A/N: Due to the fact that so many of you were unable to grasp that not every character, just like not every person in the bloody world, is politically correct, this chapter has been edited. That a character who's been to prison for fighting in a war built on prejudice against a certain kind of people, uses racial slurs and derogatory remarks when referring to other social demographics should NOT be a surprise to anyone, and is NOT a reflection of my own personal thoughts on any given matter. BUT NONE OF YOU CAN FUCKING GRASP THAT! So, to keep you whiny ass bitches happy, this chapter has been edited to accommodate the precious feelings of certain readers.


Firewhiskey Nights

By Kittenshift17


CHAPTER SEVEN


Harry had his arm slung around her shoulders and Hermione had her arm around his waist for warmth as they strolled up Diagon Alley and into the Leaky Cauldron. They both ignored the flash of a camera going off moments after they entered, some plucky photographer getting a shot he'd sell tomorrow morning for the bullshit story of the two being an item. Again. Given the number of times they'd run that story, Hermione no longer had any faith the idea of responsible journalism or in reporters in general.

"Ron and Ginny are both already here," Harry muttered. He sounded irritated, as though the sight of the redheaded siblings was not one that improved him mood.

"If I spill a drink on Ron for calling me a sloppy whore, do you think I'll be called a lush?" Hermione smirked up at Harry.

Harry laughed. "Not by me, love. I'll call you my hero."

"To be the hero of the famous Harry Potter?" Hermione pretended to swoon, clutching at her heart as though the very idea made her faint with dizziness.

"You've had too much wine already, woman," Harry accused. He tucked her into his side once more, steering her towards the bar and away from where Ginny and Ron were drinking with George, Fred, Angelina and Lee.

"You just said you wouldn't call me a lush!" Hermione swatted him.

"Hush up and let me buy you a drink." Harry laughed, dropping a kiss to the top of her head to the flash of several more cameras. "Hey there Hannah, how are you?"

"Harry! Hermione!" Hannah beamed at them, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Whiskey? Gods, how are you? It's been too long."

"Hannah, I saw you on Wednesday when Ron and I were in for lunch," Harry reminded the woman, chuckling.

"That was days ago, Harry!" Hannah rolled her eyes before fixing them both a whiskey the way they liked.

"How have you been, Hannah?" Hermione asked the woman, smiling at her widely as she accepted her drink.

"Oh, I'm grand, Hermione. Just grand," Hannah assured her. "Did I tell you that I'm seeing someone? Gods, I couldn't have. You weren't here last week."

"Oh, and who's the lucky bloke, Hannah?" Harry asked.

"Promise you won't laugh?" Hannah asked.

"Swear it." Harry chuckled.

"Do you remember Oliver Wood from school?" Hannah asked.

"How could we forget?" Harry chuckled. "You and Olly are seeing each other?"

"He asked me to dinner on Tuesday night." Hannah nodded. "Oh, it was lovely. Wine I didn't have to pour. Food I didn't have to cook. Gods, I could've snogged him just for that."

"Did you?" Hermione asked.

"Now, Hermione, a lady doesn't kiss and tell," Hannah teased. "But seriously, if you're ever stuck under mistletoe with that man, paws off, 'cause he's mine!"

Hermione laughed at her words before Hannah was called down the bar to fix some pints.

"So, you ready?" Harry asked, nodding his head towards the Weasleys.

"No. Gods, Ron is going to make a scene," Hermione grumbled. She turned into Harry's chest a little more, reaching for strength.

"Well, if it helps at all, Dolohov and Rowle are both here to set him straight about your whereabouts this afternoon should he go making any wild accusations."

Hermione's head jerked up and she winced when she spotted a whole table full of ex-Death Eaters across the crowded bar.

"What are they doing here?" she hissed. "Rowle said they don't like coming here because people are gits and spit on them, among other things."

"I imagine they're here to drink. Knockturn Alley is being raided tonight. Every business on the street, all in one go. We've been getting a lot of tip-offs down there that there's some illegal breeding going on and some fugitives being harboured. My Aurors are there, along with Arthur and some DRCMC chaps to investigate it all," Harry said. "Guess they had to drink somewhere, what with everything else being shut for the night and the Smoking Quill being the worst pub in England."

"You realise this will end in a duel, don't you?" Hermione frowned at him worriedly.

"It'll be fine. The only people in this place likely to start a duel with the Head Auror in the building are that mob. And they won't do it unless forced because they know I'll bust them and terminate their parole." Harry shrugged his shoulders at her. "Relax. If things get really out of hand with Ron, you can just march right over there and snog Rowle and we'll watch Ron's head explode, yeah?"

Hermione laughed in spite of herself.

"You have entirely too much fun torturing him sometimes, you know?"

"It's only fair. He shagged my secretary. And he cheated on the girl I happen to be in love with." Harry chuckled. "Come on. Fred's spotted us. They'll think we're avoiding them if we don't go and say hello."

"We are avoiding them," Hermione reminded him. "Is Ginny talking to you yet?"

"Not since she found out about Parkinson." Harry shook his head. "As though she has any right to complain? I know she's been fucking Zabini since we split."

"Zabini? Really?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. "I didn't think he'd be her type. He's so snooty."

Harry laughed.

"I'm told it's all about cock-size." Harry rolled his eyes.

"She's taking a step down in the size department?" Hermione asked.

"See, this is why I love you." Harry laughed at her words. "You always know just what to say."

"You say that now, but two hours from now when I tell Ron he's lower than a pregnant snail, you'll scold me and accuse me of being a lush again."

"I would never," Harry assured her. "And if you actually call him that to his face, I'll buy you whatever you want from the bookshop the next time we go."

They were both laughing wickedly, arms still around one another when they approached their friends.

"It's about time you two got here," Angelina said by way of greeting, throwing herself at the pair of them.

Harry caught the pregnant witch before she could knock them both over.

"How are you, Angelina?" Harry asked the witch, righting her and giving her a hug before passing her over to Hermione, who hugged the woman as well.

"I'm going to murder the pair of them," Angelina declared. "I can't live like this. Look what they've done to me."

Angelina indicated to her rapidly thickening waistline, her pregnancy - twins, Hermione had been told - already bulging out of her jeans.

"It's wretched, I tell you!" Angelina went on, oblivious to the way Hermione cringed ever so slightly over the idea of the pregnant woman complaining to her about the woes of pregnancy as though she weren't green with envy. "I can't keep anything down and I've been craving the weirdest things you can think of. Salamander spleen. Can you imagine? Never mind that it's poisonous!"

Angelina proceeded to rave on for several minutes, bitching about all the supposed woes of being pregnant, and Hermione found herself clenching her glass too tightly and thinking about pitching it at Angelina's head. Harry gripped her a little tighter as though he could feel the acid words forming on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to lash out and wound the inconsiderate witch.

"I need another drink," Hermione muttered to him, downing the remainder of hers in one long gulp.

Harry nodded his head, realising she wanted an excuse to have a few minutes by herself without having to deal with the way Ron and Ginny both eyed her and Harry for cuddling, and without having to listen to Angelina be so bloody ungrateful. The more she thought about it all, the more it annoyed her. As she took Harry's glass before weaving her way back through the patrons crowding the bar, Hermione found herself shooting a glance towards the table where Thorfinn sat with his friends and fellow parolees. Merlin, it would be so easy to just go over there and suggest they go back to his flat and shag like bunnies all over again.

The temptation found Hermione ordering herself a cocktail rather than another whiskey, asking Hannah to mix her up Long Island Iced Tea and slurping it up greedily.

"Woah, easy there, Princess." Thorfinn Rowle practically purred in her ear.

Hermione jumped when she realised the big blond Death Eater had come up behind her where she leaned against the bar while Hannah poured another whiskey for Harry that Hermione could take back to him.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people," Hermione scolded him softly without turning to look at him, watching him snake one arm past her to grip the edge of the bar.

There was a slight disturbance from behind them and Hermione realised that Rowle had just braced to protect her from whatever was happening. A few shouts were heard before some drunk man hurled a chair towards the Death Eaters at their table, causing many of them to shoot to their feet with curses on their lips.

"You shouldn't look so pretty if you have plans to avoid landing back in my bed," Rowle countered before muttering a spell that tripped up the man hurling chairs and slinging insults before the pub's security guys escorted him out of there.

"Believe me, right now I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be," Hermione sighed. She let herself relax back against Rowle as she waited for Harry's drink, Hannah having been distracted by the disturbance within the pub.

"Don't tell me that, Princess," Rowle muttered in her ear. "Or I'll apparate us both right on out of here. I don't care what these fucks think about the idea of us shagging."

Hermione sighed. She could smell his cologne, only faint over the scent of what she realised was sex and her own feminine excretions that coated parts of him. Gods, she was tempted to take him up on that offer. She'd thoroughly enjoyed her dinner with Harry, but Angelina's inconsiderate behaviour had sent her mood plummeting towards darker waters where terrible things cruised beneath the surface, just waiting to leap free and wreak havoc.

"What are you lot even doing here, Rowle? I know your usual haunts are being raided tonight, but surely anywhere else would be better than somewhere that the other patrons throw chairs at you and your friends?" Hermione asked. She tipped her head slightly to meet his gaze over her shoulder.

"It's here or Malfoy Manor," Rowle shrugged. His chest brushed against her back, making her want to lean back against him until she dozed right off in his arms.

Gods, she felt like she could sleep for a week.

"I see why you picked here," Hermione sighed in understanding, a little shudder running through her at the idea of ever going back to Malfoy Manor.

Hannah arrived with the drink for Harry and Hermione realised she was going to have to go her separate way from Rowle once more, lest they draw curious looks. He was already getting enough of those just for standing so close to her.

"What can I get you, Rowle?" Hannah asked. Her mood had obviously deteriorated thanks to the mini-brawl that had just taken place.

"Another round for the lot of us," Rowle replied, ordering his drinks and passing the witch his money.

"Move, could you?" Hermione asked, bumping him slightly. "I have to get back to my friends before they investigate and make a scene. I think you and your friends have already done enough of that for one night. I don't need to add to it."

"You look miserable with all of them except Potter, you know?" Thorfinn asked her shrewdly without moving his arm from where he still gripped the bar and thus not letting her leave just yet. "Why spend time with those arseholes if they annoy you?"

"You spend time with people who annoy you, don't you?" Hermione asked.

"Not really," he answered. "I mean, they get on my nerves, occasionally. But for the most part, I just curse the ones I don't like and they're no longer an issue."

Hermione laughed and she was thinking she'd had too much to drink, because the fatal cursing of one's enemies was no laughing matter. Maybe she'd been spending too much time alone lately. Her work had been keeping her pretty secluded recently as she slaved to make everything perfect for the presentation she'd done today. Hermione was still feeling crushed that she'd not been chosen for the research grant, even if she did understand why. Studies pertaining to the use of Dementor's soul-sucking chill factor to fight climate change were more important and much more useful than whether or not wormholes would allow for travel between alternate universes.

"Sometimes I forget that you and your lot think differently to how my friends think," Hermione chuckled just the same. "If only it were as simple as disposing of those who irritate me. Then I'd be able to avoid being bitched to about the woes of pregnancy."

"That's what the witch with the braids was saying to you?" Thorfinn asked. "You looked like you were sucking on a lemon the whole time she was standing there. Thought for sure you were going to hex her."

"I was thinking about flinging my glass at her head," Hermione sighed.

"Oi, Miss is this bloke bothering you?" Some obnoxious arsehole suddenly intruded on their conversation, going so far as to reach out – past Rowle – to touch her arm.

Hermione glanced towards the wizard who'd spoken. A strapping man perhaps three or four years older than her stared back at her. He shifted his gaze to eye Thorfinn with distaste before frowning at Hermione as though concerned for her safety.

"Do I know you?" Hermione asked. Her bad mood bubbled further when she realised that whoever the man was, he obviously was a prejudiced arse who thought he was being gallant by intruding on her conversation just because Thorfinn happened to have placed himself around her at the bar in a way that, she supposed, looking threatening from an outside stand point.

"Probably not," the wizard chuckled. "I was a few years ahead of you at school. Travis Pinswizzle."

Hermione had to take a gulp of her drink to keep herself from giggling at the man's name.

"I see," Hermione managed when she choked on her drink while Thorfinn laughed darkly at the man's name.

"She's fine, Swizzledick," Thorfinn informed the wizard. "And I guarantee all the supposedly gallant acts won't win you any points with this witch."

"You're standing awfully close to her, Death Eater," Pinswizzle snapped. "Maybe you should go back to your little table with the other lowlifes and leave the lady be? It's clear that someone like Hermione Granger would never be interested in the likes you."

Hermione could practically feel the way Thorfinn slowly drew himself up to his full height, his hand gripping the bar so hard his knuckles went white and the wood began to groan. She had to fight the urge to laugh at the things she was sure someone like Thorfinn would do to the likes of this wizard. She also felt her temper flare at the prejudice and mean things the man said to someone Hermione had spent a good deal of time shagging.

"You said you name was Travis, right?" Hermione asked. She slipped her hand from the bar and back until she gripped Thorfinn's powerful thigh through his jeans, squeezing lightly to warn him against spewing the venom and fire she knew the man was capable of, all over the idiot.

"I did, yes," Travis Pinswizzle nodded. "You look very uncomfortable, Hermione – may I call you Hermione? – and I hardly think you want to be associating with the likes of this cretin."

Hermione tipped her head slowly to one side, gripping Thorfinn even tighter when she felt his thigh muscles jumper under her hand as though he were thinking about lunging at the bastard.

"Tell me something, Travis? When you came over here with you prejudiced little mind and your ignorant rudeness that you're hoping will pass for gallantry, what were you hoping to achieve?" Hermione asked. She affected the type of patronisingly curious tone she'd grown extremely good at using towards the end of her relationship with Ron.

"I… what?" Travis Pinswizzle stammered. His brow furrowed at her seemingly innocent tone delivering such acid words.

"Oh, did I use too big a word?" Hermione smirked. "I'm asking after your motives at the idea of 'rescuing' me from Rowle. You see, I find it incredibly curious that you actually seem to believe that approaching a woman you've never met and insulting the person she happens to be conversing with would get you into her good graces. Did you imagine you'd play the hero rescuing a damsel in distress?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow at the man, watching the way his cheeks slowly reddened while many of the people around them turned to listen, given that she wasn't at all speaking quietly. Many had already been listening and looking when Travis began picking a fight with the ex-Death Eater under the pretence of defending Hermione's honour.

"I…"

"You thought it would be a gentlemanly thing to do, to come over and butt in on my conversation for no reason other than your perceived idea of the type of man Rowle is, yes?" Hermione asked loudly. "You maybe thought you'd buy yourself a ticket into my knickers for being the big hero? Rescuing me from someone I just couldn't possibly be conversing with willingly? Is that it? You thought it a good idea to pick a fight in a bar with a man whom, I have no doubt, not only could but would happily wipe the floor with you? That you'd make a big scene and rescue the poor witch trapped in the clutches of a big bad ex-Death Eater?"

Pinswizzle's mouth opened and closed in surprise, as though he were a fish pulled from his safe little bowl and left to gasp and flop about impotently.

"Perhaps you might benefit from a little critique of your technique, Travis?" Hermione offered him a sickly-sweet smile. "When you so misguidedly came over here intent on defending my honour, you offered insult to me by assuming me incapable of handling gits like this one on my own."

Hermione tipped her head indicatively towards Rowle.

"You also made the mistake of rudely interrupting my conversation with an, oh so eloquent 'oi'. Did you actually imagine that a witch, any witch, would swoon and fall for the likes of a man whose first words to her were 'Oi'?" Hermione clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "Moreover, you followed that trollish utterance with a number of insults aimed at the company I happen to be keeping at this particular moment, in addition to making assumptions about my character and just what type of company you think I ought to be keeping."

Hermione shook her head at the man.

"I was just…" Travis tried to defend himself.

"So, in summary," Hermione spoke over the top of him. "You stuck your nose in where it wasn't wanted, insulted my integrity as a witch, insulted the company I'm keeping, assumed that I would be so shallow and pathetic as to judge a person based on past mistakes, and further demeaned my character by believing that doing those things would get you into my knickers. Did I leave anything out, Travis?"

Travis Pinswizzle's face was glowing a bright shade of crimson by the time Hermione looked away from him, stuck her straw between her lips, and gulped down the rest of her Long Island Iced Tea. He made a few choked seeming noise of in-articulation before he seemed to find his voice.

"I was just trying to be nice and do the right thing for a lady in a tight spot," Pinswizzle argued.

"You were trying to pick a fight with the biggest bloke in the bar," Hermione corrected him with a roll of her eyes. "And you misguidedly believed that doing so might endear me to you. Now, since you're obviously missing the point here, Swizzleswot, let me make things plain for you. I do no need to be rescued. I do not need the likes of any man assuming I'm some simpering little swot incapable of defending myself against male advances, wanted or otherwise. I also highly doubt that you will find many witches interested in the idea of being grunted at like some troll, or impressed by the likes of someone wanting to tilt at the idea of putting the supposed bad-boys in the room in what you believe ought to be their place. Run along back to whatever pitiful, ignorant little hole you crawled out of and don't bother speaking to me, or anyone else for that matter, until you've learned some manners and common decency."

Hermione flicked her fingers at him dismissively while his face mottled once more at her, admittedly bitchy, dismissal of him and his pathetic ideals.

"He's a Death Eater!" Pinswizzle growled hotly, his voice carrying over the avidly watching crowd.

"So?"

The idiot blinked at her for a moment when she raised her eyebrows at him.

"So someone like you shouldn't be talking to someone like him," Pinswizzle argued.

The first crackle of magic in Hermione's hair really ought to have been a warning.

"You really shouldn't have said that, mate," Harry Potter spoke quietly over the sudden silence in the bar that followed the man's words.

Hermione reached slowly for Thorfinn's hand where he still gripped the bar, prying it off and moving it aside as she stalked closer to the man who'd made the mistake of being an ignorant jackass.

"Someone like me?" Hermione asked, her left eye twitching as she closed the distance between herself and the idiot, "Someone like me, is that what you just said, Pinswizzle?"

Travis Pinswizzle seemed to have finally realized his mistake as he attempted to back up a step.

"The last time anyone made assertions about someone like me," Hermione hissed, her eyes flashing dangerously, "We all went to fucking war to, you ignorant, prejudiced, pathetic excuse for a human being. How dare you?"

She opened her mouth to continue but before things could get out of hand, Harry stepped in.

"Move along," Harry commanded. "I don't care about your arguments or your justifications or how you thought you were doing something decent. Just leave before I have to arrest anyone."

Pinswizzle opened his mouth to speak again but Harry took a small, threatening step in his direction and the wizard seemed to think better of it. Rather than continuing to be the centre of attention amid the rapidly souring atmosphere of the bar, the git Disapparated with a sharp crack. Hermione huffed out of a breath of annoyance.

"Let's get you another drink, shall we, love?" Harry asked.

Hermione huffed a second time before turning back to the bar. Hannah appeared, offering Hermione a fresh Long Island Iced Tea. She took it blindly and slurped it up through her straw. She almost didn't notice the way Thorfinn stared at her, his expression unreadable, before he patted her hand, collected his round of drinks and returned to his table across the bar without another word.