Chapter 2
Two nights later, her work week complete, Hermione dawdles over her supper in the Great Hall. She has plans, but executing them depends on where Severus Snape decides to spend the evening. She casts occasional glances along the table to where he sits beside McGonagall at the centre of the table. After pudding, McGonagall rises and speaks to the teachers.
"Brandy and conversation in the staff room this evening."
"And poker," Snape adds sardonically. "Don't bring your pocketbooks."
Amid the good-natured laughs, Hermione trails the teachers until she sees Snape stand politely aside to permit the others to enter the room ahead of him. Flitwick and Slughorn are the last ones in. She reverses direction. She has preparations to make.
"Miss Granger?"
She freezes in her tracks. Why didn't Snape go in? What does he want?
She turns to him. "Yes, Professor?"
"Will you join us?"
His tone is perfectly modulated. He exhibits no expression other than one of courteous attention. Hermione can't help but notice how much better he looks than he did when she was his student. His eyes are no longer sunken in a face bordering on the skeletal, which always threw his nose into unflattering relief. He appears properly nourished, properly rested, and though he has a large, hooked nose, it no longer dominates his face as it did before. No, his eyes are his dominant facial feature now. They are endlessly dark and arresting.
These days, she finds herself looking at him far more frequently than she wants to, and she doesn't like it.
She says, "Thank you, but no. I have plans with friends."
Other than a faint arch of his eyebrows, Snape makes no response. He then nods and enters the staff room, closing the door behind him.
Hermione feels a curious mixture of relief and regret. Does he really want her company? She finds she cannot believe this to be true.
She turns and goes to her room to prepare for her night's adventure.
Ninety minutes later, she is sitting disconsolately in the office shared by the co-owners of Harry's Place. She wears a little black dress and crazily high-heeled black shoes. She's even used Sleekeazy to put her hair up, but all to no avail. Knowing the location of the building still did not gain her entrance.
As she stood in the dark, empty foyer of the Secret Kept house, a disembodied voice said, "Password, please."
Hermione looked all around, but saw no one. "I don't have a password."
"Come back Tuesday."
And by some magic she is not familiar with, she was back on the street.
So she walked round to Harry's Place.
She kicks off her shoes and massages a foot, while Harry and Draco stand over her.
Harry shakes his head. "Girls go out in the cold wearing next to nothing and then wonder why they're freezing."
Draco elbows Harry gently in the side. "Why don't you find us something warm to drink, and I'll fetch a blanket for her."
When Harry leaves the room, Draco rests his shapely bum on the edge of a desk and looks her over with cool grey eyes.
"What happened to you? Some bloke stand you up?"
Hermione glances over her shoulder to ascertain Harry's absence, then holds out the grubby card to Draco. "Do you know this place?"
Draco wrinkles his nose and takes the business card fastidiously by the corners. When he speaks, his voice is sharp with disbelief. "TPE? What the hell, Granger?"
Hermione snatches the card from him and puts it away again. "Just tell me what you know."
He leans closer to her and speaks quietly. "It's a club for adults. My father goes there now and again."
"Your parents go to TPE?"
"My father," he repeats, as if she's not quite bright. "It wouldn't be to my mother's . . . taste."
"But why is it so secretive? What do they do there?"
Draco's eyes focus on the wall over her head, and she's sure the next words he speaks will be a lie.
"Don't bother if you're not going to tell me the truth," she says, feeling irritated. All dressed up and nowhere to go, except to see Harry and Draco. Another wasted excursion. Will she never find out what Snape is up to?
She says, "I'll just go back Tuesday, like they told me to."
Draco nods. "Tuesday nights are for beginners. You'll find out all about it then."
Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "I wish you would just tell me what you know."
"I went to one of the Tuesday night get-togethers, but it wasn't my sort of thing. Friday nights are for couples and people seeking relationships, so they don't admit beginners on Fridays. You can be anonymous if you want. It's just for all different sorts of . . . encounters."
"Do you mean sex?" Hermione asks, intrigued.
"Go find your own man, Hermione," Harry says, returning with a tea service on a tray. "No sex with mine."
Harry gives Draco a look, and Draco smirks at him. Hermione tries not to be envious. Harry has someone. Ron has someone. Even Neville and Ginny have each other. What's the matter with her? Why can't she find someone?
Harry shakes his head, pouring tea into a mug and passing it to Hermione. "I thought you were going to find a blanket for her, Malfoy. You're hopeless at entertaining."
Draco lifts a hand. "Accio sofa quilt."
Tucked up on the sofa across from the partners' desks, Hermione drinks her tea and looks around the room. Harry's desk is haphazardly piled with vendors' invoices, fliers announcing the opening of the restaurant on Halloween, and newspapers. Draco's desk holds a framed photograph of him with his parents, an expensive eagle feather quill in a sterling silver inkstand, and a cut crystal vase with one perfect white rose.
She cocks her head to one side. "I didn't know you like flowers, Draco."
He reaches the short distance from his chair to Harry's and flicks a finger gently against the messy black-haired head. "I didn't either, until someone began giving me one every day."
Harry laughs. "The way I remember it is you told me if I wanted to get on with you, I had to provide the proper romantic inducements."
The two exchange a look charged with tension, and Hermione is flooded with a sharp pang of emotion. It seems as if she's on the verge of tears far too often, these days. Orphaned Harry has found his place in the world with Draco Malfoy, of all people, and she couldn't be happier for both of them—but rather sad for herself.
She finishes her tea in one long swallow. "I'm off," she says, slipping her shoes on again. "Thank you for the tea and company."
The young men stand, shoulder to shoulder, and their hands link.
"Do you want us to take you back?" Harry asks.
Hermione shakes her head. "I'm a big girl—I can manage."
She Disapparates from the street in front of the restaurant with its Opening Soon! sign glowing in the dark.
