All Over Again A Break from the Norm
13 years previous
Hermione released a contented sigh as she stared into the dancing red and orange flames in the fireplace of her quaint little one-bedroom flat. Her eyes travelled up the stone surround and rested upon a line of framed photos that sat upon the mahogany mantelpiece. A proud smile formed on her lips.
The first was an ordinary Muggle photograph of her parents, taken during a family holiday to Paris when Hermione was young. She still missed them very much, but knew that they were content and happy with their lives in Australia; Hermione had gone to visit them after the end of the War but had thoroughly underestimated the strength of her Memory Charm. Well it was designed to withstand interference from powerful Dark Magic, she thought with a sad smile.
Beside her parents' picture were several wizarding photos depicting Hermione and her best friends at several stages throughout their lives, all waving and smiling from their frames. There was Hermione with Harry and Ron wearing their Hogwarts uniforms; a picture of them with Ginny that had been taken at a DA meeting in the Room of Requirement; a picture of the Golden Trio taken directly after the end of the War that was taken from the front page of the Daily Prophet; Harry and Ginny on their wedding day; and Hermione and Ron on Christmas day at the Burrow.
It had been eight years since the end of the Second War and Voldemort's death. It took several years to build the wizarding world back up to what it had been during the years of Voldemort's exile. But finally things were good and Hermione was happy.
Her best friends Harry and Ginny had tied the knot a few years back and already had one child, a son named James after Harry's father, and she and Ron were finally on the right track; Hermione grinned at the delicate gold diamond ring sparkling on her left hand; and they were all succeeding in their chosen professions. Harry had already made it to the Head of the Auror Department, Ron was a little slower at climbing the ranks, but was steadily building himself a reputation. Ginny had been a Chaser on the all female Quidditch team the Holyhead Harpies, and had taken over as manager once she and Harry had started a family.
And Hermione? Well she was fighting for the causes closest to her heart. She had recently been promoted to Assistant Head of the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures. Her opinions on the treatment of House-elves were finally being heard.
Glancing at the clock, Hermione went through to her bedroom to get ready to go out to dinner. Tonight she was having a romantic meal with Ron at her favourite Muggle restaurant.
After a quick shower, Hermione dried her hair with her wand, before applying a generous amount of a de-frizzing potion, and pulling it up into a sophisticated French-roll. Hermione then took some new lingerie from its box, that comprised of lacy black strapless bra, a matching knickers and suspender belt; not her usual choice of undergarments, but then she wanted to make a special effort for her fiancé that night. She then dressed in a slinky black dress that she had bought especially for the occasion earlier that day. It was made from a silky fabric and clung to her womanly curves, resting just above her knee and showing a hint of cleavage between the delicate ribbon straps that were tied with small bows upon her creamy shoulders. Hermione then pulled on sheer stockings, strappy black high heels whose straps were encrusted with sparkling silver gems, and added matching diamond earrings and choker-style necklace. Some subtle make-up and a spritz of perfume later, Hermione studied herself in her floor-length mirror and smiled. Perfect, she thought.
Hermione stowed her wand into her black handbag, grabbed her black shawl and turned on the spot, her mind focused on the dark secluded alleyway behind the restaurant.
A small popping sound echoed through the still dark night, as Hermione Apparated at the back of the restaurant, situated in Muggle London. Silently she slipped out of the alley, entered through the large glass door and approached the M'aitre de.
"May I 'elp you, madam?" asked the man wearing a very smart tuxedo, through a thick French accent.
"Um, Granger-Weasley, table for two. Booked for 8 o'clock."
The waiter looked down at the list in front of him, ticked something off and checked to see if the table was ready. With a click of his fingers he summoned a young waiter.
"Zis is Claude, 'e will be your waiter zis evening," the M'aitre de said, before turning to the young man and handing him two menus. "Show Miss Granger to 'er seat, table twelve, s'il vous plait."
Claude took the menus and bowed to Hermione. "Right this way, m'am."
Hermione was slightly taken aback by the waiter's lack of accent. In fact he sounded like he had grown up just around the corner. After taking her seat, Hermione draped her shawl across the back of her chair and took a sip of water. She glanced at her watch; Ron was now five minutes late.
A further 20 minutes later, just as Hermione was about to give up the wait and leave, Ron came rushing through the restaurant and hurried up to her table.
"Sorry I'm late," he said, giving his fiancée a quick peck on the cheek. "You look great," he added, his eyes sweeping over Hermione from top to toe and back again.
Hermione frowned at him. Sure she appreciated his compliment, after all that was why she'd gone to so much trouble.
"Thanks," she replied with a small forced smile. "New cologne?"
Ron choked on his water and his ears turned pink. "Sorry?"
Hermione smirked at his discomfort. "I asked if you were wearing a new cologne."
"Erm, uh, no. I don't think so," replied Ron, quickly busying himself with his menu. "Why'd you ask?" Ron swallowed hard, immediately regretting asking that question.
"Its nothing," said Hermione dismissively, watching the red head sigh with relief, before adding with a nasty smile, "Only I don't recall you wearing a scent that was so flowery before. Something so feminine!"
At this, Ron's face flushed crimson and he loosened his maroon coloured tie. After some inaudible stuttering and mumbling, Hermione felt anger and humiliation begin to bubble in her chest.
"Exactly why are you late, Ronald?" she all but spat at him.
More mumbling followed and as Hermione leaned in to try to decipher what was being said, something caught her eye. She snatched at the collar of Ron's white shirt and eyed it closely. His eyes widened. "Wh-what? What i-is it?"
Hermione flung Ron away from her with a disgusted look upon her otherwise pretty face. She stood so quickly that her chair nearly toppled backwards onto the floor. Snatching her shawl and handbag, Hermione leant in close to Ron's face, so close that she could see each and every freckle. "Cerise pink isn't quite your colour, Ronald." Hermione growled through clenched teeth. "And it certainly isn't mine!" she added, and then proceeded to empty her water over his head before storming out of the restaurant.
Ron sat there in total shock and watched Hermione's retreating figure, with a puzzled expression. Claude, the waiter, quickly swooped forward after hearing the end of the argument, and as he cleared away the used glasses he plucked at his collar and coughed the word lipstick.
The penny finally dropped for Ron and he sprinted from his seat in pursuit of Hermione.
Outside he launched himself out of the restaurant's double doors and searched the street for Hermione. Finally, by the light of the orange streetlamp he saw her small figure huddled on a wooden bench on the other side of the road.
"Hermione?" he called out tentatively as he approached her with caution.
She looked up at him with tears escaping from the corners of her hurt-filled eyes. "How could you, Ron?" her voice was cracked with emotion. "How could you?"
Ron ran a shaking hand through his red hair and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I really am!" he pleaded, kneeling on the hard ground in front of the devastated girl. "I don't know how it happened. Please forgive me! I love you."
Hermione snorted. "Well you have a funny way of showing it." Her anger started to return. "How long?"
There was a pause and Ron fidgeted uncomfortably under Hermione's icy glare. "I'm sorry," he muttered again.
Hermione leapt to her feet. "You pig! How could you?"
Ron stood also, towering over Hermione yet feeling inferior. "I really am sorry Hermione. I guess that I just wanted to experience life a bit, before having to settle down." As soon as he had said it, Ron knew he'd blown it.
"Having to settle down?" Hermione repeated. "Having? Well, Ronald, from now on you won't have to feel obliged to have to do anything." She took off her engagement ring and placed it into Ron's hand. "Goodbye, Ronald." And with that she Disapparated.
Knowing that Ron would go to her flat to look for her, and then to Harry and Ginny's, and all the other places that she often visited, Hermione decided to go somewhere different. Somewhere that she could have fun and forget about the hurt and humiliation that she now felt.
Hermione was once again standing in the darkness of the alley behind the restaurant, peering out into the street. A soft crack resonated through the deserted street, letting Hermione know that Ron too had Disapparated. After waiting a minute or two to be sure that he had gone, Hermione walked out into the street and made her way past the restaurant and headed for a Muggle nightclub a few doors down on the opposite side of the road.
Upon entering the club Hermione's ears were immediately assaulted by the volume of the music. She squinted through the semidarkness down from the balcony towards the dance floor, where lots of gyrating bodies were bathed in multicoloured flashing lights.
Hermione stuffed her shawl into her handbag and pushed her way towards the bar on the back wall to order a stiff drink.
A few strong drinks later, and after several offers from various men to either buy her a drink or for a dance, Hermione was starting to feel better. She was feeling happier and carefree in her semi-drunken stupor. Well, I suppose if that's how he's going to treat me then I'm better off without him, and I should have some fun, she thought, before making her way to the dance floor, swaying slightly as she went.
Hermione had been dancing alone for four or five songs, unwinding and having fun forgetting about what's-his-face and his infidelity. Needing to get away from the heat of the lights and the sweaty bodies pressing in on all sides, Hermione stumbled back to the bar for another drink.
The young bartender placed the glass filled with ice and clear alcoholic liquid on the bar in front of Hermione, who dug into her handbag and pulled out her purse.
"Let me get this," said a deep voice from beside her.
Hermione smiled and turned to the generous stranger. "Thank you," she said sweetly and flashed a dazzling grin at the man, pausing to look closely at him. Her jaw dropped open. "Malfoy?"
Draco Malfoy leant on the railing of the balcony inside the Muggle nightclub that enjoyed visiting. He often went there two or three times a week, in order to escape the pressures of the wizarding world, and sometimes to pick up a Muggle girl to spend the night with.
Looking down at the dance floor from his vantage point, Draco scanned the dancing crowd searching out a suitable young lady that he would take home that night. As he moved his silver gaze from one person to another, his attention was caught by a brunette woman, who made her way to the centre of the dance floor. A quick glance around let Draco know that she was without company and he continued to watch her with interest.
Draco smirked, as he gave her the once over, taking in the dainty high heels that led to her long slender legs, and as she swayed and gyrated to the music, her black dress raised up slightly and he was sure he caught a glimpse of the lacy top of a stocking. There was something very appealing about a woman wearing stockings to Draco that he couldn't take his eyes off of this beauty before him.
As her body pulsed and twisted to the beat of the music, Draco continued his visual examination of her feminine form. His silver eyes continued up over every curve of her delicate body, travelling over her sensual bust and resting on the tantalising dip of her cleavage. Absentmindedly Draco wetted his top lip with the tip of his tongue.
When the woman on the dance floor turned to face the balcony, Draco finally found his gaze coming to rest on her pretty face. Her eyes were closed, and her plump cherry lips were parted as she remained lost in the beat, her cheeks were flushed pink from the heat, and a thin film of sweat glistened on her slender neck where a thin tendril of hair that had escaped the glamorous up-do had stuck to her creamy skin. Draco longed to get close enough to this enchantress to smooth that ringlet of rich brown away from her neck and replace it with his lips and tongue; he longed to run his hands over her supple curves and up her long legs. Draco shook his head to remove those images as he felt a stirring between his legs.
He once again returned his gaze to her face, when he was struck by a pang of realisation. He recognised her; he'd seen her somewhere before, but where?
Then it hit him. Granger, he thought to himself incredulously, no way! He looked closer, leaning over the railing in front of him to get a better look, then pushed himself back again in shock. It was her; it was Hermione Granger.
Draco thought back to the last time he had seen her, it had been just after the War and she still resembled the bushy haired know-it-all bookworm she had always been, just a little more confident. He peered once more at the goddess on the dance floor. It was definitely her all right, but now she was happily showing off the fabulous figure that must have been hidden under her baggy witches robes all those years ago. She had also learned to control her frizzy hair and had also started to wear makeup.
All thoughts of finding a one-night stand had disappeared from Draco's mind as he watched Hermione leave the dance floor and climb the stairs, heading for the bar.
Draco pushed his tall athletic frame through the crowd to reach the bar next to an oblivious Hermione. As she ordered her drink he breathed in her sweet scent, and had a closer look at her stunning figure. As Hermione's drink was placed on the countertop, she routed through her handbag to find her purse.
"Let me get this," Draco said as he gave the bartender the money and ordered a drink for himself.
Hermione flashed a smile at him, lighting up her beautiful face. "Thank you," she breathed.
Draco smirked as he watched her eyes struggle in her inebriated state to focus on his face. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as recognition hit.
"Malfoy?" she gasped.
A small chuckle escaped Draco's lips; he nodded his thanks to the barman as he picked up his drink. "Please, Granger," he said casually, staring into her warm chocolate brown eyes, "Call me Draco."
She continued to stare for a second or two, before shaking her head disbelievingly. Hermione cleared her throat and picked up her drink, "Thank you …Draco."
"No problem, Granger," he smirked, then raised his glass to hers, "Cheers."
Hermione gently knocked her glass against Draco's. "Cheers," she said, before taking a sip and adding, "Hermione."
Draco froze, with his glass resting on his bottom lip. Frowning he lowered his glass again and turned to Hermione. "What?"
Hermione laughed. "My name, its Hermione."
Draco raised his glass again and smiled at her. After taking a sip, he led Hermione away from the bar back towards his spot on the balcony. He couldn't help but smile as she swayed slightly as she walked alongside him. They both leant on the railing, facing out towards the dance floor, taking small sips of their drinks, before Draco turned to face Hermione.
"So, Gra…Hermione," he quickly corrected himself, surprised at how smoothly the name rolled off of his tongue. "What brings a girl like you to a place like this?"
Then to his surprise and horror, Hermione, who was still looking out over the dance floor, lowered her head and promptly burst into tears.