Green Day - Time of Your Life

“Another turning point
A fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist
Directs you where to go,
So make the best of this test and don't ask why,
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time,

(Chorus)
It's something unpredictable
But in the end it's right
I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good time,
Tattoos and memories of skin on trial
For what it's worth,
It was worth all the while.”

~

Angela Millstone was probably the most ill-spirited woman she had ever met in life. And Angela's wrath had now turned its ugly head towards her. Hermione had just won a promotion over her colleague Angela who was her superior in age and experience.

It wasn't her fault really. Hermione had risen through the ranks of St. Mungo's quite quickly. She was intelligent, dedicated and hard-working.

Hermione had avoided Angela like the plague since the Head Healer had announced Hermione's promotion. When the announcement had been made Angela had smiled maliciously at Hermione from across the conference room. Later she had congratulated Hermione saying, “The real charmer, aren't ya'?” Needless to say, Hermione felt uncomfortable. It surprised Hermione how very much alike Angela Millstone was to Dolores Umbridge.

Hermione was ecstatic about the promotion. It was yet another testament of her abilities. She had not intended initially to become a Healer. She always imagined herself with a job in the Ministry with her surplus of ambition. But after the Ministry's lack of support for Harry in Fifth and Six Years, Hermione had changed her mind entirely.

Harry.

They were engaged. Harry's marriage proposal was not “romantic” per say. It was far from it. But then a mature woman's conception of love was far different from that of a young girl's. In a young girl's ideal world, knights in shining armor sat bent on one knee while professing their love for the maiden in question. Instead real life men nervously lean over the kitchen counter and ask their girlfriends to marry them while said girlfriends are busy stuffing their mouths and chomping down bacon and eggs for a full day at work.

When Harry had proposed, she had been shocked. They had been casually going out for two years. But it was a comfortable relationship. There were hugs and a few kisses but nothing more than that. Whenever she though about his proposal, she still felt the same rush of emotions of joy mingled with doubt. She had tried to convince herself that doubt was only a small part of the emotions she experienced when he proposed.

She had accepted his proposal naturally. Her parents and her school friends all expected Harry and herself to eventually exchange wedding bands. They were “the perfect couple.”

There was no doubt that she loved him. But she doubted the extent to which she did. And maybe it was all about her mind playing games with her. Luckily work had helped keep her mind from all these nonsensical thoughts.

But work wasn't exactly very relaxing right now with Angela on the warpath.

So that Friday morning when she saw Angela moving towards the west wing of the hospital only yards away from her, the first escape plan she thought of was hiding in medical supply closet. Later how she fit herself into that small excuse of a closet would always be a mystery to her.

Minutes later, Angela had opened the door of the closet to reach out for some bandages when she had found Hermione inside.

Hermione shrieked.

“What are you doing in here?” Angela asked her eyes narrowing as she stared at Hermione uncompromisingly.

“Umm… I… I was… checking for supplies in the closet,” she finally croaked. Haphazardly she stumbled out of the closet. Nervously she fingered her engagement ring feeling very much like a guilty child. She tried calming her nerves as she mentally chastised herself for actually hiding in the closet.

“You could do that outside the closet instead of sitting underneath its shelves dearie,” she remarked casually as if she was used to finding her co-workers in closets every single day. Hermione blushed a deep crimson.

Quickly, Hermione moved to exit the embarrassing situation. Hermione said slowly retreating, “I think I have to check up on my patient Agatha. I guess… I gu - I'll see you around.”

“Asked you did he?” her tone suddenly brisk. Her beady eyes were fixated on Hermione's ring. Hermione had still not stopped fingering her ring finger.

Hermione nodded defiantly.

“And you're convinced you love him?”

“Ofcourse I am.”

“And I am a monkey's uncle. You're just leading him on. Even the Witch Weekly said so.”

“Angela, I'm warning you…”

“Oh lass, I don't want to hear your bloody protestations. Everyone knows Ronald Weasley broke your heart when he married that Lovegood girl. You started dating him only weeks after they two married. I notice coincidences, honey.”

“Ron and I never… How dare you?”

She had never felt an overpowering sense to smack someone before even Malfoy. She wanted to wipe that knowing smug off that woman's face.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “Ms. Millstone, let me remind you, that you are in no position to pass any judgment on the relationship that my fiancé and I share.”

“Ay dearie, no need to get your panties in a knot! Just making sure you don't ruin the sanity of the Savior of the Wizarding World,” she said turning her back on Hermione.

As the Angela walked away, Hermione's eyes bore into the back of her head. She wanted to plunge her hand into her robes and jinx the woman into oblivion. Or better: punch her. And then there was that part of her that wanted to cry. Sit down and cry and cry and cry.

What if Angela was right? What if she was leading Harry on?

The rest of the morning passed in a daze. Soon she was asking the Head Healer for the day off. After peering at her quizzically he asked her if she had any pending surgeries. When she answered in the negative he allowed her to leave recommending that she get some rest during the weekend. No wonder. She looked like hell.

She immediately apparated home. Out of habit, she checked the fridge for something to eat. Surprisingly all she could find was cheese and onions. She really needed to buy some food.

Once more, she ran her hand through her tangled hair. Her hair had begun to surround her head like a lion's mane as it often did when she felt frustrated.

She hated feeling weak especially after the War. She had vowed to be strong for Harry and her friends but sometimes she couldn't do it.

“Onions. I like onions,” she said grabbing a sack of onions. Onions made people cry. She wanted to cry. So she started cutting onions. Onion after onion. Her mother had always instructed her to cut onions under running water to disperse the sulfuric compounds. But she didn't bother to do so. She continued to cut onions and cry. Onion after onion.

As her eyes stung, she let the tears roll down her cheeks. She wasn't sure what was making her cry. Angela's words or the onions.

The truth was Hermione wanted the “romantic” proposal and the knight in shining armor. She wanted passion and love in a relationship. Before she started dating Harry, all she had wanted was a companion. But now she wanted to experience feelings of zeal, craze and desire. She wanted to love someone passionately.

She loved Harry. She did. But not with passion. And Harry was not a romantic on any accounts. His feelings seemed so platonic most of the time.

Yet sometimes in those rare “non-Harry” moments he would whisper and tell her he loved her. And for a fleeting moment she would feel she loved him too. Then why did she choke up? Why didn't she tell him she loved him back? Never in the two years that they had been together had she told him that she loved him.

And so she cried.

It was late evening when Harry came home.