A/N Before we go on with this chapter, I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge the passing of Richard Griffiths who died on March 28th 2013, from complications following heart surgery.
For those of you who don't know, this wonderful, cynical and vastly intelligent man brought to life one of the characters we loved to hate in the Harry Potter series: Vernon Dursley.
I remember the first time I watched a Harry Potter movie, thinking to myself even at such a young age, that nobody could have played Harry's odious uncle better that Richard. He captured the character perfectly and became the epitome of everything Vernon even from his first line and the way he used to growl 'boy' at Harry.
So let's take a moment to just send some love and light to wherever he is now and recognize the part he played in making the wonderful world we all love so much a reality that we could participate in.
Thanks Richard.
Xx
Desdemona
2.
THE YEAR HERMIONE MET HER MASTER
November 23rd, 2002.
Hermione's hands were shaking. She couldn't stop them shaking, they just sat there in her lap, quaking uncontrollably. And looking at them, seeing this physical embodiment of her distress was only making her feel worse.
"I can't do this!" she told Ron emphatically who was kneeling in front of her, his hands on her knees and a look of deep concern covering his face. There was a desperate edge to her voice.
"Hermione, breathe, alright? You'll be fine! She's going to love you! I promise!" he insisted.
She pushed his hands off her legs and leapt off her bed to go and stand by the full length mirror that sat in her attic bedroom. She was wearing a pencil skirt and clean, crisp white shirt. Nondescript, plain, businesslike. She hated it, hated all of it. The shirt didn't sit right, the skirt was too tight, making her thighs and ass stand out too much. Why hadn't she seen that when she'd been in the shop buying them weeks ago? Why wasn't she able to tell how hideous they looked on her? Why had nobody told her?
Her shaking hands tried to smooth her clothes down frantically, but it only served to make it worse in her eyes.
Ron appeared behind her and wrapped his arms around her quaking body, grasping her hands tightly. She tried to push him off but he would not allow it.
"Just be." he urged firmly, his voice reverberating into her ear, "Don't push me away, just be."
His arms felt like a cage around her torso, locking her in, she couldn't move. It made her panic more at first until she did as he asked and took a few deep breaths, the sound ragged in her throat. His scent, all that earth and smoke, filled her nostrils and she closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to get lost in it. This was her home now, that smell. It didn't matter where she was now, if she had a panic attack, she need only sink herself into Ron's personal space, into the bubble of that scent, and for a minute she felt safe.
"Now tell me what you're doing." he said calmly, his eyes locked on hers in the mirror.
"I'm about to have a panic attack." she responded, recognising the exercise she'd taught him at Maya's behest.
"No you're not."
"I am having a panic attack." she amended and already she felt calmer. It always helped to just say it and get it out there. Of course, it never made it go away entirely, just calmed it a bit. "I don't feel right in these clothes, Ron. It's not me!"
"I know babe. But this is your first day and you have to make a good impression. You said it yourself; soon you'll be able to wear your own clothes. Just not today, right?" his voice was kind, soothing.
"Right." she sighed.
His fingers intertwined with hers as his arms relaxed around her body, allowing her to move freely. He pulled her towards the bed again and she sat down, watching as he knelt down in front of her, dragging a plastic bag across the floor. From it, he pulled a pair of brand new, shiny black stilettos. With one tug, he ripped off the tag and then proceeded to delicately push them onto her stockinged feet. She watched all this with an air of detached affection, quietly loving how intimate he was.
The rest of her mind however was still roiling away, throwing a ridiculous amount of useless, shaming words at her, reacting to her nervousness and apprehension.
This was to be her first day working for Dawn Fortescue, her new mentor, and the first time they would meet. The world renowned lawyer hadn't wanted to interview Hermione, simply telling Maya she didn't see the need. The only correspondence they'd had was the one letter Dawn had sent telling Hermione when she was to start, and Hermione's reply saying she'd be there.
Now, Hermione wanted to pitch herself out the window. Her new boss was supposed to be an eccentric woman, widely regarded as crazy but brilliant. It struck her that perhaps it was the unknown that was scaring her so much, the fact she had absolutely no idea what to expect when she entered Dawn's office.
At that moment, there was a tap on her trap door and seconds later, Isobel's head appeared.
"How are we doing?" the younger girl asked, climbing the stairs into the room and closing the hatch behind her.
"Fucking brilliantly." Hermione answered with just a touch of hysteria.
"Hermione's a bit nervous." Ron supplied with a weak smile.
"Alright then." said Isobel briskly, walking purposely over to the bed, her heels clacking on the wooden floor. Isobel, of course, looked like a supermodel in her work clothes, a high waisted skirt paired with a satin blouse and a black vest, her blonde hair cascading perfectly over her shoulders. "Stand up." she ordered. Hermione obeyed.
The following ten minutes were occupied by Isobel fussing over Hermione's hair and even making a few adjustments to the shirt with her wand so that Hermione looked less like she was sporting shoulder pads.
When she was done, Hermione did feel marginally better about how she looked. But that only made her nervousness fuss over something else entirely.
"What if I say the wrong thing or trip or something? What if I make a fool of myself?" she begged of her friend as Ron slumped down onto the bed.
"For fucks sake." Isobel responded harshly, with a roll of her eyes. "You're Hermione fucking Granger! Nobody gives a shit if you trip or say something wrong! Pull yourself together. You're perfect for this job. I know it, Ron knows it, hell even Dawn knows it or she wouldn't have hired you! And I think you know it too! How did people respond when you first told them this was what you wanted to do? Huh? Did anyone say, "Oh, you've got your work cut out for you" or "Good luck with that"? No! Everyone just fucking accepted it because they know you don't need luck! You could do this shit with your eyes closed! Alright?!"
Hermione gave a shaky chuckle as Isobel stared at her, her face full of sincerity and seriousness. "Alright."
"I want you to do something for me." the younger woman continued, placing her hands on Hermione's shoulders, "Every time you feel ready to give up today, every time you think you've made a tit of yourself, I want you to remember that day you came to Defence class covered in scratches and howling in agony. I want you to think of the day you forgot to take the Rusine, and what it cost you to get to Hogwarts. Ok? And don't give me any of this panic attack shit either. You hold that memory like a shield against anything that makes you feel bad. Because ultimately, it just goes to show that you've already achieved something far greater than working for Dawn Fortescue."
Hermione nodded, feeling a grin spread across her face at her best friend's passion. She pulled Isobel into a hug and said, "If Ron weren't here, I'd kiss you right now. Thank you."
"Hey, don't mind me." her boyfriend piped up from the bed. Isobel rolled her eyes and Hermione laughed.
"Come on, come down stairs, everyone's waiting." said Isobel after a moment, tugging tellingly on Hermione's hand.
"Wait, what do you mean 'everyone'?" Hermione asked warily.
"The tovarasi." Isobel responded as if Hermione was being thick, "Well, not all of them, just Ginny, Blaise, Harry, Padma and Draco."
"Why?!"
Isobel rolled her eyes again, "Because this is a big day! You're the last of us to go off to work! Even Eli's teaching potions now. It's only you left! We're celebrating."
And so, it was with great reluctance that Hermione allowed Isobel to drag her down stairs, with Ron tagging along behind. The moment she entered the vastly overcrowded kitchen, there was a cacophony of whoops and cheers and wolf whistles.
When she sat down, Molly pushed a plate of toast across the table towards her with a look that told Hermione that if she didn't eat it, she would not be allowed to leave the house.
She poured herself a mug of tea from the jug that sat in the middle of the table. She wanted to thank them for being there but in her nervousness, she felt unable to find the words. From her silence and pallid expression, the table's occupants must have cottoned on to her frayed emotions. Ginny, Blaise, her Dad and Harry all proceeded to give her a rousing four sided pep talk, not dissimilar to the one Isobel had given her moments earlier.
Hermione smiled at them through it, and said words of agreement in response but really she wanted to just sit, drink her tea and read the Daily Prophet. And eat her toast, obviously, or Molly would throttle her.
After a few minutes, it seemed she would finally be able to do just that as everybody began talking amongst themselves. Padma and Isobel were sitting at the other end of the table, giggling over some magazine that sat between them while Molly and Hermione's parents had disappeared in order to begin their business for the day.
Hermione dragged the paper across the table towards her and unfolded it to read the first page. It bore the headline: DEATH EATERS TO BE REHABILITATED?
She frowned. Her eyes immediately fell on the article underneath and devoured its contents. Her frown deepened as she read.
The article detailed how the Ministry had decided to take some action against those Death Eaters that had been captured and sentenced to terms in Azkaban. This action meant that they would be forcefully exposed to various muggle technologies and information, like television and literature, in the hopes that they will come to believe those things to be normal and drop the prejudices they'd held their entire lives. The article said they would be 'encouraged' to take interest in muggle politics and ideologies as well.
While the premise was something Hermione agreed with, the idea of attempting to rehabilitate prisoners rather than just shove them in a cell and forget about them, the suggested action did not make all that much sense in her mind. Maybe it might have some success, after all it had worked with Draco's mother to some degree, but it didn't sound all that great to her. In fact, it sounded like a rather weak attempt on the Ministry's part to convince the public that they were still doing things to try and recover wizarding society from the war.
"Hey Harry, have you heard about this?" Hermione asked, pushing the paper across the table towards him with the headline facing up.
He nodded fervently. "Yep. I think it's a brilliant idea, don't you? They're actually talking about hiring muggleborns to come in and consult on it and everything."
"Uh…" Hermione responded with an air of disbelief. Harry really did sound like he was entirely behind this scheme. But she was somewhat offended by it. Especially the thought of them actually hiring muggleborns based entirely on the fact that they were muggleborn. It sounded too much like affirmative action to her…
She was not given the opportunity to voice any of these opinions however because Draco scoffed, "Really? Just because your pal Kingsley came up with it, it must be pure gold."
"I would have thought you of all people would get behind this Draco." said Ron honestly and without malice.
Draco shrugged. "I know these people. They're past rehabilitation. If it were up to me, they'd all be dead. Get them out of the way properly."
Harry grimaced. "That's pretty grim."
"I don't know that I agree entirely with Draco, but I think he's got a point." Blaise put in, dragging the paper towards him to read the article for himself. "I mean, you really think watching a bit of television and being forced to read a few muggle newspapers is going to stop these people being murderous lunatics, Harry? Something more has got to be done."
"Like what?" asked Ron.
Blaise shrugged. "Wouldn't have a clue. That's for the government to decide. We're not the government."
"No, we just carry out their laws." Draco said with a touch of bitterness.
Ron chuckled, "Saying you're an Auror is just a glorified way of telling people you're the Minister's muscle."
The three other men laughed before Harry said, "Hey, rather that than law, right Hermione? You guys are the ones who have to actually deal with this crap."
"Yeah, when the shit hits the fan with this ridiculous fucking idea, the Ministry's lawyers will be the ones who have to clean it all up." said Draco, grinning at her.
Hermione grinned back and said, "Thank god I'm not working for the Ministry then. I'll be the one defending the rich Death Eaters who want to sue the Minister for mistreatment after they've been forced to watch the BBC."
Their laughter rang around the room and Hermione put the matter from her mind as she finished her breakfast.
At a quarter to nine, she was finally able to escape the house. Ginny kissed Harry goodbye on the front step as he prepared to leave with the rest of them and Hermione watched as the sun caught the younger woman's shiny engagement ring. She couldn't help smiling. They were so cute together, even when she could hear them arguing from her attic bedroom about when they were going to set a date.
Harry and Ginny were the sort or couple who were cute even when they fought.
Together, her, Isobel, Draco, Blaise, Ron and Harry moved out of the Burrow's boundaries and apparated directly to London.
While Dawn's firm was not in the Ministry itself, it was only a street away and Isobel walked her there before heading over to her own place of work.
The two women shared a tight hug and Hermione received a few more words of encouragement from her friend before they parted.
The building that housed Dawn's office was intimidating to say the least. Though, that may have just been Hermione's perception of it. It was a converted townhouse, just like Maya's, and had a great, big oaken door at the front.
Hermione walked up the garden path, stealing herself against the inevitable and refusing to panic anymore. Her hands were still shaking just a little but she ignored them. They could shake all they wanted; she wasn't going to let them ruin this for her.
When she let herself in through the front door and reached the foyer, she found that there was no one there, no receptionist to greet her. But there were sounds filtering out of one of the offices adjacent to the room and it was towards this door that Hermione headed.
"Oh, bollocking fucking hell." a woman's voice proclaimed from inside, "Shitting shit it."
Hermione paused at hearing this, her hand poised at the door ready to knock. She could feel the fear and hysteria and desire to run fast and far, boiling away in the back of her mind as each new piece of information presented itself to her overall view of the situation. Behind that door was an unknown woman, swearing, in a house that Hermione was to call her new work place. How was she supposed to process that?
After a moment of listening to this mystery woman using some of the most colourful language Hermione had ever heard, she braced herself, swallowed her fear and knocked lightly, pushing the door open.
"Uh… hello?"
"Yes? Yes? What is it?" the voice demanded and when Hermione entered the office properly, she found a large woman, standing on a desk, trying to reach one of the many picture frames hanging around the walls with a long stick it looked like she'd retrieved from outside. The woman was rotund, with a black sharp cut bob of hair. But the most intriguing and strange part of the image in front of Hermione, was that the woman was not wearing a pant suit or high heels or a silk blouse. She was wearing fleece pyjamas, covered in what looked like frolicking Hippogriffs. Her clothes were not exactly what Hermione would have pictured seeing in a lawyer's office. Many long necklaces hung around her neck and large, eccentric looking rings adorned her fingers.
"I'm looking for Dawn Fortescue?" Hermione responded in a voice that she hoped didn't sound as bewildered as she felt.
The woman turned and gave Hermione a long, critical look over the rim of her square rimmed glasses. "Well. You've found her."
Hermione gaped unattractively, though luckily Dawn had turned back around to continue swearing at the picture frame so she didn't notice. Never in a million years would Hermione have guessed that this vulgar, fleece clad woman who swore like a sailor was also one of the most prestigious and respected lawyers in wizarding Britain.
"Oh. Um. I'm Hermione Granger, I was supposed to start work today…" her words were halting and stumbling but she could not help feeling completely out of her element. If the swearing and the empty foyer were hard to process, this was impossible. Hermione had the strangest desire to just collapse onto the wooden floor and howl like a child. She wanted to scream and kick her feet, though, obviously, this may not have been the best first impression to give her new boss so she wisely refrained.
"Yes, yes. I know that." Dawn turned around again, still standing on the desk, her hands landing on her large hips, "I had a cat named Hermione once. Queer little thing. Used to run into walls until eventually its face became so squashed I couldn't tell which end was which." she said vaguely.
Hermione giggled uncertainly and couldn't help wondering what the fuck was going on.
Dawn stared for a moment up at the frame she had been trying to reach and sighed. "I never was a dab hand at charms. Can't do a levitation spell to save my life."
"Would you… uh… like some help?"
"Oh! That would be splendid. I'd just like to cheat it to the left a little. I can't stand when they're crooked."
Hermione moved further into the office as Dawn clamoured down off the desk, covertly looking around as she did so. The room had a high ceiling from which hung a rather overlarge crystal chandelier and was cluttered with oddments and trinkets. The walls were lined with shelves, some sporting books and others covered by cupboards. Sculptures and strange devices occupied the spaces that books did not. The stretches of wall which were not concealed behind the shelves were cluttered with paintings, frames awards and photos. It reminded Hermione a lot of what Albus Dumbledore's office had looked like before he'd died. Except, this room was far more eccentric and far more interesting.
The older woman watched as Hermione brought her consciousness back to the taste at hand, levitated the stick and straightened the frame obediently.
"Very good. You'll prove useful I think." said Dawn briskly, taking a seat behind her desk.
Hermione dearly hoped she would be put to more use than just straightening frames.
Once she had finished and Dawn had gestured for her to sit, the older woman rested a head on her fist and said, "Now. Let me get a look at you." Hermione resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably as, for a few nerve wracking moments, Dawn's eyes wandered freely over her clothes and tightly bound hair, eventually reaching Hermione's face. "Well, for starters, you need to go home and change."
"I'm sorry?" Hermione spluttered, her eyes wide.
"You need to change." Dawn repeated indifferently. "I can tell just by looking at you that you're not at all comfortable. I think I'd rather gouge my eyes out with rusty teaspoons than wear shoes like that myself. You only need to wear that sort of dross in the courtroom. And even then they stop giving a shit once you've established yourself good and proper. No, I want you comfy when you're working in my office. Can't have you breaking an ankle now can we?"
The older woman stood up abruptly and shot around the other side of her desk, making Hermione jump.
"Actually I do think I might have just the thing… Save you another trip." said Dawn nonchalantly as she began rummaging through a large, heavily carven, wooden cabinet that took op the entire western side of the room. All Hermione could see was her round bottom as the woman's head disappeared into one of the cupboards. Moments later, she rematerialised and pitched a wad of fabric into Hermione's lap. "There. That should do."
Hermione held the thing up in front of her nervously, discovering that it was an incredibly baggy quidditch jersey that looked like it would almost fall down to her knees. She stared at it blindly for a moment.
"You want me to wear this?" there was no hint of superficiality in her tone; she genuinely wanted to know what this strange, eccentric lawyer wanted of her. Dawn nodded.
Hermione felt herself beginning to smile. If there was ever a turning point in her life then, strangely, this was it. She could deny the jersey and insist on wearing the uncomfortable clothes she'd arrived in or she could join her new mentor in eccentricity.
"You can change behind that screen." said Dawn, pointing towards the back of the room where an intricately painted screen sat near the wall. As Hermione stood and began to walk towards the screen, the jersey clutched in her hand, she had an odd thought that she was crossing over to the dark side. Dawn tactfully began reading a paper on her desk as Hermione disappeared behind the divider and stripped down to her bra and underwear and slipped the jersey over her head.
"Done." she said with a hint of pride, re-emerging. For some reason it felt like she'd achieved something, and when Dawn looked up at her, seeing her out of her stiff office clothes, Hermione knew she had. The older woman smiled at her, a wide, toothy smile that was the first Hermione had yet received.
"Very good! You look much more comfortable now!"
"I feel more comfortable." said Hermione with shy relief. It had been all she could do not to let out a sigh of pleasure when she pulled off her stilettos and constricting stockings. "But what if someone sees me, though?" Hermione asked bashfully.
"Oh, no one will see you pet." Dawn replied with a wave of her hand, "We have to get to know each other, don't we? I've made sure our day is entirely free so we will not be interrupted. Except for the delivery boy who will bring us our lunch. But he's used to me now. He won't mind."
Hermione nodded in understanding, realising this must be the reason Dawn had decided to come to work in her pyjamas. She couldn't help smiling at this new development and, though she was still slightly nervous about her performance, it made her feel better that Dawn was not one of those people of influence who try and pretend they're not human. She seemed to embrace it actually. Hermione liked that about her. She felt like it would be easier to become familiar and comfortable with her new mentor if she was allowed to be herself and didn't have to pretend she was the kind of woman who liked wearing makeup and high heels.
She resolved to be as authentic as she possibly could over the course of the day. She had the feeling that if there was anything that would insure she got this job, it would be her ability to be genuine. Her ability to be real about herself and say what was on her mind.
Hermione resumed her seat opposite Dawn.
"Would you care for a cup of tea?" asked the older woman politely.
"Yes please, but I'll make it." Hermione gushed happily, jumping up to approach the tea tray beside the desk. "How do you take it?"
Dawn smiled wryly, "You're not my PA Hermione, I am quite capable of making my own tea."
"I know. But it's my thing. I always make the tea."Hermione responded, dropping three sugar cubes into her own cup and strangely thinking of Draco.
"Alright then. If you must. But very few have succeeded in perfecting my tea. I take three sugars and, most importantly, half water and half milk."
Hermione beamed. "I think I can manage that." She then proceeded to make two identical cups of tea, both over sweet and warm rather than scoldingly hot.
Dawn watched her, a smile spreading across her face as she noticed too that their tastes coincided. "I think we're going to get along splendidly."
Hours later, the two women sat across from one another, sipping what must have been somewhere between their fifteenth and twentieth cups of tea. Hermione found herself to be becoming more and more aware she was in the presence of a lawyer as the time passed. Dawn fired question after question at Hermione, ranging from personal things, like what her experience of the war was; to commonplace things, like whether or not she liked caramel flavoured ice cream; to professional things, like what her owl scores were like. And she hadn't relented. It seemed she had endless questions and she didn't mind what kind of answers Hermione gave. Sometimes they were short, sometimes they were single words, and sometimes they were long monologues. Dawn listened patiently to every single one.
Hermione did not feel in the least bit uncomfortable, even about the personal questions. The rapid nature of the way Dawn was firing off her inquires made it easy for Hermione to be honest, she didn't have to think properly about what she was saying, did not need to let the hard stuff touch her heart, before she had to answer the next question. Dawn was obviously aware of what she was doing and Hermione liked her more for it.
"Did you ever have any desire to become an Animagus?" asked Dawn at around midday.
"Yes, and I knew I had the talent for it, but I never felt I had the time to achieve it." Hermione answered.
Dawn nodded before moving briskly on. "What kind of relationship do you have with your father?"
Hermione tilted her head to the side, thinking. "A fairly open one I think. He's a very human kind of man, I mean, I can see that within him. I think so many children idolise their parents and are quick to resentment when they fail at parenting, never being able to see that their parents are people too, just as capable of mistakes. I don't think I ever felt that way about Dad. He was always a man in his own right, not just my Dad." she sighed, "I don't know that I could say we talk about everything. We used to, when I was younger, but then I think he got kind of shy when I started being a woman and not a little girl. Everything I had to say was more real, more confronting. We're still close though, we still connect… With music mostly. We like the same stuff."
"Good. What do you think would be one of your worst qualities?"
"Um… I do other people's thinking for them. I assume too much when I could just ask." she answered instantly. That was certainly a flaw of hers that could be seen from space and she knew it.
Dawn continued, "Do you think convicted Death Eaters should be given a chance at rehabilitation?"
Hermione felt a little shocked that her new mentor had hit on something so fresh for her seeing as she'd only been discussing it with Harry, Ron, Blaise and Draco that morning. Now, she'd finally be able to express her opinion. "Yes. Definitely. I don't know that I think the ministry is going about it the right way though. I kind of feel like they're just pandering to the public in a way. I think something a little more permanent and educational should be done. Like…" she frowned in thought for a moment, thinking, "Like a program modelled after the sorts of things muggles offer to recovering addicts. I think it would be more suitable and glean more positive results. They don't need to be forced to change their views; they need to be taught differently. Or offered an alternative that they might not have considered before."
Dawn looked impressed, her eye brows disappearing into her fringe. She pulled a quill and ink bottle towards her across the desk and made a note Hermione could not read on a piece of parchment in front of her. "I very much like the sound of that idea, and I think we'll have to talk about it in more detail later. I'm intrigued." Hermione beamed happily before Dawn set the quill down and looked back up at her seriously. "Now. Tell me about the moment you decided you wanted to become a lawyer."
Hermione knew the moment she spoke of without even really needing to think about it, the moment she'd made the decision, the moment she'd first had the desire. "I was standing in my kitchen about three years ago and I'd just had… I don't know. A sort of spiritual and sexual experience with… with this guy. And his mother was, I mean, she still is in Azkaban. I never really thought she deserved to be there though. She… she was there because of me sort of. And I thought I should be in a position to be able to help one day, even if it wasn't her, at least someone…" her voice trailed off. She could remember that night clear as anything. It had seemed so inconsequential in that moment, all the thoughts she was having, given what had happened before and then what happened afterwards. The idea of becoming a lawyer had taken root then though, and it had never left.
There was a clanging of bells suddenly and Dawn got up to answer the door to the delivery guy who was bringing them their lunch.
In the silence that Hermione was left in, she began to think about that night, about the conversation that had followed her decision to become a lawyer…
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Draco?"
"I just... I just wanted to say... I'm sorry for calling you a mudblood."
"Why are you saying sorry now?"
"I just thought that... Seeing as we're... Doing what we're doing... You deserve an apology. So, I'm sorry. Actually, no. I'm not sorry for calling you a mudblood. I'm sorry I meant it. I wish... I wish there was some way you could understand that I didn't choose this life. I was just born into it. But I'm not going to pretend it didn't fit with me, that I didn't like it. I'm not going to pretend that I didn't hate you. I did. More than you can imagine. I guess I felt threatened by you. I'd always been told that being muggleborn made you... inferior, unrefined, dirty. But... You've never been any of those things. You're just as smart and logical as me and that just didn't fit with everything I'd been told, everything I believed. So I really meant it each and every time I called you mudblood."
"I understand Draco. I get it."
What did it all mean to him then? She wished she had some sort of device that could allow her to go back in time and see inside his head, see what he'd been thinking. That was the hardest part of all of it now, not really understanding why he did and said all of those things. She wished she could ask him, but bringing up that sort of conversation would only hurt them both, really. It was in the past, it was over, and she really was happy with Ron, in love with Ron.
There were two separate sides of her heart really, one side, that was a lot larger than the other, that felt totally head over heels with Ron. And then the smaller, slightly more pointy side, that loved Draco. She felt almost like she was betraying both of them by having those feelings. But then, she thought of the conversation she'd had with Isobel two years ago, standing up on the top of the hill by the Burrow, watching the sun rise.
"It's just an ongoing extension of the love we have. And the love we have is just an extension of the love they have. It's circular. Do you know what I mean? I don't care who he's sleeping with. And I feel the same about Draco, I think. I know that a part of him cares for me. I'm good with that."
"I think that's a beautiful way to look at love Hermione."
That philosophy lived on in her heart to this day. She didn't know if anyone was capable of loving more than one person, or if they were she didn't know whether or not that was right. But that's what was happening either way, justifiable or not.
And anyway, it was love, wasn't it? Love is good for the soul. Like she'd said then, it's circular, all connected. Every love she had was just an extension of the other. The fact that she was with Ron meant that she valued him more, but all the love was still there, all just the same, all just as relevant.
And it was ok. That was ok.
"What's going on in that little head of yours?" asked Dawn as she came bustling back into the room, carrying two bags that were giving off one of the most delicious scents Hermione had ever come across.
"Oh, nothing. Just thinking about the past. And the present. Thinking about love I guess." Hermione answered with a confused and weary grin.
"Ah. Love." Dawn chuckled. "Load of old wank, isn't it?"
Hermione giggled and nodded fervently, thinking privately that that was possibly the best way she'd ever heard it described.
Dawn sat back down behind her desk and, after sweeping aside some of the papers that were scattered there, began unpacking the food, which turned out to be a selection of rices and several types of curry. "So. Who are you in love with then?"
Hermione sighed. "Two men."
"Oh, I can't say no to a good love triangle! Who are the lucky guys?" asked Dawn with a look of glee that made Hermione laugh.
"Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy." she answered, surprised as soon as the words had come out of her mouth that she'd chosen to confide information to a woman she'd just met when she found it difficult even talking about it with Isobel.
Dawn let out an amused breath. "My, my. That is a tough one. A nationally famous war hero and a nationally famous Death Eater. Interesting. And you love them both?"
"I think so, yes." Hermione sighed sadly. "I'm with Ron though. And I'm happy with that. Draco and I are over. We're just friends now. But I can't help feeling guilty that I even have these feelings. I kind of think I shouldn't."
Dawn shrugged. "Hermione, you can't change how you feel. If you love them, love them and leave it at that. Give them your light and your passion. Don't ruin yourself by expecting anything in return, because men will always disappoint you in the end. Just enjoy the wonderful experience of loving someone. Because it is wonderful."
"Have you ever been in love, Dawn?" Hermione asked, the first question she'd dared to direct at her mentor all day.
Dawn smiled fondly and waved an airy hand through the air. "Oh, many times. And every time it was like a beautiful sickness."
"How do you cure it?"
"Well… There's actually a wonderful little charm that will clear it right up. I can teach it to you if you like." said Dawn with a grin.
"Sure!" Hermione responded with a confused smile, pulling out her wand and wondering what kind of strange spell Dawn could teach her that could possibly cure the sickness of love.
"Just tap your wand twice on any hard surface and say, 'Inhorresco'. It's very simple."
Hermione obediently tapped it twice on the desk in front of her and repeated, "Inhorresco."
Her wand immediately began to vibrate violently and Hermione cackled. Yes. That would cure it.
There was no question of it, no doubt in her mind. Hermione loved her new job, and she loved her new mentor. For once, she felt entirely undaunted about what the future held in this particular area of her life. She didn't know what it was, the open conversation, the fact that she felt like she could say pretty much anything to Dawn and it would be received with openness and acceptance, or that Dawn was sitting across from her in Hippogriff adorned pyjamas and had made her change just so she'd be equally comfortable. Hermione knew she'd be good at this. She knew she'd be happy.
That night, in her expansive attic bedroom, Hermione felt happiness swelling all through her body. She'd already occupied a pleasant half an hour wandering about her room moonily picking things up and putting them back down again after having dinner down stairs with some of her friends, her parents and the Weasleys. The dinner had been far less subdued than the breakfast she'd shared with them that morning as Hermione had loudly and enthusiastically repeated almost everything that had happened during the course of her day.
The response she received was largely supportive and happy, though Molly had insinuated once or twice that she thought Hermione's new mentor was a tad inappropriate. But Hermione didn't care. She loved Dawn's vulgarity. Loved that she was a tad inappropriate. It was what had made that lavishly and oddly decorated office feel like home in the space of a few short hours.
She hadn't even felt frightened when Dawn had stopped her at the door before they both went home and said, "Tomorrow, my wonderful little protégé, the real works begins."
When Hermione found she could not eat or talk any more, she'd retreated to her room to allow herself to feel her happiness sinking in. Thus, the past half hour had been largely productive. Even if from the outside it just looked like she was in a daze.
She was thinking of what Dawn had said earlier that day as she switched on her record player and pulled an old friend out of her stack of records.
Enjoy the wonderful experience of loving someone. Because it is wonderful.
The record began to turn and the needle slid across the vinyl, a familiar, calming sound to her now.
"I want to love you and treat you right,
I want to love you every day and every night,
We'll be together with a roof right over our heads,
We'll share the shelter of my single bed."
Hermione swayed on the spot, happy tears building in her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she cried because she was happy. It felt special that it was happening in that moment.
The sound of her trap door creaking open crept up on her from behind but Hermione didn't turn. She knew who it was. And seconds later, his hands landed on her hips and the calming bubble of earth and smoke cocooned her senses.
"You're so perfect." he smiled into her ear.
Her hands clasped his as his arms wrapped around her and they began to sway together, her head falling back onto his chest.
"I think you're perfect too." she breathed happily.
He turned her around smoothly, his hands sticking to her waist and they danced. Hermione loved dancing with Ron. He had this way of moving, his body stayed low with hers, his hands scattering across every exposed part of her skin, and his eyes never left her, never strayed. They were always on her. On every part of her.
He kissed her, continuing to swing side to side, and she loved him when he did. Every time she was in his presence, it felt like all she was doing was yearning for him to kiss her. It wasn't a conscious thought, just something that kicked into the back of her mind. So when he did, she felt a little thrill, her stomach flipped a bit, because she was being given something she'd been craving, even if she hadn't realised it.
This time she realised. And it made her giggle.
The physical intimacy that Ron and Hermione shared was always full of laughter. She loved it like that. Compared to the dark intensity she'd shared with Draco, it was freeing, light, accepting, stunning.
Draco was a chaotic storm, beautiful but terrible. She'd loved watching the lightning crack across the sky, feeling the thunder roll through her bones, closing her eyes in bliss to the coolness of the heavy drops of rain falling on her upturned face.
But Ron was the sun and the warm breeze, the whisper of the leaves in the trees and the soft swishing of the grass on the plain. He was the dazzling brilliance of the sunrise and the soft finality of the sunset. He was the heat in her face, the heat in the pit of her stomach.
Draco could make her cry with the intensity of the orgasms he gave her, but Ron made gleeful laughter spill from her mouth.
He'd been offended and a little freaked out at first, the very first time they'd had sex, when she'd burst into peels of tinkling laughter as her orgasm hit. But then she'd explained it to him, she'd told him it was a happiness beyond comprehension. She felt like she was staring into the face of god.
And she felt like that now as she looked at him.
Both of them moved backwards towards the bed together, neither one driving their actions. They were in sync. And together, they lay down.
Hermione pulled off his shirt as he sunk down onto his back. Her mouth immediately fell onto his chest, her teeth sinking into one of his nipples. He moaned and chuckled in response. Her hands worked at his belt buckle and fly, and when she'd successfully unbuttoned him, he push his jeans and pants off, letting them crumple at the foot of her bed.
His nakedness was always so enjoyable. Hermione wanted to jump up and down and clap her hands every time she got to look at his bare body, all muscles and power. But of course, she was never given the opportunity to do this, he wanted her naked too.
Her clothes were taken off far less smoothly than his; he tore them from her body with an air of frantic, childish impatience and anticipation. Then, he devoted himself to the task of kissing every inch of her body. Hermione laid back and enjoyed it as she always did. She didn't have much of a choice really, even if she'd wanted to fight him off, her body would not have allowed it. The moment his tongue moved anywhere near the apex of her thighs, it went into total melt down. She couldn't have moved even if she wanted to.
He was on his knees, his hands hooking behind her legs and pushing them into the air, hooking them over his shoulders. Then, he dove and she lost her mind to bliss as his tongue flicked over her clit with a skill that was certainly inhuman. His fingers drove into her as he did this, making the feeling overwhelmingly complete. It was the purest form of stimulation.
It was some minutes before he allowed her to return the favour. She'd never thought she'd like giving head until she'd sucked Ron's cock. It felt unequivocally right and snug in her mouth, like she and he were purpose built to fit with each other like that. And turning him on, turned her on too. The way his hand sat on the back of her head, occasionally pushing down just a little, testing her, the way he growled and the way she could see his free hand curling and uncurling beside her, just made her want to punch a wall with the intensity of her emotions.
Then, there came the fucking. This time, he pushed her onto her stomach, pulling her ass up into the air, planting one hand on the back of her neck while the other grasped the fold of her hip, slamming her backwards onto his cock in one smooth thrust. She made a sound that was half cackle, half moan.
They'd tried slow and tender, simple sex that was supposed to be affectionate and loving and peaceful, but she couldn't be like that with Ron. She wanted him to possess her, to show total dominance over her. And so the only way she could have him was if he pounded her. Hard.
And this he did, sending shockwaves up her spine, bruising her thighs with the force of his hip bones crushing into them. If they hadn't cast a permanent silencing charm on the room months ago, this would not have been possible. With every slamming, bone shaking thrust he quite literally pushed the sounds out of her throat.
Her hand snaked down between her legs. She knew he'd come soon and she wanted to come with him.
But he was too cheeky for her. When his hand suddenly moved off the back of her neck and she felt his thumb push into her ass, she was gone. Completely. He always did that. He knew it was her on switch, knew it would bring a chaotic, body shaking orgasm crashing over her within moments.
And this time was no different. Her fingers worked furiously over her clit as the shockwaves sung through her muscles. She jerked into her climax, her body crumpling in on itself, her legs clamping closed. But Ron wouldn't allow her to pull away. The idea that his thrusts could have gotten any more violent was incomprehensible. But they did. Exquisitely so. It lengthened her orgasm, making it something powerful and catastrophic.
When she came, hard and fast, when the peak hit, she laughed freely and the window by her bed cracked and disintegrated with the force of the magic that exploded from her. This made her laughter double and Ron's soon joined it. This had happened many times before.
But his drive did not slow. He continued his frantic, brutal pace making her feel like her bones were cracking, like her soul was splintering under his vicious force. She loved it. Every moment of it. Then he came, his loud, fierce growl of release crashing into her back along with his body.
They moved together for a moment then, the only time their sex was ever slow, a sort of calm, sleepy gyration as they both collected their voices and their breaths.
"I fucking love you." he said into her hair, gasping with the effort it took to breathe.
Hermione ground her ass against his pelvis, giggled and said, "I fucking love you too."
A/N Sorry for taking so long on this update guys! I got a little caught up with other fics lol.
Very much feeling the passion for After the Fall at the moment, so I'm hoping the next chapter/year will be up sooner.
xx
Desdemona