Putting The Breakfast Club on hold for now. It's gotten incredibly dramatic (but fun) and so, I want to start something else...
Hermione Granger has always been one of my favourite characters and I feel as if she deserves some spotlight. Enjoy! :D
It was a beautiful, warm dusk. The sea was especially calm and perfect. The sky was just turning to pinks and purples, the sun was on its way down for the night. What a wonderful sight it was-the cliffs overlooking an endless ocean, a small breeze blew through the hairs of the crowd, just enough to keep people comfortable; not too hot, not too cold. Just perfect.
Hermione sat on the small, uncomfortable chair, beside other uncomfortable chairs, staring down at the coffin in the deep hole. She was completely unaware of how perfect the world looked at the moment. Only what was in front of her. She wasn't crying. She didn't have enough tears to cry with anymore. She could feel her nerves, especially when she looked down at her hands. They were still shaking. A hand reached over and placed it gently on her own. Long fingers, pale hands, carefully painted nails; Ginny. Hermione smiled to herself and placed her other hand over Ginny's warm one without looking up. She appreciated the gesture and glad for the comfort it brought.
Hermione wasn't listening to the sermon, she didn't care about it. All she knew and cared for was the dark, heavy-glossed black coffin being slowly lowered into the ground. She cared about what was inside, who was inside, where he might be going. She sighed softly and stared as hundreds of beautiful individual flowers were being placed inside the hole, landing gently on the coffin. In front of the 8x5 hole, was a headstone-the usual "Here Lies..." the few words that couldn't possibly describe the thoughts Hermione had swirling around in her head of what he was like, who he was, her beloved. Beside that headstone was another, and another, and another. Hermione was tired, tired of death, betrayal, and violence. Hermione closed her eyes briefly and sat there silently. One-by-one, people began to leave, slowly, sadly, not forgetting a passing murmur in her direction, a sorry, their condolences, their grief. She didn't care.
Hermione felt a squeeze and looked up to see Ginny and Harry watching her carefully, small smiles and sad eyes lingering on their faces. They were on their feet, the last to leave her side. Careful and watchful.
"We'll see you at the pub?" Harry said, softly, looking at her.
Hermione nodded her head, "Yes, yes, I'll be there."
"Okay." Harry said leaning forward and giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"Oh, darling." Ginny said, reaching down and giving Hermione a strong hug, her tears having left stains on her freckled cheeks.
Hermione smiled over Ginny's shoulder, a sad smile. A smile she didn't have a name for but it felt good and kindred.
Ginny let go and mirrored Hermione's unnamed smile, "We'll see you soon."
Hermione nodded, her attention back at the coffin. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, watching, perhaps hoping...for what? She couldn't stay long. She didn't want to watch more bits of dirt covering what was left of someone she loved, gone from her life, out of her control. Hermione stood up and closed her eyes to take in a deep breath, trying hard to subside the feelings of anger she had deep within the crevices of her mind. She placed her sunglasses firmly on her head and shoved her hands in her coat's pockets. She heard a shuffling close by and looked up. Two tall, familiar figures were heading in her direction; Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards.
"Minister. Sir."
"Please, Hermione, it's Kingsley, today." Shacklebolt replied in his deep voice. He reached down and gave Hermione a strong hug which she returned, "It was a beautiful ceremony."
"Agreed." Robards said, giving Hermione a small peck on the cheek, "Shacklebolt and I were discussing on a wager about this place. We might just have to force Bill and Fleur out ourselves and retire here."
Hermione smiled and began to walk with them, away from the sea, away from the uncomfortable chairs, from the hole in the ground, him, "Heading to the pub, then?"
"Wouldn't miss it." Shacklebolt said, nodding his head.
"I think Ron would find it highly offensive if we didn't make an appearance." Robards said kindly, placing his hands in his robes, "That man could outdrink all of us."
There was silence then Kingsley started almost casually, "I saw Esme today. Will she be at the pub as well?"
Hermione looked at him suspiciously.
"Shacklebolt." Robards started, almost warningly.
"Nothing about past lives," Kinglsey said, quickly, waving his large hands, "Just wanted to speak with her. She left rather abruptly."
Hermione looked at him briefly and nodded, "Yes, she'll be there. She'll be playing tonight."
Robards led the way toward Bill and Fleur's cottage. They had left it open so that others could easily travel to the pub through Floo Powder. The Grapes and Fox was a small pub and not the best idea to suddenly apparate, save someone's neck breaks because of an accidental landing. The three of them stepped inside and Shacklebolt reached for the pot of silver powder over the fireplace mantle.
"See you in a bit."
Hermione watched as Kingsley stepped through the fireplace and left in a green flame, Robards followed behind but not before turning and winking at Hermione, "I'll make sure he keeps away from Esme, Hermione. We don't need that tonight."
Hermione nodded and watched him disappear. Hermione sighed reaching for her own pinch of silvery powder. For just a split second, she wondered whether she should even go. No, she should. There was a sudden creak behind her and she turned, her hand already in her pocket, gripping her wand.
She didn't say anything for a moment, merely observed the tall, stoic figure. Hermione gave him a nod and a very small smile, "Malfoy."
Draco Malfoy nodded his head toward her, his grey eyes unblinking and attentive as he stood at the doorway. This wasn't the same spoiled little school boy Hermione knew in Hogwarts, he had changed quite a bit; his attitude, his fears, his very nature. He was older and wiser. His pale hair was receding slightly, wrinkles of worry on his forehead had swept away what was once a very smooth, naive face. He had become an important man now, a man of power, not a coward-brave. But he was always quiet, taciturn at the best of times, and serious all the time.
The two of them stood there, silently, the seconds passing by.
"You could've have joined us, you know." Hermione finally said.
"No." Malfoy replied, shaking his head, "I prefer the shadows. I doubt my presence would have been completely welcoming, besides."
"We're not children anymore, Malfoy." Hermione said, but she understood Malfoy's position. His very profession involved shadows, it was a constant reminder, "Listen, we're all heading down to the pub. You should join us. ...He would have wanted it."
Malfoy said nothing for a moment, his face indecipherable, "Perhaps."
"Esme will be playing." Hermione continued, smiling to herself, but her face still, "I'm sure you saw her earlier."
"Esme. Yes. I did." Malfoy's often steadied and resilient composure was off by just a beat, Hermione saw it, but he said nothing else.
Hermione gave him a nod and reached for the Floo Powder.
"I'm sorry, Granger." Malfoy finally said, sincerely.
"Thank you." Hermione said throwing the powder into the fireplace, muttering under her breath, "Everyone is."
Hermione could hear the roar of laughter and the sounds of joy before she even arrived at the pub''s fireplace. It was a favourite hangout for many of them and she would not have preferred it any other way. Ginny and Harry had set it up, they knew him best. She smiled to herself, despite her feelings and stepped through, brushing ash off her shoulders. Large glass mugs of beer were being thrown from the bar and caught by hand from the air by the owners, colourful fires of bright greens and light blues sat merrily in the corner fireplaces as more people arrived. Small house elves were quickly making their way through the crowded pub, picking up dirty dishes and piling them high on their heads. It was incredibly loud and so very cheery. Hermione couldn't help but smile. All faces turned toward Hermione and the noises lowered and pitying smiles ran through everyone's faces.
"What's with all this melancholy?" Hermione said, hating the faces, "It's Ron we're talking about."
"Cheers, love." Said a voice in the back, a glass in the air.
There was a loud chorus of "aye" and laughter, glasses raised and at once everyone took a long drink.
"Hey! Hey!" yelled another voice, shouting over the noise, "Some salutes are to be made."
"To my son." Hermione looked up and saw Arthur Weasely, his tall, gangly frame holding a glass over his head. His other hand was grasping his wife's, her eyes filled with tears. Hermione could feel her chest tighten, wondering what Molly could possibly be feeling. Arthur swallowed and turned to face Hermione, standing silently by the fireplace. "He loved you so much, Hermione. He was a wonderful human being." He gave Hermione a nod and drowned his half-pint.
A chours of "aye" and everyone took a drink.
"To Ron." spoke up another familiar voice, George. He was standing tall, his glass over his head, looking at everyone with a rare sombre look, again, other glasses followed. There was silence as people watched George speak, another around his older brother Percy, "May the bastard rest in peace. He never did give back me quid from the last game."
Hermione smiled knowingly and laughter resounded throughout the pub, "To Ron!"
"To Ron!" another voice yelled over the raucous, another glass lifted, another familiar face, Dean Thomas, "May the man finally blowout his own home, the cheeky arse."
More laughter as Hermione made her way further into the pub and toward the bar. The pub owner, Mr. Wilkes, had already pulled out a pint for her and leaned in to give her a kiss, "There love, come back as much needed."
"Thank you, Wilkes." Hermione said, quickly draining half her glass. She sighed, dropping her mug upon the wooden top and looking out at the many faces in the room.
"To Ron." Another voice popped up, Harry. Oh, Harry. He was hit harder than any one of them, even Hermione. His eyes were bright and red, Ginny's hand on his arm, her other wiping tears away, "To Ron. The best friend, the best man anyone could have ever known. A good man. A brave man. A terrible Quidditch player."
More sounds of laughter. It was a booming sound, a welcoming sound. Hermione made her way to a table and with the help of Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom, she stood tall on the table, her half-finished pint in her hand and over her head. All eyes turned to her, small encouraging smiles flashing between faces.
"To Ron." Hermione started, finally feeling tears forming once again. Must have been the alcohol, "My best friend, loyal to a fault, and foolish enough to save every person in here without a thought to his own. That is what he did. It was his life."
"Aye!" Voices yelled.
"Also! Also." Hermione continued, feeling brave. Definitely the alcohol-Wilkes always had the best, "The best lover I've ever had!"
There was a "HA!" and more laughter ensued. Hermione drained her drink before making her way to Arthur and Molly Weasely. They looked very much more at ease, now that the talk in the pub was more about Ron's antic. Arthur's face was turning red from the drink, his face full of joy. Molly was wiping tears from her eyes, but from belly laughter, not sadness. Hermione was happy to see this as she knelt down before Molly.
"Oh, Hermione, dear!" Molly reached around Hermione and wrapped her arms around her. Hermione accepted it, enjoying the tight-motherly hugs she had forgotten. Hermione didn't want to let go, she enjoyed the familiarity. It was far to often how lonely she felt, now that Ron was gone. It felt like years, "It is so wonderful to see you."
"And you." Hermione said, when she was able to extricate herself. She looked at Molly's mothering face, "How are you?"
"Oh, pish." Molly said, waving her hand around, "Fine, fine. Never better."
Hermione knew she was lying. Molly's hand was holding on to her husband's tightly, her knuckles were turning white. Hermione also knew, it's a difficult task to convince Molly otherwise, still.
"Ginny and Fluer were looking for you, dear." Molly said, placing a hand softly against Hermione's cheek, "At the bar."
Hermione stood and kissed Molly's cheek before walking over to the bar. Wilkes already had a pint for her waiting and winked as she took it. She smiled at him, "How are you doing, Wilkes?"
"Alright, love." The big man said, waiving his hand over a dishrag in front of him and grabbing another under the bar. He took a glass and wiped it's inside, "Busy, but tha's alrigh' Anyfin' fo' Ron, ye?."
"Heard from Hagrid, yet?"
Wilkes looked at her, then shook his head, "No, love."
Hermione nodded, "Okay, I'll talk to you later."
Wilkes nodded and turned his attention to someone calling him out, "Be, ther' in a mo'!"
Hermione drained her glass and smiled as she carefully made her way down the table and toward the bar again, she was looking for someone in particular but didn't have seemed to arrive yet. Kingsley was in deep conversation with Robards, and both raised a glass in Hermione's direction when they saw her. She nodded her head and turned her attention to others she'd rather be around. Soon, she found Harry and Ginny, their own glasses drained and waiting for more. Harry and George, Bill, Percy, and Charlie, were all in deep conversation talking about Ron, making jokes, laughing. It was telling. Ginny and Fleur Delacour were talking as well, their eyes wet, but their mouths happy. Ginny saw Hermione first and took the mug from Hermione's hands, shaking her head.
"Talking of my brother that way." Ginny said, smiling, as Harry waved at Wilkes again, "Who's the cheeky bastard, eh?"
Hermione smiled, feeling Fleur's hands fretting over Hermione's bushy hair, "How are you, Ginny? Fleur?"
"As best as could be expected." Fleur replied with a sad smile. She motioned around the room with her hands, "Ginny and 'arry did a beautiful job."
Ginny nodded her head, "Ron would have liked this."
Hermione agreed.
"I know Mum and Dad act as if everything's alright, but it really isn't. And they really aren't." Ginny continued softly. Fleur leaned over and gave Ginny's arm a small squeeze.
"Your parents are strong." Fleur said, "I 'ave depended on zem, more zen my own parents, at times."
Ginny nodded her head and swallowed, "Still, they've had enough familial deaths to deal with. I've had enough familial deaths to deal with. Everyone has had enough deaths. It was presumptuous of me to think it would ever be over, war."
Hermione said nothing. It would be wrong to. It was not the time for politics.
"'Ow'er you doing, 'ermione?" Fleur asked softly, her hands still playing with Hermione's uncontrollable hair.
Hermione smiled a brave smile, "I don't think I'll ever get over this. I loved him and now he's gone."
"Oh, ma cher."
"Hey!" another voice sprang out. Heads turned as the doors flew opened and a woman came in through the door holding an instrument case followed by three more behind her, more instruments in hand, "Entertainment?"
"Always, love, always. Wilkes!" said the woman cheerfully, "Shot of whiskey, first."
Hermione smiled, gave Ginny and Fleur each a small hug and walked over to the front.
"Esme."
"Oh, Hermione, petal. " Esme Moon said, giving her friend a strong one-armed hug. Esme's hugs were always the best, always warm. She pulled away and threw a thumb at the others behind her, "Sorry, I'm late. The bastards were taking their bloody time, weren't you?"
"Oi!" exclaimed the man beside her, all smiles, a small nod toward Hermione, "Look 'ere, we don't need you tellin' us wha' doin'."
"If you want to get paid, you bes' be." Esme replied, glaring at him. She gave a nod to Wilkes and downed the shot waiting for her. She stared at the man beside her with a look.
"Ma'am." The man turned toward the bar, tipping his hat, "I'll get the drinks."
Esme turned smiling at Hermione. She placed her arm around Hermione's elbow and the two of them made their toward the back of the crowded pub where she and the rest of the band could set up.
"I am terribly sorry to be late." Esme said, unzipping her instrument case and pulling out a fiddle, "The taxi we called never showed up. I planned to be here before the first could arrive."
"Don't fret, Esme." Hermione said, settling into a couch. Ginny had shown up and handing Hermione another pint before receiving one of Esme's famous hugs. Ginny plopped down beside Hermione, a glass mug cradled in her hands, "Ron was never punctual, it's just more memories of him."
Esme sighed, "Okay. I'll play better than I ever had. For you, for Ron. For everyone he was precious to, bless him."
"I know." Hermione said, looking at her, "I've missed you, you know. Thank you for coming to the funeral."
Esme looked at Hermione, her fiddle on her lap, her face with an unusual grim look, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Other matters can always wait."
"Kingsley is here." Hermione warned her, leaning forward.
"I know." Esme replied without looking up as she adjusted something on her violin bow, "He's been eyeing me since I arrived...he has nothing over me anymore."
"No, just busy being the Minister of Magic."
Esme sighed, annoyed, "What could he possibly want to talk to me about?"
"Coming back to work?" Hermione said, looking at her, "I wouldn't mind, you know. No one would. You were en excellent sleeper, everyone in the department would attest to that."
Esme shook her head, "No, no, no, no, I said I'd never go back. I won't. Even the Minister of Magic doesn't have that power."
"Hullo, Esme."
"Ooh, hello, Harry." Esme said softly, standing to give yet another hug. Harry was clearly tipsy, his face red, his eyes glossy, but he was still steady on his feet. Up close, he looked incredibly tired. Harry had dark circles under his eyes, his face unshaven. He found Ginny and as smoothly as he could, sat beside her, his arms over her shoulders. Ginny leaned into him and cradled herself against his chest as she absentmindedly fingered Harry's chin.
"It's been awhile, Esme. How are you?" Harry continued, blinking a few times, using his fingers to comb through the thick hair on his head.
"Happy you owled." Esme responded, using her pegs to tune her instrument as she spoke, "You caught me on my way to Bulgaria, for a session. On a muggle train."
"Muggle train?" Harry asked, looking at her, grinning.
Esme chuckled, "You should have seen the looks of the other passengers. It's like they've never seen a giant owl fly beside a moving vehicle before."
The others smiled.
"Naturally, I opened the window and the owl dropped the letter. I was so happy to see your name on the envelope. I changed course as soon as I could."
The rest of Esme's band had finally arrived with drinks, getting their own instruments ready. Tables and chairs were now being positioned to turn toward the band, waiting, expecting. Laughter was dying down, words were being whispered. It was a comfortable anticipation for anything to gladden Ron's memory, to wipe away the sadness and celebrate his life. Candles were now floating over the band's heads, letting off a soft glow. Arthur and Molly sat closer to Esme, waving their hands merrily at her.
In short time, Esme and the rest of her group were ready to play, "Flowers of the Forest."
There was a chorus of murmured agreement and the song commenced. It was beautiful and absolutely appropriate. There was a round of hearty applause and cheers as the song ended. A few moments later, the band continued to play different songs, each becoming more merrier than the next. After an hour, people were laughing again, joking and singing drunkenly. Two more hours later and patrons were too drunk to notice the night was dying down. Friends, colleagues, guests were beginning to stand and leave, each with something nice to say to Hermione and Ron's family. Others were sleeping on the tables, some were talking quietly with one another. All that was really left were those closest to Ron, old friends and family.
"Come on, love." Esme said softly, now standing beside Hermione, "I'm on a break. Let's leave these two alone and talk."
Hermione smiled as she turned her head to see Ginny and Harry sleeping, their heads close together, empty mugs in their hands. Arthur and Molly were sitting close, their heads together talking quietly and smiling. Hermione stood from the couch and followed Esme to an empty table. She held a pint in her hand and pushed another as Hermione sat at the table.
"Remember when we first met?" Esme asked after taking a sip of her pint.
Hermione grinned, nodding at a table by the wall, "There. You had just finished singing and downed an entire pint. I knew you from the office, didn't dream you played music."
Esme smiled.
"You recognized me and we started talking. You were so pissed."
Esme grimaced, "I don't remember anything..."
"After a while, you demanded I buy you another drink." Hermione sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, smirking at Esme, "I got them, but you still paid."
"Oh, dear." Esme said, her face red, "Couldn't possibly embarrass myself more."
"I don't believe a word of that." Hermione said, drinking from her own mug before looking at her, "I've seen you do worse."
"You're drunk." Esme accused.
"So are you."
They laughed.
"Oh petal, this is all for show, an act." Esme said, looking at her, "Inside, I am still a wee school girl."
"I loved you the moment I saw you." Hermione said, truthfully, "Hell, I wish I knew you at Hogwarts. Things might have been easier."
"Hah, fat chance." Esme said smiling and leaning back into her chair, "The only magic I possess would have been whatever musical talents my father so graciously bestowed upon me. How far that would have gotten me..."
"Better magical talent than Filch, the nasty man. Did I ever tell you about him?"
"A few times. If you met me then, you would never have fallen in love, had such infamous, dangerous adventures, become who you are." Esme said, looking at Hermione jealously, "But, I do love your stories of Hogwarts."
Hermione was quiet for a moment, "Do you find yourself feeling spiteful for not having magic?"
Esme cocked her head thoughtfully, "Sometimes, I'll admit. When I'm feeling sorry for myself. Still, I'm well-known in many pubs around the country, in both muggle and magical worlds. I do alright."
The two fell silent, but Hermione 's mind was far from quiet. Her thoughts were racing, subconsciously keeping her tears at bay, telling herself this was all just a dream, just a sick fantasy someone decided to force inside her memories.
Esme finished her pint, noticing something on Hermione's face, "Truthfully, love, tell me how you are?"
"I miss Ron." Hermione finally admitted, resting her chin on her hand. Esme placed a hand on Hermione's and said nothing. She continued, "I think about him all the time. I wish he was here to make me laugh, or fill me up with such rage from one of our stupid arguments. I wish..."
Esme waited with a small smile.
"Draco tried to save him, you know? Harry was there. So much chaos, there wasn't enough time...The big flaming idiot had to be the hero, he had to be the sacrifice. Why did he have to do that? Why? The stupid, stupid, idiot."
"Oh, petal," Esme said, sympathetically, "You're so strong. I wish I was like you."
Hermione snorted and the two laughed drunkenly.
"I'm so angry. So bitter." Hermione finally said after a moment of silence. She was finally expressing herself, something she's been avoiding since Ron's death. She felt fresh tears down her cheeks. She didn't believe she had any left, "This...unshakable thought of wanting to hurt, to kill those that... This hasn't happened since Voldermort. Then it was personal, this time...it's worse."
Esme didn't say anything, merely squeezed Hermione's hand. Hermione let out a sigh and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. She took in a deep breath and reached for her pint, draining it. With a satisfied sigh, she dropped it on the table.
"Feeling better?" Esme softly.
"Yes." Hermione said with small sigh, "Thank you."
"We need to talk."
Hermione and Esme both looked up and saw Harry standing over them, his face uncharacteristically dour and very sober.
"We thought you were gone." Esme said.
Harry reached around and moved the nearest chair over to their table and sat, "It's important."
"Okay, " Esme raised her eyebrows and started to stand, "I'll just go pack-"
"No." Harry said, placing a hand on her shoulder, "I need you here."
Esme raised an eyebrow, then said, "What about Ginny?"
"Bill and Fleur will take care of her." Harry said, glancing over his shoulder, then he looked between Hermione and Esme.
"What's this about, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"Ron." Harry replied, shortly.
Esme frowned, "What the hell...?"
Harry was talking very low, "Listen, it's important we all find a place to talk, but definitely not here, too many ears."
Hermione stared at Harry, he looked almost manic, "Harry..."
"Not now." Harry watched her, "Have you seen Malfoy today?"
"Briefly, at the funeral."
"He's already started." Harry muttered under his breath, Hermione and Esme exchanged glances, Harry continued, "I'll see you at work tomorrow, Hermione. Esme, stay in town, please?"
"Are you going to explain this-" Esme said waving her hands in a wide circle, "-mad-speak?"
"Not now." Harry stood and moved the chair back to its original table, "Stay in town."
The two of them watched Harry move away from the table. He pulled out his wand and with a twist of his wrist, a loud bang and he apperated.
"What the bloody hell was that about?" Esme said slowly, looking at Hermione.
Hermione shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, staring at her friend. She knew Harry, he was aware of something happening, and his hunches were always reliable. If this was about Ron, he and Malfoy must know something, picked up on something no one else had. Problem was, Ron's case was already closed, according to Robards.
