In Another Universe

Chapter 5

Trigger warning: mild implied mention of past sexual abuse/harassment

The heavy door to the physics lab creaked open, and Granger had to steady herself by placing a hand to her chest as she prepared to go inside on her own. She hadn't done one of these introductions without Harry and was afraid of screwing it up in some way or another. She reminded herself, like a mantra, of Harry's encouraging words: "You're the most brilliant scholar this university has to offer, Hermione. Surely Dr. 'I-finished-my-PhD-at-25' can think of more challenging things than introducing herself to one of her friends' mates?"

He was right, and she knew it; nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel her heart rate pick up as the lab door now swung open and left her in full view of those inside it. The room was vast, tables like islands every few feet inside it. The equipment on the tables was unlike anything Hermione used in her work: there was a heavy-looking pendulum, a functioning water pump, a magnetometer, a set of magnets... Even though she knew, perfectly rationally, what all of this was used for, she couldn't help but feel as if those physicists were working on magic, from how difficult yet natural it all seemed to look.

Stationed at each table stood stern-looking scientists in white labcoats: they all looked rigidly down at their work, a concentration unlike Granger had ever witnessed, the women's hair held back in ponytails as tight as their postures seemed to be held. Her eyes swept the room, searching for a flash of red— and her stomach dropped when she noticed, instead, a flash of yellow.

And, even worse, when the flash of yellow swiveled around and the owner of the hair looked straight at her.

"Ah, Granger!" McLaggen bellowed, spreading his arms as a smug look took over his face, making sure all of the lab looked up to pay attention to him. "Come to see me finally, have you?"

Granger wanted to turn around and bolt for the door, but her feet seemed to be glued to the ground. Her experiences with McLaggen had been less than favorable, and she was less than thrilled that she hadn't managed to evade him on her visit to the lab.

He swaggered toward her with a confident stride, placing a loud smack on her cheek when he reached her and grabbing her arm with his hand. She tried to pull away, wrinkling her nose at the unrequested kiss, but McLaggen's hunkish build ensured she stayed firmly in her place. She resorted to words: "Get off of me, McLaggen, it's not you I'm here to see..."

"Oh, sure it's not," he whispered, leaning so close to her she could feel his hot breath on her ear. "Just like you didn't want me during that party our second year, like you kept running but I knew you wanted me to go after you—"

"Step off, won't you, McLaggen, you big arse?" an unfamiliar voice piped up, and McLaggen stiffened and pulled away from Granger. She opened her eyes again, which had been tightly scrunched to keep McLaggen from her field of vision, and looked at her savior: a tall, lanky redheaded man with blue eyes and a spattering of freckles. That's Ronald, she thought, he matches Harry's description perfectly...

"I don't recall you being invited, Weasley," sneered McLaggen, but his grip on Hermione's arm loosened.

"That's because you don't recall a lot of things, you big git," said Ronald, stepping menacingly closer. McLaggen's grip loosened even further. "Like the fact that the lab's a quiet space so everyone can work. But you've made a point of announcing to the lab how great you want her to think you are, and now no one can concentrate. Kind of goes against lab rules, doesn't it?"

McLaggen's scowl intensified, drawing deeper lines across his face, and Weasley intervened again: "Besides, like she said, she's not here to see you."

"Who, then?"

"Me, actually," said Weasley, puffing up his chest mockingly. "Bet you didn't see that coming, did ya, McLaggen, hottest number at uni going out with me? It's because of my magnetic personality and my striking good looks, y'know..." he rambled on, as if annoying McLaggen had suddenly become his strategy.

The tactic worked: frowning, McLaggen released Granger's arm with a jolt and gave Weasley a piercing, deathly look before storming back to his table. Weasley made an obscene gesture at his back and turned to Granger: "Sorry about that, I know I sounded like a misogynistic arse. But it's the only way to get him off..."

She nodded and gulped, taken aback by the whole exchange, and allowed him to guide her to a table in the corner, where he seemed to have been working before the whole commotion. Only when seated across him did she take full stock of his appearance: his labcoat was unbuttoned and, underneath, his shirt lopsided; he bore a couple days' stubble, as if he'd forgotten to shave, and his hair stuck up in random places. His workstation seemed to match his appearance: papers, materials, and equipment were splayed across the table, looking as if a hurricane had swept through them.

"So, Granger," he said, leaning back in his lab chair with a smile. "About this project?"

"Uh, yes," Granger said, clearing her throat, and composed herself, folding her hands in her lap. Her tone shifted, and now she fired at him in a diligent, commanding tone: "As I'm sure Harry told you, Dr. Shacklebolt, the University Head, has commissioned me to undertake a Linguistics project on behalf of the University's publicity department, where I'm supposed to document the different 'languages', so to say, different branches of scholars here use. That includes terminology, manners of speaking and writing, you know, the whole number. We needed a physicist, and Harry suggested you; I trust Harry's recommendation, so all that is left is for you to let me know whether you would like to be a part of it."

"Memorized that, haven't you," he quipped, and she was startled: he seemed to have seen right through her monologue, and she suddenly felt disarmed. "Of course I'll do it, I'd be thrilled!"

"Great," said Granger, racking her brain for where she possibly recognized that enthusiastic tone from. "Well, there will be an introductory informational meeting on Thursday afternoon in Bagshot Hall, Room 228, which Dr. Shacklebolt has agreed to lend us. You should be there to be a part of the project..." she trailed off as she neatly wrote down the information on one of her small contact cards for him, wondering whether this messy physicist who seemed to put her so on edge would misplace it.

"Granger, be honest with me" Weasley interrupted, and she was once again taken aback: none of her other interviewees had done anything but thank her beyond this point. "I wasn't your first option, wasn't I?"

Something about how those blue eyes seemed to latch onto hers compelled her to honesty, and she answered with a flush, looking down abashedly: "I have to confess you weren't," she said. "I wasn't even originally thinking of a physicist, to be honest, but Harry suggested you..."

"Good man," said Weasley, seeming to take no offense in her words and rather smiling even wider. "Listen, Granger, I know I wasn't what you planned for, but the way I see it, it's either me or that git McLaggen, isn't it?"

He gestured across the room with a jolt of his chin, and Granger turned her head to see McLaggen staring at them murderously, giving her a lewd wink when he caught her eye. She shuddered with disgust and turned her gaze back to Weasley, who, to her surprise, was holding out his hand to her.

"So, what do you say, eh, Granger? Are we in this?"

She looked into his eyes again, feeling another echo of familiarity reverberate around some unknown part of her brain, then reached out her hand as well and shook his firmly.