Sit," commanded Fred mockingly, pacing before her, his hands entwined behind his back.

Hermione sat.

"You are here--" began Fred.

"For the greatest of honors," added George.

"You are being considered for a part-time job at Weasley Wizards' Wheezes," they boomed proudly.

George stroked his chin in 'thought', "After careful consideration of your credentials," he spat the last word out like as though it were a Knut that had mysteriously worked its way into his mouth.

"We're hiring you," shouted Fred prematurely, ending the suspense.

*

"I didn't know you did take out," observed Hermione, sitting in her usual chair after moving the pile of books out of her way.

Shrugging Draco replied. "I didn't but you left the number by the phone. Yes, I can use a phone."

"He can use a phone," echoed Hermione. She took a bite and hit heaven, why she had ever decided to starve herself was an absolute mystery. She was never going to die of malnutrition, but clogged arteries.

"How was the meeting?" munched Draco.

"A barrel of laughs, but she signed the papers."

Draco didn't look the least bit surprised. "She had to say yes, you were going to sue her for libel and then haul her back to court for faking her own death."

"I should have been a lawyer," agreed Hermione sentimentally.

"We should do something to celebrate," suggested Draco.

*

"Draco!" screeched Hermione, banging into their Common Room.

"Huh?" he answered, sticking his head out the lower part of his door.

Hermione ran over to him, skidding on her heels and landing beside him on the floor in a fluster of robes. "I did it!"

"What?" he asked distractedly, looking back to his problem?

"Perfect N.E.W.T.s!"

Draco's head snapped around, the door hinges suddenly irrelevant, "Only you could achieve the impossible. I'm so proud of you." He swept her up in a crushing hug, pulling her off the ground and swinging her in circles.

Hermione choked on her bubbling laughter. "Thanks." Slowly Draco put her back on the ground like a china doll. He brushed hair just behind her ears and for a moment her sparkling eyes connected with his, just for a moment.

Half a breath later Hermione pulled gently away, "I've got to go tell Ron and Harry."

*

"Draco, what is this place?"

"A celebration waiting to happen."

"Be serious," replied Hermione, taking in her surroundings as best she could from the little amount of light cast out by her candle.

Draco didn't answer, instead there was an answering rustle and light rushed into the room, bathing the floor stones in rustic colors. Shelves lined the walls, bursting with books that screamed their age and value. A model hung from the vaulted ceiling, a perfectly gliding mold of the solar system, all the glowing planets moving in exact patterns to replicate the galaxy.

But for once in her life Hermione was not enticed by the books, many of which she had already read. The sunset happening outside the window though was another story. Dreamily Hermione settled down on the window seat next to Draco, her nose pressed against the cool glass, and her warm breath fogging away her reflection in gentle clover-shaped clouds.

Words didn't quite manage to come to her. This place was a dream. She was sitting on a plush crimson pillow surrounded by everything she loved, all that was gold in the world doesn't have to glitter, her sense tingled happily. Books towered over her, protecting her briskly, the scents heaved comfort around her, and her fingers lingered gently laced with Draco's. She didn't know how they'd quite gotten there.

The sun began to fall, bathing the room in dreary long shadows.

*

During the summer Hermione always got up with her mother early on Sunday, just before church, to watch the sunrise. Maybe it was a weakness, but she did the same at Hogwarts, her dormates called it insane.

Her watch chirped at her and she shut her book gently, trying not to wake anyone up before they were ready. The horizon lit up grandly, spreading its arms to the world, enveloping the humans with grandeur. Clouds caught the colors, imprinting the panorama on her irises. A smile caught on her face, choking her gasp.

Higher and higher it flew, sending her heart soaring like a rocket to the highest reaches where her mother might just be able to hear it. Off in the distance, perched on a broom was a boy, watching another glow rising.

*

"It's not the sunrise, but I thought it was fitting for someone whose up at dawn, most people aren't strong enough to get up then."

"Shh--," she hissed, turning toward him. "It is perfect." Then she leaned over and lightly kissed him until the sun went down.