"Gee, Ron, that's just terrible," I told the face hovering in my fire.
"Terrible? Terrible! It was 450 to 80! 'Terrible,' she says… It was bloody disastrous! We didn't just lose, we were crushed.
450 to 80, eh… I made a mental note to call my bookie.
"But surely the evening wasn't a total bust. You and Paige got on well, right?"
He blushed slightly, "er, I suppose you could say that. We, well. . . she was very consoling."
I flashed him an impish grin, and his blush deepened. I swear, he was so cute when he was all embarrassed and flushed. I could just see him toeing the ground, and staring at his feet, an 'aw, shucks,' look on his face. Well, I actually could see the 'aw shucks' look. I was glad to see a male who could be embarrassed, a welcome change from a man who could bang his assistant while I sat in the waiting room, and not even have the decency to be ashamed of himself when I called him on it.
Malfoy. That bastard.
". . . so, anyway, you don't think that's moving too fast, do you?"
"Oh. Of course not, Ronny, It's not like the opportunity for a good shag presents itself to you every day."
"Have you been listening to me?"
"Yeah," of course I was paying attention. . . wasn't I. There was no way I was letting that stupid, egotistical, hedonistic, self-centered, spoiled. . .
"'Mione?"
ugly, vile, wretched, bastard of a pureblood. . .
"'Mione?'
good for nothing, pea brained, whiney prat, Malfoy distract me from. . .
"Hermione!"
my friends.
"God, Ron, I'm so sorry, it's just. . . I've had an incredibly stressful month. I've been on my nerves end for weeks, and Malfoy's being an ass, and I'm being short tempered , and I start that whole dragon keeper bit on Monday, and you should see the outfit he gave me. . . I haven't tried it on yet, but Ron, it's. . . " Ron was giving me a very puzzled look, and I stopped my tirade with a snort. "Oh, god, I sound like a neurotic, don't I?"
"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but. . . "
"Forget it. So, what were you saying?"
He gave a chuckle, "I said I'm thinking of asking Paige to be my date for Lavender's wedding. What do you think?"
Oh no.
"Sounds like a great idea, Ron. . . really." Date. Wedding. Holy shit. Hey, Ron, I think I have to go now. . . bye."
Lavender Brown's wedding was in three weeks. I hadn't even thought about it, but I'd be expected to bring a date. It was funny, really, this was the kind of thing that I should have brought Magnus to, that I would have brought Magnus to, if I hadn't found out about his penchant for secretaries.
"Boy, he and Malfoy have a lot in common," I mumbled angrily. "They should get together and start a Lecher's Club, ass holes only."
Yeah, it certainly was funny. Except that it wasn't funny at all. Nope, not in the slightest. And there, sitting on my damaged couch, cigarette hole staring up at me like and empty eye, I felt my own eyes begin to fill.
I'd been hurt. Magnus had hurt me. But I'd never really let myself just feel it. It was amazing that something so simple, like not having a date for a wedding could so accentuate the things that were missing in my life. I'd spent the last month feeling angry, instead, and now, I shed my first and my last tears for my golden haired angel. For the man who broke my heart.
*
*
*
Later, I pretended it never happened.
*
*
*
"you look ridiculous," I told my reflection, and it retaliated by sticking its tongue out at me. It did, though. . . I did. Monday morning, and it found me standing in front of my full length mirror, with my hair pulled back into a tight braid, and the rest of me decked out in the very finely made, very expensive, very, er, form-fitting protective black dragonhide gear Malfoy had given to me.
My eyes trailed up my hands, which were sheathed in the supple gloves that were pulled up over my elbows, and stopped mid-way up my biceps. I slid my eyes over the exposed shoulder, allowing myself to indulge, for a moment, in the thought that I had very nice skin, if I did say so myself. I'd rather not put it on display, however, and glanced back up to my face to catch the disapproving frown on it, before continuing my appraisal.
The bodice was a strapless number, and laced up the back. It would have been trouble if not for a quick flick of the wand. It was really little more than a glorified leather corset. . . okay, so it didn't have ribs, and I supposed it wasn't uncomfortably tight, but it wasn't exactly daily wear in my book. The really impressive thing about it, however, was the tool work, a snake, who's coiled tail wrapped around the right breast, across the back ,and curled its head onto the stomach, head pointed downward in a manner that was almost possessive. The pants were almost worse, they clung to every curve I had in a manner that was almost indecent, and another snake wrapped its way up my left leg.
I shifted, as I put on the boots (also Malfoy provided, totally unpractical things that laced up to my knees, and sported spiked heels four inches tall) and the light slid over the smooth surface of the material, giving it a wet appearance.
The look now complete I gave a groan. I mean, I knew Malfoy wasn't the brightest torch on the wall, but for the love of god, what had he been thinking?I looked like the star of one of those post-apocalyptic B-movies. The ones where humanity has been reduced to wandering the wastelands of what had once been northern Europe, but was now an endless desert, while fighting mutants created by. . . well, whatever cataclysm had caused the end of civilization.
And the only thing more disturbing than the idea of leaving the house dressed as Kendra, Warrior Babe of the Outland was the realization that I'd certainly never allowed Malfoy to take my measurements for this outfit. I wondered how many women Malfoy had undressed with those skillful hands of his in order to be able to pull off that parlor trick.
That settled it. There was no way I'd be leaving the house like this.
Except. . .
Malfoy was right, this was the only set of Dragonhide clothes I owned. I sighed at my reflection, "well, I suppose, I'll just have to make the best of it," I informed the mirror, and it was returned with a stoic nod. "alright then, spare boots I have," a flick of my wand, and the god-awful boots Malfoy had given me were replaced by much more sensible hiking boots, and after throwing a loose-fitting brown robe on over the rest of the rig, I was presentable.
I needed only one more thing. . .
"directions," I said aloud, then apparated to Temporary Services, to get the address from Tracy Higgins.
*
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*
I found Tracy Higgins looking much as he had the first time I'd seen him. Nothing but arms flailing out from behind stacks upon stacks of papers, though, I did notice the stacks seemed to be a good six inches taller than last time.
"Yes," he was saying as I appeared, "I've got it right here, and believe me, I know how dire this is, but you still have to go through proper channels." He leaned out from behind his papers, phone to his ear, and acknowledged me with a nod before disappearing once again.
"Well I certainly didn't see that form…"
I let him continue, and wiped a corner of the empty desk before perching myself upon it. Who, I wondered, sat here?
Finally the conversation drew to a close, and I could tell by the sound of Tracy's voice that he'd not come out on top of it. I heard the phone slam back into its cradle, which caused the whole leaning tower of paper on his desk to shudder dangerously.
He stood up behind his desk, and I noted the dark circles under his eyes, and the sallow complexion his skin had taken on. "Not sleeping well?" I inquired.
He seemed take aback by my personal inquiries, and blinked twice before answering, "well, no, actually, I've been doing a lot of work at home, and it's been a little hectic lately, what with. . . well, it really doesn't matter," he looked me over, and I saw the spark of recognition in his eyes, "Granger, was it?"
I nodded in response, and he gave a shudder, "oh, boy, suddenly my problems don't look so bad. . . you're to start the Ridgeback Ranch gig today, aren't you?"
"Yes, actually, that's why I'm here. I just stopped in to get directions. . . I just hate doing blind apparations when it's unnecessary."
"Okay, then. . . Ridgeback. . . that's just outside Leatherwing, a small wizarding town in the South of Wales. Best to floo in, there's a bar, the Dirty Witch, right at the edge of town. . . Feel free to use the fireplace, but I've got to get back to work."
"No problem, and thanks."
He might have muttered 'poor girl' from behind his papers, but I ignored it, instead I went to the fireplace, and took a handful of floo power from the mantle. "the Dirty Witch!" I said clearly, and stepped into the flames.
*
*
*
The Dirty Witch was as busy as any bar could expect to be a 8:30 am on a Monday. Better than some, I suspected. There were two men sitting on opposite sides of a circular table, with their warm, flat beers sitting beside their fallen heads, as they alternately discussed Nietzsche, and lamented the fall in the popularity of the 'bendy straw.'
"That which does not kill us, makes us stronger," one said as I passed.
"Yeah," replied the other, as I headed toward the bar, "but if we had those straws, I wouldn't have to raise my head so far to drink my beer."
"So, what you're saying is, it's not a lack of beer, but a lack of straws that makes unhappy drunks?"
I shook my head, and approached the bar, where the only other customer sat, fine material of his hooded cloak pulled down low over his head, and falling across his shoulders.
The bartender, a youngish, though tired looking, woman, gave me a smile.
"Ah, you're a new face," she said, brightly, "You'd be the new Ridgeback temp, wouldn't you?"
"Well, I wouldn't if I had a say in the matter, unfortunately, my boss is a high-handed, prat of a man." The cloaked figure choked on his drink, "so, yes, I'm the new temp."
I wrinkled my brow, "how'd you know?"
"Ah, well, Cletis said you might be stopping by."
"Cletis?"
"Why yes, he's the Senior Keeper."
Senior keeper? Oh god, not another Sapphire Stables situation. "Is he competent?" I asked. Oh please, oh please, oh please.
The bartender gave a snort. "Is he competent? Cletis has been working with dragons for 25 years, do you think he could have lasted that long if he wasn't?"
I breathed out a sight of relief. Not another Sapphire Stables after all. Then I suddenly felt my stomach tighten. 'do you think he could have lasted that long if he wasn't competent?' Oh god. I was bright, intelligent, witty, capable… there were so many things I could do, but I realized that at this job, I was definitely not competent.
The bartender must have seen my terror, because she gave me a kindhearted chuckle. "It's alright, Dearie, they won't let you get in over your head. You're going to be just fine."
Oddly enough, that helped, I flashed her a grateful smile, and headed to the door. I paused at the threshold, and turned to look over my shoulder, "Um, do I go right, or left?"
"Right."
"Thanks. . . I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."
"It's Regina, Gina, if you like."
"I'd like that very much, I'm Hermione, by the way," and with that I opened the door, and stepped into the morning light.
*
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*
Cletis was a big man, 6'4" at least. Easily as tall as Magnus with a few extra inches to boot. Not just tall, though, the man was broad as well, in a brick wall kind of way. I wouldn't have been surprised to find out he weighed in excess of 300 pounds. And not an ounce of it was fat. He walked in a sort of lumbering swagger that belied his speed, and reminded me of nothing more than a grizzly bear.
He would have been very intimidating, were it not for the easy smile with which he greeted me, and the hand he automatically extended.
"Howdy, ma'am."
His accent was Southwest American, and seemed to speak in a language of canyons and ravines. Of sparse country and green pastures. I could picture him roping steer, and driving a herd. If he could find a horse that would carry him, that is.
Maybe that's why he took to dragonkeeping.
"Howdy, er, hi there. Cletis, is it?"
He nodded, and tipped his hat. "That'd be me, ma'am. I'm the Senior Keeper here. . . You must be Miss Granger, that right?"
"Yes, I'm sure you're aware of the duties I am to perform here."
"Now ma'am, I wouldn't be much of a Senior Keeper if I didn't, now would I?"
"I suppose not. . . do you also know about my, er. . . "
"Lack of experience?" He asked, and I gave a sheepish grin by way of response, "'course I do. What I can't figure, is why that boss of ours wants to send a green little girl down here."
Little girl! Grizzly or not, I wasn't going to let this man call me a child just because I'd never been gnawed on by a dragon.
"Excuse me, who are you calling a little girl!"
"Simmer down, now, missy," he said with a chuckle, "boy, you got some spirit, don't ya? But listen, I've been keepin' these animals since before you were born, by the look of you, and that makes you a little girl to me. I'm sure you know this is a dangerous job, and I just don't think it's right that you come out here without trainin'."
"You and me both," I muttered. Maybe Malfoy was really trying to kill me.
"No matter, what's done is done. . . so, you're what, about 22, 23?"
"I'll be 24 next month."
"And a fine English girl like yerself would have gone to Hogwarts, so you would have take 'Care of Magical Creatures' under Rubeus Hargid, is that right?"
"Why, yes, how'd you. . ."
"Like I said, I wouldn't be much of a Senior Keeper if I didn't. . . Rubeus, huh? Well, it's a good start. I'll pair you up with one of the other keepers for today, just to get the basics, and tomorrow, we'll put you on hatchlings, and maybe you can do the evening feedings. . . we'll give all the real dangerous stuff to the more experienced keepers. I'm sure you'll manage to pull you weight."
I sighed with relief, and said a "thank you," before following him out.
*
*
*
"Okay, now as I'm sure you know, dragons are mostly solitary creatures, and they've been known to attack their own kind just as easily as anything else. Naturally, you'd never find such a concentrated population in the wild, the biggest part of our job is to keep them from fighting with each other."
My babysitter, I'm sorry, learning coach, Rich Tourdy, was informing me of the ins and outs of dragon keeping, while I followed behind him outside the high fences that housed our scaly charges, and tried not to touch anything.
"Stupefies don't work. Impedementias don't work. In fact, due to the highly magical nature of their hides, just about anything you cast directly at them bounces right back.. Your best bet is a good shield spell. Nine times out of ten, it's all you need. A really strong shield can separate two dragons faster than anything." He stopped and turned to me, "You do know some good shield spells, right?"
"Yeah, I think I can handle that." Shield spells? This loosened me up considerably. And auror had to be able to pull off a first rate shield, or they'd never make it past their first field missions.
The roar started as if on cue.
And another roar echoed it.
With a start, I realized the noise was coming from the fenced area just on our right, and a second later, I felt the wind whip past me, as Rich made a mad dash for the gate. He threw it open to reveal a Norwegian Ridgeback, and a Hungarian Horntail circling eachother.
"Oh, Christ!" I heard Rich exclaim, "Who put these two in here together?"
"Not sure," called someone from the other side of the enclosure, "But someone needs to go get Cletis. RIGHT NOW!"
"You," Rich said, turning to me, "get out of here, now. Find Cletis, tell him Blackie and Shark are the 7th pen."
I started to go, then I saw it. He'd turned to me, away from the fray, so he didn't see the Horntail moving. But I did.
My mouth dropped open.
"Didn't you hear me?"
I raised my wand. "Contego!" I shouted with all my might, and the spiked tail that had been headed toward him bounded away harmelessly.
He turned to see the leathery appendage pass over both our heads. That's why no one was watching it's backswing.
I felt like I'd been struck mid-spine by a tree trunk at high velocity, I flew forward, and rolled several times. I remembered tasting dirt, and blood, and a mind numbing pain settling over me. Then I remembered hearing Cletis's voice from somewhere far above me.
"We'd better tell the boss about this, right away. . ."
*
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*
I dreamed of hands. Deft, slender, pale hands, moving over my neck and arms with a fluid grace, down my back in feather light touches. A flash of silver-gray eyes, the twist of thin, agile lips. . . and skin. Skin the color of moonlight on marble, but so much warmer than stone. Skin stretched taunt over sinuous muscle. A body built for liquid movement, grace and agility over strength.
I awoke just before dawn, drenched in a cold sweat, to a tapping at my window.
*
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okay, The Kendra the Warrior Babe thing was a nod to Christopher Moore, the witty, irreverent, and remarkable author of such classic works as Practical Demonkeeping, The Lust Liozzard of Melancholy Cove, Island of the Sequined Love Nun, and, my personal favorite, Lamb: the Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal. I have him to blame for the lateness of this chapter ( I was on a kick, what can I say?)
anyway, thanks for everyone who's been following so far, I really do appreciate all the reviews, and constructive criticism.
Thank you, Liar, I thought I might have been going a bit over the top with Hermione in this, as well, but then I thought about it. Hermione really is very emotional. . . she's just doesn't generally express those emotions in anger. Although she has been known to do so, when she's under a lot of stress (a certain slap, anyone?). I figured, the short temper was justified, considering that in a months time, she lost her boyfriend, her job, and (thanks to Malfoy) all her prospects, and ended up working for her childhood enemy, who takes every opportunity to annoy her.
I will, however, keep an eye on that, like I said, it was a concern of mine, as well.
I just wanted to take a second here to plug some great fics, that aren't (in my humble opinion) getting nearly enough play.
God of the Lost, by Gravidy- this is awesome. . . great characterizations, great story. . . great. . . everything. The story just feels well thought out, and the world is immersive.
The Secret Keeper, by Phantasm- Very well written, dark with a tinge of humor. Well, I laughed anyway.
Or Lady's Ankle by Random Minion- Not your average Draco, but then again, that's one of the reasons why I like it. . .
Oh boy, I think that is my longest author's note to date.
Thanks for your time. . .