A Post Hogwarts Affair Chapter 9
Important author's note: All right, a lot of people told me either that they didn't like Hermione's appearance change or asked why Ron didn't seem to care. The answer is that the change is not drastic at all. She looks…spruced up, you could say--she wanted to show everyone that she looks…professional all the time. She just looks plain nice and pretty, not as stunning as yule ball but an improvement over her drab attire and all…she's accentuating her features, basically. I didn't think that people would find it to be really drastic, but it's quite subtle. Ron's reaction was basically…oh, different. Cool.
A Post Hogwarts Affair
Ron gave me Parvati's address on a slip of paper and disappeared within seconds, his red hair nearly merging with the fire as he went. Up to this day, Floo was not my favorite means of transportation. Namely because I wasn't so good at it.
Not to mention that Ron's handwriting was downright difficult to read. I looked at the scrawl for thirty seconds, trying to decipher the street's name, and eventually came up with 28 Warsworth Street. Speaking as clearly as possible, I yelled the address to the fire and hurtled through the air.
And landed, quite predictably, with a thump onto cold hardwood floor. Someone rushed towards me, an old woman with an enormous bosom and a pair of spectacles big enough to match, who reminded me slightly of Ron's mother. "Janice!" she was calling. My vision slid perfectly back into focus and I looked around worriedly. It most certainly did not look like a place where Parvati would even set foot in…if I was correct in assuming she did not have old, almost molding, yellow furniture and ratty rugs littering the floor…not to mention many, many still life pictures of eggs. No, that did not sound Parvati-ish in the least. "Janice!" the woman called again.
Another, younger woman, scurried over and clucked--actually clucked!--when she saw me. "What's this?" she asked disapprovingly. Ignoring the warning signs going off in my head, my temperamental side took charge and before I knew it I had drawn myself up to my full height of 5"2, trying to pretend that it was rather intimidating. But I was in luck. This woman Janice was actually shorter than me, and the old woman reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley was even shorter than that. Interesting.
"Excuse me," I barked, trying to sound bossy, firm, and polite all at once--after all, it was my fault I'd barged into their house. I guess Floo was just out to get me. The woman's scowl got deeper.
"What is this?" she repeated, looking over at the old woman.
"Janice, darling, I heard a little thump and I came over to see what it could possibly be…and here this girl was sprawled out all over our parlor!"
I didn't say anything. I just wanted to get to Parvati's house and I didn't even have that silly slip of paper with me. Ron! I thought miserably. His handwriting was just so terrible, not that I could really point fingers, mine was just as much of an intelligible scrawl as his. "Er," I began. "I was trying to get to a…friend's house…and I must have misread the address. Is this, um, 28 Warsworth Street?"
The women glanced at each other. "Yes, this is 28 Warsworth Street."
"Looks like you're in a right pickle, aren't you, dearie!" the older woman said with a small twinkle in her eyes. What a time to have a twinkle! My anger was growing by the nanosecond, but I reminded myself that politeness in a situation like this was truly important. After all, I was in a 'right pickle' wasn't I. Gods!
"Ma," the one called Janice began. "Isn't there a street a couple of blocks down, what's it…Wadsworth Street? Maybe that's where you want to go?" Janice asked.
I was perfectly willing to forget my initial dislike of her at the moment. "Oh, yes, that sounds right," I fibbed. Whatever. As long as I got to leave from here. Figuring that they had to be wizards of they were so accepting of someone just dropping in their house randomly through their fireplace, I asked if I could use some Floo powder, and the older woman cackled, shoved the powder in my hand, and waved goodbye as I clearly stated my new destination.
When I landed, which surprisingly, wasn't on my bum, I looked around and immediately noticed a glitzy, hazy, club-like atmosphere. So far, so good. And oh! There was Ron! I was thrilled; I was in the right place; I was ready to move. Although the party mood had been slightly spoilt by Janice and her mum.
Parvati hurried up to me the minute I'd collected my wits and hugged me tight so before I could even recognize who it was I was smelling some flowery perfume. "Nice perfume," Parvati, I said snarkily, trying to portray that professional aura I had created about an hour ago.
"Hermione! It is so fabulous to see you!" Parvati exclaimed. "What took you so long? Ron came fifteen minutes ago!"
"Long story, Parv. So who all have you invited?" I asked casually, scanning the crowded atmosphere. By gods, it seemed like she'd invited half of Hogwarts. I could make out a Seamus Finnigan, and oh, Hannah Abbot, Millicent Bulstrode…? "You invited ex-Slytherins, too?" I asked, surprised.
"Oh, yes, why not? I knew them and it's not a reunion-esque party without all the houses…we ought to put our differences behind sometime!" she shouted happily. Shouting of course, because of the absolute noise of the party. Honestly. Parties are really not my favorite past time. Not only are they raucous and loud, they are tiresome and require way too much effort. Nevertheless I was going to behave all sparkly, professional, and suave at this party. I had to set a good impression. I mean, Hermione Granger…forget the goddamn Weasley bit…graduated from Hogwarts, number one in her class, and ended up not working and married to a Quidditch player who was never home and most of all lived a drab and boring life? No. I was Hermione Granger, president of the Muggle Division of Malfoy, Inc., smooth, debonair, married to a handsome Quidditch player, and had a lovely life. That was the image I wanted to portray at this party, because I had to, had to, had to show people what I had accomplished. It's just this never-ending drive in me, I suppose. I'm overly ambitious. Ron's overly drunk. We make an interesting couple, I suppose.
"I agree!" I shouted back to Parvati, pulling myself out of my thoughts. "So, I hear you're engaged!"
Parvati shot me a wicked look, as in hell-yes-and-we're-not-waiting-till-the-wedding-night. Typical Parvati. My smile faded, but quite dimly, because once again, I had to keep up with the whole sophisticated look that I was going for. "Yes!" she screamed. "I'm getting married to, can you believe it, Blaise fucking Zabini!"
"Why the fucking?" I asked, sneakily. I knew perfectly why.
"Cause I'm the one fucking him!" she screamed. "Can you believe it! I never thought that I'd ever know him, let alone date him!"
Blaise Zabini. That quiet Slytherin, rumored to be either the most evil of the lot or the nicest Slytherin. We never found out, but Parvati probably knew. Then again, I wasn't going to get anything out of her except for his prowess in bed. "That's fantastic, Parvati," I said sincerely, but she had waved me off by this time, attending to her other guests and of course Blaise.
Blaise was here, Millicent was here…she'd invited Slytherins. Before I could stop myself, my disobedient mind had already wandered over to territory marked 'unstable'. I indulged myself with thoughts of a certain, blonde, and schizophrenic Slytherin that I was secretly and madly obsessed with.
Of course I had to scan the room for blonde hair, gray eyes, and a cocky attitude, but it was a lot harder than I thought. I had to make sure nobody was watching me, because, what if they could read minds and knew that I was looking for Draco…and also, the lighting was dim and blonde hair wasn't exactly simple to recognize in dim lighting.
"Fancy meeting you here, Hermione," someone drawled behind me. I spun around on one foot and came face to face with…oh, only Neville!
"Hey, Neville!" I exclaimed, trying to act pleased. I should be pleased. It was wrong not to be pleased but when I'd heard a lazy drawl I guess I'd expected that crazy Slytherin.
He reached over and pulled me into a hug, and I was surprised that I couldn't feel gobs of fat on him. He looked spectacular, really. "Hermione," he said happily. "You look stunning. So sophisticated!"
I beamed, I glowed, and I basked in that wonderful, lazy drawl of his. Had I ever said I didn't like it? Nah. Draco was pushed to the back of my mind as I had this lovely conversation about how sophisticated I was with Neville Longbottom.
Ron came up to me soon and gave me a lopsided grin, one of the only things I'd married him for. Oh, I was bad. I was so bad. Trying to eliminate the nasty thoughts I kept getting, I focused instead on what he was saying.
"Hermione, what in sweet Jesus took you so long to get here?" he asked, cheerfully.
"I told you I hate flooing," I said, sighing in mock-defeat. He always insisted we floo because it was easier than apparating to an unknown place, but I preferred summoning up all the concentration in the world than going through another Janice-and-ma ordeal.
"This party's great, isn't it?" he asked casually. I noticed that behind him Ginny and Harry were in a serious talk.
"Are they reconciling?" I asked, nodding my head towards them.
He shrugged. "They told me to get lost because they were sorting out issues. But I seriously doubt they're getting back together."
My voice cracked as I spoke, because everything that I'd once considered perfect was splitting up…it had always been Ron and me, and then Harry and Ginny…Ron and I hadn't acted like a married couple for three years, and then Harry and Ginny had broken up…everything was changing. And I wasn't sure if it was good or bad. Only time could tell. "It's sad," I finally said.
He nodded. "Yeah. Hey, I'm going to go grab a martini, okay? You want one?"
"No, that's okay. Easy on the drinking, all right, Ron?" I said, worried for the poor guy.
He grinned. "Don't worry. This isn't a bar, for chrissake."
"I know."
Ron disappeared into the throngs of the party and I was left alone. I looked around, wanting to chat with old classmates but wanting to spot and possibly stalk Draco as well. During my quest for Draco, because I just couldn't get my mind off of him and I had to know what he thought of me…he was acting so insane, so impossible to trace…I talked to so many classmates I couldn't even keep it straight. There was Lavender Brown-Finnigan, and Susan Bones, and Dean Thomas, and Ernie Macmillian, and Justin and Hannah Finch-Fletchley, Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Baddock, Malcom Baddock…tons and tons of people.
Surprisingly, the ex-Slytherins were pleasant. Pansy pointed out that I looked so much better than my silly "rag doll" days at Hogwarts, as she kindly put it. But hell. If Pansy likes the sophisticated look, it's got to be subtly very, very good.
Something's wrong with me.
Anyhow, I couldn't help but drop hints to Pansy as to ask where in the hell Draco could be. "So, Pansy, did you meet a lot of your housemates here?" I asked, casually, dropping the question into the conversation very slowly, carefully, and inconspicuously.
"Oh, yeah," Pansy said, grinning. "Malcolm met a lot of his buddies--Marcus Flint, Blaise Zabini, and all of them…I met up with Millicent Bulstrode, Sally Anne Perks…some of the younger years…"
Disappointed that she hadn't mentioned Draco, the boy we all knew she lusted after at Hogwarts…or at least, we all knew through the grapevine, nothing was ever certain (like the rumors about Harry and me? Where did they get those? And those silly things about Neville and his toad. Honestly.), I probed further. "So, Pansy, um, meet up with the git from hell?" I asked, hoping she'd assume it was Draco.
"Oh, Draco Malfoy?" she asked with a wistful smile. Once a luster, always a luster…but she knew who I was talking about!
"Oh, Gods, the ferret," I said, half-jokingly half-seriously, hoping that the I-don't-really-give-a-damn-about-him-I'm-sophisticated-sexy-and-just-generally-nosy side of me was showing.
She laughed. "Yeah, hmm, I don't know, I haven't seen him. I don't think he's here."
I choked on the glass of water I'd been holding. "Not here?" I sputtered, and then promptly turned red as a beet. So much for savoir-faire. "I'm just surprised…he was…quite the character of the…um, Slytherin house, wasn't he?" I bluffed.
She gave me an odd look, but I smiled back as humanely as possible, really hoping that the silly statements I'd made were being bought…and luckily, she didn't question. "I was surprised myself. Parvati invited so many people, I thought he'd for sure be here. Or maybe he just couldn't come, or he's late…whatever. I wanted to meet up with him too. I haven't seen him in three years!"
Three years. It's been awfully significant. Hmm, Ron and I have had no romantic yearnings for three years, Draco and Pansy haven't met in three years, I haven't had sex in three years, I hadn't bought new clothes up till recently in three years… I wonder if it means anything. Probably not. I'm just a conspiracy kind of girl, I guess.
I walked away from Pansy, disappointed yet elated at the same time. Disappointed because, of course, I wasn't going to be able to ogle at Draco, and elated because I knew it was just plain wrong. I'd read somewhere that married women get crushes all the time, start fancying young men or so, but Draco was different. He wasn't just a little eye candy, although the hair certainly helped. He wasn't overtly muscular or anything, in fact, he was rather skinny…and he wasn't young either. My age, I didn't know his birthday so I couldn't pinpoint it. Damn. I couldn't compare signs either.
What was wrong with me?
Compare signs? I never compared signs! Signs were silly, divination-esque things that I most emphatically did not believe in. Astrological signs were plain bull shit as far as I was concerned.
So how come I was so interested in his horoscope? That Muggle thing that everyone knew didn't ever come true. A spin-off on divination. And something I had suddenly developed deep fondness for.
As I was lost in my thoughts I heard that same deep lazy drawl that I'd heard earlier and mistaken Neville for Draco. Now as I looked up dismally I fully expected it to be anyone but Draco. And to my surprise and horror it turned out to be him!
He wasn't looking in my direction; he was chatting with the host of the party, Parvati. I moved closer to, Merlin forbid me, eavesdrop on the conversation, which brought me back to my earlier question…what was wrong with me? Eavesdropping? Horoscopes? Stalking? All signs of a very obsessed and deeply troubled young woman with a massive fancy on a certain blonde haired prat. I was done for.
"Sorry," he was saying to Parvati. "I had this important business call, didn't mean to be so late."
Parvati was checking her watch. "Oh, don't worry, it's only eleven, parties don't start swinging till then anyway…here, have a beer, it'll calm you down."
Draco accepted the beer and took a swig and for a second nausea washed over me, just the way it does when anyone drinks. I think this has happened because of Ron's alcoholic habit, which if he doesn't fix soon I am most definitely getting him help soon. I used to love the stuff myself, but since Ron's misused it I'm very careful of drinking. In fact I usually don't drink at all.
"Thanks, Parvati," Draco said, and walked away from her. A part of me commanded me to follow him into the crowd, while a stronger part demanded that I glue my feet to the ground and not try to look for him all evening. Like that was going to happen. Before I could make up my mind in either direction, the bloke was actually walking up to me! I was frozen already, no need to glue my feet to the ground. Terrified I looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Had he seen me eavesdropping? Please don't be handing me work, I begged. Now was really not the time…could he please just not walk here…please…
"Hermione," he said warmly, and I was very surprised at his voice. Yet another thing to add to my steadily growing list of why I shouldn't be obsessed with him. Erm, maybe the fact that he's, er, crazy? Flip-flopping personalities, too?
"Draco," I greeted weakly, holding out my hand.
He took it. "You look different," he said with a sly grin (yet another personality switch? Why was he doing this to me?). "I like it. It's snarky."
I shot him a witty smile, or so I hoped. "Well, thanks. I just got a bit bored, thought I'd experiment."
"Shall I get you a drink?" he asked casually.
A drink? No, no that's okay. "Oh, yes, that'd be great." What was I saying! I didn't want to drink, I had enough examples in front of me that the stuff really wasn't very good for you, could be rather dangerous, and I couldn't help it, sometimes I got paranoid. But here I was, accepting the drink, just because Draco had offered it to me? Seriously. My self-control, self-image, and self-esteem were plummeting. I did not need a man to make me happy in life. What the hell was I doing!
"What would you like?" he asked, although he didn't give me a chance to answer when he handed me a shot of vodka.
Of course, the minute I touched it to my lips, I remembered how fond I'd been of it. I downed shot after shot…in fact, we downed them together. He took one, then I took one, together we were pushing our limits, our stomachs, our minds…
"More?" he slurred and I giggled.
"You're so funny!" I said, basking in the attention he was giving me.
"You're so cute," he replied, slapping the table with his pale hands.
The rest of the evening was blurry…the night faded into day and I knew I was missing something when I went home with Ron in the wee hours of the morning.
A/N: Ok, well, we'll find out exactly what happened with drunk!Hermione and drunk!Draco in the next chapter. I just had to post, it's so late here, like almost one a.m. and I'm finishing up the chapter! Oh, um, I just posted a dark one-shot called Coruscating Scarlet…merely advertising, you may ignore if you wish. Well please review! I'd really appreciate it. A huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed this story and gives me comments. It's all so motivational.