Shipping D5 - Blind Date
Spring E2 - Clean
Trope E1 - Four Humors
Stacked With: FPC; BAON; Star; Fence; T3; SN; Ship; SpB; TrB; IC Once
Challenges: Old Shoes (Y); Small Book (Y); The Real MC (Y); Two Cakes (Y); Eating Cake (Y); Zed Era (Y); Hold the Mayo (Y); Saucy Oven (Y); Disabled (Y); Ethnic & Present (Y); Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); Rowl in her Grave; Neurodivergent (Y); Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Ravenclaw MC; Slytherin MC; Magical MC; Red Lights; Red Wave (Y); Red Bull (x2); Missing Rainbow
Primary & Secondary: Found Family; Nontraditional; Sneeze Weasel; Teat Juice; Bee Haven; Fizzy Lemonade; Machismo; Second Verse (Ladylike; Not a Lamp; Persistence Still); Chorus (Odd Feathers; Wabi Sabi)
Tertiary & Generic: T3 (Thimble); SN (Ameliorate); Once (Cabaret)
Scavenger Hunt: Writing Diversity (Autism)
Warnings: Drunken behavior; non-con kiss; insults
Word Count: 6,579
~o0o~
So she had a bad week. Hermione had bad weeks before. Sometimes they stretched out for years. She just needed… she needed… she didn't know what she needed to do. Maybe it was better to stop trying. They were never going to promote her, they didn't even like her. She was a nuisance. They only kept her because she was a war hero and Harry Potter's second best friend.
At least she was getting some time off.
Cedric wouldn't be a bad choice for editor. They were clever and knew the ins-and-outs of a newspaper like she did, plus they were more likely to approve her more "controversial" topics.
It was just the fact that she was being treated like an intern by Mr. McLaggen and Mr. Amorian upset her.
Was it because she wasn't sensationalist? Too straight-forward? She hadn't sucked up to them? Or was it because she was a woman? All editors on staff were men. She used to admire Mr. McLaggen, how had it taken her so long to realize he was barely any better than the previous editors? He knew how to keep people complacent, he was good at that.
And she was a fool.
Well, perhaps it was time to find a different career path. She was a good writer and history had always been her favorite subject. She could update history books. Be a second Bathilda Bagshot. Without becoming a meat suit for a snake. Though how more goth of a death could you get? Or she could even write historical fiction. Hell, she could just become a Muggle journalist. The urge to start over somewhere nobody knew her was tempting. She spoke French, she spoke Spanish. That opened up possibilities.
"This pep talk is going nowhere," she muttered to herself.
"What was that?" asked Cedric, looking up from their typewriter.
The desks were swamped with interview notes, photographs, and research for their articles. All three of them were planning on using those three weeks to take a real break. Hermione was going to push her serious articles. At least a few should sneak through.
"Oh, you know, midlife crisis," she said.
"You're thirty-two, I hardly think you're at an Eat, Pray, Love moment," they said.
"Well, since life is unpredictable and you can die at any time, I've just had an on-going crisis," she said.
They chuckled. "Yeah, I hear that. Listen, no matter which of us is chosen for editor, things will get better once Amorian is out. Mr. McLaggen barely glances at the mock-up, so we'll have more freedom to print the things that matter even if there's push back. Because we're the only reliable news source and our department has 99% approval."
That was true.
Hermione nodded. "Probably shouldn't run away then."
Cedric hummed a few bars of "Tainted Love" and looked down at their notes. She huffed in amusement and returned to her work.
The phone rang and the three of them scrambled to move around their things. Hermione answered it, finding the cord trapped. She leaned over the desk to bring her ear closer and plastered a fake smile on her face.
"Daily Prophet - Social Watch, this is Hermione Granger, how can I help you?" she said.
"Hey, Mione!" said Ron.
"No."
"You didn't even know what I was going to ask yet!"
"That's your have-I-got-a-guy-for-you tone," she said, annoyed that they would call her during work hours about it. "And the last three dates you and Harry set me up on were horrible."
"They weren't that bad!" said Harry. "They were nice guys."
"Yeah. To you."
Cedric and Luna had stopped their work, straining to eavesdrop on the other side of the conversation. Hermione tried not to look at Cedric, even though they were directly in her line of vision. She looked down at their hands instead.
They painted their nails. What color was that, bronze?
"It's different this time," said Ron. "He's a French bloke, transferred to our department a few weeks back. He's really smart and clever and handsome."
"So why don't you date him, then?"
Luna bit faer lips and plunked faer head down on the desk.
"Come on, Hermione," said Harry. "Don't be like that. Look, he speaks three languages, he's a forensic analyst—you wanted a forensic analyst."
"Yeah, for the Auror Department!"
"Just give him a chance," Ron insisted. "We just want you to be happy, not stay home alone with three cats."
Hermione rolled her lips. "Guess what?"
"What?"
She slammed the phone back onto the receiver and eased back in her chair. Normally she preferred her custom corset, but it wasn't the best for hunching over a desk. Of course, that was the point. The corset helped maintain a perfect posture, yet suddenly everything felt too tight on her. Her wig, her shoes, her clothes.
Like when she was a child forced to wear fabrics she hated.
"Another date?" asked Luna.
"Yes. Can you please talk some sense into your husband?"
"Nope."
Mr. Amorian poked his head into the office. "Diggory, a witch from the Muggle Artifact Department would like to speak to you."
"Oh, sure." They stood up.
Before they could leave, the phone rang. They answered, untangling the cord.
"Daily Prophet - Social Watch, this is Cedric Diggory speaking," they said. "Uh-huh."
They held out the receiver to Hermione. "It's for you."
She accepted the phone while they hurried out of the office. "This is Hermione."
"I think you got cut off there," said Harry. "What were you trying to say?"
"Just this:" She hung up again and sighed as she realized her notes got all shuffled. "What's with all the matchmaking lately? It seems to be increasing."
"Well, you're lonely," said Luna. "And everyone knows it, so they push men towards you because they want you to be as happy as they are."
"I might be more willing if they chose a pretty girl," said Hermione.
"They might if they knew you liked women," said Luna. "We didn't know you had girlfriends until you let it slip last month."
Probably not her best move. Keeping her sexuality a secret. They were okay with it, after all George was married to Lee, Luna was nonbinary. Cedric was only sort of out. Or maybe they just hadn't come out to her.
"Gender just doesn't matter to me," she said. "But no, I probably shouldn't have kept that to myself."
She stilled her hands. She was lonely. It was difficult putting yourself out there. Maybe this guy was really nice, but she just knew he wouldn't be a good fit. Harry and Ron were selecting people based on the image she presented to them.
That was her fault, but she just… she couldn't be her real self. She had tried being her real self and it led to her break up with Ron. If she got rejected by her family…
She didn't think she could survive it.
"There's a dark cloud," said Luna. "I can see it behind your eyes. What's wrong?"
She couldn't… Just screw on the lid tighter. Compartmentalize.
"I'm just tired," said Hermione, filing her papers away. "I think I better go home for the day."
A knock came at the door.
"Enter," they chorused.
Harry and Ron entered both in their Auror robes.
Hermione sighed.
"I know we can't make you go, Hermione," said Harry, maneuvering around the desks to go greet his partner. "But Florian is perfect for you!"
Florian. How unfortunate.
"We wouldn't set you up if we didn't think you wouldn't be happy," said Ron.
"Also, we told him you'd be there tonight," said Harry. "He needed an answer, he's out working a crime scene right now."
"Harry!" Luna scolded.
Hermione set her jaw. She was furious. How dare they set up a date for her like this? Obviously she could just decide not to go, but then the poor guy might spend hours waiting at a restaurant or bar for a woman who isn't going to show up.
"Why'd you have to make it for tonight?" she demanded. "Why not lunchtime tomorrow or even just let me meet the man?"
"Er…"
"You know, I think you boys are watching too many movies with the children," she continued, packing up her things. "I'm not going to fall in love with someone after one date, but I'd at least like to know if there is a spark or if I'm even attracted to them!"
Even so, she knew what was waiting for her at home. A stack of books and her cats. That used to be enough, but the loneliness was starting to crush her. Maybe she wouldn't fall in love, but perhaps Florian could be a new friend.
G-d, when did she become pathetic and desperate?
"We know that," said Harry. "But you haven't really dated much since Viktor ran off with your cousin."
"I introduced them," she said. "I was Viktor's Best Man at the wedding. I was hardly heartbroken over the ordeal."
Not to mention she had dated plenty. She just knew if she mentioned it, their feelings would be hurt.
"Still, your happiness means the world to us," said Ron.
"Fine," she said and exhaled slowly. "Okay. Florian. Last name, age, tell me what he looks like, where's the date, and what time?"
Florian Leblanc, age 37, tall with blonde hair, green eyes, and a beard, the date was at the Blue Note at 7:00. The Blue Note was run by wixen but was also popular with non-magic users. Hermione loved that place. The food was good, it was kosher certified, and the dancing was excellent. They always had jazz bands playing.
She didn't often get a chance to dance these days.
"Fine," she said, looking at the clock. It was five. "I'll be there. If you see him again, tell him I'll be wearing a black and white dress."
She had the perfect dress for dancing and Florian didn't know her so he wouldn't have any preconceived notions about her. But she still wasn't happy about having a date forced on her. Seriously, where did these guys learn it?
"Okay," said Ron. "Love you, 'Mione."
"Love you, 'Mione," Harry echoed.
"I love you, too." She smiled. "I appreciate you thinking about me, but maybe listen to me instead of deciding what's best for me?"
"Deal," said Harry. He turned to Luna. "So, what are you working on, love?"
Ron walked out of the office with Hermione so Harry could dote on fae.
"Give my love to Mandy and Rory," she said. "When do you get to go on paternity leave?"
"Well, since there were complications last time, I got permission to start in January when she's in the third trimester. I told you we're having a boy, right?"
"Yes."
"And you'll be godmother?"
"Of course." Hermione never minded taking care of any of her godchildren should their parents decide to go on holiday for an anniversary or just needed a break.
Seven times a godmother. In wizard culture, godparents were important. They basically said, "I trust you the most to put my child's best interests first should something happen to me."
Something especially important in a closed society. She knew what the worst case scenarios were if magical children weren't raised knowing they were magic.
She loved her godchildren.
Maybe she should look into adoption. Just because she wasn't married didn't mean she couldn't start expanding her family. She knew she wanted to be a mother and why shouldn't she have a child if she was ready?
She could think on it more while she applied for adoption approval. It was a long process anyhow, so she'd have plenty of time.
Another good reason to hide. She wouldn't want to scare the kids or make everyone around her think she wasn't trustworthy. She was getting lax… but was that a bad thing?
Maybe Cedric was right. That once they got over the shock, no one would care. Shouldn't she trust her own friends?
That old sting from third year about Scabbers and the Firebolt still felt fresh. The same from sixth year when she felt like her feelings didn't matter.
But they were kids. They had changed. She had too.
When she got home, she made the decision to push the envelope a little for her date. Not full goth, but just enough that if he swayed that way he'd understand and that would segue into a conversation.
And she could see if they at least liked to dance. Ron had never wanted to go dancing. Neither did Charlene. Or Carla. Or Chadwick. Or Chaka. Or Cho-Hee. Viktor only tolerated the dancing at the Yule Ball because he was a gentleman and knew she liked to dance, but it still wasn't his first choice for an activity.
She selected her black and white striped dress. It reminded her of the Beetlejuice suit, which was why she bought it and layered green and purple petticoats beneath it. It had cuffed three-quarter sleeves that hid her tattoos, but the sweetheart neckline and cinched waist showed off her figure without making her look shorter than she already was. Cho-Hee had loved this dress on her. It would look great with her black lace choker, the one that glittered with an emerald and pearls and the earrings that matched. She showered, shaved, styled her wig, and did her makeup until she was practically perfect in every way.
What if he thought she dressed weird?
Oh, what did it matter? Her breasts looked fantastic and her calves looked damn good in her dancing heels, which she charmed apple green to match her petticoat.
"Less than a month and you are on holiday," she said. "You can do whatever you want and no one will care." She looked at Carrie. "Right?"
Carrie purred and nuzzled her leg.
Hermione nodded and transferred what she needed into her clutch, which would fit into the pocket she sewed into her dress if need be and put on her coat and gloves.
She fed the cats and put treat-filled toys around the flat to keep them entertained before apparating to the restaurant.
Hermione checked her watch and approached the hostess.
"How many?"
"Er… two but he's not here yet," she said. "It won't be long."
"No problem. Feel free to have a seat at the bar and we can move you to a table when he arrives."
"Thank you." She checked in her coat and felt nervous as she took a seat at the bar. She was already late.
Perhaps he just got held up at work.
"What can I get you, love?" asked the bartender.
She was cute. Why wasn't she Hermione's date?
"Erm…" Hermione looked at the menu. "I'll take a Poison Apple. Please."
"Sure thing."
She watched the door, looking for the man described to her. The smoking cocktail was placed in front of her. She ate the apple slice first and sipped the drink. Perhaps she should have had something to eat. Toast or a banana.
"Hello, there," said a man, leaning against the counter. "Can I buy you a drink?"
"Thank you, but I'm meeting someone," she said.
"He's not here, now is he?"
"No, but I'm not going to flirt with you," she said. "It seems rude."
He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Frigid bitch."
Rude. Hermione sighed. She should have brought a book or something. At least the band was good tonight. She wiggled her foot to the beat and looked up at the television. Some football game was on.
She checked her watch. One hour gone. Where was he?
One hour turned to two. If she hadn't known Harry and Ron for 2/3rds of her life she might have thought this was some cruel joke. Why all the insistence if the guy was going to stand her up anyway?
Hermione rested her chin in her hand.
Maybe she needed some friends outside her monthly book club or forum chatrooms on her rarely used desktop. People that she met up with for drinks who had the time to meet up for drinks. All her friends had children. They were all… backyard barbecues and conversations about the struggles of parenthood. When was the last time she really related to her friends?
She loved them dearly of course, but they had been in relationships longer than she had been out of them. They would always be friends, they'd always have a seat for her, and they were always excited for her to explain to them yet again what Purim was about. She just wanted a family for herself. Someone to go home to. She wanted to be someone's first choice. To be alerted of exciting news, to go do something interesting, or even to lean on when things got difficult.
And here she was, on a Friday night, waiting for a man she didn't know and who was looking more and more like he wasn't going to show.
Hermione stared at her growing number of glasses and wondered when she became the sad, lonely person who drank alone at a bar.
What was she doing with her life?
A gentle hand tapped her shoulder once to get her attention.
"I didn't know priceless works of art were allowed to leave the museum, and yet here you are."
She looked around and blinked in surprise. "Cedric?"
They looked good. Really good. They wore black jacquard trousers and a rich purple waistcoat decorated with floral appliqué, paired with a solid black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows and the collar unbuttoned just enough to tease at the tattoos that covered their chest. She could see a pocket watch chain and they had opted to wear drop earrings and just enough makeup to accentuate their handsome features.
Their charming grin turned to an embarrassed grimace. "Hermione?!"
Of course they were here. Clearly if they knew who she was they wouldn't have dropped such a cheesy pick-up line. And yet she was feeling charmed by it. Must've been the alcohol talking.
"What brings you here?" she asked.
"Er, meeting some friends for drinks and dancing," said Cedric, gesturing back to their table.
She recognized everyone. Tabatha was a Slytherin in Cedric's year when they were in school, but she had moved away after the war. The rest were all from work. Shaylyn Ramsey, Saoirse O'Brannaghan, and Red Ellis.
"Your turn," they said.
Right. They weren't there when she accepted.
"I'm… meeting someone for a date," she said.
"Oh yeah?" They eyed the glassware in front of her. "What time?"
She looked at her watch. "Two-and-a-half hours ago."
They furrowed their brow. "That long?"
"Mmhm."
"Perhaps someone should have told him that he could say your name three times and you'd appear wherever he was."
An hour ago she might've chuckled at the joke. Instead she just felt a sting.
"Please don't make fun of me," she said. "I'm not in the mood."
"I… I wasn't making fun of you, Hermione," they said. "I was teasing, but not to hurt your feelings."
Sue approached. "What'll you have?"
"Milk, give them milk," Hermione whispered.
"Nothing thanks. We ordered back at our table, I just, er…"
"He wanted to chat up the pretty girl he thought was sitting here," said Hermione. "But then it turned out to just be me. Check please."
"Who are you supposed to be meeting?" asked Cedric.
Why were they still here? She was humiliated enough as it was.
"Florian Leblanc," she slurred, taking out some cash. "He supposedly works with Harry and Ron, but I'm wondering if he even exists. He's either at work or…"
"Or?"
"Or…" her lower lip trembled and her throat felt tight with tears. "He came in, took one look at me, and left."
"No, no, no! That's impossible," said Cedric. "I'm sure he's just gotten into an accident, yeah? Yeah, he was apparating here, but a fly was on him and he merged with the fly into some hideous half-man, half-fly and had to be rushed to St. Mungo's."
"Speaking from personal experience?" she sniffled.
They grinned. "Yep. Still suffering the effects from it. I have to vomit on my food to turn it into a liquid and then drink it through the straw."
Sue chose that minute to return with Hermione's check and gave Cedric a weird and disgusted look.
Hermione broke into a fit of laughter. It kept her from bursting into tears anyway.
"Listen, why don't you join us?" Cedric asked. "Tabatha just came in from New York and don't worry we're all a little buzzed. Except Shaylyn, but she doesn't drink."
What else was she going to do? Stumble her way home and cry into her pillow?
"I don't wanna ruin your evening."
"Nah, you won't. We're all kvetching about how much our lives suck. And if 'Florian' ever decides to show his face, then I'll prop you upright long enough to hit him."
"Mmmm… fine." She slapped the money down on the counter. "Keep the change."
Sue the Bartender looked suspicious. "Hold on, where are you taking her?"
"Just over there with our work friends," said Cedric.
"I just wonder about your agenda," she said.
"Cedric's nonbinary," Hermione said a little too loudly. "They don't have a gender!" She put a hand over her mouth. She can't out a person! "Oops. Sorry."
"No, that was very funny," said Cedric. "I'm just disappointed I didn't think of it. Now let's get some food and water in you. Come on, down we go."
Hermione accepted their help in hopping down from the stool. They grabbed her clutch and steered her over to their table.
"Hello, Hermione," said Shaylyn. "I didn't know you'd be here."
"Yeah, I got stood up," she said, plunking down into an empty seat. "Cedric invited me over."
"Oh, I hate that," said Saoirse. "I once had a bird stand me up and then get mad at me for not wanting to reschedule. Like, if you forget a first date, how can I trust you to remember anything after?"
"My girlfriend Carla was like that," said Hermione. "Mind like a sieve, but she was a sweetheart."
"I didn't know you were gay," said Red.
"Well, gender doesn't matter to me," she explained. "I'm pan. Enough about me, Tabatha, what brings you back to the U.K.?"
"My husband was cheating on me," she said. "Apparently for years. So I took him for everything he was worth and now I'm living with my mother while I decide what paper I want to work for. My only options are basically Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet. Unless I want to write articles for PlayWizard, but I don't really want to contribute to the objectification of women."
"Yeah, it'd be alright if they also had PlayWitch," said Hermione. "Objectify both men and women equally. Get twice as many subscribers. I'd subscribe then."
"Are you drunk?" asked Red, cocking an eyebrow.
"I'm drunk!"
A waiter came by and placed the appetizers on the table.
"You've got a point there anyhow," said Saoirse. "Anyway, the Daily Prophet is kinda hit or miss. Red and I work in the art department, so there's not as much bullshit, but things have been going downhill for a couple years now."
"Really?" said Tabatha.
"Mmhm. He still hasn't hired that goblin consultant Hermione suggested," said Shaylyn. "I was excited, I was hoping to have someone on staff write articles I didn't have to manually correct before sending them to the editor. Half the writers ignore everything I tell them."
"You know that the second Kingsley retires as Minister and some new bloke is brought in," said Red, stirring her drink, "the whole Prophet is going to get back to its own nonsense."
"If that happens, I'll quit and start my own paper," said Cedric.
"There's an idea," said Tabatha. "Of course, you'd likely be doing the same amount of work as you do now, or more, for less pay."
"Fair point. But I'd rather eat beans and rice for ten years than be back at square one."
"Tell you what," said Hermione. "I've got all that money from the Right to Conquest—I swear it's constantly compounding, I can't give it away fast enough— if the Daily Prophet goes to shit, I'll fund us a new and better periodical. Probably a magazine, people like magazines more than newspapers."
"Not as good for papier mache though," said Saoirse. "You also run into the issue that if it's a weekly or monthly magazine, current events fly under the radar."
"True," said Hermione. "But if you have a daily paper, there's also the risk of relying on sensationalism, opinion pieces, or even straight up fear mongering on events that should really just be reported on. Especially if other news is slow. You see it all the time on live news. They spend hours and hours talking about one topic when if they just gave the straight facts people would likely be less stupid about it."
"Yeah, I get that," said Cedric. "The Daily Prophet avoids those sorts of news, anyway. Have you noticed that? It's why we're crammed in the Social Watch pages. The only obstacle they run into is Hermione doing whatever she wants and reporting on these things anyway. They were going to shove that Hogsmeade protest right under the carpet, you know."
"Which is ridiculous," said Hermione. "You'd think they would support everyone making thriving wages. If people have money to spend then they will buy more things. It's basic economics."
"Well, if I'm working with you two, I think the Social Watch pages would be worth it," said Tabatha. "I'll apply tomorrow. Who's the editor?"
"Cedric is," said Shaylyn.
"Just temporary," said Cedric. "But it is looking that way."
"At least it's you," said Hermione, stuffing another tortilla chip in her mouth. "And they aren't bringing in some twat who will keep everything stagnant."
"Granger, that mouth!" Red laughed, turning pink.
After some food and water, Hermione started to feel a bit better about the whole situation.
"We should do this more often," she said. "You're all cool."
"Thanks, Mione, you're cool, too," said Shaylyn. "And I'd love to get together more often!"
"Preferably when I'm sober," said Hermione. "I can be fun. We should do stuff. Like the stuff you always want to do when you're a teenager but never really got to. Butterfly exhibits and—and bowling."
"I love butterflies," said Tabatha.
"I really like dancing, too. That's why I like this place. No one I've ever dated has wanted to just dance with me. I took dance lessons when I was a kid. I have first place latin swing trophies. Like—like eight of them!"
"I didn't know you were a dancer," said Cedric.
"There's a lot you don't know about me." Hermione got up. "'Scuse me. I'll be right back, I need to go to the loo."
"I gotta go, too," said Tabatha.
"And me," Red agreed.
"You ladies go, I'll hold down the fort," said Cedric. "Anyone want to order anything else?"
"Yes! Order me some cake," said Hermione, leaning on their chair. "And a beer."
"You're getting a butterbeer."
She raspberried and walked away with the others. After washing up, she re-applied her lipstick.
"So, what's going on with you and Cedric?" asked Shaylyn. "I think this is the longest I've ever seen you two go without fighting. And he's been a bit protective over you the past month."
"I dunno," said Hermione truthfully. "I think we just got over the thing that was making us fight, you know? The disconnect is now connected. You know?"
"Yeah," said Tabatha. "I get that."
"And they're not my enemy, I was silly for acting like they were, che? But they're really kind. Like genuinely so."
"And handsome," said Shaylyn.
"That's a given." Hermione focused on herself in the mirror, adjusted her boobs and checked that her hair was still secure. "I really needed to get out tonight. Thanks for letting me join in."
"Anytime," said Saoirse.
They headed back to the table. She stood for a moment longer and leaned against her chair. She wished the room wasn't spinning so she could dance properly. The band was really great tonight. She hummed and swung her hips, tapping her toe.
That I am cool when I'm cool, the lead singer crooned.
That I am right when I'm right
Cause baby when we fight
She's always right, I'm never wrong.
"Excuse me, you are Hermione Granger?" a man asked.
"That's me!" she said cheerfully. "Who are you?"
"Florian Leblanc, I believe we were meant to have a date this evening?"
He was exactly as Harry and Ron had described. He was also very handsome, but Hermione was too upset at him to really focus on that.
She looked at her watch and scoffed in disbelief. "You are five hours late, you know that?"
"And yet you are still here."
"No thanks to you," said Cedric, standing up. "You have some nerve. You keep a lady waiting for five hours and you can't even be bothered to send a note telling her you'll be late? I hope you have a hell of an explanation."
"And who are you?" Florian asked, looking down his nose at Cedric.
"Cedric Diggory, Hermione's friend."
"You shouldn't have bothered showing up at all," said Hermione. "I'm not going out with you now."
He scowled. "Perhaps I should not have! You are nothing like what has been described to me. I was expecting someone elegant and refined."
"You're not exactly a twelve on a ten point yourself," said Hermione, flicking her nails at Florian. "You can go be snooty by yourself, I'm going to hang out here where it's fun."
Florian didn't take the rejection well. He scoffed.
"High and mighty coming from an ugly drunk mess who dresses like a child! No wonder your friends must matchmake, you could not get even the lowest man here to go home with you!"
That stung. A lot. Hermione flinched and sobered. She was being ridiculous, wasn't she? Letting loose, being childish. She was meant to be perfect. Whatever anyone wanted her to be.
Cedric got between them. "Get out."
"No," said Florian. "I think I will stay and find someone who is not a complete disappointment."
Cedric pulled their fist back, but Hermione grabbed onto it.
"Please…" she whispered.
They huffed, but lowered their hand. "Do you want to go dance?"
"No. I need to have a seat."
Florian strode towards the bar, but Hermione was seated away from it so at least she didn't have to watch her would-be date rub in her face how undesirable she was.
The tears burbled up and once she was crying she couldn't stop. It was the alcohol talking and she was completely embarrassed. She had been acting like a complete fool. Crossed the line once and she had never completely pulled herself back overit. Idiot.
"I knew I shouldn't have worn this dress!" she sobbed.
"Hey, come on," said Cedric, gently.
"He doesn't know what he's talking about," said Shaylyn. "You look fit!"
"Yeah," Tabatha agreed. "And you're really smart."
"You have the best posture of anyone I've ever seen!" said Red.
"It's a corset!" she sniffled, knocking on her bodice so they could hear the bones rattle. "It helps with my back pain! He's right, I am a disappointment and everyone leaves me eventually! Cause I'm a nightmare!"
"No," said Shaylyn, rubbing her shoulder. "It's just late and you're exhausted. It's easy to feel like everyone hates you when you're exhausted."
"Exactly," Tabatha agreed. "Don't listen to him."
Hermione wanted to stop crying. She wanted to stop making an idiot of herself, but she couldn't. Just forget about it. Numb it. She grabbed two shots off a passing tray and knocked both back.
"Hey! No, no!" Cedric protested. "That's not going to help!"
She hiccuped and sniffled, burying her face back into her napkin. Cedric huffed and patted her shoulder.
"Sorry to bail," they said. "But I think I oughta get Hermione home."
"Yeah, no it's fine," said Tabatha. "I better get home for my eleven o'clock cry anyway."
"We should do this again," said Red. "Maybe the butterfly gardens or whatever it was Hermione said."
"Sounds like a plan. Come on, Hermione."
"You can stay," she said, rising unsteadily to her feet. "I'm ruining the party. I'll go home."
"Yeah, not letting you leave here alone," said Cedric. "It's fine, I have to feed my tortoise anyway. Bye everyone. See you at work."
Hermione was steered to the coat check in.
"One arm at a time," said Cedric, helping her put hers on.
By the time they were outside and had hailed a taxi, the other two shots hit. Hermione slumped against Cedric feeling as if she were in a fog.
"You have such a pretty face," she said, touching it.
"Thank you," said Cedric, moving her hand off their mouth. "I think I'm understanding why you never have more than a single glass of wine at family gatherings."
She laughed, though she wasn't sure exactly what she found funny about that statement.
"It's not just your face, it's like your brain, too," she slurred. "Your beautiful brain exploded all over your face."
"Had one too many?" the taxi driver chuckled.
"More like five too many," Cedric muttered.
"I'm fine! I can hold my liquor really well." She cuddled up to them. "You have such a pretty face, you know that?"
"So you've said." They handed money over to the cabbie.
"Why are you paying? We're still moving."
"We've stopped actually. Sit tight." Cedric got out and went around to her side.
But she didn't get to go through her checklist. She still didn't get to dance.
"Can we go dancing?" she asked.
"Tell you what, we'll go dancing next week," said Cedric. "Out we go."
Next thing she knew they were inside the building. She sagged heavily against them, replaying the evening in her mind.
"Lift's down," Cedric muttered. "Of course it is. What floor are you on?"
What floor was she on? Hermione peered down at all four of her hands and held up five fingers.
"Right. Of course. Know what? We'll go to my flat and let you sober up a bit."
"How forward you're being!" she said and flung her arms around their neck.
She wouldn't mind another go. She'd been thinking about the night they spent together a lot. Though she thought it was easier to kiss them last time. Their face kept moving from the path of her lips.
"Let's get you some water first," said Cedric, guiding her to the stairs.
Hermione turned around and plunked down on the steps. Cedric sighed heavily and pressed their forehead to the wall.
"You're impossible," they huffed.
"I want to go dancing!" she whined loudly. "No one ever wants to go dancing with me unless it's—it's t' bump n' grind! I'm a really good dancer!"
"I'm sure you are, but now it's time to go home and lie down," said Cedric.
"I don't wanna! My flat is sad and lonely like me!" She felt tears bubble up. "Nobody wants any version of me."
"Alright. Let's go dancing. Hold out your arms."
Hermione stretched her hands out. She was hauled to her feet, then Cedric stooped and hoisted her over their shoulder. She liked the sensation of her head swinging.
"You smell so nice," she said. "Like—like fresh hay. And your face is so pretty. Are we dancing yet?"
"Yep, we're dancing. Can't you hear the music?"
"No! There's no music!"
They began to sing.
I'm still in the mood for romance
I'm still in the mood for love
Y'see I can't help thinkin' about you
And I hope that you don't mind
Hermione mumbled along with the words. She was swaying. She heard the jingle of keys and the click of a door opening.
"WE'RE DANCING!" she shouted.
"Shh! You wanna wake the entire building?!" Cedric hissed, setting her down.
She shushed them right back.
Cedric sighed and guided her over to the couch.
"Just sit here a moment," they said, pressing their hands down on her shoulders.
"Mmkay."
Her head felt too tight. She pulled out the bobbins and tugged the wig off. She heard a yelp and looked over at Cedric.
"It's fake?" they whispered.
"This is genuine human hair!" she said crossly, dropping it onto the coffee table so she could remove the wig cap and let her natural hair down.
She had grown it out on a whim with a serum. Not her best decision, it made her head so heavy when she wore her wigs. Her curls tumbled down over her shoulder, coming to life after being confined most of the day.
"Er, right. Sorry. Sit tight, I need to make a call."
"Uh-huh."
Hermione writhed in discomfort. She normally loved her clothes, but she felt as if they were purposefully trying to strangle her.
"Hullo, Looney-Tune," said Cedric pleasantly. "Sorry for calling so late, is Harry there?... I see. No, just wanted to tell him that if he ever sets up a blind date for Hermione again I am going to kick his ass." They huffed. "She is drunk out of her mind and swinging between wanting to kiss me and wanting to bawl her eyes out!"
Hermione undid her corset and got up, stumbling over to Cedric. They glanced at her and quickly turned around.
"Circe of Aeaea, Hermione! Put some clothes on!" they squawked. "Luna, not helping! I'm serious, don't let Harry or Ron do this again. Tell Mandy. The bloke was an absolute plonker."
"I am wearing clothes!" said Hermione. "I still got my chem—chem—my slip on!"
"Also, they owe me one for all this. I'll see you tomorrow." Cedric hung up and turned around. "Let's sit back down."
"Your face is so pretty!"
"So you said. Let's have a seat."
She flung her arms around their neck and kissed them. Cedric broke away and cupped her cheeks.
"Hey, later, alright?"
"When?" she whined.
"How about when you can walk in a straight line?"
She was back on the couch and Cedric was handing her a t-shirt and a pair of exercise shorts.
"Put these on," they said.
"Mmkay."
While she changed, Cedric went to the kitchen. They returned a moment later with a glass of water.
"Drink all that," they said.
She downed it and then stumbled into the bathroom to use the toilet. What was she doing here again? Oh, right. Her life was sad and lonely and Cedric was kind and pretty.
"Clean off your makeup," Cedric called to her. "Can't have you getting an infection."
"But I don't look pretty without makeup."
"I'm sure you look lovely. I want to see you without makeup."
Oh. Okay. If they wanted to see her. She found some cold cream, eye makeup remover, and cotton swabs. She washed her face and dried it before stepping back out. Cedric had changed out of their suit into a pair of joggers and a t-shirt.
"You look absolutely lovely," said Cedric. "Why don't you have a seat?"
"Okay." She tottered over and plunked down on the couch, cuddling up to them. "You're so pretty."
They sighed. "This is going to be a long night."