Notes:
Ok, so I know that many (most?) of the characters are out of character, so please avoid if that irritates you! This is really just here to give my brain some down time when I cant concentrate on Without the Beaded Bag. The chapters will be short, it definitely errs more on the fluffy side, that being said, hopefully its a wee bit enjoyable to read.
The rating is for the language, if profanity offends please don't read!
As she sat in the empty house, her heart felt like it was breaking, all her old insecurities rushing back. She was bookish, she knew, her hair was wild and she had no interest in fashion the way most women her age did. She was bossy and demanding and stubborn. She'd still expected better. Especially from the man who was supposed to love her. If he'd just spoken to her, she'd have been hurt but it would be nothing like this. She'd have understood, eventually, and even if she hadn't she had too much pride to cling to a relationship where she wasn't wanted. Maybe this was her fault. Maybe Lavender and Parvati had been right all those years ago, no man wanted a woman like her. Maybe this was the proof. This hadn't been some fling, a new romance. It had been a three year relationship that came on the back of a seven year friendship. If he couldn't love her, couldn't at least pretend to treat her with respect, what chance did she have?
She forced herself to move before self pity overwhelmed her, she only had an hour, he'd be back then, he said. An hour to pack up her life and find somewhere else to go. It seemed unfair really, he was the one in the wrong. Shagging Lavender Brown on their bed. But she was the one being made to move out, she had options, he said, money to fund somewhere else, he was still on a trainee auror salary, it made sense. And it did, if she thought about it and it wasn't like she wanted to stay here, not when she knew what he'd been doing in their house, on their bed and various other locations she supposed. But it still felt unfair, like she was the one being punished. She wondered how long it would be before Lavender moved in. Took over the house that they'd painstakingly picked out together, spending weeks hunting down bargains that suited both their styles in order to furnish it on a budget, once they'd finally found somewhere they both liked. She wondered how much she'd throw out.
She could go to Harry, but even as the thought appeared she dismissed it, she didn't want to put him in the middle, especially given that he was marrying Ron's sister. That could get awkward quickly. Which left the Leaky, for tonight at least. Packing done, she floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron, hoping Hannah had a room, wondering where her backbone had went. She felt like she was just giving in, slinking away with her tail between her legs when she shouldn't have to. The war had broken some of that backbone though, she knew. None of them were the same, all of them still healing; it had only been three years. She wasn't sure that any of them would be the same ever again.
Finally ensconced in the small room, having gently brushed off Hannah's concern, all of her belongings shrunk in boxes, piled in a corner, she finally allowed herself to cry. If she was honest with herself, she was crying more for the friendship she thought she had had, because as far as she was concerned, they'd been friends first. Friends who had spent years propping up Harry together, they'd fought a war together and she thought that that had meant something. Apparently it only meant something to her.
It took a week for Harry to find her in the Leaky. He had a look of patient disappointment on his face that reminded her viscerally of Dumbledore. Sighing, she realised that this conversation was not going to be pleasant. She hadn't thought he'd take Ron's side, not on this, she hadn't expected him to take hers but she had hoped he'd at least stay neutral. Given their history, though, she couldn't honestly say she was surprised. Ron and Harry were closer, they had more in common and the Weasley's were Harry's first experience of a real family and he was terrified of losing his place in that, especially given everything he'd lived through. She steeled her spine as she invited him up to the room that had become her temporary home.
"How have you been, Harry?"
He stared at her incredulously. "How have I been Hermione? You're not serious? I've been putting Ron back together after you broke his bloody heart, that's how I've been!"
"What?" She hadn't expected that, comments about working too many hours, asking too much of Ron in the house, that she had expected, a perfect regurgitation of Mrs Weasley's views, but not hearing he was apparently heartbroken. " What did he tell you?"
"You left him, Hermione. He has no idea what he did wrong, apparently you've been making more and more comments about how long auror training is taking. You know it takes years!"
"Harry! You cannot possibly believe that I left Ron because of money? Tell me you know me better than that!" She felt her eyes begin to water as her heart hurt listening to the boy she thought knew her better than anyone. "You're supposed to know me better than that!"
"Honestly, Hermione, I thought I did."
"I found Ron in bed with Lavender. That's why I left. I've never cared about money, we had enough. I knew that training was temporary." She was crying now, properly, as it began to sink in that the boy who she considered her best friend, who she had stood beside every single day for seven years, risked her life for, again and again, didn't know her at all. He was going to walk away. Choose Ron, as he always did because apparently it was easier to believe she was mercenary than it was to admit that Ron had a habit of making terrible decisions when the situation no longer suited him.
"You don't expect me to believe that, Hermione! He's devastated."
She looked at him sadly, fighting to control her breathing, as she slowly felt anger take over "No. No, I don't expect you to believe that. Why would I? My version is different from Ron's, so of course I must be lying. It's not like he's ever made a shitty decision that was meant to deliberately hurt me, or you for that matter. It's not like I've been there, even when he wasn't. Of fucking course its me thats wrong. It always fucking is. Get out, Harry. I'm done."
He looked torn for a moment before looking at her sadly. "Don't do this Hermione. It's fixable, you just need to talk about it."
"Talk about what, Harry?" her voice was shrill, making him wince "Talk about how I found him fucking Lavender in our bed? Talk about him giving me an hour to move out of our house when I was too fucking heartbroken to think straight because, and I quote, hes on a trainee salary, it'll be easier for me to find somewhere else to live? Talk about you taking his side as you always fucking do? He'll fuck up again Harry and I wont be there to pick up the pieces. Does he even know you're here asking for a second chance on his behalf?"
As Harry averted his eyes, she scoffed. "Of fucking course he doesn't! Go home, Harry. I have nothing left to say to you. You'll believe him regardless."
"When you're ready to admit what was really going on, Hermione, I'll be there to listen. Don't wait too long though, Ron won't wait forever."
"Fuck you Harry Potter, fuck you and your sanctimonious bullshit. I wish I could say I'd be here when you realise that Ron's lying, but I won't. I'm done being cast aside. Goodbye, Harry."
She sobbed herself to sleep that night, allowing herself to grieve. In the morning, she'd make a plan, but tonight, tonight she needed to mourn the loss of her friends, her relationship, her life.
Severus Snape surveyed the occupants of the Three Broomsticks, Minerva had forced him to join them for a few drinks and as she often allowed him to indulge in her whisky when the delightful little brats were attempting to murder themselves in his classroom, he needed to keep her on side. Her taste in whisky was second to none, she was a Scot after all; it was worth it and she hadn't demanded he actually speak to his colleagues, just that he be present. He could work with that.
In one corner he spotted Harry sodding Potter and his ginger sidekick. It looked like the boy was giving him a pep talk. He wondered briefly where the third member of their trio was.
Hermione Granger, he had a bit of a love hate relationship with the witch. She had saved his life, going back for his body in that godforsaken shack and finding him still alive. She was the one who fought the Healers initially to get him treated, or so Minerva and Poppy said. She was there, several times a week while he was recovering, bringing him potions articles and books, reading to him when he was still too weak to do it himself. She annoyed the hell out of him but she did break up what was a long and lonely week.
He'd never had friends, not since Lily. Minerva and Poppy didn't count as they tended to mother him. He'd never regretted it, not really, he liked his solitude, his inability to deal with idiots meant he was better off on his own, but the months convalescing in that hospital bed were lonely and she managed to break the monotony. She was intelligent, and, if he was forced to be honest, far more interesting company than most of the people he was compelled to spend time with. It didn't mean he liked her, she was still an insufferable know-it-all but her years sabbatical had at least taught her to think for herself rather than regurgitating a book.
Who was he kidding? He had had fun for the first time in years debating with the witch. She was interesting, intelligent and bitingly sarcastic at points and best of all, she wasn't afraid to argue with him. He was more than a little sad when he no longer had an excuse for her to come and see him, and as a result, he had only seen her in passing in the year since she left Hogwarts, having come back to complete her NEWT's and he missed her company. He could owl her, he supposed, but he wasn't sure how she'd take it. He was Severus Snape, nothing more than her old teacher, greasy git, bat of the dungeons. No. it was best to leave it be. He'd heard she was planning to marry Weasley and he'd never be able to remain polite about that. It was best he just stayed away, before she asked him to.
Hagrid barged his way over to the table, interrupting his musings, a look of concern on his face as he sat down heavily on the chair Rosemerta had reinforced especially for him.
"Ron's right cut up, ee is. Ne'r though' our 'Ermione would do summit like that."
Minerva looked at him and arched a brow. "What are you going on about Hagrid?"
"Ron and 'Arry were jus sayin' 'Ermione had left 'im. Summit about 'im not earnin' enough. He's right cut up about it so ee is."
Minerva leveled a glare at him. "I find that exceedingly hard to believe, Hagrid. That sounds nothing at all like Miss Granger."
Severus privately agreed with her, although he kept that opinion to himself.
"Tha's what they're saying Professor. An' surely they would know."
Minerva's lips thinned. "Hmmm." was her only response before changing the subject.
Maybe he would write to her after all, especially if she'd seen sense and left the ginger idiot. He didn't believe for one second it was over money, although he was curious as to what Weasley had done to finally force her hand. With that thought, he rejoined the conversation, feeling surprisingly lighter than he had before.