Oh my gosh! You guys are so good to me! let me say that it was the truth that when I checked how many reviews I got my eyes almost popped out! Its such a great feeling to be able to write something and have so much positive feedback! The warm tingly feeling I usually get with reviews were multiplied by a hundred at least and I want to thank all of you for your support! I wish I had the time out to email each of you individually and say thanks, but then I'd have less time to write the story and I think you guys would rather I write this chapter. So anyway, I had some sushi today and it was great and your reviews made me feel wonderful so I'm updating sooner than usual.
Okay I just looked over some old reviews and I noticed this one review I hadn't seen before that was supposed to be constructive criticism. Now I know that I'm supposed to be all gracious about being criticized and stuff but I'm one of those anal people who don't enjoy being told they're doing something wrong so I just wanted to clarify some points even though it says that The Nimrod is no longer an active Fanfiction user.
Okay first of all, I didn't make Hermione out to be a boy-crazy bimbo. To be a boy-crazy bimbo, I would have had to write that she liked every boy in Gryffindor or something like that but I only wrote she liked Ron, Harry, and Krum, which are all very likely and just because I wrote she liked them doesn't make her boy-crazy. I honestly don't know if you're a girl or a guy but any normal estrogen working girl doesn't like only one guy her entire life. I also didn't portray Hermione as a bimbo, since I didn't write that she had done anything remotely bimbo-ish. Also, I admit that I did take the easy way out by killing off Voldemort, but honestly, I don't enjoy writing about him and it was convenient for the plot that you have yet to read about, so I think it's a little early to be judging. I also had no reason to elaborate on the battle because the way Voldemort died didn't matter to Hermione as much as the fact that he's dead. I'd also have no reason to elaborate on how Harry killed Voldemort since this IS a story about Hermione and how Harry killed Voldemort doesn't affect her. How the battle's outcome affected Harry also doesn't matter because again, this is a story about Hermione, not Harry. And why does it matter who had the first kill? Furthermore, I don't really see how Hermione not majoring in Transfiguration really matters either, because what I said she majored in is necessary to the career I wrote for her and Transfiguration isn't.
Ahh.. it feels so good to get it out of my system :)
Here's a little conversation with my good friend April..
Me: why the heck would it matter how the outcome of the battle affected Harry?
Me: i'm writing about Hermione not Harry!
April: hahahah
April: hence..HR/D fic......
Me: exactly!
April: he wants battle explanations then he should read a voldemort fic or harry fic
**********
He walked along the deserted freeway, a mud splattered man whose hair might have once been a silvery blonde but was now indistinct and covered by a layer of dirt. Most would have driven pass and disregarded him, but there was an aura about him that made people look twice. Perhaps it was his long rangy body or maybe it was his determined and angry strides. Whatever it was, the people who would have stopped and helped him because of his powerful aura were greatly intimidated by the feral and almost violent expression on his face. His face reminded them that today in America, it wasn't wise to take on hitchhikers. Even so, they were compelled to slow down slightly, seemingly stop, but he ignored their tentative offers and looked straight ahead, that slightly savage expression glued onto his stone face.
So the people kept on driving, and he kept on walking.
~*~
I sang along with the radio while I drove. Quietly at first, because I didn't want people to see, but as I drove further into the countryside I began to let go, little by little.
Washington had been a wonderful place.
Although I had been determined not to step one foot into a place of learning, I did go to one museum. An art museum that wasn't the top of the line, posh place for the rich, but more of a place for children and people who couldn't afford the fees. I didn't feel ready to go into the area of the rich and snobby whom would take one glance at my clothes and contemptuously sweep me by. Which reminded me that I really needed to go shopping. But anyway, the place was interesting.
It was slightly grubby but very warm with humanity. The kids sometimes touched here and there, but as I didn't see it made a difference, I also didn't see why they shouldn't be able to touch. I had blended in perfectly. Nobody had taken a second glance at me, nobody had noticed me. I was just another person in just another place.
So maybe my mission was to learn how to shine and stand out, but I wasn't ready yet, so why rush the process?
I learned that day in the museum that I had no interest in abstract art. I didn't see the passion that was thrown into a bunch of blobs of violent color.
Instead, I learned that I preferred the softer paintings. Portraits, landscapes, pastels. I was no art connoisseur, but I like to think I recognized the better ones from the ones trying to pose as paintings.
But that wasn't the only occurrence in Washington.
While there, I had an exciting new experience.
I met a hooker.
Yes, a prostitute, and she wasn't even all that bad. Definitely not what I had always thought a hooker would be like.
I had been driving around, wandering really, just looking for a place to eat dinner, when I saw it.
The Deep End.
It wasn't even really a building. It looked more like a small black door squeezed between two walls. It made me look up and around, and I realized then, that I had driven into the less glamorous side of Washington, D.C. I told myself to keep driving, that I, Hermione Granger, had no place going in there.
But even as I thought that to myself, it seemed a little devil had perched itself onto my shoulder.
'Why not?' it asked me. 'Didn't you come to America to have a little fun?'
But the little angel that was constantly sitting on my OTHER shoulder dictating my actions decided to speak up. 'That place is not FUN. It positively yells trouble and chaos. Hermione you are not going in there.' It even wagged its little finger at me.
'Shut up you prissy little prat.' The little devil snapped, leaning around so it could glare at the angel. 'Let the poor girl have some fun. You've been there all this time and looked what happened. She got JILTED. You've shaped her into a boring little git just like yourself. Its no wonder that Harry bugger left her.'
I glared at it. Really, did it have to bring up me being jilted to get a point across?
The little angel sniffed indignantly. 'I am NOT prissy. You have horrible manners and I wish I could banish you off to wherever you came from. Besides, I like Harry, I'm sure its all a big misunderstanding, or perhaps he's going through a stage? Honestly Hermione, you can't possibly think of listening to... that.. THING. Listen to me old gel, have I ever led you astray before?'
'You led her to get jilted.' Came the smug voice.
'Can we please forget the jilted thing?' I turned and asked angrily to the devil.
It held up its hands in surrender, 'Fine fine. No more talk of anyone getting jilted. But really, you need to learn to have some fun. Why don't you go in there and find a good-looking guy to shag. God knows you haven't had a good shag in a long time since Harry bloody Potter can't possibly count. That little wanker couldn't even get it-'
The little angel began shrieking. 'My earrrss!! My poor earrss! Don't say such vulgar things in front of me!'
I rolled my eyes at it. It really was a prissy little thing.
The little devil grinned at me. 'You're not really thinking of listening to that little piece of shit are you?'
'I am not a little piece of poop!' Came the angry reply. 'Hermione you are not stepping one toe into that place and that is my final word! I forbid you to!'
I glared at it. 'You remind me of Harry. Go away and be someone else's boring conscience.' I flicked it off my shoulder and the little devil grinned encouragingly at me and disappeared with a little poof. I glanced around and found myself in a little parking space squeezed between a beaten up car and a motorcycle.
So maybe I was going crazy, but at least I found out that I had a little devil on my shoulder and not just a sissy little angel. It came to me as a somewhat relief that maybe I wasn't only goody two shoes Hermione Granger, that maybe I had a little bit of a devil in me.
As I stepped out of my car I managed to step onto something that squelched disgustingly. I sighed and yanked my foot out of the sticky muck. Only someone with my intense bad luck would manage to step onto that exact spot exactly covered by that disgusting... whatever it was... at that exact moment.
I kept walking toward the bar and tried to become oblivious to the fact that my left heel was sticking ever so slightly to the concrete. I swore that I would not lift up my left foot and check what was on there. I DID NOT want to see.
But despite my resolve I found myself stopping and slowly lifting up my foot.
"Honey, when you step into a pile of shit you don't stand there staring at it. You scrape it off and keep walking or that little bastard over there is going to make you his next mark."
My head snapped up at the sound of the dry, slightly amused voice. What I saw made my jaw almost drop to the concrete covered by the unknown substance.
She was a big, tan woman who looked to be of mixed race. Apparently she had been poured into a pair of black crotch shorts that showed off long shapely legs as well as a black corset looking top that showed off her breasts like offerings.
The amazingly beautiful woman grinned. "Look honey, if you keep staring I'm going to have to charge you." She ran a hand down her hip seductively. "Nothin is free in this country."
I snapped my jaw shut and tried to hold back my blush, but was unsuccessful. The woman sauntered up to me. "Usually I don't talk to your type since I can already tell that you're going to judge me.... but.... I made an exception to you since I can tell that you're obviously one of those snooty rich ladies except you look like crap and little Johnny over there was eyeing your really tacky purse." She pursed her full and blood red lips, "Where'd you get such an ugly thing anyways? The trash dump?"
But before I could answer, a little shrimp of a man sidled up looking like he showered in grease and slung an arm around the woman's provocative hips. "Hey Veronica, wanna party? What's your going rate tonight?"
Veronica the hooker gave a long suffering sigh, "Johnny... I watched you work tonight and trust me you haven't lifted enough wallets to afford me... soo... take your slimy hand off my ass before I cut off your dick."
The man, who I assumed was the same Johnny that had been eyeing my ugly purse, lifted up his hands and held them out in supplication. "Awww.. C'mon Vero.. I'm feelin lonely tonight."
"Then have fun with a bottle of lotion and your hand."
My ears were burning bright red now since I was completely out of my depth in such a crude conversation.
"Why you gotta be such a bitch, Vero?"
The woman in question narrowed her eyes at the little man, "You know Johnny, I was born a bitch so I really can't help it. Now fuck off and leave me and my new friend to chat."
He eyed me up and down, "New friend? She looks like a snotty little bitch to me. Doesn't look like she's a hooker. "
I gasped in indignation. I was NOT a snotty little bitch and he had no right to say so. I had just opened my mouth to deliver a blistering diatribe when Veronica spoke up angrily.
"Do you WANT me to cut off your little dick or what?"
"Fine, bitch. But don't think I'll wanna pay for your 2nd rate service again." Johnny said acidly and he began stalking away.
"There's a reason why everybody calls you 'little' Johnny!" She called after him.
I fingered my wand inside my pocket and wondered if I could unobtrusively turn him into a rat, but before I could make my decision, Veronica turned around and eyed me speculatively.
"So.. what are you doing down here in these parts? You lost?"
I stiffened at her amused tone. "No, I'm not lost. I was looking for a place to eat when I happened to wander down here."
The woman hooted with laughter. "Good God, she's even got a snooty British accent!"
My lips compressed themselves into a thin line, not unlike Professor McGonagall used to do.
"I don't see what's so amusing."
She grinned. "You're what's so amusing, honey. Wandering down here looking like a little lost puppy then managing to step onto Chris's old vomit."
I blanched. Didn't I say that I did NOT want to know what I had stepped onto?
"Par-pardon me?"
"Chris was having a rough night last Wednesday, and had some real fun in The Deep End, but ended up losing most of his dinner as he was walking to his car."
"I..." Gross. Gross gross gross! "Hmm..."
As I was wondering whether or not I would be able to speak without yacking up another puddle no one would clean, the woman held out her hand. I took it slowly and found my hand in a strong handshake.
"Veronica DiCarpio."
"Hermione Granger."
"What is that..? A British name? I've never known anyone named Hermione before. Weird name."
"I've never known a prostitute before either." I said with a polite smile. Honestly! Where did she get off saying I had a strange name? I mean, look at her, she was a hooker, for Merlin's sake!
Veronica threw back her head and let out a deeply amused laugh. "Tit for tat eh? You British.." She shook her head. "Are all Brits as funny as you?"
"I wouldn't know as I haven't met everyone in Britain." I said a bit curtly.
I'm hopeless, I told myself. Here I was with a perfect opportunity to make a new friend who already called ME a friend, and I was being rude and curt just because of her choice of profession. Honestly, who was I to judge since I was, after all, the one who got JILTED.
"Look.. I'm... sorry.." I sighed. "I shouldn't be so impolite, after all, you probably did save me from being mugged by that odious little Johnny man. Its just that.. well I've had a rough few days.."
Veronica nodded seriously but her eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Right... well. Since we've been standing here out in the cold and you're looking for dinner and I'm looking for a place to sit, why don't we go into the club?"
I looked unsteadily at the bar, my early resolve to go in began to crumble. "Erm... well.... It's not exactly... well not my kind of place..."
"Trust me, The Deep End isn't anyones kind of place. Hell, I'm a fucking hooker and it isn't my kind of place."
"Oh. Er. Well... I don't-"
Veronica grabbed my hand and began to drag me to the door. "C'mon, Miss British. Nobody in there will eat you.." She paused and thought about it for a second. "Well not so long as you're with me since they all know me... just... just don't wander off by yourself or anything. Stay by my side and you'll be fine."
Gee, I thought caustically. That does so much to REASSURE me.
I slipped my free hand into my pocket and fingered my wand thoughtfully. I wondered if people would think it strange that I was carrying a stick around. I sighed as I decided that people would indeed think it strange, but I so wanted to have my wand ready in case any drunks or brawlers attacked me.
Veronica shouldered the door open and stepped inside. I hesitated as I saw some fog begin to roll out but she latched onto my arm and dragged me inside.
All of a sudden I felt as blind as a bat in all the darkness and clutched onto Veronica's arm. I heard her musical laugh roll back and prod me forward. I glanced around in confusion as I watched the multitudes of bodies writhe around in a beat that completely blasted the ears.
This wasn't a bar.. I thought, somewhat worried. It was a goddamn club.
The music with its heavy bass beat was pounding on my eardrums and I wondered why I couldn't hear it from outside. But then it occurred to me that perhaps the door had been soundproofed, which was a distinct possibility when I thought about how thick it had been.
Veronica shouldered her way towards a group of tables and luckily found one that was unoccupied. Myself on the other hand was too busy watching the bodies grind in an imitation of dance to worry about sitting down somewhere.
When Veronica yanked me down into a chair I turned slightly and found that right in front of my face was a display of unadulterated lust. My face turned brighter than the sun and I quickly looked away. Veronica saw my expression and let loose with another throaty laugh.
"God, you're so damn innocent!"
"I can't help it if I don't barter my body for money." As I realized what I had just snapped, I clapped my hands over my mouth and watched Veronica in horror. I couldn't believe I had been so rude especially after all she'd done for me. I wouldn't have been very surprised if Veronica punched me, because if I had been her I would have been beating the bejeezus out of me.
Instead Veronica leaned back and looked at me coolly.
"I think.." She said slowly, "that this is the part where I should beat the shit out of you."
"I-I'm.. I'm so sorry Veronica! I've never been so rude to anyone in my life. Except for maybe Pansy or Lavender, but they deserved it and you don't. You definitely don't because you've done so much for me already. You even kept me from being robbed by that little Johnny prat, and I should have never been so rude. What you do is your business and I'm really sorry. I don't care if you're a prostitute, really, because you're so nice and I'm not really one and to judge, especially since I've just been jilted and Harry's embarrassed the hell out of me and I'm so bloody sorry.." I trailed off as I realized that I had been babbling like a fool.
Veronica continued to look at me coldly for a few seconds before bursting into insane laughter.
"You..." she gasped. Tears were running down her face because she was laughing so hard.
I looked at her hesitantly. "Veronica....?" Why was she laughing?
"I... you...." She clutched her stomach and continued to giggle like a madwoman.
"You... me...?"
"God, Hermione! You're... so.... So..." Veronica laughed some more.
"Innocent..?"
"FUNNY!! God, I actually made Miss British babble." She wiped her tears but all it took was one look at my confused face to set her off again.
"I... wasn't babbling.." I said weakly.
"Yes.." She gasped for breath. "You were. God, and you were what? Jilted? By some ass named Harry?"
I stiffened. "I.. er.. Well.. yeah."
"And what the hell does that have to do with you being sorry?"
I began to see the humor in the situation and my mouth twitched. "Nothing, I guess."
She grinned. "And you're sorry?"
"Very."
"Well that's all right then. I've had people say worse to me, Hermione. You're hardly the first person to have commented on my choice of profession."
"I.." I paused. "Well, I've never said anything so rude to anyone before."
"Except maybe Lavender and Pansy right?"
"Right."
"God, where the hell do you British come up with these names? Hermione, Lavender, and shit, PANSY. I'd jump off a bridge if I was named Pansy."
"I wish Pansy DID jump off a bridge." I muttered darkly, remembering all the times I had put up with the pugnacious girl. "I wish I could push HARRY off a bridge."
Veronica leaned forward interestedly and placed her chin onto her fist. "Tell me about this Harry loser who jilted you. Did he leave you at the altar or something?"
"Much worse."
"What could be worse than getting abandoned in front of your friends and family?" Veronica asked with a frown, tucking her ebony hair behind her ear and staring at me.
"How about being abandoned and having the whole wiz- I mean world knowing about it? Not only that, but Harry's sort of a big celebrity... so of course everyone is interested in what he does." I hoped Veronica hadn't noticed that I had started to say wizarding world because I was sure she'd find that curious. I had also hoped she wouldn't ask what kind of celebrity Harry was, but like I said, I have some bloody rotten luck.
"What kind of celebrity is Harry? How come I've never heard of him? He's a singer or an actor or something?"
"Umm.. well.. You Americans never hear about our British celebrities..." I know, I know, it was a weak excuse.
"I... see. Well does he sing or act? I bet he acts huh? I mean only an actor would love drama so much that he would jilt his fiance and inform the entire world about it." Veronica patted my hand kindly. Unlike when Lavender did it, her patting my hand didn't upset me; instead it made me feel like maybe I wasn't alone.
"Erm... he... acts...? And well he didn't inform the whole world.. exactly.." I hated lying but it didn't seem as if I had a choice. After all, it wasn't as if I could just tell her I was a witch and Harry was a wizard who had defeated an evil, dark wizard when he was just a baby. She'd have probably laughed in my face and then admitted me to an insane asylum or something.
"He just got married to another woman a few days before our wedding and well it happened to make the... local newspaper.."
"Really? Do you have a copy of the newspaper?"
Yes, I did, in my ugly purse. But I couldn't show it to Veronica, after all, the pictures did MOVE.
"Erm.. No."
Her face fell. "Oh.. too bad. Well I'm sure this Harry bastard was a loser anyways."
"You have no idea."
Veronica grinned suddenly. "Lets dance Hermione."
I sniffed. "I don't call THAT dancing." I looked pointedly at the grinding bodies.
"That's because you're a prude."
I gasped. "Excuse me?!"
She laughed. "You heard me, Miss British. You Are A Prude."
"I am not!"
"You are too!"
"Just because I don't feel the urge to rub my body parts all over someone else's privates, I'm a prude?" I asked outraged.
"Yup."
"I... You..."
Veronica pouted. "Please Hermione! Just one song!"
"Absolutely not."
She stood up abruptly and looked down disdainfully at me. "Fine then. Stay here all by yourself and watch everyone else have all the fun. You may be content doing so but I'm not. I hope you have a good night, Miss British."
I grabbed her hand in a panic as she began to stomp away. "You can't leave me here by myself, Veronica!"
"Watch me."
"You can't!"
"I'm leaving, Hermione."
"Fine! Okay! You win!" I stood up and took a deep breath. "I'll dance. One song only."
She nodded and began to lead me to the dance floor.
Merlin! What the bloody hell was I doing? I asked myself. I had absolutely no business being in a bar, much less dancing like a wanton. I didn't know how to dance! Well, at least not like that. I was going to make a complete and utter fool out of myself and Veronica would leave me in the middle of the dance floor in complete disgust.
I began to imagine all manners of horrible and embarrassing things when I realized I was standing in the middle of the dance floor and people were stepping on my feet. Veronica was already swaying to the beat of the music.
"Veronica!" I yelled to be heard over the loud music. "I don't.. I don't know how to dance!"
"Just move with the beat!" She yelled back.
I stood there, stone still, watching everyone else dancing.
"HERMIONE!"
My head snapped around and I saw Veronica with her hands on her hips watching me angrily.
"WHAT?"
She might have rolled her eyes, it was hard to see in the dark, but she was clearly exasperated. "DANCE!"
How?
Before I came up with a clear and logical answer I began to feel Veronica slithering all over me.
"Um. Veronica?"
"WHAT?"
"What the bloody hell are you doing?"
She continued to move around me, "Trying to get you to dance!"
"But I don't know how!!" I wailed.
"MOVE WITH ME!"
I moved around hesitantly, trying to keep pace with her, but her body was practically vibrating with the fast music.
I began to shake my hips a little and tried to move sinuously like Veronica.
"GOOD!" She flashed me a thumbs up.
Encouraged, I began to sway and shake with the music a little more enthusiastically. And before I knew it, I was dancing as wildly as Veronica. True, I was making awful sure that I didn't touch anyone else, but it was as wild as I got.
And I found out that it was fun. A little freeing in being able to dance how I liked without fear of censure.
I was having so much fun, in fact, that instead of just dancing to one song, I danced to 3, and by the end of the third one, my body was undulating and moving of its own volition to the music.
Veronica finally had to drag me off the dance floor and we collapsed on the bar.
"Merlin! That was bloody fun!" I gasped at her.
She laughed. "Merlin? What the hell is that?"
"Um. Brit speak?"
"I see.." She gave my shoulder a little shove. "So, isn't dancing fun?"
"It's the best!"
"Told you so."
I grinned. "Shut up."
"You know... In honor of your first time REALLY dancing, I'll buy you a drink."
She waved the bartender, who was built like a Roman god, over and ordered us drinks.
As he left to fill them, I flung my arms around Veronica's shoulders and hugged her impulsively.
"I'm so glad you're a hooker!"
She laughed. "Why is that?"
"If I hadn't met you I probably would have gotten mugged and I would never have been dragged in here, much less dragged onto the dance floor. Because of you, I've learned something new about myself." I grabbed the shot glass in front of me and downed the contents in one swallow. I choked and began to cough.
Veronica laughed as she patted me on the back. "Then I'm glad."
My eyes were tearing because of the tequila but I still managed to smile at her. "Why are you a hooker anyway? I mean you seem smart enough."
She frowned slightly and a look of sadness entered her eyes. "I... There are things you don't know about me, Hermione. I have my reasons. But I'm not going to stay a hooker for long. I only have a few more weeks of this, and then I'm moving out west."
"Really?" My head was swimming slightly because of the alcohol. "That's so sweet."
"Sweet?"
"Uh-huh."
Veronica grinned. "You have low alcohol tolerance, don't you?"
"Uh-huh."
"How often do you drink?"
I grinned. "I've drinked.. drinken.. drank... um... maybe 3 times? Most of the time its watered down alcohol stuff though.."
She got off her stool and pulled me up. "It's time to leave now, Hermione."
"What?" I protested. "I wanted to dance some more."
Veronica began to pull me towards the door. "What hotel are you staying in?"
"Um. I don't have a hotel."
"How about you stay at the Holiday Inn?"
"Mmk."
She pushed open the door and we gulped in big breaths of the fresh night air.
"Here are the directions to it."
She sat on the hood of the car and began to recite them. "Go straight down this street. Turn left on Renowitz, drive for about a block and make another left. The Inn is right there."
"Okay. I unlocked the car. I'm going west too."
She looked at me surprised. "Really?"
"Yes. Here's the phone number to my friend's house there. She lives in Los Angeles. Give me a call when you get there." I put a scrap of paper in her hand.
She looked up and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
"What's wrong, Veronica?"
"You actually.." She cleared her throat. "You really want to be friends?"
I cocked my head to the side and studied her. "I thought we already were.."
"No.." She laughed slightly. "People like you don't become friends with people like me. At least not permanently."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "I'm a hooker."
I laughed and hugged her tightly. "I already told you that I'm glad you're a hooker."
"But.."
"I need a friend right now, Veronica. You've helped me to have so much fun tonight and discover more things about myself. I WANT to be you're friend. So, you'll call me, right?"
Veronica sniffled. "I.. Okay."
"Oh.." I dug around in my ugly purse and came out with a credit card. "Here." I shoved it into her lax hand. "It's prepaid. It has around 5 thousand on it. Use it to put all you're stuff together and come out west as soon as you can."
She gaped at me. "I can't take that."
"Of course you can." I smiled. "Just imagine. If you hadn't saved me from that little Johnny prat I would have probably lost my whole purse and I've a lot more money in it that 5 thousand. Think of it as a thank you gift."
"Hermione.. I can't take it!"
I grinned at her, "Veronica, I write books and I'm VERY rich. 5 thousand isn't that much to me." I took her hands into mine. "Besides, no one should have to sell themselves. I.." I paused. "I get the feeling you're running from something. I am too, so let me help out a fellow runaway."
She smiled hesitantly. "Right. Okay. Thanks a lot, Hermione." She hugged me tightly. "Thanks so much."
I got into my car and started it, "See you in a few weeks, Veronica."
~*~
That had been last night. Now here I was, driving on highway 51, on my way west. I had left Washington a few hours ago and was now driving into Virginia. I had decided not to take the route straight across America, but instead I would be driving through the Southern states.
I had the radio on loud and was blithely singing along with every song that came on, even the ones that I didn't know.
I stopped for lunch at a little rest stop that sold sandwiches. I had sat there for an hour, just eating and enjoying the scenery.
When I was back on the road the sun was still up and shining.
The weather was so great in September 2010. Still warm but not too hot, and the sun stayed out longer.
I had had a great night last night, made a new friend, learned how to dance, and discovered new things about myself. I liked to dance, I didn't like tequila, and I have a lot of credit cards.
I laughed slightly. Life was so great. I was actually starting to look forward to any new surprises.
A new one popped up sooner than I expected. I had been driving through Virginia for a few hours after lunch when I saw him.
He was too far ahead of me to see much, but I could tell that he was tall, tired, and very dirty.
My generous feeling was still residing in me from yesterday so I decided I would stop and give him a lift to wherever he was going. I mean, where could the harm be in that?
If he turned out to be a psycho, then, I could defend myself very well with my wand. And if he turned to be a lost person just looking for a lift, then I'd feel like a good Samaritan.
I sped up and ignored that nagging feeling in the back of my head telling me to beware.
~*~
I was so bloody tired. I had been walking for days, angry, hungry, and lost. What would I do? Here I was, stuck in some godforsaken place, with no money, no wand, and no magic.
I should have gotten into one of the cars that had been stopping, I told myself again for the hundredth time.
Stupid of me, to have been too angry and prideful to accept a ride from some stupid muggle. So now here I was, walking on a long dusty highway of some sort. And there hadn't been a car in sight the entire day.
The blue Porsche was almost on me before I realized it was there, it had driven up so silently. It came to a smooth halt next to me as I turned and studied it's driver.
She was a short looking brunette. Her sunglasses obscured most of her face but what I could see was pleasant looking enough. Her mouth was in a wide smile and her nose looked small and pert. Her clothes, however, were another matter entirely. They were old and wrinkly looking, in very ugly colors, and seemed to be of a bad fit. She didn't seem too horrible for a muggle but she did have atrocious taste in clothing. I almost shuddered to see what she was wearing.
"Hi." She said brightly. She extended her hand and leaned out of the car.
"Hi." I took her hand and shook it quickly. My voice was gravelly and the road dust was clogging up my throat. I coughed and attempted to clear it.
"Oh. I'm so sorry. I should have realized. I'll get you some water." She turned and began rummaging around in her hideous handbag. I looked at her in surprise as my mind placed her accent. She was British.
"Here." She handed me the bottle and watched as I drank thirstily. "So.. you look like you could use some help."
Although it pained me greatly to say it, I did. "I do need help."
I sensed her surprise at the sound of my accent but she didn't say anything about it. "Where do you need a lift to?"
"I.." Merlin! I hated seeming like a fool. "Where am I?"
"Virginia.."
"Where's Virginia?"
She laughed. "You're joking, right?"
I continued to stare at her seriously.
"Oh. Um, you're in America. The United States of America."
I almost gasped like a fish out of water. They brought me to the bloody United States?!
Okay, I told myself. Think rationally. There was a wizarding town somewhere in New Orleans, Louisiana. I knew that because I had done business there before. I could go to that wizarding town and find a way to get back to London where I could contact the aurors, who could then find those bloody Death Eaters and return my magic to me.
"Do you suppose you could give me a lift to New Orleans, Louisiana?" I asked in my most charming voice.
She smiled uncertainly. "Um. Of course. I'm dropping by there anyway." She unlocked the door. "Get in."
I walked around the car, opened the door, and sank into the soft leather seat.
"Um. I didn't catch your name." She gave me a slightly suspicious look. "What is it?"
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."
I felt her jump and felt waves of shock rolling off her. I opened my eyes slightly and watched as she whipped off her overlarge sunglasses. She studied my face for a moment before she groaned as if she was in mortal pain.
Why did she all of a sudden look so familiar?
"Bloody fucking hell."
**********
THANK GOD! FINALLY! I'M DONE! THEY HAVE MET! YAYAYYAYA! I will get the next chapter up as soon as possible. REVIEW!!!!
Okay I just looked over some old reviews and I noticed this one review I hadn't seen before that was supposed to be constructive criticism. Now I know that I'm supposed to be all gracious about being criticized and stuff but I'm one of those anal people who don't enjoy being told they're doing something wrong so I just wanted to clarify some points even though it says that The Nimrod is no longer an active Fanfiction user.
Okay first of all, I didn't make Hermione out to be a boy-crazy bimbo. To be a boy-crazy bimbo, I would have had to write that she liked every boy in Gryffindor or something like that but I only wrote she liked Ron, Harry, and Krum, which are all very likely and just because I wrote she liked them doesn't make her boy-crazy. I honestly don't know if you're a girl or a guy but any normal estrogen working girl doesn't like only one guy her entire life. I also didn't portray Hermione as a bimbo, since I didn't write that she had done anything remotely bimbo-ish. Also, I admit that I did take the easy way out by killing off Voldemort, but honestly, I don't enjoy writing about him and it was convenient for the plot that you have yet to read about, so I think it's a little early to be judging. I also had no reason to elaborate on the battle because the way Voldemort died didn't matter to Hermione as much as the fact that he's dead. I'd also have no reason to elaborate on how Harry killed Voldemort since this IS a story about Hermione and how Harry killed Voldemort doesn't affect her. How the battle's outcome affected Harry also doesn't matter because again, this is a story about Hermione, not Harry. And why does it matter who had the first kill? Furthermore, I don't really see how Hermione not majoring in Transfiguration really matters either, because what I said she majored in is necessary to the career I wrote for her and Transfiguration isn't.
Ahh.. it feels so good to get it out of my system :)
Here's a little conversation with my good friend April..
Me: why the heck would it matter how the outcome of the battle affected Harry?
Me: i'm writing about Hermione not Harry!
April: hahahah
April: hence..HR/D fic......
Me: exactly!
April: he wants battle explanations then he should read a voldemort fic or harry fic
**********
He walked along the deserted freeway, a mud splattered man whose hair might have once been a silvery blonde but was now indistinct and covered by a layer of dirt. Most would have driven pass and disregarded him, but there was an aura about him that made people look twice. Perhaps it was his long rangy body or maybe it was his determined and angry strides. Whatever it was, the people who would have stopped and helped him because of his powerful aura were greatly intimidated by the feral and almost violent expression on his face. His face reminded them that today in America, it wasn't wise to take on hitchhikers. Even so, they were compelled to slow down slightly, seemingly stop, but he ignored their tentative offers and looked straight ahead, that slightly savage expression glued onto his stone face.
So the people kept on driving, and he kept on walking.
~*~
I sang along with the radio while I drove. Quietly at first, because I didn't want people to see, but as I drove further into the countryside I began to let go, little by little.
Washington had been a wonderful place.
Although I had been determined not to step one foot into a place of learning, I did go to one museum. An art museum that wasn't the top of the line, posh place for the rich, but more of a place for children and people who couldn't afford the fees. I didn't feel ready to go into the area of the rich and snobby whom would take one glance at my clothes and contemptuously sweep me by. Which reminded me that I really needed to go shopping. But anyway, the place was interesting.
It was slightly grubby but very warm with humanity. The kids sometimes touched here and there, but as I didn't see it made a difference, I also didn't see why they shouldn't be able to touch. I had blended in perfectly. Nobody had taken a second glance at me, nobody had noticed me. I was just another person in just another place.
So maybe my mission was to learn how to shine and stand out, but I wasn't ready yet, so why rush the process?
I learned that day in the museum that I had no interest in abstract art. I didn't see the passion that was thrown into a bunch of blobs of violent color.
Instead, I learned that I preferred the softer paintings. Portraits, landscapes, pastels. I was no art connoisseur, but I like to think I recognized the better ones from the ones trying to pose as paintings.
But that wasn't the only occurrence in Washington.
While there, I had an exciting new experience.
I met a hooker.
Yes, a prostitute, and she wasn't even all that bad. Definitely not what I had always thought a hooker would be like.
I had been driving around, wandering really, just looking for a place to eat dinner, when I saw it.
The Deep End.
It wasn't even really a building. It looked more like a small black door squeezed between two walls. It made me look up and around, and I realized then, that I had driven into the less glamorous side of Washington, D.C. I told myself to keep driving, that I, Hermione Granger, had no place going in there.
But even as I thought that to myself, it seemed a little devil had perched itself onto my shoulder.
'Why not?' it asked me. 'Didn't you come to America to have a little fun?'
But the little angel that was constantly sitting on my OTHER shoulder dictating my actions decided to speak up. 'That place is not FUN. It positively yells trouble and chaos. Hermione you are not going in there.' It even wagged its little finger at me.
'Shut up you prissy little prat.' The little devil snapped, leaning around so it could glare at the angel. 'Let the poor girl have some fun. You've been there all this time and looked what happened. She got JILTED. You've shaped her into a boring little git just like yourself. Its no wonder that Harry bugger left her.'
I glared at it. Really, did it have to bring up me being jilted to get a point across?
The little angel sniffed indignantly. 'I am NOT prissy. You have horrible manners and I wish I could banish you off to wherever you came from. Besides, I like Harry, I'm sure its all a big misunderstanding, or perhaps he's going through a stage? Honestly Hermione, you can't possibly think of listening to... that.. THING. Listen to me old gel, have I ever led you astray before?'
'You led her to get jilted.' Came the smug voice.
'Can we please forget the jilted thing?' I turned and asked angrily to the devil.
It held up its hands in surrender, 'Fine fine. No more talk of anyone getting jilted. But really, you need to learn to have some fun. Why don't you go in there and find a good-looking guy to shag. God knows you haven't had a good shag in a long time since Harry bloody Potter can't possibly count. That little wanker couldn't even get it-'
The little angel began shrieking. 'My earrrss!! My poor earrss! Don't say such vulgar things in front of me!'
I rolled my eyes at it. It really was a prissy little thing.
The little devil grinned at me. 'You're not really thinking of listening to that little piece of shit are you?'
'I am not a little piece of poop!' Came the angry reply. 'Hermione you are not stepping one toe into that place and that is my final word! I forbid you to!'
I glared at it. 'You remind me of Harry. Go away and be someone else's boring conscience.' I flicked it off my shoulder and the little devil grinned encouragingly at me and disappeared with a little poof. I glanced around and found myself in a little parking space squeezed between a beaten up car and a motorcycle.
So maybe I was going crazy, but at least I found out that I had a little devil on my shoulder and not just a sissy little angel. It came to me as a somewhat relief that maybe I wasn't only goody two shoes Hermione Granger, that maybe I had a little bit of a devil in me.
As I stepped out of my car I managed to step onto something that squelched disgustingly. I sighed and yanked my foot out of the sticky muck. Only someone with my intense bad luck would manage to step onto that exact spot exactly covered by that disgusting... whatever it was... at that exact moment.
I kept walking toward the bar and tried to become oblivious to the fact that my left heel was sticking ever so slightly to the concrete. I swore that I would not lift up my left foot and check what was on there. I DID NOT want to see.
But despite my resolve I found myself stopping and slowly lifting up my foot.
"Honey, when you step into a pile of shit you don't stand there staring at it. You scrape it off and keep walking or that little bastard over there is going to make you his next mark."
My head snapped up at the sound of the dry, slightly amused voice. What I saw made my jaw almost drop to the concrete covered by the unknown substance.
She was a big, tan woman who looked to be of mixed race. Apparently she had been poured into a pair of black crotch shorts that showed off long shapely legs as well as a black corset looking top that showed off her breasts like offerings.
The amazingly beautiful woman grinned. "Look honey, if you keep staring I'm going to have to charge you." She ran a hand down her hip seductively. "Nothin is free in this country."
I snapped my jaw shut and tried to hold back my blush, but was unsuccessful. The woman sauntered up to me. "Usually I don't talk to your type since I can already tell that you're going to judge me.... but.... I made an exception to you since I can tell that you're obviously one of those snooty rich ladies except you look like crap and little Johnny over there was eyeing your really tacky purse." She pursed her full and blood red lips, "Where'd you get such an ugly thing anyways? The trash dump?"
But before I could answer, a little shrimp of a man sidled up looking like he showered in grease and slung an arm around the woman's provocative hips. "Hey Veronica, wanna party? What's your going rate tonight?"
Veronica the hooker gave a long suffering sigh, "Johnny... I watched you work tonight and trust me you haven't lifted enough wallets to afford me... soo... take your slimy hand off my ass before I cut off your dick."
The man, who I assumed was the same Johnny that had been eyeing my ugly purse, lifted up his hands and held them out in supplication. "Awww.. C'mon Vero.. I'm feelin lonely tonight."
"Then have fun with a bottle of lotion and your hand."
My ears were burning bright red now since I was completely out of my depth in such a crude conversation.
"Why you gotta be such a bitch, Vero?"
The woman in question narrowed her eyes at the little man, "You know Johnny, I was born a bitch so I really can't help it. Now fuck off and leave me and my new friend to chat."
He eyed me up and down, "New friend? She looks like a snotty little bitch to me. Doesn't look like she's a hooker. "
I gasped in indignation. I was NOT a snotty little bitch and he had no right to say so. I had just opened my mouth to deliver a blistering diatribe when Veronica spoke up angrily.
"Do you WANT me to cut off your little dick or what?"
"Fine, bitch. But don't think I'll wanna pay for your 2nd rate service again." Johnny said acidly and he began stalking away.
"There's a reason why everybody calls you 'little' Johnny!" She called after him.
I fingered my wand inside my pocket and wondered if I could unobtrusively turn him into a rat, but before I could make my decision, Veronica turned around and eyed me speculatively.
"So.. what are you doing down here in these parts? You lost?"
I stiffened at her amused tone. "No, I'm not lost. I was looking for a place to eat when I happened to wander down here."
The woman hooted with laughter. "Good God, she's even got a snooty British accent!"
My lips compressed themselves into a thin line, not unlike Professor McGonagall used to do.
"I don't see what's so amusing."
She grinned. "You're what's so amusing, honey. Wandering down here looking like a little lost puppy then managing to step onto Chris's old vomit."
I blanched. Didn't I say that I did NOT want to know what I had stepped onto?
"Par-pardon me?"
"Chris was having a rough night last Wednesday, and had some real fun in The Deep End, but ended up losing most of his dinner as he was walking to his car."
"I..." Gross. Gross gross gross! "Hmm..."
As I was wondering whether or not I would be able to speak without yacking up another puddle no one would clean, the woman held out her hand. I took it slowly and found my hand in a strong handshake.
"Veronica DiCarpio."
"Hermione Granger."
"What is that..? A British name? I've never known anyone named Hermione before. Weird name."
"I've never known a prostitute before either." I said with a polite smile. Honestly! Where did she get off saying I had a strange name? I mean, look at her, she was a hooker, for Merlin's sake!
Veronica threw back her head and let out a deeply amused laugh. "Tit for tat eh? You British.." She shook her head. "Are all Brits as funny as you?"
"I wouldn't know as I haven't met everyone in Britain." I said a bit curtly.
I'm hopeless, I told myself. Here I was with a perfect opportunity to make a new friend who already called ME a friend, and I was being rude and curt just because of her choice of profession. Honestly, who was I to judge since I was, after all, the one who got JILTED.
"Look.. I'm... sorry.." I sighed. "I shouldn't be so impolite, after all, you probably did save me from being mugged by that odious little Johnny man. Its just that.. well I've had a rough few days.."
Veronica nodded seriously but her eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Right... well. Since we've been standing here out in the cold and you're looking for dinner and I'm looking for a place to sit, why don't we go into the club?"
I looked unsteadily at the bar, my early resolve to go in began to crumble. "Erm... well.... It's not exactly... well not my kind of place..."
"Trust me, The Deep End isn't anyones kind of place. Hell, I'm a fucking hooker and it isn't my kind of place."
"Oh. Er. Well... I don't-"
Veronica grabbed my hand and began to drag me to the door. "C'mon, Miss British. Nobody in there will eat you.." She paused and thought about it for a second. "Well not so long as you're with me since they all know me... just... just don't wander off by yourself or anything. Stay by my side and you'll be fine."
Gee, I thought caustically. That does so much to REASSURE me.
I slipped my free hand into my pocket and fingered my wand thoughtfully. I wondered if people would think it strange that I was carrying a stick around. I sighed as I decided that people would indeed think it strange, but I so wanted to have my wand ready in case any drunks or brawlers attacked me.
Veronica shouldered the door open and stepped inside. I hesitated as I saw some fog begin to roll out but she latched onto my arm and dragged me inside.
All of a sudden I felt as blind as a bat in all the darkness and clutched onto Veronica's arm. I heard her musical laugh roll back and prod me forward. I glanced around in confusion as I watched the multitudes of bodies writhe around in a beat that completely blasted the ears.
This wasn't a bar.. I thought, somewhat worried. It was a goddamn club.
The music with its heavy bass beat was pounding on my eardrums and I wondered why I couldn't hear it from outside. But then it occurred to me that perhaps the door had been soundproofed, which was a distinct possibility when I thought about how thick it had been.
Veronica shouldered her way towards a group of tables and luckily found one that was unoccupied. Myself on the other hand was too busy watching the bodies grind in an imitation of dance to worry about sitting down somewhere.
When Veronica yanked me down into a chair I turned slightly and found that right in front of my face was a display of unadulterated lust. My face turned brighter than the sun and I quickly looked away. Veronica saw my expression and let loose with another throaty laugh.
"God, you're so damn innocent!"
"I can't help it if I don't barter my body for money." As I realized what I had just snapped, I clapped my hands over my mouth and watched Veronica in horror. I couldn't believe I had been so rude especially after all she'd done for me. I wouldn't have been very surprised if Veronica punched me, because if I had been her I would have been beating the bejeezus out of me.
Instead Veronica leaned back and looked at me coolly.
"I think.." She said slowly, "that this is the part where I should beat the shit out of you."
"I-I'm.. I'm so sorry Veronica! I've never been so rude to anyone in my life. Except for maybe Pansy or Lavender, but they deserved it and you don't. You definitely don't because you've done so much for me already. You even kept me from being robbed by that little Johnny prat, and I should have never been so rude. What you do is your business and I'm really sorry. I don't care if you're a prostitute, really, because you're so nice and I'm not really one and to judge, especially since I've just been jilted and Harry's embarrassed the hell out of me and I'm so bloody sorry.." I trailed off as I realized that I had been babbling like a fool.
Veronica continued to look at me coldly for a few seconds before bursting into insane laughter.
"You..." she gasped. Tears were running down her face because she was laughing so hard.
I looked at her hesitantly. "Veronica....?" Why was she laughing?
"I... you...." She clutched her stomach and continued to giggle like a madwoman.
"You... me...?"
"God, Hermione! You're... so.... So..." Veronica laughed some more.
"Innocent..?"
"FUNNY!! God, I actually made Miss British babble." She wiped her tears but all it took was one look at my confused face to set her off again.
"I... wasn't babbling.." I said weakly.
"Yes.." She gasped for breath. "You were. God, and you were what? Jilted? By some ass named Harry?"
I stiffened. "I.. er.. Well.. yeah."
"And what the hell does that have to do with you being sorry?"
I began to see the humor in the situation and my mouth twitched. "Nothing, I guess."
She grinned. "And you're sorry?"
"Very."
"Well that's all right then. I've had people say worse to me, Hermione. You're hardly the first person to have commented on my choice of profession."
"I.." I paused. "Well, I've never said anything so rude to anyone before."
"Except maybe Lavender and Pansy right?"
"Right."
"God, where the hell do you British come up with these names? Hermione, Lavender, and shit, PANSY. I'd jump off a bridge if I was named Pansy."
"I wish Pansy DID jump off a bridge." I muttered darkly, remembering all the times I had put up with the pugnacious girl. "I wish I could push HARRY off a bridge."
Veronica leaned forward interestedly and placed her chin onto her fist. "Tell me about this Harry loser who jilted you. Did he leave you at the altar or something?"
"Much worse."
"What could be worse than getting abandoned in front of your friends and family?" Veronica asked with a frown, tucking her ebony hair behind her ear and staring at me.
"How about being abandoned and having the whole wiz- I mean world knowing about it? Not only that, but Harry's sort of a big celebrity... so of course everyone is interested in what he does." I hoped Veronica hadn't noticed that I had started to say wizarding world because I was sure she'd find that curious. I had also hoped she wouldn't ask what kind of celebrity Harry was, but like I said, I have some bloody rotten luck.
"What kind of celebrity is Harry? How come I've never heard of him? He's a singer or an actor or something?"
"Umm.. well.. You Americans never hear about our British celebrities..." I know, I know, it was a weak excuse.
"I... see. Well does he sing or act? I bet he acts huh? I mean only an actor would love drama so much that he would jilt his fiance and inform the entire world about it." Veronica patted my hand kindly. Unlike when Lavender did it, her patting my hand didn't upset me; instead it made me feel like maybe I wasn't alone.
"Erm... he... acts...? And well he didn't inform the whole world.. exactly.." I hated lying but it didn't seem as if I had a choice. After all, it wasn't as if I could just tell her I was a witch and Harry was a wizard who had defeated an evil, dark wizard when he was just a baby. She'd have probably laughed in my face and then admitted me to an insane asylum or something.
"He just got married to another woman a few days before our wedding and well it happened to make the... local newspaper.."
"Really? Do you have a copy of the newspaper?"
Yes, I did, in my ugly purse. But I couldn't show it to Veronica, after all, the pictures did MOVE.
"Erm.. No."
Her face fell. "Oh.. too bad. Well I'm sure this Harry bastard was a loser anyways."
"You have no idea."
Veronica grinned suddenly. "Lets dance Hermione."
I sniffed. "I don't call THAT dancing." I looked pointedly at the grinding bodies.
"That's because you're a prude."
I gasped. "Excuse me?!"
She laughed. "You heard me, Miss British. You Are A Prude."
"I am not!"
"You are too!"
"Just because I don't feel the urge to rub my body parts all over someone else's privates, I'm a prude?" I asked outraged.
"Yup."
"I... You..."
Veronica pouted. "Please Hermione! Just one song!"
"Absolutely not."
She stood up abruptly and looked down disdainfully at me. "Fine then. Stay here all by yourself and watch everyone else have all the fun. You may be content doing so but I'm not. I hope you have a good night, Miss British."
I grabbed her hand in a panic as she began to stomp away. "You can't leave me here by myself, Veronica!"
"Watch me."
"You can't!"
"I'm leaving, Hermione."
"Fine! Okay! You win!" I stood up and took a deep breath. "I'll dance. One song only."
She nodded and began to lead me to the dance floor.
Merlin! What the bloody hell was I doing? I asked myself. I had absolutely no business being in a bar, much less dancing like a wanton. I didn't know how to dance! Well, at least not like that. I was going to make a complete and utter fool out of myself and Veronica would leave me in the middle of the dance floor in complete disgust.
I began to imagine all manners of horrible and embarrassing things when I realized I was standing in the middle of the dance floor and people were stepping on my feet. Veronica was already swaying to the beat of the music.
"Veronica!" I yelled to be heard over the loud music. "I don't.. I don't know how to dance!"
"Just move with the beat!" She yelled back.
I stood there, stone still, watching everyone else dancing.
"HERMIONE!"
My head snapped around and I saw Veronica with her hands on her hips watching me angrily.
"WHAT?"
She might have rolled her eyes, it was hard to see in the dark, but she was clearly exasperated. "DANCE!"
How?
Before I came up with a clear and logical answer I began to feel Veronica slithering all over me.
"Um. Veronica?"
"WHAT?"
"What the bloody hell are you doing?"
She continued to move around me, "Trying to get you to dance!"
"But I don't know how!!" I wailed.
"MOVE WITH ME!"
I moved around hesitantly, trying to keep pace with her, but her body was practically vibrating with the fast music.
I began to shake my hips a little and tried to move sinuously like Veronica.
"GOOD!" She flashed me a thumbs up.
Encouraged, I began to sway and shake with the music a little more enthusiastically. And before I knew it, I was dancing as wildly as Veronica. True, I was making awful sure that I didn't touch anyone else, but it was as wild as I got.
And I found out that it was fun. A little freeing in being able to dance how I liked without fear of censure.
I was having so much fun, in fact, that instead of just dancing to one song, I danced to 3, and by the end of the third one, my body was undulating and moving of its own volition to the music.
Veronica finally had to drag me off the dance floor and we collapsed on the bar.
"Merlin! That was bloody fun!" I gasped at her.
She laughed. "Merlin? What the hell is that?"
"Um. Brit speak?"
"I see.." She gave my shoulder a little shove. "So, isn't dancing fun?"
"It's the best!"
"Told you so."
I grinned. "Shut up."
"You know... In honor of your first time REALLY dancing, I'll buy you a drink."
She waved the bartender, who was built like a Roman god, over and ordered us drinks.
As he left to fill them, I flung my arms around Veronica's shoulders and hugged her impulsively.
"I'm so glad you're a hooker!"
She laughed. "Why is that?"
"If I hadn't met you I probably would have gotten mugged and I would never have been dragged in here, much less dragged onto the dance floor. Because of you, I've learned something new about myself." I grabbed the shot glass in front of me and downed the contents in one swallow. I choked and began to cough.
Veronica laughed as she patted me on the back. "Then I'm glad."
My eyes were tearing because of the tequila but I still managed to smile at her. "Why are you a hooker anyway? I mean you seem smart enough."
She frowned slightly and a look of sadness entered her eyes. "I... There are things you don't know about me, Hermione. I have my reasons. But I'm not going to stay a hooker for long. I only have a few more weeks of this, and then I'm moving out west."
"Really?" My head was swimming slightly because of the alcohol. "That's so sweet."
"Sweet?"
"Uh-huh."
Veronica grinned. "You have low alcohol tolerance, don't you?"
"Uh-huh."
"How often do you drink?"
I grinned. "I've drinked.. drinken.. drank... um... maybe 3 times? Most of the time its watered down alcohol stuff though.."
She got off her stool and pulled me up. "It's time to leave now, Hermione."
"What?" I protested. "I wanted to dance some more."
Veronica began to pull me towards the door. "What hotel are you staying in?"
"Um. I don't have a hotel."
"How about you stay at the Holiday Inn?"
"Mmk."
She pushed open the door and we gulped in big breaths of the fresh night air.
"Here are the directions to it."
She sat on the hood of the car and began to recite them. "Go straight down this street. Turn left on Renowitz, drive for about a block and make another left. The Inn is right there."
"Okay. I unlocked the car. I'm going west too."
She looked at me surprised. "Really?"
"Yes. Here's the phone number to my friend's house there. She lives in Los Angeles. Give me a call when you get there." I put a scrap of paper in her hand.
She looked up and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
"What's wrong, Veronica?"
"You actually.." She cleared her throat. "You really want to be friends?"
I cocked my head to the side and studied her. "I thought we already were.."
"No.." She laughed slightly. "People like you don't become friends with people like me. At least not permanently."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugged. "I'm a hooker."
I laughed and hugged her tightly. "I already told you that I'm glad you're a hooker."
"But.."
"I need a friend right now, Veronica. You've helped me to have so much fun tonight and discover more things about myself. I WANT to be you're friend. So, you'll call me, right?"
Veronica sniffled. "I.. Okay."
"Oh.." I dug around in my ugly purse and came out with a credit card. "Here." I shoved it into her lax hand. "It's prepaid. It has around 5 thousand on it. Use it to put all you're stuff together and come out west as soon as you can."
She gaped at me. "I can't take that."
"Of course you can." I smiled. "Just imagine. If you hadn't saved me from that little Johnny prat I would have probably lost my whole purse and I've a lot more money in it that 5 thousand. Think of it as a thank you gift."
"Hermione.. I can't take it!"
I grinned at her, "Veronica, I write books and I'm VERY rich. 5 thousand isn't that much to me." I took her hands into mine. "Besides, no one should have to sell themselves. I.." I paused. "I get the feeling you're running from something. I am too, so let me help out a fellow runaway."
She smiled hesitantly. "Right. Okay. Thanks a lot, Hermione." She hugged me tightly. "Thanks so much."
I got into my car and started it, "See you in a few weeks, Veronica."
~*~
That had been last night. Now here I was, driving on highway 51, on my way west. I had left Washington a few hours ago and was now driving into Virginia. I had decided not to take the route straight across America, but instead I would be driving through the Southern states.
I had the radio on loud and was blithely singing along with every song that came on, even the ones that I didn't know.
I stopped for lunch at a little rest stop that sold sandwiches. I had sat there for an hour, just eating and enjoying the scenery.
When I was back on the road the sun was still up and shining.
The weather was so great in September 2010. Still warm but not too hot, and the sun stayed out longer.
I had had a great night last night, made a new friend, learned how to dance, and discovered new things about myself. I liked to dance, I didn't like tequila, and I have a lot of credit cards.
I laughed slightly. Life was so great. I was actually starting to look forward to any new surprises.
A new one popped up sooner than I expected. I had been driving through Virginia for a few hours after lunch when I saw him.
He was too far ahead of me to see much, but I could tell that he was tall, tired, and very dirty.
My generous feeling was still residing in me from yesterday so I decided I would stop and give him a lift to wherever he was going. I mean, where could the harm be in that?
If he turned out to be a psycho, then, I could defend myself very well with my wand. And if he turned to be a lost person just looking for a lift, then I'd feel like a good Samaritan.
I sped up and ignored that nagging feeling in the back of my head telling me to beware.
~*~
I was so bloody tired. I had been walking for days, angry, hungry, and lost. What would I do? Here I was, stuck in some godforsaken place, with no money, no wand, and no magic.
I should have gotten into one of the cars that had been stopping, I told myself again for the hundredth time.
Stupid of me, to have been too angry and prideful to accept a ride from some stupid muggle. So now here I was, walking on a long dusty highway of some sort. And there hadn't been a car in sight the entire day.
The blue Porsche was almost on me before I realized it was there, it had driven up so silently. It came to a smooth halt next to me as I turned and studied it's driver.
She was a short looking brunette. Her sunglasses obscured most of her face but what I could see was pleasant looking enough. Her mouth was in a wide smile and her nose looked small and pert. Her clothes, however, were another matter entirely. They were old and wrinkly looking, in very ugly colors, and seemed to be of a bad fit. She didn't seem too horrible for a muggle but she did have atrocious taste in clothing. I almost shuddered to see what she was wearing.
"Hi." She said brightly. She extended her hand and leaned out of the car.
"Hi." I took her hand and shook it quickly. My voice was gravelly and the road dust was clogging up my throat. I coughed and attempted to clear it.
"Oh. I'm so sorry. I should have realized. I'll get you some water." She turned and began rummaging around in her hideous handbag. I looked at her in surprise as my mind placed her accent. She was British.
"Here." She handed me the bottle and watched as I drank thirstily. "So.. you look like you could use some help."
Although it pained me greatly to say it, I did. "I do need help."
I sensed her surprise at the sound of my accent but she didn't say anything about it. "Where do you need a lift to?"
"I.." Merlin! I hated seeming like a fool. "Where am I?"
"Virginia.."
"Where's Virginia?"
She laughed. "You're joking, right?"
I continued to stare at her seriously.
"Oh. Um, you're in America. The United States of America."
I almost gasped like a fish out of water. They brought me to the bloody United States?!
Okay, I told myself. Think rationally. There was a wizarding town somewhere in New Orleans, Louisiana. I knew that because I had done business there before. I could go to that wizarding town and find a way to get back to London where I could contact the aurors, who could then find those bloody Death Eaters and return my magic to me.
"Do you suppose you could give me a lift to New Orleans, Louisiana?" I asked in my most charming voice.
She smiled uncertainly. "Um. Of course. I'm dropping by there anyway." She unlocked the door. "Get in."
I walked around the car, opened the door, and sank into the soft leather seat.
"Um. I didn't catch your name." She gave me a slightly suspicious look. "What is it?"
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. "Draco. Draco Malfoy."
I felt her jump and felt waves of shock rolling off her. I opened my eyes slightly and watched as she whipped off her overlarge sunglasses. She studied my face for a moment before she groaned as if she was in mortal pain.
Why did she all of a sudden look so familiar?
"Bloody fucking hell."
**********
THANK GOD! FINALLY! I'M DONE! THEY HAVE MET! YAYAYYAYA! I will get the next chapter up as soon as possible. REVIEW!!!!