Summary: Hermione suffers another break from Ron, and right before Christmas. She decides to enlist the help of an old partner in revenge. And that's when things get mental.
Contents: A Dramione Holiday one-shot of about 10000 words.
Rating: It rated T unless someone objects.
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the settings and characters you recognize - the rest is mine.
A Merry Christmas Twist
Prologue
"Look Ron, the decorations are already up."
"Isn't that because it's nearly Christmas Hermione."
"They weren't up this time last year."
"We didn't go to Muggle London last year."
"Well – maybe you're right – still, they look pretty good, heh?"
"Where's this place Harry was bragging about?"
"It should be around this corner."
"Great – because I'm starving."
"You always are."
The restaurant had been Harry's favorite since Ginny and he found it after a visit to the Ministry. Modestly situated with narrow street frontage, the interior was quite impressive with a warm and cozy ambiance.
"We'd like a balcony table," injected Hermione to the receptionist.
"You may have to wait," replied the girl.
"That's okay," Hermione fired back, drawing a lugubrious frown from Ron.
It was fifteen minutes later but they were finally seated along the balcony railing. Multiple candelabra provided just enough ambient light in the room. The waiter ambled by to drop off menus and to light candlesticks on the table.
"Oh look Ron, they have Italian on the menu. I'm dying for prawns with Fettuccine Alfredo."
"I'm dying for anything," he rebuffed.
Neither the waiter, the meal, or Hermione could coax anything more than monosyllabic replies from Ron. He seemed hell-bent to sour the evening. Hermione let him finish his steak before any more attempts at conversation.
"That was good," he said at length. This seemed like the sign Hermione was needing.
"I was wondering," she said after washing down a mouthful of pasta. "With Ginny playing Quidditch for the Harpies – will she be coming in for your mom's Christmas do?"
Ron shook his head. "Don't think so," he managed with a bite in his mouth. "I believe mom and dad will leaving to visit her."
"But Ron, we always have Christmas at the Burrow?"
Ron only shrugged and went back to his meal.
"So where will we celebrate the Holidays?" continued Hermione.
"Maybe I can stop by your place," he replied.
Hermione dropped her fork on the plate.
"Ron, what's going on?"
Ron shook his head. "Nothing!"
"Nothing? You call this nothing? You've barely managed a civil tone all night."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I just don't know about the Holidays – that's all."
"And you really don't want to know do you?"
Ron stared at his plate.
"I don't know. I'm not sure about a lot of things Hermione."
Hermione took a deep breath before the next question.
"Does that include us Ron."
"I am a little confused – yeah sometimes I am."
"About what?"
"Oh, I don't know. I just don't feel like being tied down all the time."
Hermione flushed red.
"Tied down? After all the things we've been through – this is what I am to you Ron? Someone to tie you down?"
"You're putting words in my mouth Hermione. Sometimes I just wish for a little more freedom – that's all."
"No, you said that Ron – and you started this," Hermione said with tears beginning to swell.
"You're overreacting again Hermione."
"I think you've earned your freedom Ron – starting right now."
Hermione threw the serviette on the table and stormed out.
A Very Merry Christmas
A New Beginning
'Don't feel like being tied down'. Those words would ring in Hermione's ears for some time. It was several weeks until the holidays and she was single and alone – again. This was becoming a regular habit during the holiday season. Years ago it started with Lavender Brown, then again only last year with her little sister. And now again this year for reasons she had yet to phantom. There was no doubt that Hermione and Ron's relationship had seen better times. There was no uncertainty about that; and there was also no doubt that their best times were far behind them.
Their real relationship – as a man and a woman would start a relationship – and not that foolishness before the battle of Hogwarts – began in earnest at Hogsmeade after the war. It was a sweet beginning, and one that she often thought of fondly. They rented a room at the Three Broomsticks on a snowy weekend. Hermione could still remember it clearly. She could remember the satin sheets, the smell of the fire in the room, and giving themselves to one another all weekend. She had given all a poor girl has to give. She thought it would be enough to last. But she was wrong.
And now it was over. As long as it had taken their relationship to get started, it had vanished in a flash. She thought about these things as she sat in her cold empty flat alone. She barely had the energy to get up and put more coal on the fire from the scuttle.
She had sat there for days until she was sick and tired of it. She was tired of so many things: the old Hermione, the way she dressed, the way she acted, and the way she was perceived. If she could find the energy to change these things she would; but even if she could change it wasn't likely to occur in time to improve the holidays.
...ooo0O0ooo...
Hermione took her short lunch break in the back room in Flourish and Blotts. She was on the list for employment at the Ministry, but Ministry jobs were in short supply. Post war economics had all but ended hiring for new positions. But everyone knew she loved to read and Flourish and Blotts had hired her on the spot when she came looking for work.
She hadn't talked with anyone since this last breakup with Ron. Ginny was still her best friend, but for some reason she just didn't feel like talking with Ginny right now. Ginny tended to overcompensate with apologies and consoling remarks. This only made things feel worse. She knew her brother was an arse but she needed to just stop talking about it.
For several days she swore off men. At first this seemed like the easiest cure for what ailed her. But then through the rumor mill she heard Ron was shagging Emily Brown. This had been why he was so elusive about plans for the holidays. Now she keenly felt the need for revenge.
Hermione longed for a fresh start and a total makeover. She had come to despise the old Hermione Granger. She wanted desperately to shake the bookworm image. Not exactly the easiest thing to do when one worked in a bookstore. She had tried a makeover once before but she lacked the conviction to see it through. To achieve any real change she would have to really push the envelope this time. She might have to seriously consider taking a step on the wild side to find the cure she longed for.
For one thing: she would renew her membership in the Muggle health spa. She needed to get her legs and arse back in fit form again. Ginny had said she only punished herself this way to increase blood flow to the brain. Hermione laughed as she knew part of this to be the truth, but she also knew it did wonders for a short skirt.
She could always go back straightening her hair. She had done that only once by using Sleekeazy's Hair Potion for the Tri-wizards ball. Supposedly there were new products for that now and they were easier to use and more effective. She might look for those after work today. If she dared, she could always pay a visit to Madam Boobcranks. She was an old crone that worked in the backroom of a beauty salon in Knockturn Alley. She specialized in magical boob jobs. It was against wizarding law to perform these but no one ever bothered to complain and many witches had used her special gifts on occasion.
But the reality of her new situation knocked back every attempt to find improvement. Why seek self help when she would be alone for the holidays with nowhere to go. She had to find a party or do for the holidays – and the more the merrier. There were loads of parties given by Gryffindor friends but she would prefer to avoid those. The worst case might involve running into Ron himself. That would be bad enough. In the best case all her friends would ask questions and want to know exactly what caused the breakup. Life was too short to re-live such torment. No, if she wanted different results, she would have to find something else.
Looking through the Daily Prophet in the Wizarding Wingdings section she found several out of the way events.
Pheromone Party: bring your own bag of pajamas worn for two days, etc., etc.
She'd already spent enough time with one smelly slob and that was enough.
Tops and Bottoms Dress up party: Witches wear the top and wizards wear the bottoms…
Things there might happen a little too quickly. She was planning on taking the time to savor her revenge.
Rubik's Cube party: come dressed in four colors and change with others to…
Hmmm, cute but no.
Lumos Charm Party: All guests are gathered in a room with no lights. Only the Lumos charm is used for light.
In a room full of strangers – no way.
Slytherin Party: Okay, we all know Slytherins are not that popular so other houses are welcome. Contact Theodore Nott.
A Slytherin party? Would that be possible. One thing for sure – she wouldn't get too many questions concerning Ron. Of course one person might be there that she'd just as soon avoid, but this definitely would be expanding her horizons.
...ooo0O0ooo...
Nott's place turned out to be an out of the way flat in Muggle London. Dressed in a short skirt, black hoseiry, and a tight red cardie, she drew a few whistles and cat-calls. It was a little disturbing but at least she was on the right track. Perhaps the skirt was a little short – even for her 'new' self. She hoped it wouldn't be over the top but it showcased her efforts at the health spa very well.
She'd been only a few footsteps from Madam Boobcranks' front door before she chickened out. She made a promise with herself that she'd be bold enough to try this one day. But for now, the substitute for Madam Boobcranks' booby charms turned out to be a small black lace shelf bra with matching pants. This little cleavage creator made something out of nothing at a price she could afford.
And the hair? There was nothing unattractive about bushy hair, she reasoned, if worn correctly. She clipped it at the nape of the neck and let fan out over the shoulders of the red cardie.
She was, just a little nervous, approaching Nott's door. The big question was: who would be there? It's all part of the adventure, she told herself and rapped loudly. Music was blaring through the door. She could almost identify the artist before the door cracked open. A young guy she didn't recognize greeted her. One look at the outfit she was wearing brought a wide smile to his face.
"Come on in," he said while waving a paper cup full of some party concoction.
"Thanks," she said and smiled nervously.
They followed the music down a long corridor decorated with avant-garde holiday decorations.
"There's punch in the kitchen," he began. "Down there and on your left – you'll want some."
In no mood to argue, she followed the directions to a tee. Several male guests were chatting up a good looking Slytherin she remembered from school but couldn't place her name.
Looking around, there were used cups everywhere but spotting the stack of unused ones proved futile.
"Where's the cups?" she had to ask.
"Hidden in the cupboard," said one of the guys and went back to hitting on the girl.
She found a cup and filled it with a pumpkin colored concoction. She tasted something else behind the pumpkiny sweet facade but couldn't identify it. Moving on in the direction the music was loudest, she found the heart of the party in a large sitting room in the back. Plopping down in a couch that was safely out of the center of the room, she sat back to sip her drink and take it all in.
Out of nowhere a gent plopped down on the couch beside her.
"Hi, I'm Phillip Ramsy," he said with a lubricated lisp.
"Nice to meet you – Hermione Granger."
"Yeah, I remember you from school. Gryffindor right?"
"You got it," she came back curtly.
"Hufflepuff myself. Don't know too many of these Slytherins but they're a friendly lot."
"Same here," she heard herself say. Come on Hermione – be a little more engagingthan that.
Someone turned the lights down a notch. The conversation with Phillip Ramsy had stalled miserably. A few moments later she felt his hand massaging her knee.
"There's some excellent Firewhiskey upstairs if you'd like to give it a try?"
She paused on the offer, pretending to give it consideration.
"Maybe later," she returned.
When Phillips hand got a little too high to ignore, she crossed her legs.
"Be back in a bit," he said and then bounced off.
There was no further sign of Mister Ramsey, but when Therodore Nott and Gregory Goyle entered the room Hermione's anxiety ratcheted up a notch. The worst was envisioned when a certain blonde headed wizard entered the room. Of all the things that could go wrong with attending a Slytherin party, the biggest one was heading her way.
"Granger! Fancy meeting you here," he said and plopped down in Ramsey's seat.
"Phillip Ramsey was sitting there."
"Well, he's not now!"
"He might come back,"she defended.
"I doubt it – saw him leaving on my way in."
"You're atrocious Malfoy."
"What is it Granger?" he asked with mocked sincerity. "What is it you don't like about me?"
"A number of things Draco," she said, not really knowing if Malfoy was hitting on her or just being his normal annoying self.
"Name a few Granger – I bet you can't even remember."
"The time you hoped I would be the next victim in the chamber of secrets comes to mind."
Draco scratched his ear. "Oh yeah, Weaselbee told you that one. We were young then Granger, surely you can do better than that."
Hermione looked to the heavens for inspiration. "The time you watched in hiding to see Buckbeak lose his head – after your dad petitioned the Ministry to have him dispatched."
"Yeah, that was rotten alright – but you gave me a good punch for that one Granger."
"And there was that time you hit me with the Densaugeo hex."
"In all fairness, that hex was deflected."
"It doesn't really matter Malfoy," she said and looked away.
"Well why don't we start things over Granger. How bout I start things off by getting you a drink."
Hermione laughed at Malfoy's persistence.
"I can get my own drink Draco."
"Well listen Granger, the food here's pretty miserable. What do you say we go out for a drink and some real food?"
"And why would I do that Draco? So you can win a bet with your friends?"
"Granger – really I've changed."
Hermione glanced toward the punch bowl. Looking terribly fit and outdoorsy, Cormac McLaggen was standing there bigger than life. The evening just took a turn for the better. The rumor was he was playing beater for the Chudley Canons. She had used McLaggen for revenge at school before; but by the looks of this version revenge might be a lot sweeter. If only he had learned to control his mouth she might win the twofer.
A moment later it looked as though her luck might run aground. A tall blonde emerged from around the corner and was standing very close to McLaggen as he chatted with a couple of Slytherins. From the view of things it didn't look like he was actually with the girl, but it was hard to tell. There was only one way to find out.
Immediately, she bounced up off the couch, leaving Malfoy to his own imagination. Casually she mingled her way toward McLaggen as inconspicuously as possible. She said her hellos to Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle. She talked briefly with Richard Fawley, who had been a student leader at Hogwarts. Discussing the philosophies of the early Wizards Council with Fawley, she could hear McLaggen talking behind her. Waiting for Fawley to finish an overly long rebuttal, she finally spun around to 'accidentally' bump into the wholesome looking hunk.
Damn it all. McLaggen was gone, and her sorely needed revenge with it. Waiting beside the punchbowl she let Fawley fetch her another cup of pumpkin juice punch as they discussed the finer points of Wizengamot Law practices.
It was getting late and she was getting a little wobbly in the knees when her luck took a sudden turn for the better. McLaggen and his good looks were back. He was standing in the doorway and looking at her with a million dollar smile.
"Granger? Hermione Granger."
"Oh! Cormac. Fancy meeting you here."
"Well well, didn't think I'd find another Gryffindor here tonight."
"Small world, heh?"
Cormac looked around for place to sit.
"Can I fill your cup and bore you with old times?"
Hermione gave the tall wizard her cup.
"I'll get us a seat over here."
...ooo0O0ooo...
Hermione woke up. Puzzled for a moment, she struggled to calculate just where the hell she was. She was in a bed that was not her own and in a room that she didn't recognize. Her head was splitting with a headache and her clothes were nowhere in sight. She leaned up on one elbow and looked around the room to see half a dozen portraits of Cormac in Quidditch poses. Oh shite – what had she done? And how many times had she done it? There was no other signs of the man himself.
She cursed the pumpkin juice punch. That ingredient she couldn't recognize – it must have been Firewhiskey. Then her memory came back to her. She had left the party with McLaggen and went to his place. And the rest she guessed was history.
She struggled up. There were sounds in the kitchen. Was it McLaggen? She looked around for clothes and found her black bra and matching pants. She slipped on the pants and struggled with the bra. It was a little shelf push up with a red embroidered rose in the middle. It created wonderful lift, but was never intended to be worn in the morning, she reasoned. There were no other clothes in sight. She must have left them outside.
Surreptitiously, she opened the door and peeped outside. She could see hands and feet at the kitchen table but no face. Hell, it had to be McLaggen she thought.
She burst through the door. "Good morning!" she greeted and found herself standing face to face, in her bra and pants, addressing Draco Malfoy!
She let out a tiny scream and covered herself. "What the hell are you doing here?" she heard herself ask. Malfoy looked most amused as he sat there in his Y-fronts eating a bowl of cereal.
"I live here – and just what are you doing here Granger?"
She couldn't believe she was standing in front of Draco Malfoy in her innerwear. She held up an index finger to plead for time.
"It's a long story," she said. "But first, have you seen any clothes around here?"
Draco canted his head toward the living room. "In there I think – but if you've anything to say to me you better do it now," he said looking at an imaginary watch on his wrist. "I'm late for work."
Hermione fumed, but fell into a chair at the table. Damnit, she couldn't believe she was having a conversation with Draco Malfoy in a nearly nothing pair of bra and pants.
"You live here!?" she asked. "That's a coincidence isn't it?"
"You should thank me Granger."
"And what the hell for?" she asked suspicionsly.
"I'm the one that invited McLaggen. It was a Slytherin party remember? He didn't know anything about it?"
"Are you saying you're flatmates?"
"Absolutely!"
"I thought you lived in Wiltshire – in that dreadful place with your folks," she accessed.
Draco shook his head. "Not any more. It was pretty depressing – living at home. Especially after the war. Mum and Dad – they fight all the time now. So what's your story Granger? Thought you were still seeing Weaselbee?"
"Well – that's just it really. We broke up just a week ago now. I thought – decided really, that I needed to get out a bit. The old Granger was pretty boring. So I saw the ad for this party – and I'd been out with McLaggen in the past, so..."
"Ahh, I thought there was more to this story. This isn't exactly like the old Granger I knew," he said and eyed Hermione in the tiny bra. She covered up a little more.
"Well, I'd appreciate it if you could keep this story to yourself. I'm not really sure if this attempt at 'breaking out' will have a happy ending, and I'd just as soon not have the whole world knowing about it."
"Don't worry Granger – your secret is safe with me. I do have some powers of observation you know. I calculated there must be some reason like this for you to show up alone last night. It was a surprise though."
"There's nothing about a Gryffindor party I find appealing now. And I sure don't care to run into Ron or answer a load of questions about why we broke up."
Malfoy reflected on this a moment.
"As I was saying last night Granger – I'm a changed man. The war did that you know. Sorry for saying so but I always thought Weasley was a chump – and that you'd be better off without him. I would have been glad to go out with you but..."
"Oh come on Draco – all we ever did is fight."
"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Well," he said and rose. Standing proudly in his Y-fronts. "It's off to work Granger."
"Work! You mean to tell me you work!?"
"I told you Granger, I'm a changed man. When you get tired of McLaggen – look me up."
"Sure Malfoy," she said sarcastically.
"Oh – McLaggen, he had to leave early. But there's a note in the living room – beside your clothes," he added with a grin and disappeared.
...ooo0O0ooo...
Hermione had never been so embarrassed. To be caught up in such – and by Malfoy of all people. Oh well, no one ever said 'breaking out' would be easy. She just hoped he'd keep his mouth shut – at least for a little while. The note, Draco referred to was definitely upbeat. It was quite possible their encounter would amount to more than just a hit and run.
Hermione,
Last night was great! We need to do dinner some night when you have the time. Owl me back on this.
All Yours,
Cormac.
PS. We should talk more next time. :)
Hermione flushed red at the 'we should talk more'. Yes, they had wound up snogging the moment they arrived at McLaggen's flat. And as her dulled memory of the evening came back to her, she could remember them coming out of their clothes a few minutes later.
It took all of Hermione's will power to wait one day before Owling back. Cormac's reply was immediate. They were on for Wednesday night. With any luck she wouldn't have to spend Christmas alone after all.
It was a bitter cold night and she was nearly trotting to meet Cormac at Wallabees, Harry's favorite restaurant where she and Ron had split. Hopefully tonight would provide some emotional recovery from that evening. Sometimes revenge could be sweet.
Cormac was standing by the front door and watching for her. He was looking comfortable in a fashionable tan greatcoat. He was a mile wide in the shoulders – a real hunk. So much better looking now than the school days version.
He gave her a quick peck on the cheek.
"Thought I'd missed you," he began.
"No way."
They were seated on the balcony without a wait. Hermione saw this as a good omen. They were enjoying a glass of wine just as the food began to arrive.
"So, I don't get it," blurted Hermione.
"Don't get what?" he asked with an inquisitive grin.
"You're different – so much different than you were in school?"
"Thank god for that," he said and laughed. "It finally occurred to me that not everyone's interest in Quidditch is as enthusiastic as mine."
Hermione laughed. "You did talk about Quidditch a lot."
"A lot?" he replied. "How about all the time. But it's a job now – playing for the Canons. That tends to dampen one's enthusiasm a bit."
This drew a warm chuckle from Hermione.
"So tell me about yourself Granger. I've been trying my best to calculate why you came to the party alone. I mean – I'm damned glad you did. I just can't figure it – that's all."
"Well, let's just say I'm making some changes in my life."
"Changes huh? Well, what I'm seeing right now is certainly a change..."
The dinner was delicious and there had to be angels hovering above to spread cheer and good will. After a few questions and a few remarks about running into Malfoy – they decided to avoid further embarrassments and retired to her flat.
As much as she tried to maintain her composure, she lost it. McLaggen had always been a braggart, but in the arts of love it was just possible he had every right to boast. It was a different flat but the evening turned out just about the same.
When Hermione awoke the next morning, she was curled under the covers absent her clothes. Looking around, there was no sign of McLaggen anywhere.
On the pillow beside hers was a note from Cormac:
Had a wonderful time.
Think about this weekend.
I'll Owl you later,
Love, Cormac.
Hermione felt all giggly and tingling inside. Then the alarm went off – damn she had two more days of work before the weekend.
...ooo0O0ooo...
It was another long day at Flourish and Blotts. A new shipment had arrived and all these books would have to be sorted and shelved. Struggling on a stepladder to make room for new books, she heard a cough from down below. She recognized who it was in a flash. She briefly entertained the notion of dropping a heavy book on his blonde head.
"Malfoy?"
"Morning Granger. Was wondering if you could help?"
"Draco, I'm busy. Maybe one of the other girls could help you."
Draco scratched his scalp through a layer of snowy hair.
"But I asked for you. Doesn't that make it mandatory that you help me?"
She looked down with a frown. "Well no – not exactly – no."
"Well then, if I ask you personally would that help my chances?"
Hermione pulled a face and started down the ladder.
"Okay Draco. What is it you need?"
"I need a book."
"Well alright. What kind of book?"
"How the hell would I know? That's why I need your help."
"Draco, you're not funny – and I have work to do." She started back up the ladder.
"Wait a minute Granger – I need to talk."
"About what?"
"Can I not discuss it here?"
It was almost time for break. She could take some coffee and listen to what Malfoy had to say. He was after all flatmates with Cormac.
"Okay, Malfoy. I can take a few minutes for break."
Once inside the break room Malfoy went silent. He looked around aimlessly as she prepared the coffee.
"Draco!"
"Yeah?"
"So what is it you wanted to talk about?"
Draco scratched his blonde hair.
"I was wondering," he began. "How are you and McLaggen getting along?"
"That's rather personal, don't you think."
"I mean in a general way – of course."
"I'm still seeing him," admitted Hermione and pulled a face. "And why do you ask?"
Draco looked a bit agonized. "I didn't know. But I do feel obliged to council you on McLaggen."
"I don't need counseling Draco. I'm a big girl you know."
"For sure – I just thought after tough times with Weasley, why add to your troubles with a ladies man."
"Why not Draco? And aren't all men Ladies men? Some are just more successful than others?"
Draco appeared injured. "Well – no, not all."
"So you didn't need a book at all – you came here to warn me about McLaggen?"
"I was thinking – aw, hoping actually, if you weren't still involved with ol Cormac, you might go out with me."
Hermione was a little taken back by this whole thing. But in truth she didn't trust Draco Malfoy as far as she could throw him.
"Well that's very generous of you Draco, but I've to get back to work," she said and looked at her watch.
She threw her paper cup in the rubbish bin and headed back out to the sales floor with Draco in tow.
"There's still that little matter of the book you were going to help me with."
...ooo0O0ooo...
The weekend couldn't get there fast enough. As a bit of personal revenge, she'd booked a room at the broomsticks in Hogsmeade over the weekend. Snow was in the forecast and it should turn out to be just the kind of weekend Hogsmeade was good for. From what she could tell, Cormac was all in for it.
The only thing that might ruin it would be a lot of inquisitive Gryffindors. The last thing she needed is questions like 'where's Ron', 'what's happened to you two', and things she'd just as soon forget. The good thing about a weekend at Hogsmeade was this: all they would require to make it work was each other. The snow and the firewood would take care of the rest.
Their weekend began just as she thought it would. For plain old fun, they hit all the old places they did in their third year. Honeydukes sweetshop was first on the list. Cormac got her a large cherry sugar pop as big as a saucer. It was hilarious and they had to share it. Hermione knew the only sweets she really needed was standing hunky beside her, and they'd already been indulging in that sweet all afternoon.
The day wouldn't be complete without a visit to Zonko's Joke shop. Cormac found a talking sock cap that barely fit over Hermione's bushy hair. With the sweets and the Sock cap, they had to stop for a look at the shrieking shack. As the sun began to fall behind the shack they snogged and kissed for a long time. With the snow falling, chilly hands went roaming for a good warm spot. Cormac warmed his hands inside her cardigan until it was time to head back.
The walk back to the hotel left them hungry and ready for dinner. Madam Rosmerta seated them in front of the large cozy fireplace that thawed them quickly. Cormac ordered a piping shepherds pie and Hermione opted for a hot bowl of hearty stew. Both had butterbeer to wash it down.
They had run through all the light-hearted gossip and chit chat they could think of until finally talk of Malfoy sprang up.
When Hermione mentioned how he came to the shop Cormac began to bristle up a bit.
"Oh – he didn't say anything bad… he just wanted to know if we were still going out."
Hermione left out the part about Draco accusing Cormac of being a ladies man. McLaggen shook his head at what he heard.
"He's a bit of an odd bird," he finally said.
"How did you wind up with him?"
"It wasn't hard really. When my first flatmate moved away, I ran an ad in the Daily Prophet. Malfoy showed up a few days later."
"I would have never figured him for the type to move out of Wiltshire. His family had a large estate there."
"Yeah, I don't know why he would do that. He mentioned something about him and his folks not getting along," added Cormac.
"Well, enough of him – here's to us," toasted Hermione with her glass of butterbeer glass.
"Yeah – here's to us!"
...ooo0O0ooo...
As all good things must come to an end, Hermione and Cormac parted ways after a long kiss at the gates of Hogsmeade Sunday night. They agreed to disapparate along separate paths and meet up again sometime in the next week. But early the next week Hermione received an Owl from McLaggen.
Hermione,
I'm beat love. You've managed to drain all the energy I have. :)
Also – I have a game this weekend and will be out of town.
What do say – we meet up next week?
Until then.
All Yours,
Cormac
Like a bird with clipped wings, Hermione's high flying spirits fell to earth after receiving the note. She consoled herself with reassuring thoughts that the next week would come around in no time.
In spite of her best attempts to console herself the days seemed to drag forever. Determined to make the best of it, Hermione made a lunch date with Ginny and they met up at a Muggle sandwich shop. The two had not spoken since her breakup with Ron. Of course Hermione was compelled to mention Cormac and regale Ginny with the events of her previous weekend at Hogsmeade. She knew very well, the story would get back to Ron in no time.
"That sounds lovely," chirped Ginny. "Must be nice to have your weekends booked again – so what's up for this one?"
Hermione looked a bit troubled. "Oh, not much I'm afraid. Cormac has an out of town Quidditch match this weekend," she confessed.
It was Ginny's turn to appear befuddled. "Really?" she said and pulled a face.
Hermione could see something troubled her friend. "What is it?"
"I was just looking at a Quidditch schedule this morning; and unless I'm mistaken, I thought the Canons had the weekend off."
Hermione looked a bit stunned.
Ginny bit her lip. "Oh, it's probably a mistake on my part – my bad," she added.
Hermione was a bit troubled on her way back to work. She ran into a co-worker while stowing her things in the break room.
"Carolyn," she said. "isn't there a Quidditch schedule around here somewhere?"
"Uh, yeah I think someone put one up in the back stockroom."
"Thanks!" Hermione went straight away to find the schedule.
She perused the schedule for some time. There was no doubt about it.
Quidditch season – second Quarter
Chudley Canons at Falmouth Falcons
Kenmare Kestrels at Chudley Canons
Tutshill Tornados at Chudley Canons
Nov, 1st – Open Date
Chudley Canons at Caerphilly Catapults
Ballycastle Bats at Chudley Canons
Chudley Canons at Wimbourne Wasps
There it was: In the middle of the second quarter schedule there was an open date – Nov. 1st; the weekend that Cormac said he would be leaving to play? There must be some mistake, but what was it?
As much as she tried not to, Hermione puzzled and pined all day on this mystery. Was skulduggery at play here? She had been warned about Cormac's reputation as a ladies man. If he was slipping out on her she could deal with it, she figured. After all – this whole affair had begun as some wild experiment on her part. But either way she had to know. But she was stumped as to the best way to find out?
It was well after lunch when a possible solution presented itself. She was un-boxing new book arrivals and almost overlooked it:
Pure-Blood Wizarding Lineages of England
by Llewellyn Littleton
Of all the people in London – it was Malfoy. As McLaggen's flatmate, he just might have the answer. When Draco had stopped by, he refused to leave until he ordered a Christmas present for his mother. She would send him an Owl to let him know it was in. Hopefully she'd be working the counter when he came by to pick it up.
It was mid-afternoon when Malfoy sauntered in. He strolled up to the counter in a walk that was totally 'Malfoy'.
"Afternoon Granger – you have my mother's book?"
"Yes, it's here somewhere." She reached around behind her and pulled the book from the stack of new arrivals. She slid the book over the counter for the cotton-topped wizard to inspect.
"Looks like the one," he said. "I do apologize for ordering tripe like this – but my mother insisted."
Hermione ignored the excuse.
"How's McLaggen?"
Draco looked surprised by the question.
"Why are you asking me?"
"Haven't see him this week."
Draco pulled a face. "Uh oh – you two haven't..."
"No – nothing like that," she said and finished wrapping the book with brown paper and tying it up with twine.
"I was wondering," Hermione asked with delicacy. "Could we talk in the back?"
Draco looked suspicious of a trick. He glanced around nervously.
"For sure Granger," he replied and followed the bushy-haired witch into the back. Once they were in the break-room Hermione pulled the door closed.
"Okay Hermione – what are you playing at?"
She took a seat and gestured for Draco to do the same.
"I have a question or two. I know you don't owe me, but I was hoping..."
"Can't make any promises Granger – but go ahead and try me."
"It's about Cormac..."
"And why am I not surprised," Draco injected with an animated face.
"...he told me he was playing out of town this weekend – but then I saw this," she said and threw the schedule on the table. "He has an open date for that weekend."
Draco gave the schedule a casual glance.
"So tell me," she asked. "Is he going out with someone else?"
Draco ran his hands through his blonde forelocks. Finally he shook his head.
"I don't know Granger – I couldn't tell you that for sure – because I don't know."
"Well, you live with him – I just thought..."
"I do that… but the guy's gone a lot. These big time Quidditch players… some of them leave girlfriends in every town."
After hearing this Hermione's head fell and her shoulders drooped.
"Why don't you go out with me Granger. How many times do I have to ask. It's better than you sitting at home alone all weekend and wondering where this guy is – and besides, I'll treat you right."
Hermione's smile turned into a laugh.
"You are persistent Malfoy – I'll give you that. But I won't jump to any conclusions just yet."
Draco threw his hand up. "Somehow I didn't think you would."
...ooo0O0ooo...
Hermione left work that Friday with two good books. For someone that was trying to shake the reputation of bookworm – she was doing a poor job of it. She could at least give Cormac a couple more days. If he didn't come around by the middle of next week, she'd do her best to forget him – however hard that might be.
But reading for hours only made her feel tired and glued to the chair. She lacked energy and felt despondent. A couple of hours at the Muggle health spa would be the cure for that. So by Monday morning she was in mediocre spirits. Even at that, she hardly believed the Owl when it came.
Hermione.
Thought of you all weekend. Practice was a bitch.
Did I tell you that it was a game – I meant out of town
practice. It's the coach's way of beating us into shape.
Anyhow – I'm looking forward to seeing you. I'll
stop by soon.
Still all yours
Cormac.
It was at that very moment that Hermione's heart grew wings. Her whole demeanor began to effervesce. Her suspicions must have been undue. It must have been some kind of mistake, an oversight, she reasoned. Now she felt ashamed that she'd actually gone so far as to question Malfoy about this incident. Would he make a point to tell Cormac about her doubts?
Perhaps to stem her own feelings of guilt, she had decided to go shopping for Cormac a Christmas gift. The holidays were, after all, just a week away.
Diagon Alley at Christmas time was one of Hermione's favorite places in all the world. As soon as her her shift was over at Flourish and Blots, she was up and off to the alley, and fighting the crowd. Almost every shop was magically decorated with blinking lights and shiny objects. The number of evergreen and mistletoe boughs were nearly as plentiful as the shoppers, and holiday cheer and goodwill were contagious all along the narrow alley.
She ducked into Quality Quidditch Supplies and browsed around for something that Cormac might like. The trouble was – she imagined he already had all these things. In the past, she had very often given books for Christmas, but this hardly fit well with her new persona of not being a bookworm.
Twilfitt and Tatting's, who was an excellent clothier, was next on her list of shops to visit. They would have excellent cardigans in house colors. She would have to cross the alley and double back. No simple chore in this Christmas crowd. She was almost at the entryway to the Leaky Cauldron when she was stopped cold in her tracks.
Cormac was exiting the smokey pub and stepping into the alley. She started to wave him down, but the thought hit – he wasn't supposed to be here. – anyway, in this crowd it was nearly impossible. She froze and watched him for a moment. When it looked like he would turn her way, he looked back into the pub as if waiting for someone.
That someone was the tall blonde she'd seen at the party when she first spotted Cormac. To her horror, Hermione stood glued to the ground and watched Cormac loop his arm through the blonde's and then turn. They were coming right toward her. She wanted to run but couldn't. She stayed stuck to the same brick of cobblestone.
Like a bad dream, Hermione could only watch as McLaggen walked the blonde right by her without a glance or a word. She stood there until almost knocked off her feet by the impatient crowd. Once moved, she drifted aimlessly into the Leaky Cauldron and fell into a seat. It took a whole glass of Firewhiskey to wash away the pain.
...ooo0O0ooo...
It took several days for Hermione to put things into some kind of perspective. She went through numb to angry and back to numb. It was her own fault, she finally came to see. She had received fair warning and all the reasons in the world not to get her hopes up with a guy like McLaggen. It was a hit and run – and nothing more. He had wanted something free and easy, and she had desired instant vengeance – so what was she complaining about?
Still, one depressing dump from Ron and now another from a guy she barely knew. Her self esteem had sunk to an all time low – and just a few days away from Christmas.
All of this and more made the next occurrence in this insane string of events even more bizarre. She was barely out of the alley when she got an Owl from McLaggen wanting desperately to meet for dinner Wednesday night. She tore up the note and tossed it in the trash. The poor Owl waited for Hermione's reply but only got the window slammed across his beak instead.
Funnily enough – the process was repeated Thursday night – and then again Friday. To this message she finally sent a reply.
Cormac,
Saw you with the blonde coming out of
the Leaky Cauldron Tuesday night.
Obviously I took this to mean we're done.
If that's not the way you had it figured -
then take this note as proof that you and
I are indeed history.
Hermione.
She coaxed the suspicious Owl closer and placed the note in his beak. With a wave of her hand he lifted off the window sill and was off. End of that business she thought.
She was tending a mad rush of book buyers an hour later when she spotted the Owl again. More for the Owl's sake than any other, she went to the window and retrieved the note.
Hermione,
You didn't see what you thought you did.
It was a case of mistaken identity.
At least hear me out while I try to explain.
Meet me at the Leaky Cauldron at six, after
you get off work.
Mistakenly yours,
Cormac.
Hermione stared at the note. What a load of tripe, she thought. She'd be a fool to listen to any more of his lies. It would be a cold day in hell before she'd meet with him again. With that, she wadded the note into a ball and made a perfect shot into the rubbish bin five paced away.
At five after six, Hermione bundled up in her heavy coat and started to the door.
"Goodnight Hermione!"
"Goodnight Carolyn."
She glanced only once toward the Leaky Cauldron and then proceeded down the alley in the opposite direction.
She stopped in mid-stride. Going through the Leaky Cauldron would the easiest way out, she thought to herself. It shouldn't hurt to just walk through. Besides, if it was anything like his other Owls, Cormac wouldn't be there anyway.
Entering the Leaky Cauldron, she attempted to walk straight through and right past the barstard – just like he'd done to her. But she didn't see him and she was feeling a bit of a chill. A hot spiced tea should take care of that but she didn't want to stop if he was here! She looked around but didn't see him.
Grabbing a table by the door, she ordered the spiced tea and sat vegging for a while. It was ten after six when she finished the tea. She suddenly decided to stop playing games with herself. She knew why she was there and why it was time to leave. He's not coming Hermione.
She gathered her things and started up.
"Just a minute Granger!"
Startled, she looked up to see her persistent cotton-topped nuisance as of late.
"I was just leaving Malfoy – see ya," she said and started for the door.
"I need to talk," he pleaded.
"Come by the store sometime."
"It's about McLaggen," he said and Hermione froze.
"What about him?" she demanded.
Draco stood over the table Hermione had left and beckoned with a wave of his hand. Slowly she moved away from the door and returned. Draco picked up the empty cup and sniffed.
"Two spiced teas please," he called out to the waitress.
"Draco I don't have much time..."
He pulled out her chair and Hermione reluctantly fell into it.
"So what is it then?"
"Well, it's about McLaggen."
"Okay then – what about him?"
"Well you see," he began then stalled. He looked anguished and could continue.
"What is it Draco? Is he hurt?"
"No… it's worse."
Hermione put her hands to her face and blanched.
"Don't tell me..."
Draco shook his head. "No, no, it's nothing like that."
"Well what the hell is it then Draco? It's been a long day."
"I guess I should tell you this first – so you won't run out on me later..."
Hermione sat motionless – unable to move.
"Okay Draco – go ahead and tell me…"
"I honestly have feeling for you Hermione."
"What!?"
"I care for you."
"Okay – that's it. I don't know what you're playing at but it's been a long day," she said, and grabbed her coat from the arm of the chair.
"Hermione please – I'm McLaggen. That's what I'm trying to tell you."
"Draco – You're mental! Now listen to me – you're ill, and you need help," she barked and moved once again toward the door.
"You don't understand Granger," he said and reached both hands into his pockets. He threw a sandwich bag of hair on the table with one hand. From the other pocket he extracted a flash that looked an awful lot like the one Mad Eye Moody used to carry. Hermione looked at the evidence with a horror stricken face.
"You don't mean to tell me – that all this time?" Hermione replied and collapsed back into the chair.
Draco nodded sheepishly.
"Is this the truth or another one of your pranks?"
Draco nodded deeply with regret. "Truth."
"Can you offer proof? And where was the real McLaggen all this time?"
"You'll be angry..."
Hermione waved her hand for Draco to proceed.
"Well, McLaggen has been staying with his girlfriend all this time..."
"The tall blonde?"
"That's the one."
"And the rest of your evidence?"
Draco paused for several moments.
"You have a mole on your right breast."
"Draco Malfoy – this is the most heinous, nefarious, dastardly, abomination, I have ever heard of. If it wasn't Christmas I would Avada Kedavra your arse right where you sit."
"Hermione please – give me a minute."
"I will not, and I hope this gives you and your Slytherin friends a good laugh for the rest of your years."
Once again Hermione bounced out of the chair as if it were red-hot.
"Hermione wait!"
As she zipped through the dim tavern for the door, Draco raced to catch her arm just before she managed to get out.
"You will listen to me," he demanded.
"Go to hell – and let go my arm."
Draco reached out to close the door and block her path. Hermione reached back with the other hand and drew her wand.
"Draco – I warn you. Now..."
"Go ahead – go ahead Granger and kill me if it'll make you feel better."
Hermione raised her wand, but Draco never flinched.
"You are mental! You're fucking crackers!"
"I want you to listen to me. If you hear what I have to say – I'll never bother you again. But if you don't – well, I'll never quit hounding you until you do."
Hermione stood there at the door for some time. She looked into the eyes of the blonde headed wizard and they never moved or flinched. She finally shook her head.
"Okay Draco – let's hear what you have to say. Better make it quick."
"Could we just sit down?"
Hermione snarled but finally acquiesced.
"First of all – this is not a gag to amuse my friends. None of them know or ever will know. After the war ended the Malfoy name sure hasn't been what it used to be. Hell, you'd think I started the damn war."
"Didn't you?" she quipped bitterly.
Draco ignored the cutting remark.
"The way most women acted you'd think I was poison or something. I had to watch McLaggen bring in girls all the time, but I could never get a decent conversation."
"So you used Polyjuice potion to increase your luck," she injected bitterly. "So far Draco you haven't said one thing that..."
"I know – but look Hermione – I asked you out first – and then again later, how many times?"
"But I thought I was dating McLaggen – I'm not the type to go out with two at once – you know that."
"Okay, but you came to the party that night to get even with Ron. I could either impersonate McLaggen with Polyjuice or watch you leave with someone else."
"Draco," she said and pointed a finger. "You've done this before, haven't you?"
"Tell me Hermione – and be honest. Did you ever think for a moment that going home with McLaggen would lead to a steady relationship?"
Hermione stalled on the question. "That's personal Draco."
"Okay, maybe it's personal with me too. So there's no need for us to answer those questions."
"Fair point, but this is getting nowhere and I think I'd better go."
"No Hermione – please. I wanted to stop and tell you the truth after the first night, but I didn't think you'd give Draco Malfoy a chance. But I tried with you, and you know I did. I never dumped on you – and you haven't been dumped. I never lied to you about the things I said. Someone really does care about you Granger – it's just not McLaggen."
"That may be so, but I'm still angry Draco."
"Look, I wanted to stop – and I'm sorry I couldn't. I'm sorry I hurt you. But it was a dream for both of us, and I couldn't stop. And If you walk out of here and never give me a chance, you've ruined my Christmas as well as your own."
Hermione looked down at the floor. She'd never in her life expected Draco Malfoy to lay it on the line so clearly, and with so much emotion.
"So what's going on here Draco – are you still asking me out?"
"Yes. If you'll have me, yes."
"Well, I would have never expected you to be so convincing," she began and Draco nodded. "Still, if you think about it Draco – you're using the leverage you've gained impersonating Cormac to ask me out – and you expect me to go?"
Draco dropped his head and had no reply.
"I'm sorry Draco," she uttered. "I'll have to say no."
With that, the bushy haired witch stepped away from the table and turned toward the door. She left the Leaky Cauldron without ever looking back.
Epilogue
How do you get over someone you were never really dating to begin with? It should be easy, shouldn't it? But it wasn't. Her involvement with McLaggen had been very real – or at least it felt that way. Only it wasn't McLaggen it was…
Okay, it was Malfoy. Or was it? Perhaps in some ways it had been a combination of both she guessed. But where did Malfoy pick up where McLaggen left off? After a few days she made herself a promise to drop it and never think on it again. But she found herself breaking that promise on a regular basis.
Malfoy had promised her that if she listened to his story she would never hear from him again. He broke his promise too. At first it was an excuse to return a book. Then a little later he required help to buy another one.
With each of his persistent attempts to break the ice Hermione could feel herself thaw just a little. At first it was a softer tone in her voice. Later it was a half-hearted attempt to smile. But it had gone nowhere – every time Malfoy looked into her eyes for an answer he found nothing.
It was Christmas eve. It had been a long snowy day and threatening to get worse. Hermione and Carolyn had been on their feet all day and were past ready to go home. Carolyn was about to the turn the sign in the window from 'Open' to 'Closed' when the bell on the door rang and one last customer came jostling in out of the cold.
The blonde headed wizard shook the snow off his greatcoat and marched straight toward Hermione.
"How about a cup of spiced tea at the Leaky Cauldron?" he bravely asked.
Hermione hesitated on the answer.
"Draco, you said if I listened – it would be the end of it – yet here you are..."
"Yes, here I am. And I'll keep asking you Hermione, because I know I did you wrong and I'd like a chance to make it right. So you see, I won't give up and I won't go away. I'll ask you again – will you go?"
Hermione looked into the depths of her soul and saw nothing. Nothing but a cold dark empty place – just like the flat she'd be going home to. She had nowhere to go for the holidays and this would be the only Christmas invitation she would have – if she took it.
When Draco could find no clue from Hermione's cold countenance, he tried the last thing he knew.
"Hermione, it's Christmas."
"I'll get my coat."
...ooo0O0ooo...
Even the hardest of hearts can soften. And the broken ones can mend easily. Hermione went out with Draco that night and enjoyed herself. It was a treat, she thought, getting to see a side of Malfoy she'd never seen before: the side that was polite, warm, and courteous. Of course all first dates were like that. If he was anything like Ron, it would be later when he turned into a slob.
There was a definite glimmer of the polyjuice McLaggen behind the blonde hair. And of course Draco tried to pick up where McLaggen had left off but she wouldn't allow it.
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to start from a new beginning Draco. That's the only way I'll know you're for real."
And he did – Draco was willing to start from scratch – and after a date or two, they had their first kiss. After another date, there were many kisses after that.
One morning, Hermione awoke in a bed that wasn't her own. She was alone and had to struggle for a moment to place herself. There were pictures on the wall of Slytherin greats and she knew immediately where she was.
There were noises outside. More than likely it was Draco crunching on Morning cereal. She threw on a dressing gown and paused by the door. This reminded her of another time when she had come home with McLaggen only to be greeted by Malfoy in the morning. It was a like a mental recurring dream. But who would it be this time? And was she really awake? Was this another dream? Who would she prefer to have sitting at the table if this were a dream?
She opened it to find the blonde headed wizard at the table. His hair all mussed up from the night before. It was exactly who she would prefer to be sitting there, and she snuggled in beside him.
Many times Hermione would think back to that snowy Christmas eve night when Draco came in at closing. She would smile at his difficulty but always think of this night as the beginning of her best Christmas ever.
.
A/N: Hope you liked it. Happy Holidays!