If there was one thing Hermione Granger loathed the most was not understanding things. That was what she did: she understood the minutia of complex concepts, theories, spells; the undercurrent of context, subtext, and emotion in any given circumstance... On her list of loathed items, being manipulated came as a close second. Because she could understand all those things, she could assess situations and make informed-usually right-choices. Could ponder variables and decide on the best course of action possible. Now, however, Hermione couldn't help but feel she was being manipulated into something she didn't quite understand. Terrific. What is it that I am playing along with? This time, there was nothing suitable in her wardrobe to help Hermione …show more content…
Half a pot of Sleekazy and a quick search in her jewelry box later, the witch was ready to leave. Her only family heirloom hung from her wrist - a bracelet with a single golden chain, a string of crystal-made flowers adorning it. Something that her mother had gifted her when she first was admitted into Hogwarts, and she had been much too selfish to return as she stripped her parents of their memories. And perhaps there was a meaning to her choice in wearing it, perhaps she sought to remind herself of the last time she did something to protect the people she loved by violating their will, violating their trust, and to feel reluctant to do it again, but deep down she knew it wasn't the …show more content…
And what-if's still popped inside her mind threatening to splinch her as she tried to concentrate on the clear image of where she needed to Apparate. The tug of Apparition followed the scent of grass brought her focus: she was, as of now, out of time. Bushes surrounded her right and left, keeping her from prying eyes at the same time their leaves and thin branches caught on her hair and clothes. She cursed, fixing a small rip on her dress with her wand before smoothing her hair and readjusting her bracelet one more time. She had done it so many times now she considered removing it altogether, but her hands would simply fidget with something else instead and she'd be prived of the excuse that the accessory was ill-adjusted. Hermione was not nervous. No, at this point, she was just short of an anxiety crisis. They had agreed to meet later that day at The Chesil Rectory, the same Muggle restaurant they had the first time. Hermione WALKED WITHOUT PAYING ATTENTION the trinkets and historical items, replaying her prepared speech in her mind once more, the words now almost engraved in her