Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING, ya hear me?!! Only jokin...I own the plot. Nothing else, though...shame, I'd love to own the second-youngest Weasley...and England's Finest Quidditch Player too...lol.
Author's Note: This fic contains a few references to British Pop Idol and the winner/runners-up...you don't have to understand them to enjoy the fic, but it helps if you do for the first bit of this chapter. Will be Snape/Hermione, even though I usually reside on the good ship HMS Ron/Hermione. I'm not a fan of Harry/Hermione, but I had to put her with someone to cheat on, and I thought it might as well be him – ickle Ronniekins is too sweet to be cheated on! (Please don't hurt me, Harry will find happiness with someone else, I promise!)
This is set, obviously, in 2002 (well, it'd have to be for the whole Pop Idol thing). Hermione's seeing Harry (not for long though...), and Ginny is with Oliver Wood. Ginny and Hermione are sharing a house, although Ginny's getting married soon, so she'll be moving out.
***
"See, I told you Darius'd do the best out of all of them," Hermione Granger said, as the radio DJ announced the new number one single.
"Yeah, but he's only had one number one – Gareth and Will have both had two," Ginny Weasley pointed out.
"So? They've both had two singles out, Darius has only had one. But he's still done better for himself – he wrote Colourblind himself, didn't he? And he's the best-looking out of the three," she added, as though this settled the matter.
"I thought you normally didn't go on looks?"
"I don't – I'm with Harry, aren't I?" Hermione said with a grin. "But put it this way – I wouldn't exactly kick him out of bed." Ginny laughed.
"Whatever floats your boat – I still think Gareth's nicer, though."
"No, he's too baby-faced."
"Yeah, but that's what makes him so cute!"
"You should be ashamed of yourself, Virginia Weasley, he's three years younger than you."
"So? Maybe I like younger men."
"Yeah, that's why you're with Oliver. Makes perfect sense. Anyway, you should count your blessings – most women would love to have England's Finest Quidditch Player on their arm."
"God, can you remember the look on his face when he got that award? I thought he was going to faint! I'm only joking, anyway."
"So am I. I know Harry's not the most gorgeous bloke in the world, we fit, y'know? Sometimes I wonder why, but there you go." She glanced at her watch. "We'd better get ready. We've only got two hours 'til the reunion..."
"I'm in the bathroom first!" Ginny tore out of the living room and straight up the stairs. Hermione sighed. Ginny always got to the bathroom first.
The phone rang, making her jump. Wondering who it could be (hardly no-one ever rang their house), she picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"'Mione? It's me."
"Oh – hi. What are you phoning for?" It wasn't like Harry to phone – he usually Apparated straight into their house, scaring the hell out of anyone who happened to be present.
"It's about tonight."
"What about it?" Hermione's heart sank. This had to be bad news...
"I can't make it."
"Why not?"
"I've come down with something – 'flu, I think." Now he'd mentioned it, Hermione noticed that he did sound ill.
"Oh – that's a shame."
"Yeah, but there's always the next one, I s'pose."
"In ten years, though," Hermione pointed out.
"Yeah...never mind."
"I'll come round and see you tomorrow, OK? I'll bring you some grapes or something." Harry laughed.
"Make sure they're seedless, I don't want to be spitting pips everywhere."
"Don't worry, I won't bring you any with seeds. Well – er, see you later, then."
"Yeah, bye."
She put the phone down, chewing her lip. What a fun night this was going to be – she'd be alone, and everyone else would have dates. Wonderful.
***
"Can I borrow your new lipstick? The shiny one?"
"Mm? What? Oh – yeah, here." Hermione rummaged in her makeup bag and handed Ginny the lipstick. "You might as well keep it, it looks better on you anyway."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, you have it."
"Who was on the phone, by the way?"
"Harry. He's got 'flu, he can't make it tonight."
"What?" Ginny turned from the mirror, looking mutinous. "Hasn't he got any 'Flu-Curing Potion? It's not exactly hard to make, is it?"
"Yeah, well, you know what he's like – he probably ran out last time he used it and forgot to get more."
"Well, I tell you what I'll do – I'll phone Oliver and explain to him what's happened, he won't mind me cancelling this once. We'll just go without dates, it'll be like –"
"Ginny, I don't mind. I don't want to spoil your night...I'm sure I'll find somebody to dance with."
"Well, if you're sure..."
"Positive. Now are you nearly done with the mirror? I need to do my makeup."
"Can't you do it in your room?"
"No, the light's crap. I always end up wearing too much eyeliner, it's scary."
"Oh, so that's why you always go out looking like a junkie..."
***
The Great Hall looked spectacular. Hermione arrived alone – Ginny had asked if she wanted to go with her and Oliver, but Hermione politely declined. The last thing she wanted was to come between England's Finest Quidditch Player and his girlfriend.
The second thing that struck her – apart from the wonderful way in which the Hall had been decorated – were how many people there were there. The reunion was open to those who'd left Hogwarts between 1994 and 1999, and the invitations stated that they may bring a guest as well.
The third thing that seemed odd was the amount of colour in the Hall. The only time she'd seen people wearing such a multitude of colours was the Yule Ball in her fourth year. Hermione herself was clad in dark green velvet dress robes, with gold stitching around the neckline, hem and the edge of the sleeves. Ginny wore scarlet – no surprises there, it was practically the only colour she wore – and Oliver wore highly expensive black. Together, they looked more like Hollywood A-list celebrities than a Quidditch player and an on-off model.
As she made her way through the crowds, little surprises popping up here and there – Seamus Finnigan, for example, was standing with his arm around Hannah Abbot, whose loose pale blue robes failed to hide her very pregnant stomach. Hermione stopped to offer them a few words of congratulations, then carried on through the crowd.
There were pairings that were less surprising (i.e Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, both of whom sneered at Hermione as she passed), and she stopped to talk to newlyweds Percy and Penelope Weasley for a little bit until they excused themselves and went to talk to someone from their year.
After that, she made her way to the self-service bar and helped herself to a Bacardi and Butterbeer, which, since her first glass at the age of seventeen, was now all she drank.
Three glasses later, she'd talked to a couple of people, but was still standing at the bar. Currently, she was alone, wondering whether she should leave or not.
"You look as bored as I feel," a voice behind her said.
"No, I'm not, I just –" She stopped abruptly. Standing behind her was none other than her old Potions teacher, wearing black robes and a disapproving expression.
"I hear you've done rather well for yourself – working at the Ministry, aren't you?"
"Yes, that's right. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"Fascinating. I'm sure you've done much better than most of the people here." Hermione's eyes narrowed; she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.
"Look – if you're just going to be sarky and take the piss, then there's no point even talking to me," she said coolly. He raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not being sarcastic – and I'm not taking the piss, either. I think it's very good that you didn't waste that mind of yours on some down-and-out job."
"Oh – thanks," Hermione said, slightly startled by this response. There was a moment's silence, then –
"So where's Potter? I heard that you two are together now."
"We are, but he's ill."
"Nothing life-threatening, I hope."
"No, just 'flu."
"I would have thought that you'd have made him a 'Flu-Curing Potion."
"Harry is quite capable of making his own potions. If he forgot to make one, then that's his problem, not mine."
"And there's me thinking that you'd be there by his bedside to nurse him better." Hermione looked at him.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. I just always assumed that you were the – ah – caring type."
"I am caring – are you suggesting that I'm a bad person because I don't want to play nurse to my boyfriend who's only suffering from 'flu?"
"Of course not," he replied, but there was amusement in his voice. Hermione shot him what Ginny called 'The Ice Bitch Glare'. "I see that little Ginny Weasley's found happiness," he went on, apparently oblivious to her glare.
"There's nothing little about Ginny any more," Hermione said, her eyes scanning the room and coming to a rest on Ginny and Oliver, who were talking to Ron and Lavender – yet another couple also engaged.
"I'm surprised you're not over there with them," Snape commented, following her gaze. Hermione smiled.
"Maybe if Harry was here, I would be, but I'm not going over on my own. They'll be all lovey-dovey, and I'd just be...lonely."
She turned to the bar and got another Bacardi and Butterbeer, and then looked questioningly at Snape's glass, which was full of a bruise-blue liquid.
"What's that you're drinking?"
"A Toxic Headspinner."
"What the hell's a Toxic Headspinner?"
"A bit of everything, and very painful the morning after – you've never tried it?" Hermione shook her head. "Here." He held out his glass to her, and she took a little apprehensive sip.
"Actually, that's not that bad," she said thoughtfully. "Although I still prefer a Screaming Orgasm," she added with a grin. Snape spluttered.
"A – a what, excuse me?"
"It's a Muggle cocktail," Hermione explained. "I don't drink it often – I normally stick to Bacardi and Butterbeer."
"Bacardi?"
"White rum."
"Oh." His eyes flickered around the room. "You're not expecting, then?"
"What, me have kids? You must be bloody joking. The whole baby sick and dirty nappies thing is not for me. I think Harry wouldn't mind a family, but seeing as it'd be me getting stretch marks and being in severe pain for hours, I think I'll pass."
"Fair enough."
"Why are you here, anyway?"
"I have to be. Just in case any of my previous students want to come and talk to me. Minerva's here somewhere – I'm surprised she hasn't found you yet."
"Well, I only stopped to talk to a couple of people, and then I came straight over here." Snape smirked.
"Who'd have thought it – Gryffindor's Golden Girl heading straight for the booze."
"I did not head for the booze – it just happened to be in the direction I was walking." He almost laughed; she was sure of it, but then she doubted herself when his smile quickly disappeared. "How come you're not talking to Malfoy?"
"After I made it very plain to Lucius Malfoy that I most certainly wouldn't be helping Voldemort back to power, I got the distinct feeling that if I ever spoke to a Malfoy again then there wouldn't be much of me left."
"Oh." Hermione drained her glass, and turned back to the bar. "Right, show me how to make a Toxic Headspinner, then."
"All right – you need some vodka, some Ogden's Old Firewhisky, some gin, banana liqueur and a little hint of Butterbeer – then shoot blue sparks into it with your wand and you're done."
"I thought you said it had everything?"
"I exaggerated."
"Hm...what else can I put it?" Her eyes scanned around and fell on a bottle of champagne. "Champers! This'll do..." She splashed some messily into her glass and it turned bright purple.
"Bacardi?"
"Good idea. And some beer would be good, too." She filled the glass and peered into it – it was now a murky green. "Urgh, I can't drink anything that colour..." She took her wand, shot silver sparks into it and it turned a shiny metallic silver, as expected.
"Now it looks like you're drinking unicorn blood."
"So?" She raised the glass to her lips and drank; it wasn't bad, but it was very strong. She reeled, clutching her throat. "Bloody hell! Actually, though" – she took another sip – "it's not bad. Want to try some?" Snape took the glass and sipped it apprehensively.
"Mm...what did you put in it again?"
***
"...and then he says, it's OK, it's not my birthday 'til next Wednesday!"
Snape laughed – it was the first time Hermione had ever seen him do so, and it changed his face completely.
"That was a good one...another drink?"
"Mm." Snape filled her glass, and she downed half of it in one go. It was nearing one o'clock, and both of them were heading towards extremely pissed. The Hall was starting to empty, and Hermione knew she should go, but she didn't particularly want to.
"Hadn't you better be going home?"
"No, I don't want to...Ginny'll be at Oliver's, and I'll be all on my own..."
"Stay here."
"Nooo, I can't."
"Why?"
"Dunno..."
They both burst into laughter, and when the gales had subsided, Hermione suddenly leaned forwards and kissed him. She stared at him afterwards, stunned, half-wondering what on earth had come over her, and half-wishing that he'd kiss her back.
"Now you have to stay...you can't leave it like that..."
And, laughing even more, they left the Hall hand-in-hand.