||Now It's Just Us||

Chapter 7

"Fucking move, Granger," Carson grumbled one morning. It was early September. If she looked outside, she could see the first signs of autumn approaching, with some of the leaves yellowing. There was a constant chilly yet crisp breeze that tended to keep many people firmly indoors. 

"What's gotten your knickers in a twist?" Hermione mumbled. Leave it to Carson Stupid Bones to ruin a day which would have been a perfectly good one had it not been for him and his mood swings.

"Why can't you just shut up, Granger?" Carson snapped. He clenched his jaw and wrenched open the door of the refrigerator. Hermione winced as he slammed a bottle of milk down on the table, then shut the door with unnecessary force. He had forgotten his daily apple. Hermione was about to point that out, but Carson glared at her. If looks could kill, Hermione might as well have died about now.

She felt thoroughly annoyed. A part of her wanted to smack him upside the head and ask him to stop being such a twat, while the other part of her wanted to go hide away in her bedroom until his bout of rage had passed. Hermione loathed the latter part of herself. 

Carson disappeared into his room without a word to her after he had managed to shove some oatmeal down his throat. The door to his bedroom slammed in place, and the part of her that she hated sagged with relief. If he was the kind to let out his anger physically and impulsively, Hermione was glad to know she wasn't near him. She would put up a fight, of course, but she had had enough of such moments in her life. 

It was a sunday. Usually, Hermione and Carson would watch a movie or something together in the morning before starting whatever work they had. Hermione looked at the telly as though it was to blame for Carson's foul attitude. 

As far as work was concerned, Hermione was doing good. She turned in all her paperwork in time, never missed any meetings, took control when it was asked of her and had become one of the favorite employees of the records section. Her own peers in the records department, however, did not approach her, and for that she was grateful. 

Hermione settled down on the kitchen table with some paperwork she had to turn in the next day. The only sound throughout the apartment was that of her quill scratching against parchment. Hermione basked in her momentary solitude, enjoying it very much.

Something silver zoomed in through the open kitchen window. Hermione's first instinct was to reach for her wand, but she relaxed when the ball of glowing silver light took the form of a majestic stag. Harry.

"We're coming to dinner today, if that's alright with you," the patronus spoke in Harry's voice, "send your reply as soon as possible, Ginny is making a fuss on what to wear, and if you say no at the last moment she'll throw a fit."

The patronus disappeared. Hermione shook her head, amused. Leave it to the Chosen One to always leave things until the last moment. She didn't even have anything nice to make for dinner. Not to mention, Carson was being the opposite of amicable.

Hermione sent her patronus in response, asking Ginny and Harry to come over whenever they liked. After she had watched the otter glide out the window, she huffed and sat down. 

Then, her thoughts changed to being positive. She had McGonnagal's letter to discuss with them. She was looking forward to that.

But they were coming for dinner, so that also meant there had to be something to eat, because what's dinner without food?

With a groan, Hermione began rummaging through their food supply in search of something suitable.

"What are you doing?"

Hermione smacked her head on the top of the cabinet in her haste to turn around. Carson let out a snort of laughter, but quickly covered it up with a bout of coughing. She muttered a swear, "Looking for food."