The Burning Pen

A New Beginning
by Ruth Solomon

The story content is adult in nature and can contain graphic sex and violence.  Those under the age of 18 are asked to leave this site immediately.  You are not welcome here.  The author is not responsible for those under-aged who view these works.

CHAPTER 11

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 11 ~ Making Peace

“A Medi-Box?” Harry repeated, looking at Ginny for a moment, who was trying to keep a straight face. They were all sitting at the kitchen table at Harry’s house, Hugo and Rose with them, completely enthralled by their mother’s description of what it was like at her job.

Ginny’s attempt at not laughing didn’t work and after her outburst, all of them with the exception of Hermione dissolved into hysterical laughter.

”Finally, someone’s figured out how to make you bathe when you’re working on a project!” Harry guffawed as Hermione scowled at all of them, “Gods knew we used to run the other way when we saw you coming with your hair all tangled up and arms full of books.”

Harry and Ginny shook their heads at the memory.

“It’s not that funny!” she exclaimed, looking pointedly at Hugo and Rose who were both laughing behind their hands.

“Mum, you really didn’t shower when you worked on something? That’s just…ew, mum,” Hugo said, looking delighted at the thought that his normally impeccable mum could spiral down in such a manner. Like most boys, Hugo didn’t like showering too much, though he did it more often now, starting to notice witches and all.

“It’s not that I didn’t shower purposely, Hugo. It was just that I was very, very focused,” Hermione told him with a scowl.

”And very, very smelly, mum,” Rose chuckled.

Hermione looked at her children, then suddenly realized this was the first time they laughed together since Ron had died. She couldn’t help but smile.

”Yeah, well those fragrant days are over now. I can’t open a drawer or pick up a quill without eating, showering or getting my sleep out. I even have to exercise and go out and get fresh air,” she said.

Hugo thought this was good. Even though it was funny his mum became such a mess when she focused on something, it really wasn’t good for her. He was glad the place she worked for looked out for her so much.

“Did you try to outsmart the wards, mum?” Rose asked her.

”Yes, I did. When I tried to break the ward on the file cabinet, my magic was nullified for two hours. I couldn’t do anything,” she said darkly.

”Wow,” Hugo said, impressed.

Harry shook his head.

”They have some powerful magic at Sparse Venues,” he said as Ginny nodded agreement.

”Did you try leaving your work out overnight?” the redheaded witch asked her.

Hermione nodded.

“Yep. Everything was locked up tight the next morning. I think there is some kind of summoning spell on everything related to work or research,” Hermione said.

Harry studied Hermione. She did look nice and healthy.

“Have you looked around the grounds?” Hugo asked her, “Tried to go into any of the warded areas?”

Hermione frowned at him. She had, but she wasn’t about to tell her son she blatantly tried to break the rules and snoop.

Hermione did try and sneak into an area that had a number of “Keep Out” signs around it. It just looked like a meadow to her. The minute she stepped over the ward line, she was covered in what she could only describe as “pink bubble gum” and rooted to the spot. Then she found out what happened when she wasn’t back at the building by one o’clock.

It seemed research wasn’t the only thing under a Summoning Charm. With a screech, Hermione was torn from the ground, still covered in the sticky mess and flew toward the building, weaving around trees and other obstacles and flying backwards through the door. She was caught by a kind of big, soft mitt that disappeared immediately.

”Mrs. Weasley has returned,” the female voice said as the door closed. Hermione could have sworn it was holding back laughter.

It took Hermione two hours to scrub all the gum off her. Scourgify just didn’t do it properly. Probably on purpose.

In his home, Snape was doubled over with laughter. The moment Hermione had tried to enter one of his glamoured fields, she had been covered in a sticky sap that rendered her immobile. He had a mirror that would show intruders and the wizard guffawed helplessly as the witch stood there wide-eyed and shocked, covered in the stuff, then was whisked back to the site.

He had changed the wards to not cause injury. They were far nastier before Hermione came to work for him. He remembered her curious nature and made an adjustment for it. Gods, she was entertaining. Snape wiped the tears from his eyes and fell into the armchair, trying to catch his breath. He hadn’t laughed like that for many, many years.

“Of course I didn’t try to enter restricted areas, Hugo,” Hermione said to her son, “I know the rules and follow them, just like I expect you and Rose to do when you come stay with me for the summer.”

Harry and Ginny rolled their eyes as Hermione declared her rule-following ways. This was Hermione. Hermione was a snoop and her desire for knowledge was not just regulated to books. Two to one she tried to cross one of those wards.

Harry was about to call Hermione on this when there was a quick knock on the front door, then it flew open, Molly Weasley entering. Everyone fell silent as she approached, her hands on her hips.

”So, you decided to come here instead of the Burrow,” she said to Hermione.

”Yes. I wanted to see Harry and Ginny. I planned to visit the Burrow later this month,” Hermione said.

Molly saw Hugo and Rose and immediately walked over and kissed them up, Hugo frowning as she made loud kissing noises against his cheeks.

”Ah, my grandbabies. How is school?” she asked them fondly.

”Fine,” both children said at the same time.

”We were going to come over tomorrow, Grandmum,” Hugo said to her, hoping that she didn’t think they weren’t going to see her, “We just wanted to spend some time with mum today and hear about her job. It’s really great. They make her shower and everything.”

Molly looked at Hermione with wide eyes as the witch turned red, pinched her nose and scowled at Hugo. Rose covered her mouth with her hand, and both Harry and Ginny sucked their lips in to keep from laughing.

Molly’s lips trembled as she fought to keep from laughing. She remembered Ron coming home and complaining about Hermione stinking to high heaven because she was working on a project and how he couldn’t get away from her because she was his partner and insisted he stay with her. Eventually, Molly taught him a discreet little freshening charm that he used whenever he found himself in that pungent situation.

“Sounds perfect,” Molly said, smiling at Hermione, then reaching into the large bag she carried on her arm.

”I brought you all some homemade treacle tarts,” she announced, pulling out a foil wrapped bundle and passing it to Harry, whose mouth watered.

”Thanks mum,” he said, opening the package and taking a tart, passing it to Ginny who also plucked one out and passed them around.

Hermione smiled back at Molly as she took a tart. This was the matriarch’s way of making peace. Feeding her.

Molly sat down and looked at Hermione expectantly.

”So, tell me about this job,” she said to her daughter-in-law.

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Later that evening, Molly and Hermione sat at the kitchen table alone. Ginny was in the laundry room folding clothing magically. Harry, Rose and Hugo were outside playing three-man Quidditch. Hugo didn’t make the team this year, but Rose did. She was a chaser and a good one. At first, Hugo was quite upset about it…it was his idea to try out after all, but he got over it and spent a lot of time helping Rose practice, taking the spot of personal trainer.

“Come on, Rose! Put some speed on it! Gods!” he’d shout at her as he threw the Quaffle past her as hard as he could.

Rose wasn’t going to take the position at first, but after all the cajoling and pleading from her fellow Gryffindors, she did. And found that she really enjoyed it. They had a game coming up with Hufflepuff next weekend.

Students were still sorted into Houses at Hogwarts. It seemed that the protection Harry gave them when he willingly sacrificed himself to Voldemort at the Final Battle, extended not only to others but to the Sorting Hat itself. After being set aflame on Neville’s head and thrown down when the young wizard threw off the spell, the flames dissipated, leaving the Hat unharmed and able to produce the Sword of Gryffindor, which Neville used to destroy the final Horcrux . . . Nagini. So the houses remained, as did the rivalries.

Molly looked at Hermione.

”You really like your job, don’t you Hermione?” Molly asked the witch.

Hermione certainly looked well. Not as drawn as she was after Ron’s death.

”Yes, I really do, Molly,” she replied, “and I don’t intend to neglect the children. I really don’t.”

Molly gave her a small, sad smile.

”I know, Hermione. You’re a good mother, and you did everything you were supposed to do concerning those children and Ron. You made them a good and happy home, and were there for them. I was just…just acting out. Ron is gone and it felt as if you were leaving too, dear. You have to make a way now and you were right. Ron would be glad to know you found something you loved to do and support the family. I just…just didn’t want to let you move on. But we all have to move on, don’t we?” she said to Hermione, her brown eyes glistening.

Hermione reached out and covered Molly’s hand with her own.

”Yes, we do,” she said softly, “We move on . . . but we remember where we’ve been, what we’ve come from and who we’ve met along the way. They stay with us, Molly. Always.”

Hermione was thinking of Ron, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore and the many others who had fallen so many years ago, fallen in the name of the Greater Good. Her eyes filled as they met Molly’s.

The two witches sat there in companionable silence, separate yet together, words no longer necessary as their hearts spoke volumes.

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Hermione returned to work and spent the next couple of weeks hitting the books and writing her feasibility reports, but in a more controlled and thoughtful manner. Taking care of herself helped her thought processes immensely and she learned to balance her time properly. Actually, she went back to scheduling, which she found quite effective in managing her time.

When the time for her testing came, Hermione aced the test. Bartleby contacted her and had her come to his office by special dispensation and told her she had gotten an almost perfect score.

”Almost?” Hermione said, scowling, “What did I get wrong?”

”That doesn’t matter. It was a small thing. Nothing important. You are a full employee of Sparse Venues now. You’ll have a few days to yourself as your reports are examined. I will contact you when your first project is chosen,” Bartleby said to the witch with a smile, “Congratulations, Mrs. Weasley.”

Still scowling, Hermione thanked him and returned to the site.

”Almost? I know I aced that test. My answers were perfect. Perfect,” she growled to herself as she stalked inside, the door closing behind her.

Disillusioned, Snape watched the witch enter the building. By the stiff, angry way she was walking, she wasn’t happy with almost perfect marks. She never was.

And that was all he ever gave her when she was his student at Hogwarts. It was his way of making sure Hermione continued to work hard. He gave her a goal.

Apparently, his marking methods hadn’t changed.

The wizard smirked, then headed back to his home. He had narrowed the possible projects down to three. He was most impressed with the first report Hermione did, the one that had consumed her. The witch’s enthusiasm for the project clearly showed in her study. There were challenges, but more important, success in the growing Charm would act as a springboard for the other Charms the Professor would like created. She would be able to utilize aspects of it with other spells.

The time frame for the spell’s completion was two years. Bartleby would probably protest that, but Snape knew time was necessary for perfection. And Hermione was a perfectionist. Besides, he was still producing potions and they were receiving plenty of residuals. Paying Hermione’s salary was no problem at all, especially since her success would improve business in the end and allow for further expansion.

Bartleby would just have to grin and bear it.

The Potions Master knew what he was doing.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.


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