7 Days (In Time Series 1) | By : Dazzlious Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 13845 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from JK Rowling’s fantastic books or films, I’m just borrowing and playing with them for a little while and get no monetary reward for doing so. |
Arthur wasn’t sure how long it took him to realise that Hermione was standing in his shed. It had taken a while because he had been engrossed in following an old Muggle booklet that explained how to wire a plug and having finally acquired a screwdriver and some fuses he had been excitedly changing the plugs on many of the appliances that littered his workbench.
He gradually became aware of the feeling of being watched although at first he assumed he was just being paranoid. Even though it had been several months since the Battle of Hogwarts which had seen Harry kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and almost all the surviving Death Eaters had been rounded up and put into Azkaban, it was still hard to accept that he and his family were safe, that the threat of attack was no longer an issue.
Once Arthur reminded himself that they were all perfectly safe at the Burrow but the feeling of being spied upon hadn’t ebbed at all, he looked around the crowded shed trying to establish what was causing the problem. The first sweep hadn’t revealed anything, but the second, slower and more in-depth, disclosed the young woman standing remarkably still; almost like a statue.
Arthur was surprised that Hermione had entered his inner sanctum. Everyone in the family knew the shed was out of bounds to anyone unless he invited them inside. It was the only place he could find any peace and no one dared to disturb him when he was in here. While it was true that Hermione wasn’t actually part of the family she had spent more than enough time at the Burrow over the years to understand she was intruding on his privacy.
Being a generally mild-mannered man, Arthur wasn’t going to lose his temper at having his sacred space invaded, particularly as there might be a genuine reason for Hermione’s presence there. However, assuming there wasn’t an issue he needed to sort out he would have to explain to her why she couldn’t stay.
‘Is there a problem, Hermione?’ he asked.
Hermione smiled and shook her head. ‘No. I just wanted to spend some time in here with you, Mr Weasley.’
Arthur gave her a rueful smile. ‘It’s a compliment that you want to spend time with me although I’ve no idea why you’d want to. I’d have thought you’d be more interested in being with your friends than an old duffer like me. But to be honest, this is my solitary space, the place I can just kick back and relax after work and I don’t really like other people being in here. I don’t mean to be rude, Hermione, so please don’t get upset, but I would prefer it if you left as I want to be alone right now.’
Hermione, who had moved towards one of the workbenches while Arthur was talking, was studying a pile of batteries that had been sorted into different sizes.
‘Do you know if any of these still work?’ she asked as she picked up and looked at one of the larger batteries, seemingly ignoring Arthur’s request. ‘You can get a tester for them, you know. I could bring one next time I come to the Burrow if you want.’
Arthur’s interest flared at the mention of the battery tester but he knew Hermione was using it to divert him away from his intent to evict her. He had to stay strong and not give in to her easy temptation.
‘I would be extremely grateful if you would bring one,’ he admitted. ‘However, right now I would like you to leave.’
‘But I don’t want to leave.’ Hermione said. She paused for a second and with a subtly seductive smile added, ‘I could be one of your Muggle artefacts, Mr Weasley. Just think of me as part of your collection.’
Arthur frowned, a small shiver running up his spine as he considered Hermione’s words.
‘The whole point of this place is for me to spend some time alone, pondering the Muggle items I’ve managed to collect over the years. I would be more than happy to discuss any of them with you outside the shed, but right now I really want to be left alone.’
‘I didn’t come here to talk to you about plugs and toasters,’ Hermione told him. She was still smiling. ‘I want to be one of your artefacts. I’m Muggle-born so I qualify.’
Arthur tried to understand why Hermione was making this overture. Perhaps she had some deep-seated trauma from everything she and her friends had been through over the last few years and needed someone to talk to about it; someone who wouldn’t judge her, who was an outsider. It was flattering that she had thought he could help her but that wasn’t what the shed was for.
He was aware Hermione had been through a lot while helping Harry, including being tortured and almost killed by Death Eaters. While it was nice that she obviously thought he could help her, Arthur suspected she probably needed professional help, not just a pat on the back and a sympathetic word from him. His expression soothing, he moved towards her and took her arm, patting it gently as he led her back towards the door.
‘I don’t think I’m the right person for you to talk to,’ he admitted. ‘Perhaps you should consider getting some counselling.’
Hermione’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Counselling. What do I need counselling for?’
Arthur looked rueful again. He dropped her arm and ran his hand over the back of his neck somewhat embarrassedly.
‘I’m sorry, Hermione. I thought from what you said about becoming part of the collection that you were hoping I’d be able to treat you like one of the objects in here, that I would be able to help you talk through any problems you’re having . . . would mend you in some way.’
Hermione’s laugh was tinkling as she shook her head as if fondly. ‘I do want to become part of your collection and I want you to examine me like you do your plugs and batteries, but I don’t need to talk, particularly—
‘— I will do anything you want, though.’
Arthur stared at her in surprise. He seemed to have lost the ability to speak properly.
‘You can’t mean — I mean, I can’t—’
‘I’m Muggle so there’s no reason why I shouldn’t be part of your collection, Mr Weasley. Just think of the fun we could have.’ Hermione winked at him. ‘I’m not asking for special treatment,’ she added when Arthur just continued to look at her dumbfounded. ‘You can treat me like all your other items. I would be here to be studied and played with.’
As Arthur grasped Hermione’s meaning he could feel his heartbeat increase as a variety of images entered his mind. He shook his head to get rid of them. The idea was preposterous and completely impossible. He was a married man and old enough to be Hermione’s father. Anyway, surely, she couldn’t mean what he thought she meant. He must have misunderstood.
But now it was more important than ever to get her to leave. Without even knowing she had done it Hermione had shattered his calm reserve, had aroused him, and Arthur couldn’t allow her to stay. It was too dangerous.
Still holding Hermione’s arm, he opened the door of the shed.
‘You need to leave, Hermione.’
‘Please don’t make me go,’ Hermione said. She sounded upset.
For a moment Arthur thought he ought to ask her what was the matter, should find out why she seemed so distraught about being sent away. But her comments had unsettled him and he urgently needed to be alone. Needed to return to the plugs that were so much easier to deal with than people.
‘I’m sorry, Hermione but you have to go.’
Hermione looked at him for a moment then nodded with resignation. Quietly, she told him, ‘Okay. But if you change your mind I’ll be happy to come back . . . anytime. And I really will do anything you want.’
Arthur watched as she walked out of the door, his heart beating so hard and fast that he thought he might be having a heart attack. Using his wand, he closed the door behind Hermione and made his way back to the workbench with the plugs. He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky and a glass, pouring himself a healthy measure before sitting down.
He turned the glass in his hand, staring at the amber liquid as he thought about Hermione’s words. If he understood her correctly, and despite his desire to believe he hadn’t he was sure he had, she had just propositioned him, had just offered herself as . . . as what? She had said that she would be part of his collection, just another Muggle artefact, but she had hinted at so much more.
Arthur took a large mouthful of the whisky. His hands were shaking. Somehow, with just a few words Hermione had reduced him to a nervous wreck. Should he have a quiet word with her once he was back inside the house, tell her that what she had suggested was completely inappropriate and should never be repeated? He considered it as he drank.
By the time he had finished both that drink and a second, Arthur had decided that talking to Hermione might stir things up that were better left unsaid. It was better all round if he just ignored it and tried to pretend that it had never happened.
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