"Finally, I told him I am not 'up for a bite' this weekend… Well, ever, to be honest," said Hermione, swirling her Irish coffee with a generous helping of whiskey. She had settled down to one of the most comfortable chairs in Laughing Niffler, one of her and Harry's favorite spots in the Magical London. She tried to relax, with her scarf and gloves already discarded next to her, pushing the events of a chaotic day in the department to the back of her mind. The fireplace on the other side of the pub and the soft humming from the other patrons were certainly helping.
"Did he take the clue?" responded Harry with a beaming smile, lounging across her, caressing his Firewhiskey.
"No! That is the funny part, I get that some women might play hard to get. Still, sometimes – some incredibly rare times in the realm of Mansylvania, it seems – women really mean 'No, I'm not interested.'"
"Ah, I wouldn't know," he said in a sing-song voice after their laughs had subsided. "I have come to understand that people do not reject me in the magical world. It's a curse, to be honest."
"A certain Asian girl comes to mind–"
"We were teenagers back then!" retorted Harry, trying not to remember memories from a decade ago.
"–or that cute Nordic girl whom you pined after for a whole week when she rejected you."
"Language barrier, Hermione!" he said, as Hermione innocently sipped her drink. "She might as well have been telling me that 'I'm a lesbian!'. Alas, we'll never know."
"Being a lesbian must have some perks," said Hermione. "I bet one rejection would be more than enough for a woman to comprehend I mean it… Plus you have a lifetime of sexual experience regarding the anatomy."
"Firstly, only you would use anatomy and sex in the same sentence," said Harry. "Secondly, you know what they say, the only sure-fire way is to try."
"Nah, I didn't find it to be pleasant," Hermione said as she stretched and massaged her neck. She started to laugh as she saw Harry's eyes widening. "I'm just kidding!"
"Hey, that was cruel!" said Harry. "I had just started to dream about proper British purebloods having a fit upon seeing the headlines: 'War hero, top Ministry employee, and a staunch supporter of Muggle rights; Ms. Granger reveals her lesbian relationship an affectionate public display with her Veela girlfriend.'"
"Oh, I would even receive hate mails again! The joy!"
She definitely would, he thought. "Jokes aside, is it really about a lack of decent men? Or lack of time? I can always scold Tiberius for overworking you, you know."
"You wouldn't, you love the guy," she said with a smile. "No, work isn't an issue. The extra time I put in is because I like my job… It doesn't prevent me from one-night stands, anyway," she added. She slowly took a couple more sips, rubbing her thigh with her free hand, staring at nothing in particular. She raised her gaze to her friend across him.
"Can I be honest with you, Harry? I don't want to upset you but you're the only person who could understand," she added.
No, I don't want to talk about it, thought Harry. We lived through it. We overcame it. We moved on.
"Of course we can talk about it."
"I know it's been years," said Hermione. "Still, at least once a week, I dream of Ron. If I am lucky, it is our happy memories. If I am not… You know what I see. Everything reminds me of him. 'What would Ron think about this? How would Ron do that?'" She had a distant look in her eyes as if she were going to stop, but she continued with a trembling voice. "I get sick of it, you know? It is, uh, it's like that thing that mums have: You love your child, you absolutely adore them, but sometimes you're too goddamn exhausted at times, you feel like you can't stand their crying anymore. Then you start to blame yourself for being a terrible mum and it just compounds. I just wish I could have one week, calm and composed, not thinking about Ron every other second, you know?" She raised her head and looked at him with vulnerable eyes.
"I cannot stand to see you sad," said Harry. "And no, you're not terrible. There is nothing wrong with wanting to move on. It's just… I think it's just that it happens in their time, in their own way to everyone. There's no single way to overcome a tragedy."
"You're stronger than me," retorted Hermione.
Am I? thought Harry, or am I a terrible person?
"No," said Harry as he knitted his brows. "You know that quote? 'The dead can survive as part of the lives of those that still live.' I do things that make me happy, first and foremost; but I would like to think that Ginny, Ron, and the others would approve of me 'living the dream'."
"Quidditch, alcohol, and girls – ultimate debauchery. The healthy, sustainable way of living."
"Yes," said Harry, happier now that Hermione had some resemblance of a smile. "And thanks for not being judgmental…" He took her hand and looked at her eyes. "We will be better, Hermione," he said. "You will be better, even though you are not as willing as me to give the middle finger to the customs and traditions of the wizarding world," he added, quoting a less-than-stellar Daily Prophet article on his recent adventures.
"Keep talking, and this proud employee of DMLE will have to get you arrested," said Hermione. "If the Aurors would be able to do it, I mean."
"Hey, those were my brothers in wand you're talking about! But yes, they wouldn't," he added with a smile.
"Thanks for this, Harry," Hermione said. "I needed it. Let's take the check before you drink some more, and I have to Apparate you home."
"Anytime, Hermione."