"Bartholomew Wilkinson," Hermione sighed. "What a surprise."
"I'm here for my examination, healer." The old graying man set his knobby wooden cane against the clean alabaster walls of Hermione's wizarding dental practice and moved unsteadily to seat himself in the patient's chair.
"Mr. Wilkinson, as always, I must stress upon you the redundancy of your… frequent check ups. It is truly unnecessary. You have strong gums, a full set of healthy, white teeth, and making weekly appointments with me is, frankly sir, a waste of time and money." She hoped that perhaps today the old coot would see her point and stop wasting her time as well as his own, but she wasn't going to hold her breath. "And I'm not a healer sir, just a dentist."
"Nonsense young lady. Children your age, you never understand. My teeth could give out any moment. Do you know how old I am? I'll tell you how old I am –"
Hermione rolled her eyes as she noisily snapped on her latex gloves. Mr. Wilkinson was her most difficult patient by far. He insisted on having every centimeter of his mouth inspected every Friday at four, including x-rays and detailed noting of each tooth's exact location, condition, and projected lifespan. The work was always tediously excessive, and Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that he was not legitimately concerned for the welfare of his teeth, but rather more interested in the opportunity to leer at her in her immaculate, form fitting lab coat. She sighed again as she clipped the paper bib to the front of his robes.
"All right Mr. Wilkinson, open wide please." she tried hard not to wince at the sight of the old man's slimy, discolored tongue, and willed herself not to recoil as said tongue rubbed suggestively against her probing fingers.
"Mr. Wilkinson, it would help me greatly if you would cease the movement of your tongue."
"Ease all ee Ary."
"I'm sorry Mr. Wilkinson, I will not call you Barty. I like to maintain a professional atmosphere with my patients."
There was a knock on the door, and Hermione's secretary Elaine stuck her head in.
"I'm sorry to interrupt Ms. Granger, but Mr. Potter is on the floo for you. He says it's urgent."
"Thanks Elaine. I'll be right there." Hermione reached behind her to the table that held all her tools. Out of spite, she grabbed the clamp and inserted it none too gently into Bartholomew's open mouth.
"There now, Mr. Wilkinson. You just sit tight for me. I'll be back in a pinch." Unfortunately, 'pinch' had been a very poor choice of words. No sooner had she stood from her stool and turned her back on the man did she feel a hand giving her bum a firm pinch. Biting her tongue, she made for the exit.
When she was in the safety of her waiting room, the door shut securely, Elaine turned to Hermione.
"Was that really necessary to clamp is mouth open like that?"
"Not at all." she replied nonchalantly. "You mentioned something about Harry?"
"Hello Mione." Harry's voice came from the other side of the reception desk. Walking over to her fireplace, she crouched down me meet Harry's head that was floating amidst the flickering green flames.
"Afternoon Harry, how is everything?"
"Oh everything is, you know, everything. It's been very easy going today, except that, er… something's come up." His expression was pained and it looked like he was trying to rub out the tension in his neck with a shaky hand. Hermione's brow immediately furrowed.
"What do you mean? What's happened? Has someone been hurt?" Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head furiously.
"No, no! Nothing like that. What I mean to say is that something's come up for tonight. I know we were going to meet for drinks for Ron's birthday and all but I'm… um, feeling a bit ill. My stomach has been quite sour and I don't suppose that drinking will make it any better."
Liar, Hermione thought bitterly.
"And I've already talked it over with Ron, he understands, and we'll just reschedule for another time, yeah? Well I better go, me being sick and all. I knew you'd understand. You're the best Mione, cheers!"
The end came rushed and hardly comprehensible, but his head was gone before she had a chance to protest. She straightened and tucked an errant curl that had fallen loose from her pony tail behind her ear.
"Elaine, I'll be working late tonight. You're welcome to leave early if you'd like. It's Friday, I'm sure you have plans."
Elaine blushed and tried to pretend she hadn't heard the conversation between friends. She had always pitied Hermione in her own way. Despite the successful practice, the natural beauty, and the abundance of talent that her boss undeniably possessed, she always seemed to be alone. If she had to guess, Elaine would suppose that the closest Hermione Granger got to romance was the marriage proposal from the crusty Wilkinson bloke every week.
"Erm, well I did actually have some plans for later, but I could stay if you like." Elaine offered shyly.
Hermione refused. "No, go on home. It's just boring paperwork. Have a lovely weekend. I'll see you Monday."
"Thanks, you too Miss. Granger." Hermione waited as the younger girl gathered her things and left the office before returning to Mr. Wilkinson and concluding his exam. True to form, as he handed over what he owed for his visit he took her soft, young hand in his rough, elderly one and looked her in the face with watery eyes to recite the same speech for the hundredth time.
"Miss Granger, an old man like me needs some spunk in his life, someone beautiful and young to keep me childish at heart. Please my delicate flower, be my wife."
And again for the hundredth time, she declined, pulling her hand back and ushering him out the door. With him finally out of the way and the office to herself, she leaned against the door and let out a sad breath.
That night, long after the 'Open' sign was flipped to 'Closed', she took her time cleaning each tool, sterilizing each stainless steel implement to the point of perfection. At eight o'clock, she unbuttoned her lab coat and hung it up on the coat rack. She straightened the papers on Elaine's desk, and sorted Monday's appointments into alphabetical stacks of 'morning', 'afternoon', and 'early evening'. Lastly, she adorned her cloak, grabbed her purse, turned out the lights, and locked the front door.
"Man, I bloody hate lying to her. She can see right through me. She expects that rubbish from you, but not from me. Why did I have to do it?" Harry kicked a rock angrily as he and Ron walked side by side to the apparition point just down the road from Harry's flat.
"Because it's my birthday, and I asked you to. Besides, Seamus has ordered strippers. Strippers, mate. And witches at that! I've heard that they like to have a gander at the old magic stick, if you know what I mean. Now come on, be a man and tell me honestly. If it was your birthday, would you rather have drinks with Hermione at Madame Uglyfoot's –"
"Puddifoot's –"
"Whatever, or get stinking pissed with your best mates while a bunch of gorgeous girls are shaking their bits at you. Come on Harry, tell me."
"All right, all right, fine. You win. Lead the way." Ron clapped him on the back.
"That's the way, mate. It's gonna be a fantastic night." The two men popped directly to the Hog's Head, where the birthday boy was greeted earnestly by the host with a punch on the arm and a glass of firewhiskey pressed into his hand.
She was proud of what she had accomplished. Really, she was. As were her parents. She knew they were frightened to death that she would become an auror straight out of Hogwarts and lose her life fighting for a world they weren't even a part of, but when she purchased the vacant lot next to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor in Diagon Alley and turned it into Granger's Dentistry and Orthodontics, they let out a sigh of relief. However, despite their bursting delight at their daughter's decision to follow their footsteps, the Grangers could see an emptiness in Hermione, one that they had no idea how to fill.
On that particular evening, Hermione had decided to fill that void with alcohol, and lots of it. Not at all a heavy drinker, she rarely kept anything harder than wine in her flat. Flooing to the Leaky Cauldron, she dragged her feet in the direction of the Hog's Head for a bottle of anything that would knock her out quick.
Fishing around in her deep cloak pockets for some galleons, she fingered the envelope that held Ron's birthday present: season tickets to the Chudley Cannons, including away games. She knew he would be thrilled, whenever she had the chance to give it to him.
Spring came late, and there was still snow on the ground, sticking to her surprisingly impractical stiletto pumps and the hem of her nice jeans. She shook it off as best she could before entering the rowdy pub, and her eyes instinctively sought out the source of the commotion. Across the room, Ron's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
"Oh fuck. What's she doing here?" Ron grabbed Harry and pulled him down as he ducked under a table that a very scantily clad witch was currently using as a stage.
"What? Who?" Harry asked.
"Hermione! Bugger us, we're fried if she sees us here." Ron hissed. A pair of large feet stopped in front of their hide out, and a very drunk Seamus Finnigan stooped down to find Harry and Ron cowering behind the table legs.
"Oh, 'ello there. Whatcha doin' 'own there, eh? Is' your very own party me mate, me pal, me very good friend. Why ye hidin'? Ye ain't shy, are ye? Come 'ere now." To Ron's tremendous horror, Seamus began pulling him out from under the table.
"Seamus, no!" Harry tried to grab onto Ron's leg but it was to no avail.
"Now listen 'ere, all ye!" Seamus draped an arm around Ron's shoulders, hoisting him up to his feet. The crowd settled down enough to hear his slurred speech, and Ron chanced a look towards the bar, where Hermione's eyes were dancing with rage, her fists clenching and teeth grinding. He didn't doubt she wanted to give him the lashing of a lifetime. Ashamed, he looked away.
Seamus continued, staggering slightly. "This 'ere, is me good old mate Ron, an' its 'is birthday, so ladies, give 'im a kiss, would ye?" Whoops, hollers, and catcalls filled the pub. "I love ye mate, I love ye." Seamus wobbled away, having caused more damage than he was aware of.
When Ron lifted his head, it was to discover that Hermione was standing not a meter away, and she was livid. She pulled something out of her pocket and shoved it to his chest.
"Happy birthday, Weasley." she bit out fiercely. She turned and halted in front of the table. "And don't think I didn't see you too, Potter." She gave the concealed body a sharp kick. Harry yowled in pain clutching his shin, but didn't reveal himself. "That was for lying to me, you stupid prick. 'Home sick' my arse, you buffoon! You truant! You no-good liar!"
There were gentle but firm hands on her shoulders pulling her back, and a smooth voice was talking her down. "Come on now Granger, you've done an absolutely brilliant job of putting these wankers in their place. First rate, really, couldn't have done it better myself, but I think they've had enough. Let's just –"
Hermione spun to face the person slowly dragging her away from the scene she was making. Her face crinkled in disgust.
"You!"
Draco Malfoy smirked, noticeably pleased with himself. "Me."
"Malfoy, if you are expecting some urbane reunion, you can get lost. In fact, no matter what you are trying to do, go ahead and scram anyways!" she ripped herself out of his grip. "And don't touch me."
Malfoy held his hands up in surrender, a look of innocence plastered on his face. "Relax Granger," he purred. "I was only going to ask if you would like to engage in some drunken, animalistic shagging with me tonight. Seeing as you're so angry, I imagine we could test out a few kinky things I've been dying to try. What do you say?"
Her eyes narrowed to irate slits and her mouth opened to give a nasty retort, but over Malfoy's shoulder she saw both Ron and Harry, their faces agog, and she sneered.
"Your flat okay?" she asked, grabbing hold of his belt loops and pulling him towards the door. Malfoy allowed himself to be tugged along, even taking the opportunity to dip his hand down to her backside and give her delicious bum a squeeze. He looked back at the shocked expressions of Potter and Weasley, and just for the fun of it, waggled his fingers at them in a teasing good bye.
They didn't say a word as they walked together down the road, trudging through the remaining snow and sticky mud. Before they reached the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione cleared her throat and stopped.
"Thank you, I suppose. For saving me from myself. And I appreciate the act on your part, it certainly got the desired effect." he looked down at her quizzically.
"Act?"
"Well, yes. You didn't think I really meant to go home with you, did you?" she asked. His look was serious.
"I did. Besides, your mates ditched you so what better have you got to do than come over to my place and have a drink with me?" he jammed his hands into the pockets of his cloak and shrugged.
"I should just go home. It's been an awful day and, no offense, but I can't imagine spending the rest of it with you." Hermione dug through her purse to retrieve her wand. He had his out first and tapped the brick wall, moving aside for her to pass ahead of him. She hesitated, skeptical of his sudden chivalry. Gently he gave her a small push forward and she entered the pub.
"I'll tell you what," he seemed to have brushed off her excuse. "I'm going to leave my address here with Tom, in case you change your mind. Goodnight Granger. Maybe." he handed the barkeep a slip of parchment and disappeared in a swirl of green through the fireplace without glancing back at her once. Shaking her head, she ignored the urge to approach Tom.
Don't be stupid, Hermione told herself. Don't be a fool. She walked over to the floo but didn't get in. She had left the Hog's Head without purchasing anything to drink, and the nearest muggle bar was too far to walk in the cold. Longingly she stared back at the small paper left alone by the stacked glasses. She bit down on the inside of her cheek before rolling her eyes, stomping her foot and grasping her wand. She muttered a low accio and crinkled the thing eagerly in her palm. She told herself no one saw her do it and stepped into the roaring emerald blaze. Just one, she thought.
The floo spit her out on the ground floor of the complex that housed Malfoy's flat. After scanning the directory, she took the lift to the top floor and his front entrance.
"Penthouse," she mumbled. "Figures."
She rang the bell and stepped back. He answered the door and smirked when he saw her, opening the door wide for her to step in. "Well hello there – "
"Just one." Hermione marched through the foyer.
"Yes ma'am." he said merrily. The door closed with a bang and he followed closely on her heels.
A/N: Hey there guys. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with this, but I guess we'll see. I started it a long time ago, so if you can see a difference in tone between the beginning and the end, that's why. I can't make promises about how often I'll get chapters up, but if you want to check on the status of how they're coming along, I have a blog for that (where I also tend to bitch about work and diets and cat fights…sorry) at .com/ thanks OH YEAH WAIT! Um I noticed that for some reason words that were spelled correctly on my Microsoft Word program are coming up as wrong on here, like letters being dropped or something, so I've been trying to keep an eye on it but if I miss something, it's not me, I swear. Blame the program. Please?
