1. "Mrs. Issues" - Nexxthursday
September 30, 1998
Hermione flinched at the sound of breaking glass coming from the kitchen. She could barely make out the string of profanities that slurred from Ron's mouth as something else crashed. She sighed, stood and crossed over to the dresser in the corner of her room. A picture of the two of them smiled back happily at her, laughing and leaning their heads together, blissfully unaware of how unhappy they would be in four short months.
She couldn't stand to be in the house a moment longer. She looked over her reflection in the vanity mirror, brushing her hair into somewhat controlled chaos, and applied a hasty layer of mascara. That was all she cared to attempt. She didn't need to impress any one, she just needed to get out.
She descended the steps, tiptoeing past the kitchen, hoping to avoid another unnecessary argument.
"Oi! Where are you going?"
So much for that. She sighed and turned slowly to face him, working to keep her face a mask of calm indifference. "I'm going round to Ginny's. I need some time to think."
Ron scoffed. "You mean you need some time to run your mouth off to Ginny about our problems."
Hermione felt her temper flare and fought hard to keep it in check. "That's not what I'm doing at all, Ronald. And besides, even if I were to talk to Ginny about us, it shouldn't be a big deal. It's not as if you don't do the same with Harry."
He glared at her, reaching up to run his hands through his disheveled red locks. "That's different. Ginny's my sister."
"And Harry might as well be my brother. So, it's the same. I'm going, Ron. I need some time to myself right now."
"Fine. Go on, then. But don't expect me to sit around and wait on you to come back. I won't do it. I'm going out. Maybe I'll meet some one who will actually put out."
Hermione made a noise of disgust. "If you weren't drunk, I'd be offended. Is that all you want from me? Sex?"
"Of course not, but it would be bloody nice. We've been dating longer than four months, Hermione. How long do you expect me to wait? Lavender and I were shagging a week into our relationship."
Hermione had had enough. "Then why don't you just go fuck Lavender! Godric, I can't stand when you bring her up. Honestly, Ron, I don't know why we're still together."
"You don't mean that."
"I think I do. All we ever do is argue. I miss my best friend. Where did he go?" Tears were falling hotly down her face now, making her regret applying mascara to her lashes.
"Right... Well. If that's how you feel... maybe we should take a break. Think about things..."
Hermione felt a sob rip from her chest as she turned on her heel and slipped out the front door. She cursed under her breath, turning to stride up the alley to find a secluded place to Apparate. Her parent's had given her the house when she had reversed the Obliviate spell she had used on them during the war. They had chosen to stay in Australia as they'd grown to love it so much and had already settled into their life there. Hermione had understood, and was thankful for the gift of her childhood home. But she had to admit that living in a muggle neighborhood as an adult witch definitely had its drawbacks.
She reached the inner most part of the alley, backed into the shadows and disappeared with a small pop, reappearing directly in front of Ginny and Harry's apartment in Diagon Alley.
She hurried into the building, choosing to climb the many stairs instead of taking the lift. She was gasping for breath when she finally reached their floor and paused, leaning against the door jam to catch her breath before knocking.
The door cracked open and Harry peeked his head out. "Hermione? Is everything alright?" he asked, stepping back and opening the door wide so that she could pass through.
"Ron and I had a row." She said, her eyes scanning the living room for Ginny, but coming up empty. She turned her eyes back to Harry's, which were filled with concern.
"You okay, 'Mione?"
She sucked in a shuddering breath. "No."
Harry gave her a sympathetic look before pulling her into a hug. She sniffled against his chest. "He said he wants a break. Oh, Harry, I think we've completely destroyed our friendship. We're just not compatible."
Harry rubbed her back gently. "Hermione, Ron loves you. Even if you all don't stay together, he's still going to be your friend. There's nothing you could do to make either one of us turn our backs on you."
Hermione gulped in a lungful of air. "You mean it?"
Harry squeezed her tighter. "I swear it."
Hermione smiled weakly, pulling back to look at him. "Thanks, Harry." she glanced about the room once more, dashing the tears from her cheeks. "Where's Gin?"
"She's gone round to Bill and Fleur's..."
"Oh. Damn."
Harry studied her carefully for a few moments. "Hermione, if you want to stay here, you ca-"
"-I don't think that would be a good idea, Harry. Thank you, really. I just... don't want to antagonize him. He'll probably owl wanting to talk to you."
The words had barely passed her lips when a familiar owl tapped on the window. Harry caught her glance and she raised an eyebrow. "Right." He crossed over, opening the window to let Pigwidgeon in. It took him a good ten minutes just to catch him and retrieve the letter. He opened it and read through it quickly. "He wants me to meet him at the Leaky Cauldron for drinks..." He said hesitantly, clearly uncomfortable with the situation his two best friends had put him in.
"Go. Really, it's fine. I'm just going to go home and go to bed."
He continued to eye her cautiously, so she turned and walked over to the door. "Thank you, Harry for being here for me. But, Ron needs you, too. I'll be fine, really." She opened the door and motioned for him to go out. He only hesitated for a moment before he obeyed.
They were halfway down the hallway when he turned to her and said, "Did you just force me out of my own home?"
Hermione shrugged and smiled. "It's not my fault you always listen to me."
Harry chuckled. "Well, you are the brightest witch of our generation. Honestly, Hermione, have you ever made a mistake or rash decision in your life?"
She frowned, choosing to stay silent. Harry made her sound like a boring, stick in the mud who never had any fun. Hermione mulled his words over in her mind, realising that he was partially right. She never did anything outrageous, just because she could. She was a 19 year old virgin, who had perfect marks in school and worked a boring office job at the Ministry. No body could call her adventurous, that's for sure. For some reason, for the first time in her life, that bothered her. She wanted to be spontaneous, to do something wildly out of character. She deserved to have a little fun, didn't she?
"Hermione?"
"Hm?"
"I said, 'Owl if you need me.' You know you can always talk to me. Even though, I know you'd prefer to talk to Ginny." He grinned at her.
"Thanks, Harry." She grinned back at him. "I'll see you soon."
He turned on the spot and apparated, presumably to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione hesitated for only a moment before she turned and headed the opposite direction. It was time for a change. She could walk on the wild side, couldn't she?
Draco swirled the amber liquid in his tumbler around, before raising it to his lips and finishing it off. His head was pounding though he suspected his headache had more to do with the company he kept than an actual malady. He glanced over at his two friends, who were in deep discussion over whether or not the witch by the bar was part Veela.
"She's gotta be, man. She's too fucking perfect." Theo Nott said, tossing back a shot of firewhiskey. "Tell me she doesn't ooze perfection."
Blaise shook his head. "I'm telling you, Theo. The fact that she's ridiculously hot doesn't make her a Veela."
Draco almost choked on his firewhiskey as the witch turned slightly towards them. "Either she keeps her wand in an odd location or you're both barking up the wrong tree." He paused. Neither of them were paying him any attention and he smirked to himself. He pulled some money from his inside pocket and tossed it onto the table. "Well, go buy her a drink and ask her yourselves. Maybe she's into multiple partners."
Theo eyed him suspiciously. "How come you're not buying her one yourself?"
Draco shrugged. "Not feeling up for it tonight."
Blaise shot him an incredulous look. Theo stood up from the table and Blaise stuck his leg out, tripping his friend and causing him to slosh his liquor down the front of his shirt. "Fucking prick," he mumbled pulling out his wand to siphon it off as Blaise crossed over to the bar, approaching the witch. She laughed at something he said, leaning in to touch his arm. Blaise motioned for the bar keep and she brought over a bottle and two glasses, placing them in front of them.
"Better hurry up before he closes the deal without mentioning you." Draco smirked, wondering how long it would take them to realise that the object of their affections was neither Veela nor female. Not anatomically any way.
Theo scurried away, mumbling about shitty friends under his breath. Draco leaned back against the dark leather of the booth they occupied. The White Wyvern was unusually crowded tonight and it made him slightly uncomfortable. The war was over and he had stood his trial, Potter suprising him by testifying on his behalf, but the Morsmordre mark permanently branded on his arm was a constant reminder to everyone of what he had been... what he had done.
His father was serving a life long sentence in Azkaban and that in tandem with the guilt that she felt from the things she had done and witnessed during the war had driven his mother out of the country. She had left the day after Lucius' trial to stay at their vacation home in Amsterdam. He had been tempted to flee with her, but had stayed rooted, hoping that the dirty looks he received just by walking down the street would soon subside. They hadn't.
It hadn't stopped him from picking up women. For whatever reason, witches seemed to be more attracted to him once they knew he was an ex-Death Eater than they had been before. He wasn't complaining in that department. But shagging could only numb the self loathing he felt for himself temporarily. He couldn't stand to look at himself in the mirror. Couldn't stand to know that Crabbe had died, trying to bring Potter in to the Dark Lord because he had given him the idea. Couldn't stand the fact that Severus Snape, one of the only men in his life that actually gave a damn about him, had died at the hands of the dark wizard he'd served. Couldn't stand to look into a crowd and meet the eyes of those he knew had lost loved ones in the war that he had fought on the opposite side of. He was disgusted with himself, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to change who he had been in the past. It would forever haunt him, and no amount of firewhiskey could take away that pain. It could however take the edge off.
He picked up the bottle of amber liquid, pouring himself another tumbler, and stared across the crowded room. Surely some one would catch his eye and he could let out his frustrations in a positive way.
If he hadn't been looking at that exact moment, he would have missed the head of unruly brown curls bob through the crowd. She made her way to the bar, glacing over her shoulder every few seconds, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Draco smirked to himself, tossing back the rest of his drink. Perhaps he had found a different outlet for letting off steam. Picking on Granger had always lightened his mood.