Coffee as a Cure
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. All J.K.'s
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Hermione discovers the consequences of not learning to hold her drink. What did happen the night before?
---Note---
This was written for the Fall in Love with Draco and Hermione Fic Exchange, and is entirely dedicated to the requester of the fic, Mimi, whose requirements are as follows:
a. Post-Hogwarts
b. the line "sarcasm...live it..learn it...love it"
c. Coffee
d. Hermione having cut her hair short
e. Draco biting his nails.
Keep in mind this isn't my usual angst, but something light, humorous, and full of sarcasm. Much love to the beta also!
Coffee as a Cure
Had she been in the proper state of mind, Hermione would have thought twice before submitting to her desire for liquor. Had she drunk more often, she would have built up a tolerance for alcohol, and would not have found herself half dead and extremely hung over by morning. But even the most responsible people tend to make mistakes. And the pounding in her head announced that she had in fact made a very unfortunate error.
Blinded by the sunlight which invaded her immaculate bedroom, Hermione rolled over under the covers to escape the glare, and found herself in midair. She groaned loudly as she landed on the polished wooden floor with an echoing thud. Cursing her ill luck, she proceeded to grab the bedpost for support, and somehow managed to stand. Her steps were shaky, and she stumbled into more than one wall on her way to the bathroom.
Regret seemed to be the theme of the morning, and Hermione's only increased as she faced herself in the mirror. How had a poised, intelligent young witch come to resemble an earthquake victim? Furthermore, what on earth had possessed her to act in such an immature and unreasonable way? Though she knew the answers to both questions, Hermione preferred to repress whatever hazy details she could remember from the night before.
The truth of the matter was that she had unexpectedly lost the one thing which had all but consumed her thoughts, worries, and time for the past couple of years. That thing, being her job. Though she knew that it was unhealthy, Hermione could not deny that she had somehow, unknowingly, become a workaholic. It might have been predicted, she mused- after all, she had spent the entirety of her school years studying obsessively. Had she really expected to break the habit after entering the working world?
Hermione kept her eyes closed to the abnormal brightness occupying her flat and fumbled around blindly for her toothbrush. Her hand collided with the object she sought, and knocked it into the sink. Cursing quietly to herself, she gave up on her endeavor and leaned back against the wall. In her mind, she tried to recollect the events of the night before. The memories were faded and seemed to be from centuries ago.
There had been anger, of that she was certain. There had been loud, embarrassing swearing, most of which had been directed at innocent strangers in the street. Hermione groaned aloud at the thought. Had sanity somehow escaped her? Did losing her job render her completely senseless? Slowly, she began banging her head against the wall. The action brought fresh waves of unspeakable pain, and she stopped.
Coffee, she thought with sudden, renewed energy; Rich, creamy coffee. It was her cure-all and addiction. She had never needed it more.
Hermione pushed herself away from the wall and staggered back into the obnoxiously bright bedroom. She dove into her closet with purpose, and grabbed the first thing in her line of vision. Not even bothering to see what article she had selected, Hermione dressed hastily and grabbed her purse as she headed out of the door.
There was no coffee to be had in her flat. In fact, her cupboards contained nothing edible at all. It was just another consequence of her compulsive need to work. She never had time to shop for groceries, and she certainly never had time to cook. Her addiction to the drink could only be satisfied at the local coffeehouse, which happened to be on the way to work.
The lifestyle had suited her fine. She had felt a sense of accomplishment at the end of each day, and eagerly looked forward to the next. That is, until the Minister himself had entered her office and began the conversation which would end her simple, happy existence.
She had given that place her full dedication, Hermione thought bitterly as she stalked down the clear London streets. The day was young, and most had yet to emerge from their homes.
"The bastards," she muttered under her breath. She was thankful no one was around to notice; otherwise, she might have appeared slightly insane. Not that it would matter, she told herself. After all, she was a strong, intelligent woman, who by no means needed anyone's approval. Yes, Hermione thought with satisfaction, I'll find a new job in no time at all.
Soothed slightly by this new belief, a smile was managed as she opened the door to the coffeehouse and swept inside.
The smile froze, then died on her face. Her replacement stood before her. Her horrid, pompous, ferret-like replacement. And he dared to smirk smugly at her as he cradled a delicious-looking cup of coffee.
Bad luck seemed intent on trailing her today. Hermione stood in the doorway, still frozen, as she privately cursed fate, life, and him.
"Good morning Miss Granger. I see you're...well." Malfoy's eyes danced in merriment as he taunted her. He had stolen her job- he had proved more qualified for the position. Therefore, he was to be blamed for all her ill fortune. How dare he even look at her, much less speak to her!
"Yes, I'm quite well." She replied darkly. There was no point in hiding her distaste. He was irritating her on purpose; she could tell by his sugary tone.
Hermione returned his unblinking gaze with intensity. It seemed imperative that she not be the first to look away. This was one battle she was not going to lose, no matter how trivial and senseless it was. Seeing him intimidated would be well worth the effort, she reasoned.
Finally, it was Malfoy who broke the contest. To her chagrin, however, Hermione noticed his eyes sweep down to take in her apparel instead. She dared a glance herself and felt a slow creeping dread return. She should have at least peeked in the mirror after dressing. Her pride would have prevented her from leaving the flat in the horrendous attire she was now wearing. No good shall come from this day, she decided in that moment.
"If you will excuse me," Hermione stated haughtily, as she stepped around Malfoy, "I just wanted to get a cup of coffee."
He gave a low laugh behind her. She could practically feel his gloating gaze on her back. The sound of his voice made her flinch.
"I see your delightful temper matches your outward appearance." Malfoy chuckled. Hermione clenched her jaw at the way he emphasized the word. She fully intended to ignore him, or kill him; whichever held the most appeal. With regret, she realized the former was the more reasonable of her two options.
A forced smile was gifted to the employee behind the counter. She had no intention of insulting the person who served her coffee. It would be unthinkable. Calmly, Hermione paid for her drink and moved to the side to wait politely for her order to be filled. She prayed Malfoy would just leave her be.
There was no such luck. Had she really expected anything else on such a day?
"So, what have you been up to?" He asked casually as he sipped from his cup.
Well, I've been drinking profusely and wasting my life away.
"Not much," she answered in an unconcerned tone. She had no desire to bare her soul to a man who had contributed to her ruin.
"I see. That's nice...I suppose. I've been rather busy with work."
Son of a bitch, Hermione thought. He was purposefully attempting to push her over the edge. And, unfortunately, it was working. She could already feel her sanity ebbing away at each word he uttered.
"Don't feel you need to exchange pleasantries with me, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione said in what she hoped was a dignified manner.
"Oh, but I find so much joy in your charming temperament." He replied without hesitation. The triumphant smirk which followed his words was enough to make her sick.
Hermione scowled when no witty retort came to mind. She was supposed to be the clever one. Why was it that her intelligence never emerged when it was truly needed?
"Sarcasm...live it...learn it...love it," Malfoy stated with a knowing smirk that dripped of false cheer.
Outwardly, Hermione appeared to be attentive to her surroundings. Inwardly, she was solemnly considering the best way to murder him. Strangulation sounded promising. She realized with a sigh, however, that her small hands would never reach around his big, fat, egotistical neck.
"I see you have been rendered breathless just by the mere sight of me." Malfoy continued when she gave no response. His smile widened. Hermione fingers twitched as she contained her burning desire to snatch her wand from her coat pocket and curse him senseless. Had she not been in Muggle London, she might just have done it.
Thankfully, Hermione was saved from needing to respond when her order was called. Choosing carefully to ignore his comments, she snatched her cup from the counter and came dangerously close to running from the establishment. Only dignity prevented her from sprinting quickly away.
--------------------
The unfortunate disaster of an encounter haunted Hermione for the remainder of the day. The utter humiliation consumed in those few short minutes was enough to send her crawling back into bed to cower under the covers. She was being childish, she knew, but couldn't bring herself to care.
In her mind, she saw Draco Malfoy as the source of all her misery and bitterness. She held him responsible for snatching her job from under her, for one thing. But over the course of the past few days, Hermione had come to believe that any ill which befell her was his doing. She blamed him for her hangovers and sleepless nights; she stubbornly decided he was the cause of her recent lack of appetite; if she had been struck down by a bolt of lightning, Hermione felt certain she would find just reason to curse him from the grave for that as well.
Groaning under the covers, Hermione tossed and turned for hours in an attempt to sleep off her headache. Finding that to be impossible, however, she began considering what to do with the rest of her life.
So she had lost her job. It was hardly the end of the world. Having graduated with such good grades should mean she could find a new occupation in no time at all. Cheered slightly by the thought, Hermione summoned the strength to finally crawl from bed. With renewed determination, she decided that she would not allow herself to become a raging alcoholic, but the successful witch she knew she was.
For the second time that day, she invaded her closet. With a purposeful eye, Hermione selected a far more appropriate and appealing ensemble than the one previously chosen. Having every intention to start afresh, she dressed with care, and felt satisfied with her reflection in the mirror. Her short chopped hair gave at least the illusion of professionalism. Her attire, while somewhat simple, suited her well.
Hermione smiled to herself. There was nothing of her appearance that could be ridiculed now.
That adjustment made, she felt confidence resurface as she left the flat. She was determined to find some good in the day. She would not let her encounter with that smirking imbecile render her worthless.
It was near dark when she emerged from her building onto the chilly streets. Never before had she found the time to explore the night life of the city. She reasoned that now, with her jobless status, was an excellent time to begin.
Not certain where to start, Hermione wandered leisurely along the pavement. Merry voices rang from the pub she had visited the night before. The laughter called to her. Biting her lip to fight the temptation, Hermione purposefully turned away and passed the establishment rigidly.
It was a fine effort, but a failed one. She returned to the entrance of the pub with extreme self loathing.
Just one pint, she told herself.
Hermione pushed through the crowd to the bar. She accidentally brushed against a gentleman nursing a scotch.
"Pardon me," she said carelessly as she settled herself at the counter.
"Miss Granger, fancy meeting you here." His voice was as smooth as silk. It was almost sickening.
Hermione closed her eyes thinking perhaps the strength of sheer will alone would allow her to disappear. She was supposed to see an improvement in the day, not a drastic turn towards the hideous.
No, no no! She thought, trying to convince herself that she had been mistaken; that it was not his voice she heard.
Hermione turned around with reluctance to face her tormentor. His smirk was enough to rob her of her last remaining shreds of sanity. And, in that moment, she knew that there was to be more than one pint consumed that night.
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy." She spoke through her teeth. Once again, she found herself exchanging pleasantries with her adversary. And, once again, pride prevented her from thoughtlessly spewing out the insults which danced in her head.
"So, how are you?" He said after a pause. Malfoy seemed to be asking simply for lack of anything better to say.
Oh, I'm bloody fantastic. I'm achieving so much now that I'm out of work. Oh yes, I can now drink twice as many glasses without stumbling than I could before.
Fortunately, the thoughts in her head translated into something much better when spoken out loud.
"I'm good; just taking some time off until I begin my next job." Her words were accompanied by an exaggerated smile. She wondered briefly if she looked even half the idiot she felt.
Malfoy indicated toward the bar. "Please, let me buy you a drink."
It's the least you could do after stealing my job.
"Oh, no, that's all right. I really don't like to drink much." A white lie, she told herself. Anything to preserve what remained of her dignity.
"I insist." He stated as he motioned for the man behind the counter.
Had he only tempted her once, Hermione might have summoned the willpower to refuse; turning down a free drink for a second time was a feat she just could not manage.
After a few pints, her mood began to improve. Many more later, she was downright giddy. Hermione decided Malfoy wasn't so horrible after all. In fact, she was rather fond of him at the moment; all three of him that she could currently see.
--------------------
For the second morning in a row, Hermione awoke with a hellish pounding in her head. Mumbling to herself about the consequences of not learning from previous mistakes, she emerged from the covers only to retreat back under.
Having every intention of spending the remainder of the day in bed, Hermione was soon startled by faint sounds emitting from inside her flat. Her eyes opened and the sheets were thrown back as she strained to hear. It hadn't been imagined; someone was opening and closing the cabinet doors in her kitchen.
Creeping from bed as quietly as possible and arming herself with her wand, Hermione pressed herself against the wall to peek through the doorway. Unable to see anything from her current position, she proceeded out into the living room with what could only be described as secret agent moves.
Deciding surprise would be a necessary advantage, Hermione sprang abruptly around the corner and sent a spell flying at the intruder.
Malfoy's arms snapped to his sides, and his features assumed that of shocked horror as he fell face down onto the floor.
Hermione winced, realizing that must have hurt.
"What in bloody hell are you doing here!?" Her curiosity overpowered her pity.
Malfoy mumbled something into the floorboards. Sighing in exasperation, Hermione released him from the full body bind, almost regretfully.
She watched him struggle to his feet before presenting her with his signature smirk. "Why, do you not remember our magical night together, love? A night where all your desires were fulfilled as we shared a truly spectacular shag?"
Hermione's eyes widened as her mouth fell agape. No. No, no, no! She realized with quite a bit of revulsion that she really couldn't remember a thing from the night before.
Laughing aloud at her expression, he continued. "I was only kidding, Granger. I woke up on your sofa."
Immediately following his words, Malfoy bent over clutching his stomach where a punch had just been landed.
The stinging in her fist was strangely satisfying. Hermione smirked to herself at the excellent result she had produced. Had he really thought there were to be no repercussions for his cruel joke?
"You hit me!" He groaned, his arms still wrapped around his abdomen.
"Can you really blame me?" She tried to suppress her increasing amusement in vain.
"You're no fun when you're hung over." Malfoy informed her darkly.
"And you're no fun when I'm sober. We all have our shortcomings." Hermione shot right back.
Having recovered from her attack, Malfoy settled himself at her kitchen table. "You realize you have no food in the house?" Leaning back in the chair leisurely, he brought his fingers to his mouth and began biting his nails.
Hermione frowned. "You know, that is a horrible habit."
"Ah, but do you see the extent of my starvation now?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. She almost laughed, but suppressed the urge just in time.
They fell into an awkward silence. Hermione listened to the pounding in her sore head. She could almost count the seconds by the rhythm it provided.
Malfoy stood abruptly, grabbing his coat off the back of the chair. "Well, since there's no food to be had here, why don't we go out for coffee?"
Hermione smiled at the offer. He had a way of tempting her with things she just couldn't refuse. She accepted without pausing for further consideration.
End.
----- Note -----
Yep, this was my first try at a humorous fic. Great fun to write. The person who requested it seemed to enjoy it, so I guess I did my job ) Review please. Love to know what you all think.
-Captive