Chapter 3

Oh Yes, That Feels So Good!


My feet seemed to move on their own after the Post-Office and I soon found myself standing in front of Weazleys Wizarding Weezles. I peered through the window and noticed that business was a bit slow. I'd always loved Fred and George, they were true characters and their legend would live on for eternity naming them as the Masters of the Prank. There weren't any red shocks of hair in the shop and after waiting for the customers to leave I decided to pop in and see if the lads were about and fancied a cup of tea.

When I walked in there was a rather tartly dressed young girl behind the counter with lilac, green and orange streaked hair. She was leaning on the counter like she needed all the support she could get. Picking idly at her nails and chewing bubble gum, occasionally blowing a bubble for her own entertainment, she looked like an absolute moron.

I walked up to the counter and was ignored. Clearing my throat in my best Dolores Umbridge fashion I waited for the Tart to notice me. She continued to ignore my presence. Stupid bitch. A bit of shock tactics were in order, no one ignored Hermione Granger.

"Excuse me are the Misters Weazley here"

"Eh" she replied in a distasteful accent looking up finally and blowing a bubble "Ooo are you then that wants ta know?".

"I'm a friend of the family" I say "Where are George and Fred Weazley?"

"I dunno" she says distractedly "Out I s'pose, dunno when they'll be back."

Sizing her up all I could think was she probably came out of Hogwarts with all Trolls in her Owls. Probably a Slytherin by the looks of her too. I think of my friend Sergeant Petersen, he'd love to give her hell and would break her like a matchstick in 5 minutes flat. I smile widely, when did I become such a fucking sadist.

"What's your name girl" I demand in a sickly sweet tone.

"Nadia" that's it, just a name. She pops a bubble in my face. Bad move.

I lean over the counter and grab Nadia by the front of her shirt. My best sneer is in place and I growl like a rabid dog.

"Don't fuck with me little girl" my rage builds at the Tart, she starts to levitate as I drag her up onto the counter by the collar, her eyes grow spectacularly round, I can smell her fear. It smells good. Her mouth opens in a silent cry and the bubble gum floats out and smears itself into her hair.

"Where. Are. The. Brothers. Weazley." I ask slowly and punctuate each word with venom.

She looks really frightened now "Just out for some breakfast Miss, they'll be back in 30 minutes. Do you want to wait, I can make you some tea." Cowardly pathetic bitch, I sneer at her some more.

Then I release her collar and she collapses before slipping off the counter to the floor in a heap.

"Don't bother really, I'll just pop back later" I lean over the counter and give her the smile I save for other people's grandmothers.

"By the way, you have gum in your hair" I turn to leave the shop.

With my hand on the knob I hear her mutter "Fucking Bitch" as she gets back to her feet.

At this I turn and snap my fingers "control" I mutter under my breath and I hear her groan.

"Have a nice day" I say and leave the store pausing to look back through the window. She's lifting her shirt to look at her tight white trousers in disgust. I see the growing wet patch that comes from the loss of control of ones bladder.

I can't stop the self-satisfied grin that forms on my face. Vengeance is mine sayeth I. That particular spell, one of my own, was a real showstopper and I knew that it could stop a grown man in his tracks and was also mostly harmless. Yes, I was a bitch of the highest order. Hermione Granger, Order of the Bitch First Class. I keep that medal with my Order of Merlin, only bringing it out for special occasions.


Walking along a bit further, with a definite spring to my step, a sign caught my eye - a beauty parlour! Just what the Queen ordered for her most faithful servant. Who could say no to Her Majesty, so I slipped inside to see if they could fit me in at short notice.

A woman with shoulder length wavy blonde hair popped her head around the curtain when the bell on the door sounded. There was something familiar about her, who was she I wondered. She walked into the front waiting area and looked me right in the eye.

"Hermione Fucking Granger" she said in astonishment, rushing at me and grabbed me by the upper arms in a death grip.

"Lavender Fucking Brown" I replied grabbing her back by the elbows.

I couldn't believe it, we both started to bounce up and down on the spot and when she started to squeal I joined in. Another head, black haired this time, popped around the curtain.

Lavender stopped bouncing and turned to the dark headed girl and said simply "It's Hermione"

The dark haired girl squealed too and I knew this must be Padma Patil.

"Shit" she said as she rushed to join in the gripping and bouncing "I'd heard you joined a convent or something like that when Ron dumped you" she managed to say between bounces.

I stopped bouncing. They both noticed and stopped too slightly later than I dropping their hands and backing off a step just in case I exploded. I swear they almost died of shock when instead of blowing my top I laughed loudly.

"We've got some catching up to do Ladies".


It was just shy of midday so Lavender and Padma closed up the shop for lunch. We went to a nice little café in a side street off Diagon Alley. They had lots to tell me and chatted non-stop for 40 minutes about men, work and general gossip.

Lavender and Padma had gone into business together and ran the beauty parlour and hair salon. Business wasn't too bad, though it was obvious to them both that they wouldn't become millionaires through waxing and plucking the Wizarding world. It was a comfortable income though and they did enjoy the work.

So finally they got around to telling me that the gossip was that Ron had dumped me. Apparently I was a lousy lay and too clingy, so that's why he took up with Luna. She, of course, didn't have a bad thing to say about me and had not collaborated Ron's far-fetched lies. With me being absent for so many years no one was able to defend my honour, so to speak.

Suffice to say I put them straight and told them about my life. I also told them in no uncertain terms that Ron was the dud root, not me. I dropped him because I didn't want to be a baby breeding machine. To their credit they listened attentively, oohed and aahed at the right times and were very gentle in their steering towards the question of my current love life.

Love life, I'd snorted at that. I told them that I could only have a love life if it was government issued. When I needed a root I'd bought a stud for a few hours. Last time I'd been laid it was a birthday present from the girls in the Officers Club, I think his name was Ernesto or some such, something Spanish. Was that disgust on Lavender's face. Yes, I think it was. I told them that I was hoping they might know an eligible wizard or two I could take for a drink as it was about time I looked for a mate.

Padma's face lit up, I knew that look it said here was a challenge. "Can you come for a drink at the Magic Lantern Bar tomorrow night. They have Karaoke." She trilled. I couldn't believe Padma actually trilled – ugh!

Hmm, Friday night Karaoke. Perhaps I could die of Ebola in the interim and not have to disgrace myself. The last memory I have of my singing in public was after a few too many tequila slammers in the company of the boys from NATO. They'd been good enough to capture it on video for my later perusal. Luckily there was also footage of Uncle Norm singing"In the Navy" at the end of the tape so it tended to negate my pain to a small degree. Perhaps this was a genetic fault I'd been previously unaware of – instant arsehole, just add alcohol!

"Sure, why not" did I really just say I'd go. Time for a psychiatric discharge, surely even Klinger from MASH wasn't that insane?

The girls giggled and whispered together conspiratorially "We'll pick you up at the Cauldron at 8 OK?"

I agree and then ask them for the full works at their salon. Padma actually looks like she's been asked to the ball by the Prince himself – they drag me back to the Salon offering to take me dress shopping afterwards. It seems "The Works" is indeed the complete works, frocks included. There goes Thursday. Beauty, apparently, waits for no woman.

I console myself with the thought that I can always go to Flourish and Blotts tomorrow for a long languid browse of the bookshelves.


Come 6 pm I find myself walking back to the Cauldron to deposit my shopping and inspect my new self in the privacy of my hotel room.

The girls had been quite thorough with me that day. I had been waxed, eyebrows to ankles; massaged, head to toe; snipped, coloured, painted and dressed up. I looked good! It had been worth every galleon that I'd spent.

At the dress shop I assured the girls that, even though it was Halloween, I had no intention of dressing like a dominatrix in public – though leaving off the news that I had done so in private before. We managed to settle on a tasteful yet still somewhat sexy black silk dress and low sling back heels. I did give in on the stay up fishnet stockings at the lingerie shop and some rather delicate underwear that I simply adored. The black detachable fairy wings made the dress into a costume and suitable for Halloween at Hogwarts.

As I was intending to spend my leave in the magical community it was also decided that I should buy 3 quite lovely witchy style dresses in a variety of colours. I favoured crushed velvet and bell sleeves and felt wistful at my image in the mirror. This could be my life away from khaki, velvet and silk with cute push up bras. Have my hips always looked that broad, can't say that I'd really noticed before – must be because I always wear trousers - very body minimalising.


I hoped that Tom didn't have pea soup on at the Cauldron again for dinner, I fancied a steak for a change. All that hunting and gathering in the Alley made one rather hungry for a catch n' kill feast.

Pea soup was on, so I was off. There had to be a steak house somewhere off Diagon Alley just waiting for me to come in and demolish a whole steer. Tom pointed me in the direction of the Howdy Pardner bar that was owned, he said in a low whisper, by Americans. Shock Horror, what was Diagon Alley coming to!

I sauntered in to the Tex Mex palace and headed directly for a table seated with two men that I'd recognise anywhere. Fred and George Weazley, the night was looking up.