In Another Universe

Chapter 8

Granger was up early the next morning: she'd finally devised a preliminary schedule to talk to the people involved in her project, and she wanted to get down to their mailboxes early on so they would see it that day for sure, even if she had queued up an email to each of them later in the day. She was already starting to pick apart individual patterns, as her intuitive nature determined: she knew Neville and Seamus were unlikely to check through their (overstuffed) mailboxes, so she'd queued up a second email for them and, if she hadn't received a response by the end of the day, she'd be texting them. She'd left Zabini and Draco's schedules blank, providing a copy of when she was meeting with other people so they could fit their schedules nicely with hers, as she knew they'd appreciate. And she'd made sure to book every meeting in advance for those she knew may forget when the date rolled around, like Neville and Harry (who was a great friend but could be pretty oblivious sometimes), so at least they wouldn't double book.

Like everything she did, it was a job well done.

The only one she hadn't managed to figure out exactly was Weasley: would he be the overstuffed mailbox and date-forgetful type, as his messy lab space and casual tardiness suggested, or would he be the space-needing, prompt and proper kind, as his attention to detail and encouragement of her might lead her to think? I suppose I'll be figuring him out along the way, she thought, strangely enticed by the prospect.

She exited her little flat near the Linguistics Department, a cramped four-room affair (bathroom, bedroom, living room, and kitchen/dining space) the University had helped her afford, in taupe flats, khaki slacks, and a light violet flowered blouse under a white cardigan. She strode determinedly around campus, dropping off her letters in the faculty mailboxes for those who were postgrads and the dorm front desk for those who were undergrads or whose mailboxes she couldn't find. When she was done, she crossed campus again back to the Linguistics Department. She bid the porter a good morning: he wasn't surprised to see her this early, being quite used to her frequent presence in the facilities.

Tracing her steps down the familiar route to what was now her office, she caught herself humming the bassline from 'Hypocrite', and smiled to herself: yesterday had been a day well spent with Ginny, and she was glad that some of Ginny was rubbing off on her, even if it was in something so simple as music.

She turned the last corner she knew would lead her to her office, key already in hand prepared to open the door— and jumped with a start when she saw Ronald Weasley beaming at her, leaning against her door, his hair still tousled into a bedhead he hadn't bothered to tame and a cardboard tray in his hand, holding two cups.

"Mornin'," he greeted her, his grin widening when he saw her coming toward him. He peeled his back from the door and stood upright, extending his arm to offer up the tray of coffee. "Early morning, so I figured we'd need caffeine. Well, at least I'd need caffeine. I didn't know what you'd like, so I brought you a chamomile tea— I know, kinda boring, but it was a safe option, so..."

Granger was getting used to his (actually somewhat endearing) penchant for chattering jokingly, but she was still taken aback: "What are you doing here?"

"Bringing you caffeine," Weasley replied as if it was obvious, his silly grin only widening.

"You're something else, you know that, Weasley?" Granger huffed as she moved past him and unlocked the door to her office.

"I'm taking that as a compliment," he replied, swinging inside her office before she had a chance to shut the door on him.

"I was going to wait inside for you, but I thought that might give you a heart attack. You did take me out of the dilemma, though, because I didn't consider the fact that Hermione Granger obviously locks her office door."