Prologue:
Hermione Granger looked up at her partner for the past eight years. She could never fathom how one date led to the second, and a third, and then a weekend at the Cayman Islands, then a Christmas together, New Year, birthdays and now eight years. How can it be eight years when she can recall every detail of that first time they met at Diagon Alley?
She was seventeen, ready to conquer the world, and the next day she had an interview with Pink Elixir Laboratories, the spanking new potions company taking the world by storm with its innovative, advanced and avant-garde approach to the old art of potions making. Aside from the wonderful marketing strategies and the unquestionable quality of the new products they come up with, the main attraction was with the company's owner and C.E.O. Margaret Elixir, a twenty eight year-old mediwitch and potions master who graduated top of her class from Beauxbatons. She was the epitome of the successful woman, intelligent, beautiful, elegant, smart, witty and now very rich. She was everything Hermione wanted to be.
Hermione's mind was set on working as close as possible to a woman she considered an icon. She was in Diagon Alley with her best friends Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, shopping for the robes made to impress. The three of them walked inside Joey Cozier's, the standard for witch elegance when it comes to dress robes. Hermione knew that prices for a simple dress robe in this place would amount to one Nimbus 2005, but if it would help her secure a position in the Pink Elixir companies, then she was willing to sacrifice.
The moment she walked in, she saw the perfect robe. It was the same color as the dress robe she wore in her fourth year during the Yule Ball, only this one was designed for a woman, not an awkward girl of fourteen. It was made of magical floating cotton and shimmered just enough in the light. She could tell that the cut was meant to flatter a woman's curves, what ever it may be.
Squealing like a little girl, she made her way towards the wall from which it hung, leaving the two helpless boys behind her and made an almost mad lunge at it. It would've been done and over with if not for another hand that reached for the robe at the exact same time. Hermione made a noise of annoyance and looked to see the owner of the hand.
Standing before her was a girl, no, a woman, of about twenty. She had blonde beautiful curls and green eyes. They weren't as intense as Harry's, or as beautiful, she thought, but it had drawing power of its own. She noticed that those eyes happened to be examining her with much interest. Hermione for some reason, felt a little uneasy, and…violated.
"It's rude to stare. I would appreciate it if you'd stop looking at me in such a manner," she squeaked out when she couldn't take it anymore.
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that, you look very nice," the woman answered. There was a suggestive glint in her eye and Hermione immediately crossed her arms over her chest protectively.
The woman noticed Hermione's discomfort and quickly smiled to assure her that she meant no harm, although her assurance wasn't much help.
"I see you have your eye on this robe," the woman said as she ran her small hand over the silk, "I don't blame you, it's beautiful. But there's a problem, I want it too, and they only have this one."
"Oh," Hermione uttered her disappointment, "Well, you can have it, I suppose. I'll just look around for another one." She didn't feel like having anymore to do with this woman, she gave Hermione goose bumps for reasons she couldn't understand.
"I have a proposition," the woman said, apparently not feeling the same as Hermione, "What if I just let you have this robe, and in exchange, you tell me your name."
Hermione has never heard of anything more silly. If she didn't know better, she'd say that this woman was flirting with her. Now that she thought of it, she probably was. Well, if she thinks, Hermione thought, that she'll get somewhere with her, then she might as well work it to her advantage.
"Okay," Hermione smiled graciously, "I'm Hermione." She held out her hand politely.
"Roberta Keynes, you can call me Bobbie," she answered. She took Hermione's hand in hers and the instant that it made contact, Hermione shivered uncontrollably. She could feel her face flushing red and she couldn't stop. She didn't exactly understand what was happening to her. All she knew was that she was very much turned on at that moment and she felt herself wicked for even thinking that she might be sexually attracted to this Bobbie. She snapped her hand away as if the contact brought about some sort of electric wave. Bobbie smiled triumphantly and slipped her hand inside pocket of her robes. She brought out a small rolled piece of parchment.
"That's my phone number, I keep a Muggle flat in London. You can reach me easier that way," she said.
"Oh no, I'm not," Hermione tried to protest. But Bobbie shushed her.
"Keep it in case you change your mind," she said. She gave her a wink and turned towards the door. She didn't even buy a robe, Hermione thought.
"Are you okay Hermione?" It was Harry's voice. Apparently he and Ron didn't witness the earlier exchange. Ron was busy trying to get the sales witch's fireplace and Harry was busy watching him fail.
"You're flushed, are you sick?" Harry continued to ask. He placed his hand on her forehead to check her temperature. He eyed her with concern.
"I'm alright, don't worry about me," Hermione assured him. She removed his hand from her head and reached for the robe that caused her much trouble that morning. She held it our at arms length, it was truly perfect.
"That's beautiful," Harry admired. Hermione hooked her right arm over Harry's left and leaned her head on his shoulder.
"It is, isn't it?" she agreed.
"Aren't you going to try it on?" Harry asked.
"No, see here, it says that it magically fits you. And in the wizarding world, when they say it magically fits you, they mean it," Hermione said, pointing at the tag that hung on the left sleeve.
"Good then," Harry announced as he yanked the robe effortlessly from her hand and headed to the cash register. He moved quite quickly as by the time she caught up with him, the robe has been rung up and he was about to pay for it.
"Harry, you don't have to buy me the robe, I can pay for it myself," Hermione said irritated.
Harry grinned widely at her, "It's a birthday present, love, it doesn't count." Harry had a habit of calling her love, he had since fifth year. It was a joke between the three of them. Rita Skeeter's articles remained in people's minds, whether it was the truth or not. They've learned to laugh at people's stares and questions about their relationship and they would sometimes call each other pet names in public. Harry would be pumpkin and she would be love.
Hermione's mouth opened incredulously. "But you already gave me this," she said as she lifted her wrist to show him the bracelet made of white gold that he gave her the night of her birthday.
"Well, I didn't know you wanted a robe. And I know you really need the money, you're not exactly letting your parents support you in any way," Harry reasoned. Hermione remained unconvinced. "Here's a deal, I buy you the robe now and you can pay me when you're filthy rich."
Hermione knew that Harry had a point. She'd have to starve herself for the next two months if she buys this robe. Hermione remained silent though, she never voiced out that he was right and she needed his help. Harry knew from her silence that she had waived her consent.
After Harry paid for the robe with a proud look on his face, he took the white paper bag from the cashier and took Hermione's hand in his. They were walking towards a sulking Ron who had taken refuge by the sidewalk outside the store.
"What's up with you?" Hermione asked with a bemused smile on her face.
"I got turned down, again," Ron scoffed.
"You need to work on your charm Ron, it's all about the charm," Harry advised him jokingly.
"Well, if you're such an authority over this charm, care to demonstrate how it works?" Ron challenged him.
Harry immediately responded as he turned towards Hermione. Hermione eagerly anticipated the role-playing game that was to happen for the benefit of their red-headed friend.
"Heaven must be missing an angel if you're standing before me now," he said with a suave grin that reminded Hermione a bit of Draco Malfoy.
"Why, kind sir, that is the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she answered with an exaggerated gasp.
"Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight and I can pretend that I am interested in your mind, and then I can lure my way into your bed chambers and we can shag each other senseless until the morning?" Harry said in all earnestness while trying to suppress a wide grin that was close to forming on his face.
Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't able to hold herself any longer and she burst out in laughter. Shortly, Harry joined her in her mirth.
"Oh sure, laugh, just laugh at my pain. What good friends you are," Ron said with sarcasm.
Hermione sobered up when she realized Ron was being serious and sat down next to him. "Oh Ron, we're young and we have so much ahead of us. I'm sure you will find the witch for you, eventually," she soothed him.
"Yes Ron, you're a great person. If I weren't so straight I might actually fall in love with you," Harry said. Hermione eyed him maliciously. "You know we think you're great, you shouldn't think about it too much. Both me and Hermione are unattached, it's not as if you're the last single person on earth."
"You're right, I'm being too dramatic," Ron said sheepishly.
"That you are," Harry told him.
Hermione gave Ron a hug and he patted her arm in return. Harry watched his two best friends and thought now would be a good time to ask them.
"You know, I was wondering maybe you two would like to get a house with me," Harry said, "Actually, I've already found one, Sirius found one. It's really nice and big, and I don't think I can handle it alone. And I would just love it if I have you two to live with me."
Hermione and Ron broke from their hug and stared at him with mouths agape.
"It's at Brownstead, it's a small wizarding village and it's strategically positioned between both your workplaces," Harry continued.
Hermione and Ron remained staring at him.
"It's not that expensive, I can cover most of the house costs and you two can help me with the bills and everything," Harry continued.
Still no words were uttered.
"Can you just tell me if you don't want to?" Harry asked almost tearily.
Hermione's lips curled into a wide smile as she jumped from her position on the pavement and flew into Harry's arms.
"Oh Harry, I was just thinking the same thing although my idea was more in the line of a flat together," she said still not letting go of him.
"Ron?" Harry asked.
"Mate, I would love nothing more than share a house with you, and with Hermione with us, I'm sure no one will think we're gay," Ron approved. He stood up and enveloped his friends in his arms.
Everything was perfect, she was going to be living with her friends, and she was certain she was going to get that job at Pink Elixir and for some reason, she felt that love was nearby.
Hermione Granger looked up at her partner for the past eight years. She could never fathom how one date led to the second, and a third, and then a weekend at the Cayman Islands, then a Christmas together, New Year, birthdays and now eight years. How can it be eight years when she can recall every detail of that first time they met at Diagon Alley?
She was seventeen, ready to conquer the world, and the next day she had an interview with Pink Elixir Laboratories, the spanking new potions company taking the world by storm with its innovative, advanced and avant-garde approach to the old art of potions making. Aside from the wonderful marketing strategies and the unquestionable quality of the new products they come up with, the main attraction was with the company's owner and C.E.O. Margaret Elixir, a twenty eight year-old mediwitch and potions master who graduated top of her class from Beauxbatons. She was the epitome of the successful woman, intelligent, beautiful, elegant, smart, witty and now very rich. She was everything Hermione wanted to be.
Hermione's mind was set on working as close as possible to a woman she considered an icon. She was in Diagon Alley with her best friends Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter, shopping for the robes made to impress. The three of them walked inside Joey Cozier's, the standard for witch elegance when it comes to dress robes. Hermione knew that prices for a simple dress robe in this place would amount to one Nimbus 2005, but if it would help her secure a position in the Pink Elixir companies, then she was willing to sacrifice.
The moment she walked in, she saw the perfect robe. It was the same color as the dress robe she wore in her fourth year during the Yule Ball, only this one was designed for a woman, not an awkward girl of fourteen. It was made of magical floating cotton and shimmered just enough in the light. She could tell that the cut was meant to flatter a woman's curves, what ever it may be.
Squealing like a little girl, she made her way towards the wall from which it hung, leaving the two helpless boys behind her and made an almost mad lunge at it. It would've been done and over with if not for another hand that reached for the robe at the exact same time. Hermione made a noise of annoyance and looked to see the owner of the hand.
Standing before her was a girl, no, a woman, of about twenty. She had blonde beautiful curls and green eyes. They weren't as intense as Harry's, or as beautiful, she thought, but it had drawing power of its own. She noticed that those eyes happened to be examining her with much interest. Hermione for some reason, felt a little uneasy, and…violated.
"It's rude to stare. I would appreciate it if you'd stop looking at me in such a manner," she squeaked out when she couldn't take it anymore.
"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that, you look very nice," the woman answered. There was a suggestive glint in her eye and Hermione immediately crossed her arms over her chest protectively.
The woman noticed Hermione's discomfort and quickly smiled to assure her that she meant no harm, although her assurance wasn't much help.
"I see you have your eye on this robe," the woman said as she ran her small hand over the silk, "I don't blame you, it's beautiful. But there's a problem, I want it too, and they only have this one."
"Oh," Hermione uttered her disappointment, "Well, you can have it, I suppose. I'll just look around for another one." She didn't feel like having anymore to do with this woman, she gave Hermione goose bumps for reasons she couldn't understand.
"I have a proposition," the woman said, apparently not feeling the same as Hermione, "What if I just let you have this robe, and in exchange, you tell me your name."
Hermione has never heard of anything more silly. If she didn't know better, she'd say that this woman was flirting with her. Now that she thought of it, she probably was. Well, if she thinks, Hermione thought, that she'll get somewhere with her, then she might as well work it to her advantage.
"Okay," Hermione smiled graciously, "I'm Hermione." She held out her hand politely.
"Roberta Keynes, you can call me Bobbie," she answered. She took Hermione's hand in hers and the instant that it made contact, Hermione shivered uncontrollably. She could feel her face flushing red and she couldn't stop. She didn't exactly understand what was happening to her. All she knew was that she was very much turned on at that moment and she felt herself wicked for even thinking that she might be sexually attracted to this Bobbie. She snapped her hand away as if the contact brought about some sort of electric wave. Bobbie smiled triumphantly and slipped her hand inside pocket of her robes. She brought out a small rolled piece of parchment.
"That's my phone number, I keep a Muggle flat in London. You can reach me easier that way," she said.
"Oh no, I'm not," Hermione tried to protest. But Bobbie shushed her.
"Keep it in case you change your mind," she said. She gave her a wink and turned towards the door. She didn't even buy a robe, Hermione thought.
"Are you okay Hermione?" It was Harry's voice. Apparently he and Ron didn't witness the earlier exchange. Ron was busy trying to get the sales witch's fireplace and Harry was busy watching him fail.
"You're flushed, are you sick?" Harry continued to ask. He placed his hand on her forehead to check her temperature. He eyed her with concern.
"I'm alright, don't worry about me," Hermione assured him. She removed his hand from her head and reached for the robe that caused her much trouble that morning. She held it our at arms length, it was truly perfect.
"That's beautiful," Harry admired. Hermione hooked her right arm over Harry's left and leaned her head on his shoulder.
"It is, isn't it?" she agreed.
"Aren't you going to try it on?" Harry asked.
"No, see here, it says that it magically fits you. And in the wizarding world, when they say it magically fits you, they mean it," Hermione said, pointing at the tag that hung on the left sleeve.
"Good then," Harry announced as he yanked the robe effortlessly from her hand and headed to the cash register. He moved quite quickly as by the time she caught up with him, the robe has been rung up and he was about to pay for it.
"Harry, you don't have to buy me the robe, I can pay for it myself," Hermione said irritated.
Harry grinned widely at her, "It's a birthday present, love, it doesn't count." Harry had a habit of calling her love, he had since fifth year. It was a joke between the three of them. Rita Skeeter's articles remained in people's minds, whether it was the truth or not. They've learned to laugh at people's stares and questions about their relationship and they would sometimes call each other pet names in public. Harry would be pumpkin and she would be love.
Hermione's mouth opened incredulously. "But you already gave me this," she said as she lifted her wrist to show him the bracelet made of white gold that he gave her the night of her birthday.
"Well, I didn't know you wanted a robe. And I know you really need the money, you're not exactly letting your parents support you in any way," Harry reasoned. Hermione remained unconvinced. "Here's a deal, I buy you the robe now and you can pay me when you're filthy rich."
Hermione knew that Harry had a point. She'd have to starve herself for the next two months if she buys this robe. Hermione remained silent though, she never voiced out that he was right and she needed his help. Harry knew from her silence that she had waived her consent.
After Harry paid for the robe with a proud look on his face, he took the white paper bag from the cashier and took Hermione's hand in his. They were walking towards a sulking Ron who had taken refuge by the sidewalk outside the store.
"What's up with you?" Hermione asked with a bemused smile on her face.
"I got turned down, again," Ron scoffed.
"You need to work on your charm Ron, it's all about the charm," Harry advised him jokingly.
"Well, if you're such an authority over this charm, care to demonstrate how it works?" Ron challenged him.
Harry immediately responded as he turned towards Hermione. Hermione eagerly anticipated the role-playing game that was to happen for the benefit of their red-headed friend.
"Heaven must be missing an angel if you're standing before me now," he said with a suave grin that reminded Hermione a bit of Draco Malfoy.
"Why, kind sir, that is the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me," she answered with an exaggerated gasp.
"Would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight and I can pretend that I am interested in your mind, and then I can lure my way into your bed chambers and we can shag each other senseless until the morning?" Harry said in all earnestness while trying to suppress a wide grin that was close to forming on his face.
Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't able to hold herself any longer and she burst out in laughter. Shortly, Harry joined her in her mirth.
"Oh sure, laugh, just laugh at my pain. What good friends you are," Ron said with sarcasm.
Hermione sobered up when she realized Ron was being serious and sat down next to him. "Oh Ron, we're young and we have so much ahead of us. I'm sure you will find the witch for you, eventually," she soothed him.
"Yes Ron, you're a great person. If I weren't so straight I might actually fall in love with you," Harry said. Hermione eyed him maliciously. "You know we think you're great, you shouldn't think about it too much. Both me and Hermione are unattached, it's not as if you're the last single person on earth."
"You're right, I'm being too dramatic," Ron said sheepishly.
"That you are," Harry told him.
Hermione gave Ron a hug and he patted her arm in return. Harry watched his two best friends and thought now would be a good time to ask them.
"You know, I was wondering maybe you two would like to get a house with me," Harry said, "Actually, I've already found one, Sirius found one. It's really nice and big, and I don't think I can handle it alone. And I would just love it if I have you two to live with me."
Hermione and Ron broke from their hug and stared at him with mouths agape.
"It's at Brownstead, it's a small wizarding village and it's strategically positioned between both your workplaces," Harry continued.
Hermione and Ron remained staring at him.
"It's not that expensive, I can cover most of the house costs and you two can help me with the bills and everything," Harry continued.
Still no words were uttered.
"Can you just tell me if you don't want to?" Harry asked almost tearily.
Hermione's lips curled into a wide smile as she jumped from her position on the pavement and flew into Harry's arms.
"Oh Harry, I was just thinking the same thing although my idea was more in the line of a flat together," she said still not letting go of him.
"Ron?" Harry asked.
"Mate, I would love nothing more than share a house with you, and with Hermione with us, I'm sure no one will think we're gay," Ron approved. He stood up and enveloped his friends in his arms.
Everything was perfect, she was going to be living with her friends, and she was certain she was going to get that job at Pink Elixir and for some reason, she felt that love was nearby.