Hermione frowned at her reflection in the mirror. Did she really look like she was too put together all the time? Ginny and Draco's criticism from last week still replayed in her mind. She pulled the pins from her hair and shook it out, cringing at the mess. She waved her wand quickly and it flattened out. She smoothed her hands over it and managed a small smile. She was getting fairly good at hair spells these days.
Her attention turned to her outfit. She wore a button up blouse and cardigan with a pencil skirt. It looked fine to Hermione, but Ginny would say that it was boring. Hermione sighed and undid the top two buttons. That was as drastic a change as she was willing to make.
Her parents were waiting for her downstairs. Ginny had picked Kaida up an hour ago, allowing Hermione time to shower and get ready for dinner with the Michaelson's. Hermione smoothed her skirt and sighed once more at her reflection before joining her parents. She tripped several times over the kitten that was winding its way between her feet as she tried to walk down the stairs.
"Ready to go, love?"
Hermione nodded. As I'll ever be, she thought. She was growing increasingly more nervous at the thought of seeing Patrick again. She hadn't laid eyes on him for several years and could only imagine how time might have changed him. He'd been her first ever crush and the memory of the butterflies he'd given her filled her stomach. She shook her head. But she had been a child, and he hadn't given her a second glance of that sort.
They loaded into the car and Hermione realised this was her first time being in a car in nearly five years. It felt strange. Foreign yet familiar. It was a short drive to the Michaelson's house. They arrived within ten minutes and Hermione didn't have time to gather her wits about her before the door was thrown open.
"Jean! Robert! It's so good to see you again! Oh, Hermione, you're so grown up!" Hermione was barely out of the car when she was enveloped in a bony hug. Ow. Who knew a clavicle could cause so much pain? She grimaced but did her best to turn it into a smile as Mrs. Michaelson pulled back to look at her. "My, my. You turned out so pretty, dear. You were such a scrawny little thing, I must admit I worried a bit when you were younger. But look at you now!"
Hermione frowned, not knowing what to make of the back handed compliment, but Mrs. Michaelson had already moved on to hugging her mother.
"Come, come, let's get inside. Supper's almost ready," Mrs. Michaelson said, ushering them through the door. "The boys are in the den, watching some documentary they've been raving about."
"Susan, your home is even more lovely than I recall," Jean said warmly.
"Such flattery for some one who moved across country without so much as a thought for your dearest friend." Susan said. She was smiling but Hermione detected an edge of bitterness in her voice.
Jean looked distinctly embarrassed, her cheeks pinking in under the bright lighting as the walked up the hallway. "I truly am sorry for that, Susan. As I've told you, it was very… impromptu… spur of the moment." This was said with a weighted look at Hermione.
Hermione was slightly offended. She hadn't been thinking of her mother's busy social calendar when she'd wiped their memory and sent them off to Australia. She had been more concerned with them keeping their lives.
"Yes, yes, I know. I forgive you." Susan said, sighing and then gesturing for them to enter the den. "Paul? Patrick? The Granger's are here."
The two men pried their eyes away from the television and nodded in greeting. "Nice to see you again, Robert," Paul said, rising slowly from the sofa and stretching. He gave a great yawn and smiled. "Care for a beer? I was just about to grab one for myself."
"Sure." Hermione's father agreed quickly and the two followed the older women into the kitchen as Hermione stood awkwardly in the doorway of the den.
Patrick smiled at her. "I won't bite, you know. Despite my indiscretion when I was eight. Though, if I remember correctly, you taught me a lesson for that. You were a mean little thing."
Hermione blushed and asked incredulously, "I was mean for retaliating after you bit me?"
Patrick canted his head to the side and seemed to consider. "Okay, okay. Perhaps I deserved your wrath. But that was, what, fourteen years ago? I'd think you would have been over that by now."
Hermione scoffed, "You act as if I were the one to bring it up! I'd forgotten all about it!"
"Sure you had." Patrick said with a smirk. "You used to hang on my every breath."
Hermione's eyes widened, "I did not! You- You're awfully full of yourself, aren't you? Though I suppose I shouldn't be all that surprised considering you always have been."
"Aw, Hermione. I was only teasing. I loved that you followed me around like a puppy. It was good for my ego."
That was it. She had had enough of his arrogant mouth. "I think I'll go see if your mum needs any help in the kitchen."
"She can manage. Come and watch this with me. You still like ancient Greece, yes? You always talked about going nonstop."
That gave her pause. "How do you even remember that?"
Patrick shrugged. "I remember most things about you. I know you like your tea with cream and no sugar, I know your socks always have to match and I know that you hate being beaten at anything."
Hermione sniffed, not wanting to let on that she was slightly impressed. "Most people know those things about me. They're not exactly a secret, are they?"
"Just come sit down. I promise to shut up."
"Fine."
Hermione stalked into the den and sat down on the opposite sofa. This seemed to amuse him even more than taunting her had, but he remained silent. She turned her attention to the tv and tried to ignore him. The documentary was really well done, and she found herself engrossed in the program.
"So, have you been yet?"
"Hmm?" Hermione asked, her eyes flicking over to Patrick and back to the television.
"To Greece. Have you been yet?"
"Oh," Hermione said. "No. No, I haven't." I've been too busy saving the world from evil wizards and birthing babies with mysterious fathers. "Maybe one day."
"Why not now?" Patrick pressed on.
"Because I can't just pack up my life and leave. I have… responsibilities."
"I'm not talking about staying forever. There are these things called holidays. Lots of people leave their house for a week and visit new places. For fun. You do know what fun is, don't you, Hermione?"
It sounded so like something Draco would say. "Not all of us can afford the luxury of holidays. Or fun for that matter."
Patrick chuckled. "Same old Hermione. Work before pleasure, always."
"What makes you think you know a thing about me? We haven't seen each other in what, six years? You don't know a thing about me or my life and yet you sit here and presume to make all of these assumptions as if you have a clue about how I live my life."
Patrick had the decency to look contrite. He opened his mouth, presumably to apologize but was cut off by Susan's appearance in the doorway.
"Is everything all right? It sounded like you two were arguing."
"Everything's fine, mum. We were just debating whether Aristotle was a better philosopher than Socrates."
"Oh. Well, debate's over. Dinner is served."
Hermione stood, avoiding Patrick's gaze and followed Susan out of the room and up the hall into the dining room. It was a very formal setting and Hermione wondered if perhaps she should have brushed up on her etiquette. She could never remember which fork was which.
Patrick stepped around her and pulled the chair out for her. "Thank you," she said politely and sat down. She knew she had probably over reacted, but her life and how she lived it was a sore subject for her. She loved Kaida. More than anything, she loved Kaida. But that didn't mean that it was enjoyable for her to have her face continuously rubbed into everything she was missing out on to raise her. If she wasn't a mother, she wouldn't have to think twice about taking off for a holiday in Greece or Spain or India or any other place that she'd so longed to travel to. She could have just packed a bag, booked a flight and been on her way. But now, everything was different. Her life was altered so irrevocably that sometimes it was hard to swallow.
"What are we having, dear?" Paul asked, popping the top off of a bottle of beer and pouring it into a glass.
"Orange pistachio-stuffed grilled scallops, macaroni and brie with crab and a nice herbed salad. I hope you all brought your appetites," Susan said cheerily, this last part directed at the Granger family, as she began ladling out helpings onto their plates.
"It looks delicious, Susan," Robert said warmly.
Hermione tried to listen politely to the conversation as she picked at her food, chiming in only when spoken to directly. She had just taken a bite of the macaroni when she noticed everyone was staring at her. She realised she had zoned out and hurriedly chewed and swallowed.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I asked what you do for a living now, dear? I must admit I'm surprised you didn't go on to University. You always had such high marks. Jean here was always bragging about you in book club."
Hermione froze. She thought carefully about the wording before speaking, "I work in government."
"Ooh, really? I'd have thought you would have needed a higher education to achieve that. What exactly do you do?"
"I- I'm not really at liberty to discuss it, ma'am."
Susan's eyebrows shot up into her hairline and Hermione could swear she was nearly panting over the idea of fresh, top secret gossip. "Surely you could discuss it here. Just among us friends, I mean, we're practically family."
"I'm sorry, but no."
Jean's eyes were wide but she hurried to back up the statement. "It's true. Even we don't know the extent of her position and we're her parents."
Susan pouted momentarily, but quickly recovered. "Patrick is pre-med at Oxford. We're very proud of him. He's got top marks in all of his classes and made the dean's list."
"Mum, stop." Patrick grumbled, pushing his salad around with his fork.
"What," Susan demanded, "Am I not allowed to be proud of my son's accomplishments?"
"Yes, but you don't have to bring it up in every single conversation you have. Honestly, I'm surprised we're even still getting post. You've badgered the poor mail carrier so much that she tries to sneak away before you can get to the door."
"You're exaggerating."
"I'm not."
Paul sighed. "Dinner was lovely, sweet. I think I'll have a cigar in my study. Robert, care to join me?"
"I'd love one, thank you."
A loud thump sounded and Hermione jumped.
"My god, is that- Is that an owl at the window?"
Hermione's heart dropped. If there was an owl here, it was here for her. Harry and Ginny knew she was dining with muggles and they wouldn't send an owl if it wasn't an emergency.
She was out of her seat and running toward the window in the span of a few seconds. She flung it open, and dragged the owl inside, plucking the scroll from its foot. "Um, my pet," Hermione tried half heartedly to explain as she tried to break the seal. "He must have uh, gotten out and followed us here."
"You keep an owl for a pet? How- How savage. They're wild birds."
"Very docile creatures, really. And useful," Hermione reasoned, finally undoing the scroll with shaking fingers, her back still toward her dinner companions.
Her alarm turned to anger as she recognised the script on the page. It wasn't about Kaida at all. It wasn't even from Ginny.
She plopped the owl out onto the ledge and gave him a nudge. "I don't have anything for you," she hissed. The owl ruffled his feathers indignantly, upset that he was being sent away without payment for his troubles. Hermione shut the window. Well, his owner could deal with him. She did feel bad though, for not having at least offered him a drink.
"Is Kaida okay?" Robert asked, as Hermione turned to face the room, tucking the letter discreetly in the waistband of her skirt.
Hermione balked. "I assume so, Dad. Ginny hasn't called," she heavily emphasized the word, hoping he would realise his mistake.
"Oh! Oh, right. Well, no news is good news, I suppose. How about that cigar now, Paul?"
"Who is Kaiya?" Susan asked, looking around the room as if it held all the answers to her many questions.
Hermione frowned. This woman was supposed to be her mother's best friend and yet she had failed to mention to her that she had a grandchild?
"Kaida is Hermione's daughter. Our granddaughter. I thought I had mentioned her to you when we talked on the phone..."
Susan's eyebrows did that thing again, only this time they completely disappeared into her fringe. "You most certainly did not. I can't believe it, Hermione. You've really moved forward quickly in life. Who's the lucky young man who scooped you up?" She asked, reaching out to grab Hermione's left hand.
"Oh," she dropped it hastily upon realising it bore no ring, and Hermione's face flushed. "I assumed you would be married. You never seemed the type to have a baby out of wedlock."
"Hermione's done quite well for herself, despite the fact. And Kaida is just wonderful," Jean said, a tense smile on her face. If anything, her speaking up only made Hermione feel worse about the whole situation. This was a disaster of a dinner. She wanted to disapparate on the spot.
"I'm sure she's lovely. How old is she?" Susan asked, her nose still firmly wedging its way into Hermione's business.
"One."
"And her father? What's he like?"
And there it was. The question of all questions. She wanted to melt into the floor. "I- I think I need some air."
She pushed her way out of the room, hurried down the hallway and was out the front door before anyone could stop her.
She sat down on the stoop and put her head between her knees, taking in deep lungful's of the cool night air.
The door creaked open behind her and Hermione sighed, sitting up straight. "I understand if you want to stay, but I'm leaving."
"And turn your back on all of this fun?"
Hermione started. She had assumed her mother would be the one to follow her out, but instead found herself looking up at Patrick.
"Yeah, it's been a real party."
"Look," he said, sitting down beside her. He was close enough that their arms barely brushed, and she could smell his cologne. "My mum can be a real pain in the arse sometimes, trust me, I know. But you just have to ignore her. Just brush her off."
Hermione scoffed. "She's pushy and nosy, that's true. But I'm more hurt by my own parents."
"How so?" Patrick asked.
Hermione frowned and picked at a loose string on the cuff of her shirt.
"They're obviously embarrassed by me. I went from a daughter they could brag to their friends about to one they avoid in conversation because they don't want to talk about 'my mistake'."
"That's not necessarily true."
Hermione laughed bitterly. "Right."
"I'm serious. It's hard to get a word in edgewise on a good day with my mom. Maybe it just never came up."
Hermione still frowned but his words did make her feel a bit better. A bit. They sat in silence for several moments, and then Patrick leaned back on his elbows with a sigh.
"So. A baby, huh?"
"Yep."
"Her dad's not around?"
Hermione groaned. "Seriously? This is the exact conversation I was trying to escape and you-"
Patrick held up his hands, "Hey, easy there, killer. I only ask, because I'm going to ask you out. And I want to know if I'm going to piss off some jealous ex, baby daddy, whatever and get my bollocks kicked in."
Hermione's head snapped around. "You want to ask me out?"
"That's what I said."
"On a date."
"Generally, that's what that means, yes."
"Why?" she asked incredulously. "Why on earth would you do that?"
"Why not?"
"I have a baby."
"So I've heard."
"I'm a single mother."
"I've gathered as much."
Hermione sat dumbfounded, staring at him as though he'd grown a second head.
"If you don't want to-"
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll go on a date with you."
Patrick grinned. "Excellent. Next weekend?" He pulled a pen and a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Write down your number and I'll call you."
Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Do you carry that around everywhere?"
"Nope."
She scribbled down her number and handed it back to him.
"Want me to drive you home?"
Hermione considered it briefly and then shook her head. "No, that's okay. I think I'll walk. It's a nice night for it."
He shrugged. "I suppose. Goodnight then, Hermione. I'll be in touch."
The minute he had closed the front door, Hermione was up and hurrying up the street, looking for a deserted alley way to disapparate in. She finally found one that suited her needs and popped up in the middle of Harry and Ginny's apartment.
"Holy fuck," Harry shrieked, slinging a bowl of popcorn that flew in every direction. "Hermione, you can't do that! Godric's soul, you're worse that George!"
"Where's Ginny?" Hermione demanded.
"Where's Ginny? Where's Ginny? I'm having chest palpitations and all you're worried about is my bloody girlfriend. Some best friend you are."
"Sorry for scaring you, Harry, now where's your better half?"
"Here," Ginny said, from behind her. She was just stepping off the bottom stair.
Hermione shrieked and grabbed her hands, "I have a date!"
"Shut up!"
"I swear!"
"With Draco?"
"What? No! With Patrick!" Hermione said, her eyebrows pulling together as she puzzled why Draco would be Ginny's first thought.
"Oh! Yay!" Ginny said, bouncing on her toes. Was it Hermione's imagination or were her eyes a little dimmer than they had been when she'd first made the announcement? "When is it? You have to let me dress you. I can't have you leaving the house looking like this. This is why I don't leave you to your own devices. You look like a secretary."
"But I undid the buttons," Hermione protested.
"A hot secretary," Ginny allotted, "But a secretary, none the less. No one's going to look at you and think 'business casual' when I'm through with you. They'll think sexy little minx."
Harry spewed out the mouthful of butterbeer he'd just taken.
"Where's Kaida?" Hermione asked, a yawn distorting the words.
"She's asleep upstairs. She can just stay here tonight and I'll drop her off in the morning. Go home, relax. Take a bubble bath or something."
Hermione sighed. That did sound rather appealing.
"Okay. I'll just go kiss her goodnight."
Hermione found her in Harry and Ginny's bed, snuggled in tightly, her little hands clutched around a stuffed hippogriff. She looked so peaceful with her curls sprawled out across the pillow, her long eyelashes resting against the tops of her chubby cheeks. Hermione bent over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. She didn't stir, other than a twitch of the hand as she pulled the stuffy closer. "Goodnight angel."
Hermione decided to walk part of the way back home and took the elevator down to the ground floor of the apartment. Something crinkled against her side as she walked across the lobby and she remembered Draco's letter.
She wasn't nearly as upset as she had been upon first receiving it and sighed as she leaned against the wall and unrolled it.

I ended things with Astoria. Join me for a pity drink at the LC? -D

Hermione chewed her lip and ignored the nagging feeling in her gut. What would one drink hurt?

Draco was deep into a bottle by the time Hermione walked through the door. He had been beginning to think that she might not show up at all. Which made his stomach feel less full of rocks at the prospect of not having to do what he came here to do, which was to tell her the truth. No amount of alcohol would help him take that step. But he had promised himself he was going to do it. Tonight.
He had broken off his engagement earlier in the evening, much to the chagrin of his mother. To say Astoria had been angry was an understatement. His hand absentmindedly went to the split knot on his temple from where she'd thrown a jar of bezoars at him.
"What happened to your face?" Hermione asked, eyes wide as she slipped into the booth across from him.
He pushed the bottle toward her. "Astoria thought I needed something to remember her by."
Hermione grimaced and pulled the bottle towards herself. She glanced around as her fingers drummed against the glass. "Are you drinking this straight from the bottle?"
Draco shrugged. "S'pose I am."
Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. She hesitated for only a moment before tipping the bottle up and taking a swig. She pulled a face but she didn't cough. "Getting good at that, Granger. People might start to talk." He reached over to take the bottle back, but she pulled it away from him.
"I've got a long way to go if I'm going to catch up to you."
Draco raised an eyebrow. "S'that so?"
Hermione took another drink. "So. You wanna talk about it?"
"Hmm?"
"You and Astoria?" She clarified.
"Oh," his expression soured, and he rolled his head back. "Nothing to talk about. I already told you I didn't love her. I couldn't go through with it. Not after I realised… things."
"Things?"
"Mm," he murmured but didn't elaborate any further.
"I can see this conversation isn't going to go far."
"Not n'that direction." Draco smirked.
Hermione shook her head and took another swig of whiskey. Draco took in her appearance for the first time and his nose crinkled. "What happened to your hair?"
Hermione looked taken aback and patted it self consciously. "I straightened it."
He didn't dislike it, but he much preferred her hair in its natural haystack state of being.
"You're dressed like a sexy librarian again," he accused.
Hermione blushed. "I had dinner with my parents' friends and their son. It was the dinner that got cancelled the last time we went out for a drink."
"How'd that go?"
"Terrible. An owl showed up banging at the window in the middle of dinner and then nosy, prying, meddlesome Susan wanted to know about Kaida's father and so I left. I got a date out of it though, so I guess it wasn't all bad."
Draco's head was spinning. "A date?"
"Yes, Draco, a date. I have been known to have them on occasion." She took a swig of whiskey.
"With a muggle?" He scoffed disbelievingly.
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him accusingly. "I thought those things didn't matter to you anymore."
"When it comes to you, it doesn't matter! But you're a witch. He- He's just a muggle! You can't even be yourself around him!" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Hermione Granger, exemplary witch, dating a fucking muggle. It wasn't right.
Her expression grew colder. "I can be myself enough."
"Not true. You'd never get to let your guard down. You'd never be one hundred percent comfortable around him."
"Enough! I came here for a drink, not a lecture." Hermione snatched the bottle up off of the table and took a couple of big gulps before finally returning it to Draco.
He wrapped his hand around the bottle and stared at her. "Okay. Okay, sorry. It's none of my business."
Hermione sighed and gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement. They sat in silence for several minutes, Draco steadily nursing the bottle. Well he wasn't very well going to tell her now, was he? It wouldn't be right to spring that on her now. She'd said herself she had had a rough night. And they'd already argued. But maybe now would be best. She had been drinking and might just laugh it off. He scoffed and snorted. Yeah right.
"What's so funny?" Hermione asked, amusement lightened the little indention between her eyebrows.
"Nothing," he said, evasively.
She arched an eyebrow but said nothing. They sat in silence for another minute before she said, "You know, when I told Ginny I had a date, at first she thought I meant with you… Crazy right?"
Draco took another large swig of firewhiskey and leaned back. He didn't answer right away instead, he traced the looping scrawl on the label of the bottle as Hermione chewed her lip. "Crazy…" He finally agreed.