Word Count: 986
Written For:
- February Event: (object) Bouquet of Flowers, (dialogue) "Just because you're beautiful doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter."
When Hermione stepped off the train at the end of her final, late year of Hogwarts, she expected to be greeted by Ron, and maybe Harry and Ginny. She did not, however, expect that Cormac McLaggen would be leaning up against the barrier; a six foot tall block of muscle, wearing the familiar black and white robes of the Montrose Magpies, with an image of the bird emblazoned on his chest. Instead of carrying his broomstick however, he was clutching a huge bouquet of yellow roses.
Hermione had no intention of greeting McLaggen—after all, there was no way he would be here to greet her. She loaded up her trunk onto a trolley, and made to swiftly dash past him through the barrier. But before she could do so, he placed a gloved hand on the rail of her trolley, and smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Let me take that," he offered, pulling the trolley forward with his free hand and shifting to stand behind it. Hermione felt a wave of discomfort pass through her, but she allowed McLaggen to grip hold of her trolley and push it through the barrier. She followed him out onto the King's Cross platform, and over to a bench a couple of hundred yards away from the barrier.
He sat down, and patted the seat beside him. Hermione remained where she stood, shifting from foot to foot awkwardly. "Cormac, what are you doing here?" she asked finally, and his smile faltered a little.
"I...I don't know," he said finally, his tone a little flat. He threw the yellow roses onto the bench beside him. "I knew you would be finishing school this year. I just...I wondered if we could...give us another go?"
Hermione furrowed her brow. "There never was an 'us', Cormac," she said quietly. "We went on one date to Slughorn's party."
McLaggen leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and fisting his hands into his slightly long, curly hair. "I know," he muttered. "But I can't stop thinking about you, Hermione. I know you thought I was a complete tool back in school. But I've matured over the years. I'm different, Hermione."
"I'm sure you are," Hermione replied smoothly, her tone slightly clipped. "But thinks are different for me too. I'm with Ron. I'm sure you've seen the papers. You'll know that." She was trying to sound sympathetic, but the disgust of McLaggen she felt in her sixth year was oozing into her pores. She swallowed down the discomfort and stood behind her trolley, poising to move along the platform.
"Just because you're beautiful, it doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter," McLaggen called out, as Hermione pushed her trolley away. She didn't look back.
It was just the way things had to be.
oOo
It was almost ten years later when Cormac saw Hermione again. It was a rainy, November night, when she turned up on his doorstep in Montrose Scotland.
When he opened the front door, there she was. A woman, slightly more emaciated than he remembered, with the familiar thick, brown cloud of hair, hanging slightly limp and damp around her ears from the rain. She was pale and she had the beginnings of age lines decorating her face, and her cheekbones were well defined.
"Cormac," she greeted softly as he stared down at her, shocked. "It's nice to see you," she reached up to brush a lock of wet hair out of her face, and Cormac noticed there was no wedding ring on her finger.
"Hermione," he answered stiffly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Hermione scratched the back of her head. "I was in the area," she said vaguely. "Well, I was in the highlands. Visiting Hogwarts. I heard from Neville Longbottom that you lived in Montrose, so I thought I would pay you a visit."
"It's nice of you to think of me," Cormac said. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he observed Hermione - it had taken him a long time to truly get over Hermione. He'd still thought about her for years after she turned him down at King's Cross. "I must say though, this is a little...weird."
"I'm sorry," Hermione blurted out suddenly. "I...I know how odd this comes across. But I did feel bad, that day at King's Cross...I know how much you liked me. Even if I had wanted to, I never could've been with you. I was all over the media, Cormac—I still am! They expected me to stay with Ron; we were the jewel couple of the nation. Don't you see?"
"Were?" Cormac repeated, cocking an eyebrow.
"Ron and I filed for divorce five years ago," she continued, looking at her feet. "It...it was too much. Everything had to be perfect for the public. As soon as we split up, I started thinking about you," Hermione looked up, meeting Cormac's eyes. There was a dull, sad glimmer behind those brown eyes, a light that tugged on Cormac's heartstrings. Part of him wanted to take Hermione's hand, pull her into his house, and look after her for the rest of her life.
But he shook that thought from his mind immediately. Things had changed. He had moved on, after she turned him down. His family were sitting in the living room just down the corridor; his beautiful wife and young son, who would be starting Hogwarts himself before long.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," Cormac told her, though it hurt him to say. "But things are different now." He stepped away from the door and made to close it.
"Just because you're beautiful, it doesn't mean you can treat people like they don't matter," Hermione murmured as the door gently closed. Cormac stood behind the door for a moment, swallowing the urge to throw himself out there and hold her.
It was just the way things had to be.