Summary: Somewhere on the edge of town, one might wander so carelessly into a quaint bar on the corner of a vacant street. An ill-lit tavern which serves has haven for those lost and lonely. An unlikely encounter of old acquaintances and several drinks later, we proceed into the wretched lives of two destroyed souls.
"If we are ever so lucky to discover a kindred spirit who shares in our misfortunes and despair, we can either continue in our downward spiral alone, or rise above it together. And maybe, just maybe, we'll make it through. You have a choice, Granger. Choose me."
Disclaimer: Any names you may recognize belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 1: The Girl Who Lost It All
A door creaked. The bell above the wooden contraption dinged as two more occupants made their way out of the dingy pub and into the slightly eerie midnight. Outside, a howling wind rustled wispy leaves into dark space, a sound muffled and reduced to a faint whistle for anyone miserable enough to remain inside the depressing facility at such late hours.
But only Hermione Granger could fit such a description with definitive accuracy. Like every night, she sat slumped in her usual bar stool, staring off into nothingness. That was all she saw. Nothingness. No matter where she turned, no matter where she went, no matter whose eyes she searched into, she found nothingness. But she was nothingness.
She sipped her cold drink, trying to pinpoint the exact moment it all went horribly wrong. The moment she decided to let nothingness consume her, fill her, emanate out of her. Against her better judgment, she allowed her mind to drift off to simpler times.
She envisioned a girl. A girl with bright, brown hair and fair skin that radiated warmth and serenity. A beautiful, unfaltering smile crossed her perfect features. A smile that acknowledged her possession of everything she could ever desire and more…
But she was abruptly pulled out of her fantasies and brought back to harsh reality, which she greeted with a cold, bitter scowl. She felt like a washed-up fool for allowing herself to dwell in the never-changing past. She could never go back to being that girl. That was the girl who had it all. Today, she was the girl who lost it all.
Hermione Granger was once young, headstrong, determined, and strong-willed. She had secured a promising career as an auror along with her best friends, the mighty Harry Potter and the unwavering Ron Weasley, the latter of which she had loved. Their devotion to each other elicited two years of dating and one year of engagement before an impending marriage. She welcomed thoughts of perhaps a warm cottage home inhabited by little ginger children equipped with reading comprehension levels well above the average toddler. She found herself giddy with happiness. She was surrounded by friends and family who showered her with love, sympathy, and respect. With her intelligence, beauty, exceedingly capable devices, and support from her loved ones, she had the world at her fingertips.
But alas, her fleeting merriment was short-lived. Everything changed after that tragic event. A heart-wrenching betrayal. Her seemingly indestructible world had suffered a monumental collapse.
*Flashback*
She retracted her hand after the sharp edge of a piece of paper grazed her fingertip with sharp precision. She acquired yet another papercut. Hermione Granger was stuck late at her office doing paperwork. Oh, she loathed paperwork. She deemed it a tedious, meaningless task to be assigned to the likes of her. She ought to be out in the field, kicking some bag guy's arse. She heaved a frustrated sigh and continued filling out endless contracts and forms.
Well, no matter. No challenge she couldn't surmount. After all, the sooner she finished, the sooner she could get home to her fiancé. There was a quiddich match today between Ireland and Bulgaria, one which her friends had the pleasure of attending. Hermione begrudgingly volunteered to stay behind and toil in the office whilst everyone else had fun. Hermione then remembered that she might return home to find a select few former Gryffindors drunk silly our of their minds, namely Ron, who had moved into Hermione's flat a few weeks prior to their engagement, and whose after-quiddich bashes were something that Hermione had grown accustomed to. But she understood his excitement and enthusiasm for celebrating the coveted sport.
There were only two weeks left before the wedding. Hermione felt a mixture of nervousness and anxiety at the thought of marriage to Ron, but her apprehension was quickly overcome with eagerness to spend her life with the man she loved. That was enough to get her through these last months of planning and obsessing over incessant details with her maid of honor, Ginny.
She had finally finished going through the forms. After scribbling her signature on one last blank space, she hurriedly slipped on her coat and exited the premise of her workspace. She apparated outside her flat and took a moment to fumble with the keys before unlocking her door and entering her modest apartment.
She let out a knowing sigh at the sight before her: bottles of alcohol, torn bags of chips, discarded items of clothing, and unconscious party goers were strewn all over the carpet and random furniture items. She gingerly stepped around the random objects and web of limbs, searching for her groom-to-be. Normally she would find him passed out on the sofa or the kitchen counter, but he was nowhere to be seen. At this point, Hermione was semi-worried. The increased volume of the booming music did not help her flustered case. She cast a silencing charm over the stereo.
She listened intently and heard a sharp screech coming from the direction of her bedroom. Her first thought was, 'Oh goodness, please don't let there be random people having sex on my bed, please please please…' She slowly approached the hallway leading to her room, and then jumped when another scream of pleasure emitted through the walls. Several lustful moans later, she was at the bedroom door.
She then heard a thrilled, feminine voice groan, softly saying a name over and over. Not being able to interpret said name, Hermione hesitantly placed her ear against the door. With her hearing capacity heightened, she could make out a sensual voice that uttered, "Ron… Ron… oh…" Hermione froze. She then felt dizzy and nauseous as a creeping, ominous chill found her spine. With a shaking hand, she twisted the doorknob and gasped at the sight before her: clothes torn and discarded, bed sheets disheveled, and on top of it all, in all their naked glory, were Ron and Lavender Brown, in the middle of what Hermione could only describe as the most horrifying sight she had ever encountered: Her husband fucking someone who wasn't her. For fuck's sake, the blond bimbo! Of all people!
The oblivious couple finally tore away from each other as they noticed a fuming Hermione Granger standing in the doorway. Ron yelped and immediately discontinued his unspeakable actions. He fumbled around for any item of clothing and pursued Hermione as she stormed out of their bedroom.
Hermione flipped out on Ron. She fought with Ron. She threw anything at hands reach at Ron, who tried to dodge her advances, but to no avail. She then retreated back to her bedroom and returned with a mass of blond hair in her grasp; Lavender Brown was being dragged around quite literally by Hermione Granger and thrown effectively out of the apartment. Hermione then stared at Ron for only a few seconds before crumbling to the floor in a heap of hysteric tears.
Ron, in his half-drunk state, did not know how to handle the delicate situation. Any word he uttered could be his last, if he wasn't careful. He chose to move closer to Hermione and timidly placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, which he discovered was a huge mistake.
Hermione swatted his hand away, stood up, and smacked Ron twice across the face. Hard. She walked over on the carpeted floor and continued to weep silently. Ron sat still while red handprints took form on his injured cheek.
After what felt like several hours, Hermione wiped away the flowing hot tears from her face and stood up with purpose, clenching her fists by her sides. Ron followed suit.
"Hermione?" Ron started, followed by Hermione's strained, slightly uneven voice.
"Why, Ron? Why did you do this?" Hermione tentatively inquired.
"I dunno, Hermione. I didn't want to hurt you. It was a mistake! I was drunk and Lavender—"
"Don't say her name!" Hermione demanded sharply.
"I'm sorry! I'm… I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, Hermione. Please, you have to believe me. You have to forgive me." Ron ran a hand through his ginger mane and peered up with hopeful eyes.
"Forgive you? I can hardly look at you." Hermione spat. Her composure stiffened and her eyes flickered with steely, controlled rage. "I want you out," she stated simply.
"Wh-What?" Ron looked taken aback at her request. "You don't mean that."
"Oh but yes, I do, Ronald. You hurt me. You're no longer the same person to me and you never will be. You disgust me! I can never trust you the same way again. We're through. The damage you've caused is irreparable. Now get the fuck out." Tears threatened to spill at any second, but Hermione forced them back, granting Ron nothing but a tight line of lip to keep her emotions in check. She walked numbly to the main door and held it ajar for Ron's exit.
Ron copied her movement but stopped in front of her. "Please, Hermione. Don't do this," Ron pleaded. "You know I can't live in a world where you and I aren't together."
This statement earned Ron a flicker of a smile. Hermione looked Ron dead in the eye and offered him advice in a clipped tone. "Hmm. Then kill yourself. Now get out. Leave!"
Ron scurried out. Hermione slammed the door shut and rested her back against the solid barrier, willing herself not to break down. But she wasn't invincible.
Her energy faded gradually as she slid helplessly to the floor. She cried and screamed for hours.
*End flashback*
After that incident, everything went downhill.
Hermione tried to move on, she really did. She wanted normalcy. She returned to work and put on a brave face, attempting to power through her routine activities. But she couldn't focus on anything. More often than not, she would find herself brought back from a daze as a fellow employee informed her that she had become unresponsive mid-conversation for several minutes. Her odd demeanor and glazed expressions caused a ruse in the workplace. People asked around, aiming to identify the cause of Hermione's dull mien. When the reason was finally ascertained—that Ron and Hermione had gone their separate ways—the news spread like wildfire. The gossip circulated all throughout the office.
Hermoine took notice of everyone's offhand behavior towards her, and realized that everyone knew about her misfortune. She overheard everyone's conclusions about how the breakup had transpired. Questions and ridiculously inaccurate suspicious arose out of every curious mind:
I heard he cheated on her… I heard she cheated on him!... With Harry Potter…? Quite possibly… I heard Hermione Granger moved to the states because she was so ashamed of her actions… She aborted his child, didn't she?... Tut tut, what a tragedy…. Such a pretty young thing, she was… Oh, that evil wretch… She just had to drive everyone apart… Has anyone seen Hermione Granger?... Where is Hermione Granger?... She quit her job!... Goodness, she's disappeared!... Potter and Weasley won't reveal anything… But they don't know, do they?... Do you think—no. She couldn't have. But maybe… has she hung herself?... Pfft, I'd be relieved if she did… Oh, someone must alert Potter of his deceased child…
She was a flaming topic of interest. Enraged at people's attempts to pry into her private life, Hermione lashed out at unsuspecting workers. Eventually her boss was made aware of Hermione's predicament, and she was given time off from work to recover from her grief-stricken state, despite her many protests.
None too pleased, she sulked around her flat. Days passed, nothing got better. She had become lazy. She hardly ever ate and never went out. Her skin whitened to a pale and she began to lose weight. She ignored Ron's many attempts to contact her and even avoided her worried friends. She did not want anyone to see her in this pathetic state. She wished to immerse in herself in self-pity and soon lost all sense of self-worth. She knew that distancing herself from Harry and Ginny would only drive them further towards Ron, but hey, they had to choose sides eventually. Harry was the best friend, Ginny was the sister. Hell, they could form their own Golden Trio if they wanted.
After months of being at home, locked away from all sources of news, Hermione finally decided to brush up on any current events, but instead became engrossed in a fascinating article about the sale of an early addition of Hogwarts: A History. She further skimmed the pages of her magazine, mildly amused at the absurd advertisements posted on the remaining space. She swiped another plastic sheet forward, and her jaw dropped when she stumbled upon a picture of Ron and Lavender together, holding hands and laughing. Ron was whispering something into Lavender's ear.
Hermione wanted to scream. She couldn't believe her ex fiancé was actually with that tramp! She couldn't believe he would publicize his relations with her so openly. Ron told her that Lavender was a mistake. And now he was all over magazines proving just the opposite. Was he… was he deliberately trying to hurt her? Hermione's spirits saddened.
She had lost her fiancé, her friends, and her job. She had nothing.
She couldn't take it anymore. She was fed up with all the rubbish. She needed to escape.
Hermione wanted to go to a place where she could never be found. Where she could escape the misguided stares of disapproval or pity. She was tired of the public eye keeping watch on her every movement. She chose to apparate to some unknown corner of town and had uncovered a small pub which seated few dwellers. This sad, lonely pub appeared to be the perfect environment to drink and forget.
Drink and forget. She had returned to the same nearly dilapidated pub every late night since then. She looked forward to her visits. She restlessly awaited her daily periods of solace.
She took another swig of her alcoholic beverage before tucking a few unruly strands of chocolate hair behind her ear, casting them away from her face. Almost immediately, they found their way back to their original position. Hermione merely huffed in frustration, blowing said locks of hair up into the air.
She ascended her glass for another sip of sake, when suddenly she felt a cold hand gently grip her shoulder.
"Granger?"
A/N: After years of reading fanfiction, I've decided to write my own. I overestimate my abilities, I assure you. Heh, but any sort of feedback is greatly appreciated! I originally planned for this to be a oneshot, but I'm going to extend to a short story. So I'll add at least one more chapter. Thank you!
P.S. Along with the ending, I've edited some parts in this chapter. Without doing so, I could not have found a decent way to flow into the next one… I don't mean to throw you.