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Cure for a Case of the Mondays
"Breathe. It is only a bad day, not a bad life."
-Johnny Depp
Sunlight streamed across her face, and the purring of her feline bedmate slowly brought her to awareness. Crookshanks laid on her pillow next to her head, contentedly licking her hair. Hermione opened one eye, stretching under the warm covers.
Must be up before the alarm, she thought as she rolled toward the clock to shut it off, only to read that it was 9:47. Opening her second eye, just to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind, she jumped nearly out of her skin. Her alarm had been set for 7:10am!
“Shite!” Hermione yelled, throwing back the covers at the disgruntled Kneazle. “How did I miss my alarm?!”
Flicking her wand toward the dresser, she summoned her clothing for the day as she tripped her way into the bathroom. She didn’t have time for a shower, so she did her morning ablutions while brushing her teeth without even stopping to look in the mirror. Changing from her nightclothes to her work clothes hastily, she fumbled with the buttons on her favorite white blouse. Crookshanks yowled at her from his bowl in the kitchen, obviously no longer pleased because she was out of bed.
“Just a minute Crookshanks,” she called, stepping into one of her shoes and trying to find its mate. Dropping to her knees, she searched under the bed for it, muttering curses the entire way. Once she had the second shoe on, she made her way to the kitchen, pouring out a cup of Kneazle chow for Crookshanks, before grabbing her purse and rushing out the door to work.
Fortunately, as she was running behind, the usual lineup to flush herself into work was virtually non-existent. As soon as she hit the Atrium of the Ministry, Hermione took off running, doing her best to dodge around people conducting their business so that she could get to her department. Her stride evened as she approached the door leading into the Department of Magical Creatures. Reaching into her purse, she began to fish around for her badge to let herself in. It didn’t come to her hand immediately, and she stopped, reaching her arm deeper to find it.
With horror, she suddenly realized her badge was on the counter at home, where she’d set it the night before. Her shoulders dropped in defeat as she turned around, sulking her way to the administrative offices.
“How can I help you?” a cheerful young woman behind the desk asked with a smile.
“I need a temporary badge, I’ve forgotten mine at home,” Hermione explained contritely.
The young woman nodded, opening a drawer with one hand. “We will need to identify you to ensure you are who you say you are.”
“I understand, here is my wand,” Hermione sighed, holding it out to the witch.
The clerk pulled out a stack of paperwork nearly an inch thick. “We’re going to need more than that, ma’am.”
She should have turned around right there and gone home for her badge, but she’d already had this woman pull out the forms. So Hermione spent another twenty minutes wading through red tape she was certain existed only to ensure that ministry workers didn’t forget their badges in the first place. When she finally had her temporary badge in hand, Hermione pinned the garish pink thing to the front of her robes. The sheer size and colour made her certain they’d taken the inspiration for the punishment from the Scarlet Letter.
Back at her department, Hermione unlocked the door with her wand and the temporary badge. Looking up at the window, she discovered she’d been walking around with an enormous cowlick on the left side of her head. She’d been so hasty to get out the door that she never stopped to see what damage Crookshanks’ grooming had done.
Hermione groaned and walked into the office, planning on fixing it when she got to her desk.
“Granger, you missed the meeting this morning, are you alright?” One of her colleagues asked.
“Overslept,” she responded in defeat as she sat in her chair.
On her desk were a mountain of new cases for her to work. Setting her purse down, she took a deep breath and started with the first one. Before she knew it, she’d managed to organize the cases by type and urgency. Just as she finished one of the most urgent, her stomach began to growl, reminding her that she also hadn’t eaten breakfast in her rush to leave.
On habit, she reached into her purse to pull out her lunch, only to remember that last night's leftovers were still in her fridge. Dropping her chin to her chest, she let out a deep sigh before pushing up from her chair.
At least there will be coffee in the break room, she told herself as she left the department, and stepped into the communal staff room.
As she entered, she recognized Romilda Vane, and the rest of the chatterboxes from Administration all clustered around Lavender Brown.
Please don't talk to me, please don’t talk to me…
Hermione did her best to ignore the gaggle of women as they continued gossiping, making her way toward the coffee pot.
“And then he got down on one knee, right there in front of his whole family, and asked me to marry him!” Lavender squealed, bouncing on her toes.
“Oh how romantic!” Romilda exclaimed.
Susan Bones clapped her hands together in front of her. “What did you say? Please say you said yes.”
“Of course I did, Ron and I will get married in the spring.” Lavender declared. “He told me he’d never loved anyone as much as he loves me, and that he is the luckiest man in the world to have me. He makes me feel like a queen.”
Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she stopped in front of the coffee pot. A scrap of white paper was tapped to the pot, the large black letters mocking her.
Out of Order. - Maintenance
Hermione clenched her fist, biting her lower lip.
Of course, it would be broken today.
“That one is down, you could try the one downstairs,” Lavender’s voice cut through her ruminations.
Taking in a calming breath, she turned with a fake smile, her jaw tight as she nodded. “Thanks, I couldn’t tell that by the sign.”
“Just trying to be helpful, no need to snap at me.” Lavender snapped back, giving her a dirty look. “Also, you look like shite today, Hermione.”
Throwing her hands up, Hermione stormed out of the break room, not willing to argue with the vapid, idiotic woman. She was already running dangerously low on self control. Returning to her desk, she sat heavily, trying to will away the headache that was forming behind her eyes.
I’ll just eat after work, it won’t be the first time, she rationalized, reaching across her desk for her quill. Hermione looked at the case before her, flipping it open with her other hand. As she dipped her quill in ink, the tip caught the lip of the bottle, tipping it toward her. Before she could catch it with her free hand, the entire bottle fell on its side, splashing sapphire ink all over the open case file before her.
She flicked her wand to dismiss it, only to remember that ministry ink was enchanted not to be dispellable so that files couldn’t be tampered with. She would have to rewrite the entire thing again.
Putting her elbows on her desk, she held her head in her hands, letting out a frustrated groan.
“Hey, Granger, don’t forget you’ve got that presentation downstairs with the Crup Breeder’s Association at two,” her colleague called over to her.
“Thanks,” she responded, checking her watch.
It was ten minutes until two.
At least she wouldn’t be late for this meeting.
Gathering all her documents, she looked forlornly at her ink covered desk and told herself she would set it right when she returned. After ensuring she had everything she needed, Hermione left for the elevators. She entered the conference room with five minutes to spare.
Maybe the day was going to turn around now. It was just a rough morning, nothing she couldn’t get past. Clearing her throat, she set up her presentation at the head of the table, double-checking her notes for a refresher before she went into her opening speech. She led with facts and changes that the ministry was seeking to make to the registered ownership process.
“Any questions?” she asked, smiling.
A young man raised his hand, looking at her nervously. “I don’t think you are in the right meeting, Miss Granger.”
“What?” Hermione looked around, confused.
A young lady spoke this time, with an embarrassed expression. “This is the junior barrister meeting, ma’am.”
Hermione took a hard look around the room and realized she didn’t recognize anyone, and that everyone in here was looking at her with befuddlement.
“Oh, for Merlin’s—I am so sorry,” she apologized, her face going bright red as she hastily began taking apart her presentation.
“No worries, it was a good opening speech,” one of the young barristers praised.
Hermione let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Thank you.”
By the time she got herself together and to the right meeting room, she was nearly twenty minutes late. It was obvious everyone was frustrated with her and therefore wasn’t listening to what she had to say. She left the meeting feeling defeated and wanting the day to be over.
By the time five pm hit, she couldn’t wait to go home and bury herself under the covers so she could pretend the day never happened.
The day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Or so she thought before she stepped out of the restroom after work only to discover it was raining on the streets of Muggle London. And not just a light sprinkle, but a torrential downpour. Hermione didn’t bother looking in her bag, she knew her umbrella was at home. The forecast hadn’t shown rain for the day, so she’d not packed it the night before.
She had two options.
Wait it out or make a run for it. There was no way she was willing to risk casting a spell and being caught by a Muggle. With her luck today, she’d end up breaking the Statute of Secrecy and end up in legal trouble.
It was only a few blocks to her flat, Hermione supposed she could simply dry off when she got there.
Taking in a deep breath, she clutched her purse to her chest, ducked her chin, and dashed out into the cold rain. She was nearly instantly soaked as she ran against the rainfall. Her thick hair was now weighed down, plastered to her face as she dashed along the sidewalk.
She crossed the street, missing being struck by a speeding automobile, and turned down the road that led to her flat. As she made the turn, she lost her footing. Throwing her hands out to try and catch something to stop her fall, Hermione dropped her purse into a puddle as she came crashing down on top of it, smacking her face into the pavement gracelessly.
Getting to kneeling position, her hand pressed against the side of her face that had hit the sidewalk. Hermione fought back tears. She felt defeated, beaten down, and ready to give up on everything. Nothing had gone in her favour, she’d made a fool of herself all day, and now she was soaked to the bone, bruised, and possibly bleeding.
“Can one thing, just one thing, go right today?” she cried out, her shoulders sagging.
Suddenly, the rain stopped hitting the top of her head.
Looking up with confusion, a black umbrella was being held over her. She followed the long fingers wrapped around the handle with her eyes, up the arm, and landing on possibly the last face she expected to see today.
“Severus?” Hermione gasped in surprise.
“Hermione,” Severus knelt, picking up her purse from the puddle and depositing it into her lap. “That was a spectacular fall, are you injured?”
“Mostly my pride,” she admitted.
He offered her his hand as he stood. “It is most fortunate that Gryffidors have that in abundance, then.”
“Not today.” She took his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet.
“Rough day at the office?” Snape quipped, shifting so that the large black umbrella covered them both.
“You’ve no idea.” She sighed, looking at him. “What are you doing here?”
It was a reasonable question, considering he was supposed to be out of the country for the rest of the week. There was a three-week Potioneering Symposium he’d been asked to attend as a guest speaker.
“I found the symposium not to my liking, so I ended my trip early,” Severus explained, taking off his coat. “I was on my way to let you know I had returned.”
“I didn’t expect you back,” Hermione said, pushing her wet hair back from her face now that the rain wasn't pummeling her.
Severus arched an eyebrow at her, tilting his head. “Oh, has my early return caused an issue? Is there some young wizard waiting for you in your flat that was the reason you were running in a white blouse in the rain?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “No. You know there isn’t anyone but Crookshanks there.”
“You will catch a cold,” Severus responded with a smirk, draping his coat over her.
She felt him covertly dry her shirt with a wandless and wordless spell as the coat landed on her shoulders. Hermione pulled it tightly around her, taking in a deep breath of the scent that was uniquely him. “Thank you.”
“I expect it back,” Severus said, walking toward her flat.
Hermione felt the tension start to fizzle with every step at his side.
Inside her flat, she set her bag down, but not before putting her work badge into it. She would not go through that again. She vehemently threw away the garish pink thing she’d been wearing into the bin.
Hermione offered Severus his coat back, which he hung on the hook by the door.
“Go take a shower,” Severus told her. “I’ll start some tea, and you can tell me all about what had you in such a state today.”
A shower sounded like heaven after the day she’d had. Nodding, she kicked off her soaked shoes and dropped them by the door. “I won’t be long.”
The hot water further relaxed her, making it difficult for her to not stand under it until her shower grew cold. The only thing that dragged her from the water was that Severus was home and she’d missed him. Dressing comfortably, she looked in the mirror, inspecting the small cut and bump on the side of her head from falling. All in all, it could have been worse. Hermione dried her hair, not wanting to deal with it taking forever to air dry, and put her towel on its hook.
When she stepped out of the bathroom, she was greeted with the smell of cooking food. Stepping into the kitchen, Severus was at her hob, his sleeves rolled up and something frying in the pan he watched.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Feeling better?”
“Yes.” Hermione looked at the counter, seeing that a cup of tea was waiting for her, made exactly the way she liked it. She took a grateful sip of it, as she came to his side. “What are you cooking?”
“Chicken, you look like you could use a hot meal,” Severus explained.
“Did I look that bad?” Hermione asked. She knew she felt like a train wreck, but had she looked like she’d spent the whole day crashing and burning?
“You looked like a drowned rat considering just letting the rain finish you off.” He turned from the pan, his black eyes moving over her and stopping at the bump on her head. His fingers came up to her forehead, tenderly touching around the spot. “This needs ointment. Do you want to talk about your day?”
She closed her eyes under his touch, wincing slightly. “It was just a bad case of the Mondays.” When she opened her eyes, he looked at her as if he didn’t believe her. Shifting so that she was leaning against the counter near the stove, she sighed. “Really, just nothing seemed to go right today. I woke up several hours late. I forgot my badge. I missed the departmental meeting. It was one thing after another.”
“That sounds incredibly frustrating,” he commented, turning back to the food on the stove.
“It was!” she exclaimed, shaking her head. A curl of her hair fell into her face, and she blew it away, remembering when she’d looked at her reflection in the office door. “Also I hadn’t brushed my hair before I left for work, and Crookshanks had licked one side of my head flat up. I looked like a peacock.”
Severus chuckled quietly as though he was trying to conceal it, but it was clear in his voice. “So the drowned rat look was an improvement?”
“Hardly.” Hermione would have rathered neither if she could have helped it. She took another appreciative drink of her tea, letting the warmth roll through her. The last of her stress was fading away in his presence.
“Did anything else happen?” Severus queried, swirling the pan's contents with a movement of his wrist.
“Aside from wanting to strangle Lavender and spilling Ministry ink all over a case file that I still have to rewrite tomorrow, no,” she groused, not needing to explain why she wanted to throttle Ron’s now fiance.
“Miss Brown at it again?” Severus scoffed, pouring pasta into boiling water in a pot on the back of the stove.
Hermione knew that Severus was well aware that Lavender tried to make Hermione feel bad that she’d ‘won’ Ron, and constantly tried to get a rise out of her. While relieved that Ron had found someone to be happy with that wasn’t her, she loathed how Lavender went about it. Like she’d somehow bested Hermione when she and Ron were separated for nearly three years before they’d started dating. Lavender assumed Hermione was torn up over it—that she was lonely and depressed.
It couldn’t have been further from the truth.
Hermione was quite content with what she and Severus had, even if the rest of the Wizarding world was oblivious to it. They wouldn’t understand, and she had no desire to have Severus dragged through the mud with all the things that closed-minded idiots could come up with. She knew the press would come for him with a vengeance, twisting it to imply that their age difference was somehow inappropriate. Never mind that she was nearly in her thirties, or that they hadn’t started seeing each other until after she and Ron broke up. If the Prophet got the word they were involved, he’d be labeled as some kind of a miscreant, no matter how much evidence they provided to contradict it.
Suddenly, she remembered the presentation. “You won’t believe this, I gave my presentation to the wrong meeting.”
“How did you manage that?” Severus arched an eyebrow at her.
Her face grew red again as she thought about the most embarrassing moment when she realized she wasn’t in the right place. “I walked into the conference room and set up the whole thing, went through the whole introduction, only for them to tell me I was in the wrong room. I was mortified.”
“I would imagine so. Did you make it to your meeting at least?”
Finishing her tea, she nodded her head. “Yes, but by the time I got there, I was twenty minutes late, and everyone was mad at me. I don’t think they heard a word I said.”
“Their loss,” he quipped as he continued cooking.
Hermione’s mouth was watering at the promise of food since she’d not eaten anything all day. “That smells amazing.”
“It’ll be done once I drain the pasta.” Severus acknowledged her compliment with a nod.
She set her cup down on the counter and started gathering dishes for the meal. “I’ll set the table.”
Dinner was everything she hadn’t known she’d needed. It was flavorful and comforting, chasing away her hunger headache. Severus rarely cooked, but when he did, it always came out exceptional. They talked about his trip over dinner and the frustrations he faced in discovering that there were dunderheads who considered themselves professionals and experts. A supposed expert had approached him to claim his presentation was full of errors. When Severus challenged him to prove it, the wizard got flustered when he could not. After shutting the man down, Severus apparently went to the organizers and told them he was no longer interested in giving lectures if he had to deal with grown adults who knew less than a sixth-year N.E.W.T. student. Hermione found herself laughing as he described how upset the organizers were and how they’d offered everything they could to get him to stay, but he wouldn’t have it.
After everything was cleaned up and she’d put some ointment on the bump from her fall, they retired together in her sitting room on the settee. She leaned against him, and Severus turned to pull her closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her to his chest in an embrace.
“I missed you,” she breathed out, wrapping her arms around him.
His hand ran up her back and then gently down her spine. “I will admit that my motivations for returning early were not entirely because idiots surrounded me. Missing you had something to do with it also.”
“If they ask you to speak again, will you?” she questioned.
“Not likely,” Severus stated. “I’d much rather publish my research from the comfort of my own home and let them debate among themselves without having to be involved in their posturing.”
Hermione snorted. “And laugh at their letters when they write to tell you that you are wrong.”
“I only laugh when they are inaccurate,” Severus defended himself. “Quite a few have pointed out valid miscalculations.”
“You’ve told me before, I know,” she agreed.
After a few moments, Severus moved, pulling her along with him as he laid down, with her pressed between him and the back of the settee. He knew this was her preferred position to cuddle in, and it made her feel safe and loved.
Hermione knew by the look on his face that he’d done it on purpose, the private smile he reserved for her on his lips. It made her smile as she adjusted against him, putting her knee over his. “Severus?”
“Yes?” he rumbled, adjusting his arm so that his elbow was above her head.
“I am glad you came home early,” Hermione told him as she trailed her fingers down his arm.
His smile deepened as he leaned forward, his forehead touching hers. “Me too.”
She cupped his cheek, tilting her chin up so that her lips touched his softly. To her great happiness, he tilted his head to the side, kissing her back. It became a firm kiss, with Severus cupping his hand behind her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek. After a moment, he drew back, placing a kiss on her nose.
“Will you stay tonight?” Hermione whispered, her hand threading through the hair at his temple.
His silky voice ran through her. “Would you like me too?”
“I always do,” she confessed.
“I know you do,” he agreed.
Hermione pressed her face against his shoulder, relaxing into the all-encompassing warmth and presence of him, her bad day all but a distant memory. Tomorrow, she would worry about solving all the issues that today had made for her, but right now, the only thing that mattered was being there with him.
Severus didn’t know it, but he was an excellent cure for a ‘ case of the Mondays’ .