Thanks to the wonderful Exquisite Obsidian and Highlyintelligentblonde for being Alpha and Beta for me.

This piece was inspired both by the Nikita Gill poem "Tough Love" (each of the 4 stanzas will open a chapter) and the movie Waitress.


I.

You are not

some holiday destination

for people to have

a good time in

and then forget.

Hermione shuffled her feet as she waited by the Hogwarts gates; the wet October wind was beginning to seep through her thick jumper. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she looked around for any sign of her date. The invitation had surprised her the previous week during breakfast. An unfamiliar tawny owl had swooped down and offered his leg before nipping at a piece of bacon as he waited for her reply.

This letter had come as a shock. Up until that point during her eighth year at Hogwarts, Hermione almost never received mail. Her parents were still working through their anger and seemed to have no immediate plans to contact her. And Ron? Ron had decided that he "wasn't in a good place" for a committed relationship at the moment and had essentially broken them up before they even got beyond a couple of kisses. Yet, she had heard through the grapevine that Ron had started seeing a girl from his auror training cohort.

Hermione didn't like to think about that.

Mostly, she heard from Harry, but that was usually through his letters to Ginny.

That's why, when she unfolded the parchment from this new owl and found a letter from Cormac McLaggen of all people, she almost spit her coffee out all over the breakfast table.

It seemed he was now training to be a member of the Department of Magical Games and Sports. According to the letter, he would be visiting Hogwarts to talk to Madam Hooch at the end of the month. When Hermione's eyes fell on the last lines of the letter, she almost dropped it into her eggs:

I was hoping to see you during my visit. I know I was a total arse a couple years ago, but I promise I've grown up since then. Can you have lunch with me in the Three Broomsticks? I checked and it's a Hogsmeade weekend. Think about it. - Cormac

Hermione lifted her mug to her lips and sipped her hot coffee, letting the bitter liquid wake her up. Perhaps she was still half-asleep. After a couple more sips and a few forkfuls of egg, she read the letter again to ensure she hadn't been mistaken.

She hadn't. Cormac McLaggen had, indeed, written her a letter and asked her on a date.

If there was one thing she hadn't expected during this year at Hogwarts, it was a date offer. After her breakup with Ron, the plan had been to focus solely on her studies and trying to move forward. She had nearly crumpled the letter and tossed it away when she paused.

Ron had said he wasn't ready to be in a relationship, but he was clearly interested in someone new. How was that fair? Gritting her teeth, Hermione licked her lips once before penning her response with rushed movements before she could have second thoughts.

That sounds lovely. How does half-past twelve sound? – Hermione.

As the tawny owl flew off, Hermione sighed, returning to her coffee. She couldn't tell if the unsettled sensation in her stomach stemmed from a feeling of uneasiness or excitement.

So here she stood, stomach still vacillating between feeling full of lead and full of butterflies.

It wasn't until Cormac's curly head became visible through the sea of other students heading to the village that her stomach seemed to make a decision: butterflies.

How odd.

He greeted her by extending his arm for her to take, and Hermione was grateful for a little extra body heat; after waiting in the cold for several minutes, she'd definitely take it. Cormac McLaggen as she remembered him was bulky, arrogant, and disgusting. The young man who walked at her side now was certainly still large, but as he spoke, Hermione began to question the other two descriptors.

Conversation between them actually flowed, mostly stemming from his shocking, newly-developed ability to let her speak.

He seemed to listen with rapt attention as she talked about life at Hogwarts, her fears about NEWTs, and her hopes for job prospects. In turn, he talked about his responsibilities as a new trainee at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Apparently, he spent much of his day double-checking memos before they were sent out and chasing down specific Ministry members.

"I'm hoping to work my way up. I'd love to work on a Quidditch committee eventually. Obviously, I'd have asked Rufus Scrimgeour to put in a good word for me if the situation had been different." He paused, scratching his head. "Unless you know the new Minster, eh?" He winked, raising his glass slightly, before taking a large gulp of his butterbeer.

When Hermione spluttered and tried to make it abundantly clear that while she did know Kingsley Shacklebolt, she was in no position to ask him for such a favor, Cormac burst out laughing.

"I'm only joking, Hermione. I've got no problems putting in the work."

She sniffed, a smile tugging at her lips, and grabbed a chip off their shared plate, popping it in her mouth.

Cormac's self-assessment hadn't been completely off. He had really grown up over the past couple of years. Walking around Hogsmeade with him in the October mist, he reached for her hand. His grip was firm, but not unwelcome; her entire hand was enveloped in his palm. She didn't pull away. Looking at Cormac, he wasn't a bad-looking bloke. He was quite tall, towering over her by a foot at least, his torso broad and thick. His face wasn't exactly kind or soft, but when he wasn't smirking, he was rather handsome.

"I'd like to see you again," he said when they reached the gates after wandering about and chatting for an hour or so.

Hermione paused before responding. Today had gone far better than expected, and conversation with Cormac had been rather pleasant. Was she attracted to him? That was as of yet unclear. But the one thing Hermione didn't want to do was to create an awkward situation. Not when she knew Cormac's temper so well and not with all these other students around as they filtered back up to the castle. Besides, she was cold and wanted to get inside; any other answer would surely lead to a confrontation and even colder toes.

"Yeah. Sure," she responded, nodding. Immediately, Cormac's face lit up.

"Great! I'll… I'll owl you, okay?" He grinned at her, keeping hold of her hand for just a moment longer before pulling her into his arms. Hermione squeaked as Cormac drew her in; the sudden show of affection took her by surprise. He was large enough that he ended up lifting her onto her toes as they embraced. After a handful of seconds, he lowered her to the ground and bid her goodbye, a clear spring in his step as he walked back toward the village.

That wait by the Hogwarts gate soon became a weekly occurrence; as an eighth year, she was permitted to visit Hogsmeade as many weekends as she liked. Jumpers soon turned to thick jackets, scarves, and wool hats as fall faded to winter. Hermione learned to recognize Cormac's signature tan coat and red beanie as he made his way up the village path.

They still chatted over lunch each time, often walking through the village and poking around shops. The only difference between each date seemed to be the level of affection Cormac offered. What began as hugs quickly turned to pecks on the lips. Though he never quite asked permission from Hermione, his kisses felt quite lovely. She felt herself falling hard and fast, and despite the butterflies in her stomach she now felt whenever she saw him, it frightened her to feel the way she did.

Perhaps that was the reason she nearly hesitated when he invited her to spend the Christmas holiday with his family. She had mentioned previously that her own family had still not reached out, and this seemed to be his way of trying to help.

Visions of a warm, inviting Christmas at the Burrow flashed in her mind. Last year's Christmas had been so bleak and disparaging. Yet, the thought of Ron bringing some coworker along to meet his family twisted her insides into knots.

"Of course. I'd love to come." She smiled as Cormac discussed the Christmas Eve party his family hosted each year in their ballroom; the way he described the event, it sounded as though it would be bursting with important people. Hermione mentioned that she'd likely prefer to stay in and read by a warm fire, but Cormac just shook his head, laughing.

Christmas with the McLaggens turned out to be as overwhelming as she imagined. At least a hundred people attended the evening's festivities, and Hermione found herself glued to Cormac's side. She wore a burgundy dress with sleeves of lace that kept the winter chill away, and Cormac kept looking her up and down with unmistakable hunger. All evening long, he whisked her around, making introductions to important members of Wizarding society: politicians, masters, importers, authors, and one very flustered-looking musician. Certainly if Professor Slughorn had been present, he'd have had a field day.

All of them wanted to speak to her: Harry Potter's best friend; the one and only Hermione Granger. Though she held back at first, she found she actually rather enjoyed meeting such fascinating people; they tended to pry a little more than she was comfortable. But with enough insistence on her part, she was able to get them to talk about their field. She had grilled a member of the Wizengamot about elf rights, asked Miranda Goshawk about the theory behind memory charms, and even inquired about apprenticeships with several masters.

As she held these thrilling conversations, Cormac stood by her side, fidgeting and clearly trying to hold back from interjecting. Several times, he raised his hand and took a breath as if about to speak but kept getting interrupted by comments about the uses of amphibian bile or details about bylaws concerning non-human creatures' rights. After nearly an hour of this enthusiastic discussion, Cormac finally managed to drag her away, glass of wine in hand, to a more secluded corner of the ballroom.

Hermione protested initially but found that his lips felt rather heavenly on her neck.

When they were eventually able to retire for the evening, Hermione made a point to light a fire in her guest bedroom and grab a book to read. She immersed herself in a copy of Advanced Potion Making, becoming so absorbed in the minutia of brewing that she didn't notice when Cormac snuck into the room. Just as she turned a page, he practically pounced on her, his pyjama-clad body covering hers. Hermione shrieked as large hands encircled her waist.

Without any sort of dialogue, his lips found hers; the feeling of his tongue was quite lovely. They sat by the fire together for some time, touching and kissing with growing intensity. Hermione wasn't sure when the tone of their encounter changed, but at one point she became aware that he had removed his pyjama vest, revealing his bulky chest. Her mouth went dry at the sight. She hadn't expected to find Cormac so attractive, but her body told her otherwise.

"Cormac, I–" she began.

"Do you want to sleep with me, Hermione?"

Her mouth dropped open. She knew Cormac could be a bit crude and more than a bit direct, but surely, this wasn't how he was going to ask her that question? She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He smirked. "Do you want to sleep with me, Hermione? Gods know I want to sleep with you."

Hermione paused, considering the different ways this situation could proceed.

You want to move forward, don't you? A voice in her head seemed to egg her on. He's a nice enough guy. He's way better than he used to be.

"Um, maybe? Have you ever–?" Hermione coughed. "Have you ever slept with anyone before?"

For the first time, Cormac faltered. "Yes. Last year. It was a nice escape. Don't remember the girl's name. We were both drunk." He seemed almost sad when he spoke, his hands fidgeting. She had never seen Cormac speak so frankly, and despite the more rational side of her protesting, her heart leapt at this chance to show him how much she had grown to care.

"Yes. All right, then."

Cormac's head shot up. "What?"

"I do. Want to sleep with you, that is." Hermione offered a sheepish smile, and Cormac grinned back.

Immediately, his lips returned to hers, and he pushed her nightgown off her shoulders. Hermione's immediate instinct was to cover up, but Cormac pushed her hands away from her chest.

"Let me see you. Please."

She obeyed, and her hands fell limply to her side.

What followed didn't take a particularly long time; it also wasn't particularly satisfying. Cormac had shed his own clothes while Hermione shimmied her nightgown the rest of the way down her body. There was a brief pause when they gawked at each other. Cormac looked like he was about to drool as he practically eye-fucked her breasts. Hermione was more focused on… down there.

She swallowed. She could do this. Right?

Cormac crawled on top of her and placed his arms on either side of her.

"Ready?"

Hermione wasn't sure words would come out if she tried to speak, so she nodded instead. Reaching down, Cormac lined himself up and pushed in. The feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it wasn't anything to write home about.

On the other hand, Cormac let out an embarrassingly loud groan.

"Shh!" Hermione whispered, hyper-aware of the outside presence inside of her. "Someone could hear!"

"I put up a silencing charm. We're fine." Cormac was making all kinds of faces, his jaw slack and his eyes fluttering. "Oh my gods. You feel so good."

Hermione grimaced. "Yeah," she said, offhand. "So do you."

With a growl, Cormac began to thrust. With each movement, he moaned louder and louder. Hermione laid under him, her brain going a mile a minute trying to process the fact that she was having sex.

She was having sex. Right now. With Cormac McLaggen.

And then, before her brain could even start to play catch up, Cormac gave a shout and collapsed on top of her. All the air shot out of her lungs and she gasped.

"Shit. That was way better than I remember." Cormac grinned like an idiot as he rolled off her. Reaching over to his gear, he dug through his pile of discarded clothing and pulled out his wand. Tapping it on her abdomen, he whispered a spell.

Her mind clicked into place. Contraception. Right.

She had had sex and now needed contraception.

The rest of the holidays flew by. Cormac had wanted to have sex several other times, and by the end of the break, she had gotten rather used to it. Once or twice, the friction had even started to feel good.

Returning to Hogwarts almost felt like a slide backward. After meeting all those exciting and powerful members of the Wizarding community, she felt more ready than ever to graduate and move on with her life. It wasn't that she regretted returning to Hogwarts; no, not at all. She was just ready to move forward.

All through the Spring term, Cormac continued to write almost daily. Usually, he filled her in on the day-to-day details of his continued training at the Ministry. He also asked about her studies. Sometimes, however, he liked to write her incredibly explicit notes containing descriptions of what he wanted them to do during their next date in Hogsmeade. Hermione tried to tell him multiple times that opening those letters in the Great Hall made her uncomfortable.

He had written back and told her to just open all his letters in private.

Besides, he had written, we're going to need some foreplay before this Saturday.

Cormac was incorrigible and insatiable, certainly. But Hermione still enjoyed his company for the most part. Ginny, on the other hand, thought Hermione had completely lost her mind.

"I still say he's no good for you," she chided one April evening in the common room as they finished up a particularly tricky NEWT practice problem set from Professor Slughorn.

"Oh, hush. He's… sweet."

"Cormac McLaggen, sweet?" Ginny pulled a face. "You do realize he's the same Cormac who struck Harry in the face with a bludger, right?"

Hermione shook her head. "He's kind of an arse, yeah. I know. But we're really enjoying our time together. He's gotten way better at… you know."

She turned red as Ginny made an even more grotesque face.

"Urgh. I just don't want to picture that."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at her friend. She knew Cormac had his flaws, but who didn't? Besides, after months of rather mundane conversation, the had recently discovered a mutual interest: magical creatures. They loved to discuss their various encounters with beasts and animals, and they had poured over Newt Scamander's works together in a private room at the Three Broomsticks over the course of several Saturdays.

That was, of course, until Cormac began to nip at her earlobe. Then the tone of those days changed entirely.

Still, it was nice to find a real connection with him after months of viewing him as more of a physical being.

As graduation drew nearer and thoughts of her future loomed ever closer, Hermione's life encompassed three thoughts: her NEWTs, what job she ought to pursue, and how Cormac fit into those plans. Thoughts of including him in her future made those same, damn butterflies erupt in her stomach. Several times through May and June, she tried to bring up the future with him, but whenever she started to broach the subject, he would kiss her and tell her not to worry so much.

Looking back, she would have seen the warning signs.

The last week in June arrived along with an ocean of flowers that seemed to pop up wherever she looked. All the seventh and eighth years, finally finished with their NEWTs, enjoyed their dwindling number of days in the castle. They spent their afternoons lying by the lake, soaking up the sun and laughing together. Hermione had chosen to cancel her usual Saturday date with Cormac in favor of a large picnic and swim with her fellow graduates.

Oddly enough, her boyfriend hadn't kicked up a fuss.

By the time graduation came around, she found she hadn't received a letter from him in nearly two weeks. His tawny owl had been quite absent from the Great Hall. She had shrugged it off at the time but couldn't hide her eagerness to see him at the ceremony. The day of, she made sure to wear her hair just the way he liked (pulled into a bun) and had picked out new dress robes for the occasion. Underneath, she wore little something extra to celebrate.

When it was her turn to walk the stage that had been conjured in the Great Hall, Hermione looked out at the audience for the first time. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the Weasleys, and to Ron. He waved as she caught his eye. Harry sat with them, a sleeping Teddy Lupin in his lap. She beamed at her best friends.

Hermione continued to search the audience, but there seemed to be no sign of Cormac. Her heart dropped. All the giddiness she had been feeling was replaced with a quiet emptiness.

When the graduation reception began outside on the grounds, much to her surprise, she found that familiar tawny owl waiting for her at her assigned seat. Fingers trembling, she untied the letter attached to its leg.

Hermione – Sorry I couldn't make it to your graduation. I know how hard you've worked. You should be proud of yourself.

There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just get on with it. I want to break up. We've had our fun and I liked being with you, but I just feel like it's time to move on. I'm sure there's other guys you'd like to date, just like I want to play the field for a bit. You were starting to seem a little serious there for a bit and it was a little bit much. You know?

We still had a good time, though, right? I know I did. I think I'll miss your tits most of all. Bit of a shame, really.

See you around. And congratulations. – Cormac

How… how dare he? Hermione's heart pounded, her palms growing sweaty. She felt a wave vomit rise in her throat, and quickly moved to cover her mouth. Ignoring the odd looks on her friends' faces, she stormed away from the reception and around the far side of the castle, where she promptly threw up in a bush.

Shit.

She was such an idiot. Such an idiot! Of course Cormac McLaggen had played her. Had he really just been trying to play the field? If so, why had he gone on all those dates with her? What if he had just wanted to use her to get more experience in bed? The thought made her sick. But if that was the case, why had she met his family at Christmas? It just made no sense. No damn sense at all.

Ron found her several minutes later, huddled next to her puddle of vomit, still crying.

"Come on, 'Mione. Up you get. Forget about that tosser and go enjoy graduation." He offered her a weak smile.

"Thanks, R– wait. Did you read that letter?"

Ron turned pink.

"Well, you did leave it open on the table. I saw you run off and I just kind of put two and two together."

He reached a hand out and pulled Hermione to her feet. The beautiful robes she had ordered just for the occasion were now covered in bits of grass and wrinkles, and she could feel her hair falling out of place.

Good.

She never really liked wearing her hair in a bun, anyway.

"Come on, Ron. Let's go get some food." She sniffled once more and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

As they made their way back to the celebration, Hermione steeled herself for the onslaught of comments she would surely be facing. Fucking Cormac wouldn't have to deal with all the questions, but she would. No wonder he hadn't shown today.

Fuck him.

In that moment, Hermione Granger decided she was done with casual relationships.