She rapped on his door several times without a response. From inside Teddy's room Hermione could hear the sound of the Muggle television, so she decided to persist.
"I have leftover sushi," she offered gently. "It's gourmet, it's really good. If you don't want to talk, then I'll just leave this by your door."
Still nothing, and Hermione bent down to leave the food for him as promised when she growled and changed her mind. Again, she reminded herself that she owed him nothing where it came to her personal life, and wasn't about to let him get away with thinking he could pull a temper tantrum on her watch. The witch banged again on the door, this time more forcefully.
"Teddy Lupin, I'm coming in whether you like it or not. You have five seconds to make sure you're decent."
Because he was her ward, she had access to the spells to unlock his hotel room, if need be. And if this were a frivolous use of her magical privileges, screw it, she's had a rough enough night already, and the last thing she needed were unspoken conflicts and resentments simmering and threatening to boil over in the rough days ahead. Counting down firmly the numbers out loud, Hermione cast her wand and the door flew open.
Teddy Lupin's room smelled like...like pizza? The Muggle TV played some Muggle sporting game, basketball, she recognized. At first, Hermione would have thought the room was empty besides the box of half eaten box of pizza on Teddy's bed, before seeing an incongruous lump of angsty teenager hiding under the linen sheets. Taking off her very uncomfortable heels, she alternating between several ideas on how to start this most uncomfortable of conversations, from apologizing, to chiding the young man for acting immaturely, or more likely some action in between, Hermione instead set her leftovers on the hotel desk, did the same to the nearly spilled pizza box sprawled upon his bed, then waved her wand to sort through Teddy's dirty clothes, placing each set into the laundry bags provided by the hotel.
"I know," the unhappy young man's muffled voice emerged from underneath his covers. "I'm acting like a child. You win, I lose. I hope he treats you well, and I hope I'm still invited to the wedding."
Resisting the urge to place her hands against her hips in a matronly manner, Hermione instead sat down on the bed next to the grouchy lump.
"First off," she finally began, "let me assert to you that I am a grown woman who has every right to pick and choose the company she keeps, whether in a romantic manner, or otherwise." She then conceded. "But I shouldn't have lied to you about it."
She thought she felt him shift underneath the hotel sheets, and continued.
"And you have every right to feel how you feel. I'm not going to scold you for it, or ridicule you for being human and having emotions. Even if I had been completely honest with you about my plans for tonight, you still have every right to feel hurt, even if you do not have a right to tell me what I can or cannot do with my personal life. There's nothing childish about feeling hurt, whether you're fifteen or fifty, and without excusing myself, I will admit to you that I chose not to divulge my plans for this past evening precisely because I did not want to hurt you. Especially over something that ended up being nothing, so no, you're not invited to any future weddings of mine, because there's not going to be any."
It seemed that only her last words caught his attention. The sheets shifted, and a subdued and chagrined teenager with blushing pink hair emerged by her side.
"I take it the date didn't go well?" It had been going swimmingly last he saw of it. Teddy wondered what the older wizard did to screw it all up.
"The date was fine," Hermione said, unwilling to reveal too much of her personal life to the young man, because it was absolutely not his business at all. "Sunil is a good person and a fine colleague. I just realized that it's not yet something that I'm ready for."
"Well, I'm sorry it didn't work out," Teddy mumbled, even though he neither looked nor sounded sorry at all. It was only now when he finally noticed her sheer proximity to him, sitting on his bed with her hair pulled up in intricate weaves and buns, wearing the prettiest and most revealing dress he'd ever seen on her, her leg, bare up to the middle of her thighs, seated inches by where his, well, parts that would be excited by her attire lay underneath his covers. "For the record, you look absolutely beautiful, and if he did anything to fuck it up, well it's his loss."
"Thanks Teddy." Was this why she had come here, for the ever consistent promise of a compliment to boost her ego? "I can't look that good though. This desert air, I swear it wreaks havoc on my hair."
"It's very nice. Did Luna help you out with it?"
"She did. Although she attributes it to, what did she call them? Right, the pattermillers, rather than her own very skilled fingers." At least they could both share a smile at their friend's endearing eccentricities.
"I still remember your wedding day," the teenager recalled unexpectedly. "That brilliant white dress you wore. I think that was the first time it all came together, when I realized that you were the most beautiful person I knew. I wasn't even jealous of Ron then, probably too young to feel that kind of stuff. I was just enchanted by you, and I remember I couldn't take my eyes off of you all night."
"We danced," Hermione reminisced alongside him. "Do you remember? You were the one who asked me to dance, though I think George was the one who put you up to it."
"Of course I do. I remember how patient you were with me, since I had absolutely no clue what I was doing."
"Me neither."
Teddy looked at her with a frown, of course she knew how to dance?
"I had no clue the feelings I'd begun to stir in my seven year old nephew, what I had inadvertently encouraged and would blow up in my face eight very short years later."
She smiled to let him know that she wasn't being entirely serious, and marveled at how, the more time she'd spent with Teddy, the less she was apt to feel that knife stab into her heart and burst into tears the moment she thought about Ron. He must have sensed it too, or else Hermione thought he would not have mentioned the man so casually.
"I remember your smile that night," Teddy continued, his hair a deep wave of blue now, "how it lit up the entire room. I'd thought it was magic, and 'Nana had to assure me there was no magic, nothing more than just the magic of a happy bride."
"I was happy," Hermione stated. "I was very happy that night." She stared down at her sequined dress, which she'd bought in one of the luxury stores just this evening for the purposes of a date that had been foolish in hindsight. Hermione did not regret it, of course, because she would not know, until she'd at least tried; she only regretted that she'd had to lie to Teddy and hurt him in the process.
"You know, I think I've worn a dress like this all of three times in my life."
"Really?" Teddy said disbelievingly, as Hermione considered that maybe she had her share of fault for the failure of her marriage. If only she tried more, to keep up the romance, to demonstrate to Ron that she did not take him, or them, for granted.
"Tonight. My wedding day. And the Yule Ball my Fourth Year."
"Who was the lucky man during the Yule Ball," Teddy asked her, and she could honestly not tell this time whether he was jealous again, or merely curious.
Hermione shook her head dismissively. "No one that was important to me. Not in the long run, anyway. Which makes that night not so dissimilar to this one." Taking a deep breath, she decided against her better judgment. "I ended both those nights on the dance floor."
She rose from the bed, and savored Teddy's quizzical look towards her.
"Put some pants on, Teddy Lupin, and dance with me." Turning away before she could see his reaction, she waited until she heard the sound of his belt buckling. The young man was currently rifling through his suitcase.
"I might be a bit underdressed."
"The t-shirt's fine," Hermione replied, referring to the tacky 'Viva Las Vegas' shirt they'd all received in their individual gift bags. With a wave of the wand, music from his MagicPad filled the room, and it was Hermione who took the lead, taking Teddy's hands into hers and trying not to react when she felt his firm grip tighten around her waist.
Merlin, he was already so tall, and it was so easy for her to rest her weary head against his shoulder, giving Teddy the opportunity to lean his chin down against the top of her head, taking in every breath of her perfume and scent.
She's so lucky, she's a star, but she cry-cry-cries in her lonely heart...
"This is the saddest song I've ever heard." He tensed. "Is this Britney Spears?"
"Umm hmmm," Hermione mumbled into his shoulder, and they swayed slowly and gracefully through the room. "I left Hogwarts, magic, everything...for a year after the war. Spent it with my parents and the Muggle world. She happened to be the biggest star in their world at the time, and as a teenage girl not too much older than yourself, her music spoke to me. It's not something I'm proud of..."
"It's not something you should be ashamed of either," Teddy assured her. "I'm not making fun of you, I just didn't realize she had songs that were this sad. You should see some of the stuff I listen to when no one's around."
"Let me guess? Backstreet Boys?"
"Naw, that's old stuff," Teddy replied without thinking, and Hermione bit her tongue. "Stuff like Gaga, Rihanna, Kesha, Katy Perry. Usher's classic, and a lot of the DJ's like Avicii or Zedd...in fact a lot of them play the Muggle pool parties down in the lower city."
"I think I've heard of maybe one of the people you mentioned," Hermione said embarrassingly, yet another stark reminder that they grew up in completely different worlds. Still growing, in Teddy's case.
"Oh, and Taylor Swift too."
"I like her," Hermione commented. "Rose loves her, and most of her songs are...mostly appropriate for girls her age."
"The last album is great," Teddy gushed, sounding surprisingly like a fangirl. "Want me to add some of my favorites to the playlist?"
"Yes," Hermione agreed, "but give it some space. There's some Fleetwood Mac songs coming up I'm really looking forward too."
As the gentle chords of the soft rock echoed into her ears, Hermione nuzzled her head instinctively against Teddy's neck, thinking that she could melt into him. It would be so easy, she realized, to just give in. There was no mystery to him, in a good way, she knew exactly who he was, what he wanted, as opposed to the game she would have to play with Sunil, or anyone she might go on a date with: wondering at their motives, did they just want a quick romp in bed, were they actually attracted to her, or her name? Her position, her power? No, it was all pure with Teddy. If only he were older, and Harry wasn't his godfather, and the entire Weasley family wouldn't flip their britches were she to ever announce that she was seeing Teddy Lupin, whatever his age was.
While Hermione was coming to realize that she'd lost track of time, each song seemed to last forever in Teddy's mind, which suited him fine, he wanted to savor every intimate moment with her tucked snugly in his arms. Every time the music ended, he felt panic grip his heart, wondering if she was about to finally pull away for the night, relaxing only when the next song started and Hermione continued to hug him tight, making no motion to leave him. As sorely tempted as he was to dare do more, move his hands further down towards her bum, or up to her bare back, or pull her closer to him so that her breasts pressed tighter against his chest, he controlled himself, knowing better than to mess with a good thing. A great thing, actually.
"I'd be happy if I died like this here, tonight."
Merlin, did he really say that to her? He'd thought he'd merely thunk it, but by the tilt of her head under his chin, he could tell that he'd just thought the words out loud.
"This is very nice," she merely replied. "Don't go dying on me yet, Teddy Lupin. I like you too much." With that, she finally pulled away from him, though not before lightly kissing his left cheek to lessen his agony. "Thank you, Teddy, for a splendid end to my date night."
Her smile was dazzling, even more so than what he remembered from that wedding of hers years ago, and he had no clue what to say to a woman after slow dancing with her for what felt like hours.
"I really do appreciate everything, Teddy. This is...a rough time of year for me, and in hindsight, I'm really glad Harry made me bring you along."
"Rough time," he asked, sitting back onto his bed and feeling more dazed than those nights when he'd consumed a large amount of wine or sangria. "What do you mean?" Obviously the work had been grating for her, but he sensed her words had nothing to do with their daytime obligations.
"Oh," she looked away, having already put her heels back on and reached the room door. "It's just..." Hermione bit her lips, wondering whether she should confide in the young man. Dancing with him had been perfectly appropriate, yet it wasn't, because she could not deny that it crossed a sort of line delineating her intention to dampen, not encourage, his feelings.
Without a further thought she decided. "There's a reason I have us working through tomorrow, and scheduling Monday and Tuesday as the off days instead." He cocked his head, awaiting her answer. "Monday's the day...it's Ron and I's anniversary. I had no idea of his affairs when I'd originally set the schedule, so I made the days available so I could Floo back, and we were going to up to the Lake District, we'd rented a cottage..."
"Oh Hermione." Without thinking, he approached her and wrapped her up in a fierce and protective hug, and Hermione could not help but embrace him back.
"I'm sorry," he said with regret after letting her go. "I shouldn't have brought it up."
"You didn't know." In fact, Hermione realized, she had been the one who'd hinted at it, practically baiting the young man into asking her why she was feeling exceptionally sad and needy this week. "I still haven't decided yet whether I want to just sit in my room all day, drink wine and watch sad Muggle movies. Or be drunk by 10 AM and passed out on the roulette table by noon."
She looked up, and saw that his brown eyes were boring through hers. The young wizard leaned down, and Hermione thought she might have actually been disappointed when, instead of taking her lips like he had earlier in the week, he merely kissed her chastely on her forehead as she'd done for him when trying to keep his affections at bay.
"Let me treat you."
"Treat me?"
"Let me plan something special for you. I promise, I'll make sure you have a good time, and not think about Ron all day."
She giggled, feeling too much like a girl much younger than her actual age.
"What could you possibly do?" She could imagine a number of things, some proper, others...she needed to better control her imagination.
"I...," Teddy stumbled, "I honestly don't know yet. But I've got a full day to think of something. I won't let you down, I promise."
"I believe you," Hermione submitted, before leaving his room for the night. She meant it.
Even they were all officially on the clock on Sunday, Hermione had intentionally set a light schedule knowing that most of her colleagues would fully take advantage of their stint in Las Vegas. In fact, it hadn't been her intention to visit the American resort city at all, only she had been outvoted, and an allowance for her colleagues to get drunk and engage in various vices was not the hill for her to die on. Thus she had all morning to go for a run, Apparating to a nearby desert trail for a brisk workout below the red rocks before the sun rose too high and melted her away. Then more time spent looking up rare tomes on D'Jinns, and most importantly, a Floo call with her children whom she hadn't spoken with in a week.
"You can't believe it mum," Rose squealed excitedly from their small cabin for the night, "there's so many dragons, all sorts of colors and shapes and sizes!"
"And don't worry," Charlie Weasley reassured her, "all our viewpoints are built and maintained at a safe distance from the active habitats, and we have wards and protection charms updated once a week to make sure no dragon can cross the barriers."
"Ze lakes here are amazing," Fleur continued, as Hermione rattled off in her head all the gifts she needed to bribe the woman with for taking her kids for such an extended period of time. "Hugo has really taken to them!"
"He's a brilliant swimmer," her husband added, "for a kid his age."
"I swam all the way from the dock to camp, mummy!"
"It's not zat far," Fleur assured her. "Don't worry, 'Ermione, I keep my eye on him all ze way."
"I trust you Fleur," Herimone said. As much as she did worry about her two wild children frolicking in the wild, she had to place her trust in her friends, and take care for never sounding ungrateful for everything they were doing for her.
"Uncle Teddy!" Both kids perked up at the sight of the young man entering her room.
"Hey Rose, Hugo." He bent down towards the Floo next to her to conversate with them, and she almost recoiled at first at his physical proximity in front of everyone, until she remembered that there was nothing in his behavior that suggested anything more than a completely platonic relationship between nephew and aunt, and only a show of discomfort on her part would give their companions on the other side of the Floo any reason to believe any differently.
"I wish you came with us, Uncle Teddy," Rose perked up at the sight of her favorite 'uncle'. "Working with mummy must be so boring, I bet Uncle Charlie would let you ride the dragons. The baby ones are so cute when they hatch, it's like they're little kittens. Except they're not furry at all, and they don't purr..."
"Teddy! Teddy! Mommy promised she'd get me a pwesent from every place she visits!"
"Oh," Teddy laughed good naturedly, "so that's the reason your mommy's suitcases get heavier every single day. I bet your room won't be big enough for all the souvenirs she's bringing back you!"
"Hermione," Fleur expressed to her with faux disapproval. "Don't tell you me you've reduced zat bright and intelligent young man to acting as your person chauffeur!"
"Of course not," Hermione replied indignantly. "For the record, the only menial labor I have him doing is to get me coffee."
On cue, Teddy handed her her concoction for the morning, one of the iced variety that the Americans liked to drink, which Hermione conceded wasn't the worst idea in a dry desert city like Las Vegas.
"Because she doesn't trust a Hufflepuff with anything more complicated."
"Teddy, stop," she huffed, as they all laughed at her expense. "For the record, I trust Teddy with many important things."
"Teddy," Bill regarded them humorously, "blink twice if you're under an Imperious right now, thrice if she's threatened you with a Cruciatus."
"What's a Crusheetis, Uncle Bill," Rose asked with innocent eyes.
"Bill, stop teaching my kids the Unforgivables."
"We're in Romania, love," her former brother-in-law replied her, "it's Durmstrang territory. When in Rome..."
Hermione sighed. "Fleur, if I didn't know better I'd say your husband requires more babysitting than my kids."
The French part-Veela witch rolled her eyes. "Don't I know it."
They were running out of time on both ends, the kids for an early bedtime the night before embarking on yet another long backpacking trip through the mountains, and Hermione saw that she had only a few minutes left before their only obligation of the day. Saying goodbye to her kids, and thanking Fleur and Bill profusely once again for all their help, she stood up feeling as light and cheerful as she had in a long time.
"You miss them, don't you," Teddy sympathized from beside her.
"So much. This is the longest I've ever been apart from them...but they're having the time of their lives, so I'm happy for them."
"You think Sunil will be a good stepfather to them?"
At first she glared at him. Even though she was quite aware of how much Teddy enjoyed teasing her as his way of flirting, she was surprised that he do so at his own expense. Then she slapped him playfully on his chest. On this off day, he was wearing one of the new tight one layer shirts apparently in vogue with the youth at the moment, and she could not help but notice how firm he felt under her touch, and did not fail to notice just how her fingers appeared to linger one extra half second on his body. Neither did he, for the matter.
"Spousal abuse, huh? Mr. Sharma's in for a treat as the future Mr. Hermione Granger."
"Watch it," she warned him, picking up her wand along with her portfolios. "I will hex you."
Apparently her threat did not scare him. Hermione realized that the supposedly naïve Hufflepuff knew exactly what he was doing, citing his potential love rival in an irreverent manner to demonstrate that he was no longer jealous of him, or saw him as a threat, while bringing up the prospect that any man Hermione might bring into her life may or may not enjoy the rapport he already had with her children.
So either he was a secret Slytherin, or she was reading way too much into what was entirely an innocuous remark.
"That look in your eye tells me you want to do something different."
Damn it, they were wading into very dangerous territory. And it was entirely her fault for encouraging him every step of the way. After all, she'd not been under any spell last night, when they'd danced for hours, and she'd used the young man to satisfy whatever personal inadequacies she'd been feeling at the time, so if he was becoming more and more forward towards her she had no one to blame but herself.
"Come on, we're going to be late." Even so, she let him walk ahead of her, so she could admire his tight form from behind. Hopefully he wasn't subtle enough to pick up on that.
By the time the conference ended at noon, most of the attendants were already checked out mentally, ready to return to their rooms post-haste for a nap, head right down to the casino floors, or both in that order. Draco had returned to England the previous night, so as fate would have it, her expert scheduling left her with nearly three full days with her a very young man whom, if she were honest with herself, she shouldn't be trusted to be in the same room with.
"What do you want to do then," Hermione asked as they arrived back to their rooms.
"It's your call," Teddy replied with that infuriating grin of his. "I've already planned out our day together tomorrow, so the onus is on you today."
"And you've got everything completely planned and ready," she asked incredulously, crossing her arms in a way that she thought was incredibly unattractive, which Teddy actually found incredibly attractive.
"In theory, yes. But I still have a few Muggle phone calls to make."
"Hmmm." If she were honest with herself, Hermione was actually looking forward to what the young man had under his sleeve. Hopefully it wasn't going to be too extravagant or expensive; Andromeda's estate had left him a decent inheritance, but the last thing she wanted was to leech off the boy's Galleons, and swore that she would absolutely reimburse him for anything more than just the most modest expenses.
For her part, she kept their itinerary light. First they went to the pool, where Teddy noticed that her choice of swimwear this time around was a bit more revealing than her attire in Morocco. His sunglasses allowed him to freely enjoy his view, the way her body flowed out of her red bikini, still a one piece, but this time with an open back and more open with her cleavage. Of course, he wasn't aware that his crush was doing the same thing to him beneath her designer shades, finding it harder than usual to focus on her book, this one a Muggle history of the American West.
When the sun began dimming, they descended down to the Muggle level of the city, and wandered the various themed casino resorts: the Italian themed one, the other Italian/Ancient Roman themed one, the ones whose themes seemed limited only to gaudy excess, and a few based off the cities they'd just come from, Paris and Manhattan.
"I think I like the Muggle resorts better," Teddy commented, sipping on a novelty strawberry drink Hermione had purchased for him. "The variety of people you see is much more interesting."
"Have you been to London that much at all?"
Teddy shook his head. "'Nana wasn't fond of big cities."
"I'll have to take you out to the city more for people watching, once we get back," she said plainly, as if they could just carry on with whatever their relationship currently was, once they both returned to home and reality. After stopping by a food court for a quick meal, Hermione led Teddy to the theater lobby, where she had reserved tickets to the Beatles Cirque du Soleil show.
"I hope this wasn't what you had planned for me tomorrow," Hermione said with a smirk. A devilish part of her actually hoped that she had accidentally messed up all his grand designs for her, just so she could see him flustered, and observe just how creative and adaptable he could be in the last minute. The young man was however appeared unperturbed.
"We'll find out, won't we. And if is, you'll just have to watch whatever this thing is two nights in a row."
This kind of show was indeed the last thing Teddy had in mind for Hermione, although it proved an unexpected delight, both the music and the theatrics, as well as the pleasure of Hermione unreservedly resting her head against him through the entire show. As entertaining as the performances were, he could not help but find his attention drawn half the time to watching his date (?) for the night lost in rapt attention, enjoying the show, none of the worries of work or divorce troubling her unceasing mind.
She continued to huddle and lean close to him late in the night, when they wandered the incredibly raucous boulevard of Old Las Vegas. As she happily took his arm and depended on his shoulders as her headrest, Hermione reasoned that this was no worse than what they had done already.
"The people here seem different," Teddy remarked, as they ordered some rather expensive looking fancy beer at a street stand. "Like they're a lower class of American."
"I believe the Muggle word for it is Redneck," Hermione recalled.
"Like the Cowboy?"
Hermione nodded. "But the Cowboy's rather rich, isn't it? I don't think it's as much of a class thing, their society doesn't revolve too much around that...it's more...culture, I guess. If it weren't for the fact that they speak the same language, one might easily think that New York City and California...let's say, Texas, are altogether different countries."
"Like Cornwall and Brighton?"
"Something like that. Much more so though."
Then he nearly spit out his beer after taking his first sip. "Fuck, that's bitter."
"It's an IPA," Hermione smiled, sipping her drink slowly. "They call it craft beer, which just means they make it extra bitter, and charge you twice as much for it."
She was used to the taste by now, Harry was something of a craft aficionado, as was Seamus and Neville and gosh, maybe half their year from Hogwarts, it seemed. Talk about class privileges.
They took care to walk separately by the time they returned to the magical level of the city, no longer safely hidden in Muggle confines, and Hermione found herself missing his touch to a surprising degree. He was young, but still undoubtedly a man, sort of, and she was not so far gone from her rawest instincts that she could not enjoy a pleasant day in the arms of a man who adored her, who genuinely cared for her, whom she clearly felt something for also. Recalling their early days of dating, Hermione could not help but shudder, as muscle memories in her mind came to her of how such wonderfully romantic days with a man she cared for inevitably ended.
"Would you like to come in with me?" She struggled to think of a legitimate reason to invite the teenager into her room well after midnight in Vegas. "For a nightcap. Of water, I've fed you too much to drink already tonight. Harry would want to make sure I keep you hydrated."
When she embraced and kissed him the moment they had their privacy, Hermione blamed it on the drinks, and the fact that all day and all night she'd been wishing that he could be a few years older, or that she could just forget away his age. She blamed it on the fact that this was already her anniversary, especially once she accounted for the time difference, and the universe owed her something, for everything it had taken away from her.
It somehow felt less taboo and more natural, more perfect, more right, each time they enjoyed an intimate moment together, whether kissing, or dancing the night away, and Hermione did not wince or jump when his hands ventured into more perilous territory, grabbing at her bum, or up her waist so that four fingers gripped her upper back, and one thumb lay tucked neatly under her left breast. She returned the favor, grabbing his behind, squeezing one cheek...
With a desperate gasp, Hermione pulled away before it was too late, ignoring his disappointed dark eyes.
"We can't," she strained to say. "I shouldn't have done that." It sounded like she was hearing someone else speak, some clichéd actress inside a romantic comedy, turning away a love interest purely for the sake of extending the plot. Or tragedy, there's no way this ends well.
But I don't care.
"If we keep going like this, I don't think I'd be able to stop myself much longer."
The way they gazed into each other now, it felt like they both understood the other to the deepest reaches of their souls. Which meant that he knew that what she had just said to him amounted to nothing less than an open invitation to take her, and definitively cross that turgid line of no return.
To her aching disappointment, he took her words at their literal meaning instead. The British Undersecretary felt every inch of her would be paramour's arms slip away from her own, slithering away like temptation itself out her door. She stood there and watched him leave, shocked, having felt his passion, the literal embodiment of his feelings for her, pressed against her abdomen just seconds before.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione," he said, leaving her without even a goodnight kiss.
I do want to address one of the "Guest" reviews left recently. First off, I appreciate the feedback. In terms of the negative stereotypes, however, I feel that I've undertaken substantial efforts in not engaging in them. The one exception is the "Cowboy" character, who was obviously designed to be a walking talking caricature...although, as a football loving American, a caricature that I believe I have allowance to draw. Again, I feel that the "Cowboy" has been the exception to the rule. I'm not sure whether characters like "Chou" or "Ustinov" may be problematic; in their cases they're hardly fleshed out characters at all (yet anyway), merely proxies for their real world counterpart governments and how they currently behave, based on the assumption that the "Magical" governments in this story would act in parallel to their real world counterparts.
Secondly, to address the "not like other girls" trope and slut-shaming...I don't think you're taking the context into question. At one point Hermione does refer to another girl as a "bimbo" in her mind, along with the running joke where she refuses to acknowledge/remember the "Peyton" character's real name. Thing is, this is not supposed to reflect well on her; the intent is to show what is a subconscious jealousy she feels for the girl, because at that point of the story she has yet to admit to herself any burgeoning non platonic feelings for Teddy. It should be noticed too, that Hermione is the only person that engages in said "slut-shaming", as Teddy is nothing but generous and gentlemanly whenever he brings up the same woman, even though he turned her down.