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 3

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 3 ~ After a Few False Starts, an Opportunity

“I love you, Hermione,” Ron whispered breathlessly, his lips pressed against Hermione’s temple as he held her in his embrace, “Why you married a bloke like me, I’ll never know.”

They had just finished making love, the hushed, yet passionate kind that wouldn’t wake the children. Ron spooned around his wife, breathing in the jasmine of her hair as her soft body rested against him. Hermione smiled softly.

“I married you because I love you, Ronald Weasley. Why you think that such a miracle, I’ll never know,” she replied, snuggling back into him.

“Because…it is a miracle,” he said, closing his eyes, “I’ll always believe it was a bloody miracle as long as I live.”

Hermione awoke in her bed, turning over quickly to face the side where Ron used to lie. Of course, he wasn’t there. He’d never be there again. His pillow was unmashed and the covers distributed evenly across the mattress, no sign of the nightly struggles they used to share, Hermione trying to keep a claim on her half of the bed sheets as Ron tried to steal them all in his sleep, rolling up into a cocoon.

During the day, Hermione could pretend that it was a day like any other day, with Ron safe at work, happy and alive. But it was the early mornings, late evenings, meals taken alone and nights where only darkness surrounded her, the empty space when she felt his absence the most, all a constant reminder that her husband was dead.

Hermione had loved Ron dearly. He was a bit rough around the edges, and could be a bit dense, but he was a brave wizard and a caring one, protective, strong and affectionate. He was a good father too, and never neglected either of his children, though he and Hugo were tight as thieves, the little boy able to rattle off the names of all the major Quidditch teams by the time he was two years old.

“He’s brilliant, Hermione!” Ron would exclaim every time, bouncing Hugo on his knee and sneaking him sweets.

Hermione had become a bit of a health nut, but it wasn’t simply because she was so health-oriented, though she did care about such things, but more because taking such a stand made it possible for her not to have to try and produce the rich meals, cakes, puddings and pies that Molly Weasley was famous for. If the family wanted that, they could always go to the Burrow. Snacks were usually fresh, crisp vegetables and desserts fresh or canned fruit in the Weasley household.

Hermione was still smart.

Both Rose and Hugo were home-schooled by Hermione, although Hugo took a lot more work than his sister. His attention span was as bad as his father’s, the young wizard staring off into space imagining himself on a broom making the saving play of some close and important Quidditch match. He was still well-prepared for Hogwarts however.

Ron loved Rose very much. She was his little princess and Ron could be found scowling at wizards as young as seven years old when they would wave to her when the family was out shopping together.

“Hi,” they’d say smiling shyly at Rose, who’d smile back just as shyly.

“Oy! Keep your eyes to yourself!” Ron would growl at the miniscule offender as Hermione would look at him incredulously, reddening as the parents looked at them, frowning. Then she’d elbow her husband.

”Ron, he’s just saying hi,” she’d chide him.

”I don’t care. I need to teach them to back off early,” he’d reply, swinging a giggling Rose up into his arms protectively and kissing her on the cheek, “Isn’t that right, Princess?”

Rose would nod enthusiastically and claim, “Yes daddy, that’s right!”

Then both of them would scowl at Hermione, who’d sigh and shake her head. Rose probably wouldn’t have her first date until she was well over twenty-one if her father had anything to do with it. Even then she’d probably be trailed by Ron wearing Harry’s invisibility cloak ready to throttle her boyfriend within an inch of his life for the slightest hint of potential intimacy.

They had been such a happy family.

Hermione wiped at her eyes and lay back down, hoping her next round of sleep would be dreamless.

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Ideally, Hermione would have taken up private tutoring, but that wouldn’t be feasible until school let out for the summer and would be seasonal work at best. She did give a shot at tutoring younger children that had not yet started Hogwarts, but found that she was not as motivated as with her own children. Not everyone was meant to teach.

She had also applied for a few entry-level Spells positions, but lost out to younger, more recent graduates for the most part, potential employers believing she had been away from her field for too long despite her excellent marks and transcripts. If they had a hands-on test, they might have found Hermione was still quite formidable, though she did need to brush up a bit. It might have been different if she was a mother returning to the work force, but she had never got into it in the first place.

In order to bring in some galleons until she could find a position she wanted, Hermione took a job at a local market as a cashier. It was fine, but didn’t pay top dollar, yet she did the job stoically. There were a few uncomfortable times however, such as when former schoolmates came in and saw the Gryffindor brain ringing up and bagging groceries. Most were friendly, except those from Slytherin house. They didn’t say anything, but gave her snide, amused looks, whispering to their wives or husbands and laughing as they exited. Draco did this quite often. He was still a bit of a git.

One day the pureblood sauntered in and approached Hermione when the line at her register went down.

”You know, Mrs. Weasley…there is an opening at the Manor for a maid. I pay quite well, probably three times as much as you earn here,” the pureblood purred at her.

He would love to have Hermione waiting on him and his family. He had elves for that, but it would be worth the extra galleons to be able to order her about like a peon.

Hermione looked at him and back at the store manager, who was watching her, so she couldn’t say what she really wanted to, so replied, “No thank you, Draco. I’m perfectly fine doing what I’m doing.”

”Too proud, eh? Fine, then,” the wizard said with a sneer, “It’s ironic that with all that brainpower, you amounted to less than nothing.”

He walked off, leaving a very red Hermione behind.

”I’m going to find something suitable,” she swore, savagely sliding the items of a customer down to the bagger, “You just wait Draco. You’re going to eat those words.”

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There was another problem. Hugo had begun acting out at Hogwarts…getting into fights and small duels with other students. He was a very angry young wizard, his pain at the loss of his father exhibiting itself in a very physical manner. He was a lot like Ron to start with, a bit rowdy, quick-tempered and argumentive just like he was. Add anger to this and it was a volatile combination and Hermione had to come to the school on several occasions for conferences, and then Hugo got suspended for three days, which resulted in Hermione missing work.

“Hugo, you have to stop fighting,” she told her son, who glared at her stubbornly as they sat across from one another at the kitchen table.

”I’d be fine if people would just leave me alone,” he groused sullenly.

”Hugo, you pick a lot of those fights,” Hermione said to him.

”I don’t pick fights…I finish them,” he said darkly.

Hermione tried talking to him, then finally sent him to his room, feeling at a loss as to how to handle her son. She knew it was because Ron was gone he was acting out, but Hugo wasn’t the kind of child who responded to reason at first. Oh, he’d come around…but it took time…just like it used to do with Ron. But before he went back to Hogwarts, he promised his tearful mother that he would try to control his temper and the incidents did lessen if not completely stop.

Rose dealt with her grief by losing herself in schoolwork and extra-credit assignments, cutting herself off from other students and finding solace in books, much as Hermione did before becoming friends with Harry and Ron. But there was no Harry or Ron for Rose and she kept her own council, only interacting with other students when it was required, although she did talk to her brother.

The loss of Ron was hard on all of them.

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The building of the Charms Development site went well, the project completed within two months. A disillusioned Potions Master kept tabs on the work done and in the evenings he would stroll through the partially constructed building and inspect it, then send comments and opinions to Bartleby, who relayed them to the workers. Finally it was completed and the ad for a researcher could be run.

For two weeks, Severus scoured the applications, seeking a particular one. He had no idea Hermione had next to given up on working in the Charms field after so many rejections. But the Potions Master decided to take matters into his own hands. He asked Bartleby to find the address of one Hermione Weasley and send him the information. The solicitor did so.

Then the wizard went into action.

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Hermione had just finished making a bowl of soup for supper and sat down at the kitchen table, when there was a tapping at the small window over the sink. She looked up to see a glossy black bird peering in at her. It had a long package attached to its leg.

The witch got up from the table, walked over to the window and after a bit of effort, opened it, the bird fluttering in. It was a raven. Not an ordinary post bird.

The raven fluttered over to the kitchen table and looked down at Hermione’s soup with some distaste, then stuck out its leg. Hermione cautiously removed the package. The bird’s beak was sharp and it didn’t look too friendly. The raven immediately flew back out the window when the package was removed, not waiting for a treat.

Hermione looked after it for a moment then opened the package. It was a rolled up Daily Prophet with a note taped to it.

”Go to page thirty-four,” the note read. There was no name.

Hermione unrolled the newspaper and leafed through it to page thirty-four where she found a want ad circled in bright red ink.

WANTED: Entry-level Charms Researcher/Developer. No experience necessary. A degree in Charms required. Send transcript to John Bartleby, Solicitor to secure an interview.

Hermione reread the ad. Who had sent this? It was obvious they believed she could land the job. Maybe Harry? Mr. Weasley? Someone had sent it.

No experience? Who wanted a researcher and developer without experience? Well, possibly the degree mattered more. Hermione didn’t think she had much of a chance of landing the job, but since someone went through all the trouble of sending this to her, she could at least give it a shot. All they could say was no after all.

She’d send her transcripts tomorrow.

Hermione folded up the newspaper and returned to her seat. She had other things to think about. She was behind in the rent and a few other bills, though she budgeted carefully. The truth was she could no longer afford the house. She was going to have to put her things in storage and find a smaller place. It saddened her. There were so many memories here. She and Ron had tried to purchase a home of their own, but didn’t qualify because Ron had a few credit problems he had incurred before he married Hermione. Combined with her being a stay-at-home mom, they couldn’t get the financing they needed. Harry offered to cosign, but Ron was too proud for that.

”Don’t worry mate, I’ll get it straight before long,” he said. But he never did. There was always something else to buy, something else to pay. But he never gave up and truly believed he could do it on his own given enough time.

But…that time never came. Fate, that fickle mistress stopped the clock.

Hermione sighed and ate her meal, missing Ron dearly.

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A week later, a very surprised and apprehensive Hermione Weasley stood outside the office of one John Bartleby, Solicitor. She had received an appointment by owl for an interview…or so she thought. She opened the door and walked up a long, thin flight of stairs, ending up on a landing facing a single door. The office of John Bartleby.

She knocked.

”Come in,” a male voice said pleasantly.

Hermione turned the knob and entered the office. There was a large mahogany desk and behind it a wizard in dress robes, balding, heavy-set, and with quick, intelligent brown eyes. He stood up and offered her his hand.

”Mrs. Hermione Weasley?” he asked for confirmation as Hermione shook his hand.

”Yes sir,” she replied with a small, nervous smile.

”Please, have a seat, Mrs. Weasley,” the solicitor said pleasantly. He waited for Hermione to sit in the comfortable leather chair positioned in front of his desk.

He looked at her speculatively.

”Mrs. Weasley, I have asked you here to make you a job offer. Your marks were quite exemplary, and we have decided that you have the potential to be an excellent Charms researcher/developer,” the solicitor said.

Hermione’s heart leaped in her chest. They wanted to give her a job? But who?

”What is the name of the business?” she asked him.

”Sparse Venues Development. Our corporation has been in business for eighteen years. Up to this point in time we only developed, patented and marketed new potions and elixirs. A decision has been made to branch out and expand. We would like to move into the field of Spells at this point in time and are looking for someone mature who can grow with us. The opinion of our board is that new graduates are far too flighty to invest time and money in, only to have them seek other greener pastures. They are easily wooed away Mrs. Weasley. We believe that a witch your age, with your intelligence and stable background would be an excellent addition to our staff. Your children are in school and you are, if you'll excuse me…a widow which means you do not have a husband to care for,” he said somewhat delicately, “You have time to dedicate to your work.”

Hermione forced her eyes to remain dry at this statement. It was glaringly true after all.

“If you were to accept this position, you would earn a weekly salary of…”

Hermione’s eyes went wide at the generous amount of money she was being offered per week. It was a month’s salary at the market.

“You will also be provided with an on-site apartment in which to live during the week. It is within the development building and comes with all the amenities, a full library, bath, kitchen, three bedrooms and assistance. You will be required to stay there through the week and will be allowed to leave the premises on weekends beginning Friday evening after five. You would be required to return Sunday evening before nine PM. During the week however, you will not be able to leave the premises except between the hours of noon and one pm, though you may take as many breaks as you like as long as you remain indoors. There are strict security measures in place due to the competitive and delicate nature of the work you will perform,” John said, eyeing the witch to gauge her reaction.

Hermione was in shock actually. She would live there?

”Mr. Bartleby, my children aren’t in school the entire year,” she began.

”We have taken that into consideration, Mrs. Weasley. As long as they are not the destructive sort, they can stay on-site with you during the summer months if you wish. And we will relax the standards and up the security measures so they don’t get ‘cabin fever.” The site is located in a wooded area with plenty of fresh air. They would be free to roam about as they please as long as they do not enter areas that are marked ‘Private or Off-Limits.’ Those areas will be warded anyway. Do you think they would conduct themselves properly?” he asked.

Hermione nodded.

“Yes, they are good children,” Hermione said, her head swimming.

”Very good,” Bartleby said with a small smile, “Now all that is left is for you to accept the position.”

Hermione looked at him uncertainly.

”Would you mind terribly if I took a week to consider the offer, Mr. Bartleby?” she asked the solicitor.

”Not at all. This offer is a lot to take in. I think it is wise for you to take a few days to consider it. If you take the job, your life will change dramatically, although I daresay the opportunity is quite a good one,” the solicitor replied, “Take whatever time you need. I will hold the position for one week.”

”Thank you, sir,” Hermione said rising. John rose too.

”Thank you for coming, Mrs. Weasley. I hope to hear from you in the affirmative soon,” the wizard replied, shaking her hand firmly.

Hermione left, Bartleby looking after her.

The witch would be crazy if she didn’t take this job. Hell, he would’ve taken it if he weren’t already well established in his field. If she didn’t accept it, he would offer her more money. Snape had said to hire her at all costs.

He didn’t like to be disappointed.

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The first thing Hermione did was go to the Ministry library and look up Sparse Venues. Yes, the corporation was formed eighteen years ago and had two executive officers, one director and one secretary. Share certificates had been issued, but in limited amounts. It was a rather small operation that garnered very large gains. She looked at its history and found it interesting that the company’s first patent was not an elixir or potion.

Instead it was a specialized Bezoar stone that quickly became a staple in every household, business, school and medical facility in the wizarding world. In addition to protecting against most poisons, it also had powerful healing powers that could repair physical injuries incurred by said poisoning including replenishing the blood. The company used the money earned from this marvelous creation to get off the ground as it were and had a number of successes under its belt. Now it wanted to expand into original Charms. It made sense since they were so successful with potions.

Hm. An already established business. Hermione could find a worse place to work. It sounded perfect…but she needed to talk to her children first and find out how they felt about it. Ultimately, the final decision would be hers.

Both Rose and Hugo were delighted…especially with the mystery surrounding the job, places that couldn’t be entered and having to stay in the area during the week. The thought of lurking spies and menacing shady characters ready to steal ideas worked on Hugo’s imagination. Plus, he always liked the woods. Besides, he could always go to the Burrow if he got bored. And his mother wouldn’t have to worry about bills either.

”Go for it, mum. It sounds great!” Hugo said as Rose nodded enthusiastically.

“Much better than bagging groceries at the market,” her daughter said with a grin.

”Much better,” Hermione agreed, then they all hugged, excited about the new prospects in their lives. They needed something positive and this was it.

Hermione took the children back to Hogwarts after spending a happy yet bittersweet weekend with them, bittersweet because there was some packing to do and they would be leaving the only home they knew all their young lives.

Hermione looked at the smiling picture of Ron resting on the coffee table and blinked back tears.

”You don’t have to worry about us, Ron. I think…I think we’re going to be all right,” the witch said softly.

Then she picked up the picture, kissed it tenderly and held it to her chest.

Her tears fell freely.

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A/N: Thanks for reading.

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