A/N: Woot!
Despite my shocking physical similarities to JK Rowling, I am not her. Honestly! As such, I don't own any part of the Harry Potter world.
My tongue between my teeth, I assessed my appearance in the mirror with a critical eye. The fabric of my dress was a glorious champagne color that made my skin glow, and the style was structured without being fussy. It was a knee-length party frock that was covered in gentle folds and came to my knees. A wide sash in a dark gold satin wrapped my waist and complemented the four-inch wide trim in the same material at the hemline. It flowed. When I moved, it breathed.
I loved it. I felt as pretty as I did at the Yule Ball in fourth year when Lavender and Parvati shoehorned me into that purple blancmange and taught me the charms to tame my coiffure. Coincidentally, they are the only charms that I've failed to master. My hair refused to be intimidated by my intellect. Needless to say, it was not a coincidence that the day of Harry's and Ginny's party my hair was tumbling down my back, completely unrestrained except for half of a bottle of Sleekeasy to bring the frizz under control.
Although I'd never been interested in exploring the 'girlish arts,' I took pride that, should the occasion call for it, I could look respectable… nearly pretty. Even if I was going stag. By myself. My lonesome.
Ginny told me Ron was bringing some slag.
I should probably brush my teeth one last time.
Spreading toothpaste on my toothbrush, I imagined showing up to the party with a Severus-shaped void at my side. Ron would look up from where he was noozling his groupie's breasticles and smirk. I will have to kill him then, and Harry and Ginny will stop inviting me to their parties. I fumed, scrubbing my teeth without mercy.
"Your gums are bleeding," my image murmured, not meeting my eyes. It timidly offered the observation, having learned through experience that I dislike commentary on my appearance. When it comes to enchanted objects, I hex first and ask questions never.
"Balls!" I said, leaning forward to take in my pink teeth in the mirror.
Heartened by my apparent lack of rage, the mirror cheerfully added, "I doubt anyone will want to put their balls near a mouth that's covered in blood. It'd show a disturbing lack of caution, wouldn't it?"
My wand tapped the glass.
"Balls!" my image said, peering down at itself. "You've turned me into Rufus Scrimgeour." Opening the fly to its pants, it exclaimed, "And my willy's a pickle!"
"A gherkin, actually," I cackled.
Crossing its arms over its chest, it huffed, "I hope you know you're only punishing yourself. After all, you're the one who's going to have to stare at an aged, pickle-willied ex-Minister of Magic, not me." Its smile was vindictive.
"Good point." I tapped the glass once more. "There. Now you're punished, and I'll enjoy looking at you."
"This is undignified!" The eyes of the now dark-haired mirror-image bulged. "Not to mention anatomically improbable!"
I stared at the nether-regions of the Snape doppelganger. "You think so? I've cupped him a time or two, and he felt quite large."
"At least make the angle less… jaunty. He's not a stripling anymore, you know." Its shoulders hunched.
"Nope," I said, popping the p. I generously allowed myself to ogle for another thirty seconds before I turned on my heel and grabbed the clutch that was resting on the sink. "I'm off then. I'll see you when I get back," I purred and waggled my brows.
The Snape-image shuddered and covered its private bits. "I feel so dirty."
Smirking, I left.
The Burrow looked much as I remembered it… ramshackle, disorderly, and perfectly lovely. The slanting gables, cross-paned glass, and cheerful colors always reminded me of a Muggle nursery rhyme. I wouldn't have been surprised if one of Molly's pies had burst open, giving birth to four and twenty blackbirds, or if one of the twins had offered to spin straw into gold for me in return for my firstborn. The Burrow typified the best part of the magical world – warm and wondrous.
The garden with its polite tea and cabbage roses was a place that had a lot of resonance for me. That's where Kingsley Shacklebolt had told me about Mum and Dad. I'd spent hours de-gnoming the damned thing, watching the little buggers sail in graceful arcs over the meadow. And, after the Victory celebration, I'd lost my virginity amongst those roses. Harry and Ginny had chosen to host their party there, and I was glad.
I hadn't been back since Ronald had humped his way out of our relationship, and frankly, I'd missed it. The Weasley homestead felt like home far more than my parents' empty house in Muggle London. After their deaths, I'd spent every holiday from Hogwarts with the Weasleys. Ginny and I shared a bed so that Arthur and Molly could sleep secure in the thought that no S-E-X was going on under their thatched roof. …I wonder what they'd do if they knew that before she married Harry, Ginny had happily played on both sides of the Quidditch pitch.
As I walked up the path, I could hear the sound of laughter coming from the garden. I rounded the corner and paused for a moment to gird my loins before plunging into the fray.
"Hermione!" Harry shouted. As one, every head at the party turned to stare at me. I'd never felt the lack of Severus's presence more keenly.
"There she is!"
"Come over here and give us a kiss!"
"Oh my god, it's been ages!"
"Lav-Lav, run get me some more cheesy artichoke puffs, will you?"
I rolled my eyes. Of course Ron's priority was the food. And he was here with Lavender Brown? Ew.
"Happy anniversary, you two!" I stretched my arms wide and hugged my best friends. "You both look fabulous," I said, lying through my teeth. Ginny's belly protruded like a woman twelve months pregnant instead of seven, and Harry had been sympathy eating. He was quite puffy, and the line of his neck went straight from his chin to his sternum like a pelican's.
"You're such a lying cow," she giggled.
"How are you feeling?" I patted her belly gingerly, fearing that if I put too much pressure on it, it would squash like an overripe peach. "Twins in there treating you right?"
"Damn Weasley genes. We're practically goats the way we seem to throw multiples." Ginny grimaced and rubbed her belly. "I'll admit that I'll be glad when this pregnancy is over. It's so much harder than a single. And I have to pee! Constantly!"
"Well," I smiled, holding up a finger, "I hope that my anniversary pressie will help." I took a decent-sized potions bottle out of my purse and held it out to her. It glowed a pearlescent blue in the setting sun.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"It's called Mother's Milk, and it ensures you carry twins to term. It's also got all sorts of good side effects. It helps you sleep at night by bringing the babies' circadian rhythms in line with yours; it reduces swelling in the extremities; and best of all, your hair will absolutely shine while you take it."
Ginny burst into tears and hugged me. "I'd kiss you if it wouldn't make Harry jealous. What a wonderful, thoughtful gift."
I patted her on the back, eyeing Harry in alarm.
"Hormones," he mouthed.
"Anything for you, Gin. Dosing directions are on the bottle."
The red-head pulled back, hiccoughing and clutching the vial to her like I was trying to steal it back. "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just so emotional right now, and… Ronald Weasley, get your face out of the tray of canapés this instant. They are for guests." She handed the bottle to Harry and stomped over to her brother where he was busily hoovering the hors d'oeuvres into his mouth.
"How are you holding up, Harry?" I said to my oldest friend.
"Hermione, Ginny can be a mite scary when she's this pregnant, but I have to tell you – I never thought I'd be this happy." He turned to look at me, his face glowing. When he scratched his brow absently, I saw a silvered, lightning bolt scar. "I have a family. We have a home together. I get to sleep next to my witch every night, and Hermione… she wants sex all the time." His eyes were wide.
"Oh my god, Harry Potter!" I yelled, gagging. "Keep such details to yourself!"
He smirked like the boy I remembered, and all of a sudden, I couldn't see his softened neck and jaw line or the small smile lines that had begun to stretch from the tips of his eyes. He was just my friend, and I cuffed him on the arm. "Git," I mumbled.
"So, are you going to talk to Ron? You're going to have to before the party's over."
"Yes, I will. However, I'm waiting until the last possible moment so that he doesn't ruin the party for me. You know, I'd be perfectly happy if I didn't have to say hello at all…"
"'MIONE!" the red-headed prat yelled, giving me a sloppy buss on the cheek. "Where've you been, gorgeous?"
"Won-Won!" Lavender shrieked and clung to him like a barnacle. The ginger menace had the grace to grimace. Harry slunk away, leaving me to their dubious mercies.
"I've been standing right here for the last thirty minutes, idiot," I hissed.
His shirt was mis-buttoned and his hair was disheveled. His lips hung slack and a bit moist, and I experienced a brief shiver of revulsion to think that I had ever let him kiss me with that mouth. Sniffing in disdain, I suddenly caught the scent of firewhisky. "For God's sake, Ron. Did you actually have the temerity to get drunk at a five year anniversary party? Tacky."
He flushed and shrugged. "It's not like anyone here expected any different."
I stared at him until he shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with the silence. And my antagonism. I had promised Harry and Ginny that I'd be civil, but I wasn't going to make anything easy for him. Prat never sent me that apology owl.
"Was that my cue to pity you? You aren't a monkey. Believe it or not, Ron Weasley, you are what you make of yourself."
He swayed forward drunkenly and sniped, "We can't all be bloody geniuses, Hermione. Some of us have to sell Quidditch supplies for a living." Ron gestured with a crab doodle.
I smiled. It wasn't a particularly nice smile. "I wasn't aware that handling sweating jocks' bits prevented you from being a decent human being."
He blinked and raised a finger to poke me in the shoulder. Lavender interpolated herself between us. "Now, now dear. Let's calm down." Turning to face me, she said, "He gets a little feisty when he's had a bit to drink."
Didn't I know it.
When he had relaxed sufficiently that Lavender was no longer concerned he'd pick a fight, she turned back to me, her face wreathed in a saccharine smile. I nearly fell back a step, shades of a pink-suited, throat-clearing toad dancing before my eyes. "So, Hermione." Lavender drew the second syllable of my name out as if she was planning on sharing a confidence. "Where is your date? Surely you didn't come all by yourself," she simpered. "Not again."
Oh, that bitch. I opened my mouth to lie through my teeth, but before I could spill my quickly concocted story involving my boyfriend and a tragic hippogriff accident, a silken voice answered her.
"Why, Ms. Brown. I'm right here, of course." Severus swept up to me and slid an arm around my waist. "Sorry I'm late, darling." He kissed my cheek.
I stared at him, my brain stuttering like a record on a scratched groove. He was here, and he looked amazing. Black wool trousers cupped his bum. My eyes lingered there a shade too long before they swept up the rest of his body. A red (red!) button-down shirt covered his chest, and his hair was pulled neatly into a queue.
Severus looked far too pleased with himself. His eyes sparkled. They fucking sparkled! "You look enticing, Hermione," he growled and pulled me up against his side in a possessive display.
"Muh," I said extravagantly.
"I should probably offer my felicitations to the happy couple. Will you come?" He smiled, his crooked teeth flashing.
"Yargh."
"If you'll excuse us," he said to Ronald and Lavender. Turning to take my arm, Severus suddenly stopped and said in sniffy voice, "And Ron, you've got crab doodle on your nose, by the way. Did you know?"
We turned away before I could burst out laughing, pleased that Severus had remembered my recounting of the first time I'd met Harry and Ron on the train. "I'm so glad you're here," I whispered.
"Silly girl, how could I not come?" His voice was soft. Smirking, but with real affection shining in his eyes, he added, "Best not to answer that."
A/N: Like it, love it, hate it, review it!
If you want to know what Hermione's dress looks, you can see it here:
tig - fashion . blogspot 2008 / 12 / inspiration - chanel . html
Take out the spaces. If it doesn't all come through, PM me your email addy, and I'll send you a pic.