A/N – Ok, so I know I pretty much disappeared for like three months and left you hanging. The guilt I felt for doing this to you has essentially been the driving force behind me posting this chapter! I had sort of half written it but then I had this fabulous idea for a book, like, an original one, and I just had to roll with it! But now that I'm five chapters into that, I figured it's time to get back to you! Because I'd be no kind of writer if I left my wonderful readers hanging forever and there are so many fantastic twists and turns that I have yet to throw at you in this story! Couldn't stand the idea that you'd never find out what happened to Draco and Hermione. So. With my sincerest apologies and huge amounts of love, here is chapter eight…
8.
The Year They Pledged Forever
September 12th, 2008.
Hermione stared down at the rusted out cauldron in front of her, taking deep breathes. She hated traveling by portkey but that wasn't the only thing grating against her nerves. She knew what was awaiting them on the other side of this journey and she was entirely ready to be thoroughly overwhelmed.
"Now, remember, you have twenty four hours," said her mother, adjusting Hermione's cloak.
"I know, mum," Hermione responded with a roll of her eyes. She looked across the little circle gathered around the portkey to see Molly talking very seriously to Harry, George and Ron.
"Don't get too drunk. Don't separate. And don't buy anything from any bakeries," she was saying hurriedly.
"Isn't the point of Amsterdam their baked delicacies?" Isobel said quietly. The group giggled while Molly flashed her a seething glare.
"I expect you all back by six o'clock tomorrow evening," said Molly coldly.
"Or we're adopting out all your children!" declared Barry Granger jovially, pointing at each of the parents in turn with the beer he held in his hand.
"Dad!" cried Hermione with an indignant laugh.
She did feel a little bad leaving all the kids with the Weasleys and her parents. Rose had just discovered walking, James threw tantrums at the drop of a hat and Nikki, Isobel and Bo's newborn, demanded constant attention. But they'd insisted they could handle it so Hermione had relented.
What was a hen's night if not the perfect opportunity to get wrecked? And she couldn't get wrecked with her daughter on her hip.
"Time for the off, guys!" said Blaise over the clamour of voices.
The cauldron began to glow blue and Hermione leapt forward to lay a finger on it along with the rest of the party.
They spun out of the field beside the Burrow, the faces of Molly, Arthur, Barry and Nina rapidly twisting out of view.
Hermione shut her eyes against the sickening sensation of the portkey. She prayed for it to end quickly but as they were moving farther afield than she was used to, the travel time was longer. Their destination: the wizarding district of Amsterdam. Where else?
Finally, her feet hit solid ground and she swayed into Ebony, who was standing to her right.
Instantly, her senses were over crowded by scents and lights and colours. They'd arrived in the middle of a crowded street, crammed with the most luridly dressed witches and wizards Hermione had ever seen in her life. Music was thrown at her from every direction, pumping out of the night clubs that lined the street. Even at this time of night, when the clubs in London were only just beginning to stir and nowhere near opening, the Amsterdam wizarding district was in full swing.
Toverkracht Circuit was nothing like Diagon Alley.
"'Ermione!" she heard Fleur's voice call over the din, "Ze café is zis way!"
Hermione seized Ebony's hand and Padma's, who happened to be on her other side and immediately followed after Fleur's waving silver hair, hoping desperately that the rest of the group were following too.
After much pushing and shoving and being trodden on while clinging onto the hands of her friends for dear life, Hermione was finally led into a cramped café that looked more like a pub. She squeezed into an already over large booth that seemed to expand with each new addition.
She noticed gratefully, that Ron was sitting somewhere to her left. He, at least, had made it.
"Alright!" he cried, standing up, "Is everyone here?!"
After a quick head count, he determined that they had indeed, all managed to find the café Fleur had told them about.
Hermione stared around at her friends, feeling the electricity of excitement already taking over her body. She wanted to dance, to drink, to feel. She wanted to fill her senses with every possible experience she could find in this wonderful city.
And she was grateful that all her friends could come along for the ride.
Not only were the tovarasi all present, but also Bill and Fleur, Charlie, Percy and Neville too. Needless to say, it was a large group of twenty two.
"So where to first?" Susan asked Fleur across the table.
"Zere is a club called Ichthys down ze street," said the older woman confidently. Hermione was glad to have Bill and Fleur with them, both of whom had spent a lot of time in Amsterdam over the years and had consent to acting as make shift guides.
"What?! I was going to take the guys to Ichthys!" cried Bill indignantly.
"Well, you'd better find somewhere else zen!" Fleur replied with a cheeky grin.
Bill looked sour for a moment before his face lit up and he said wickedly, "I'll just take them down to La Femme then shall I?"
Fleur glared at him.
"What's La Femme?" asked Padma.
"A gentlemen's club," replied George, adopting his brother's sly grin.
The women's voices rose to a clamour as each of them voiced their opinions on this suggestion. Hermione did not bother to offer her input, but her eyes found Ron's across the table. He raised his eye brows slightly at her and she knew that was his way of asking permission.
Hermione smiled and shrugged. She really didn't care what the boys did and she certainly wasn't threatened by a strip club. She had a little more faith in their relationship than that. Besides, she knew for a fact that Fleur planned on taking their group to a sex show at some point during the evening, something she'd quietly told Ron about days ago. Hermione wasn't such a big fan of double standards.
Eventually, the argument died down with the general consensus that each groups activities should be shared on a strictly need to know basis. Everyone seemed happy enough with that.
"Shall we go then?" asked Ebony brightly.
"Wait!" cried Hermione before dropping her old beaded bag onto the table and driving her arm into it, "I've got something for everyone."
She pulled out a glass jar full of bottle caps and began distributing them out among her friends.
"What are these?" asked Harry bemusedly.
"Remember in the DA how we had those fake galleons?"
"Yeah…"
"Well these are sort of the same thing. If any of us gets lost or separated or in trouble at any point, we just squeeze these and they'll burn for everyone else. Also, on the underside of the bottle cap, it'll say where they are," Hermione explained.
When she was done, she looked up to see mingled expressions of disbelief and exasperation.
"Hermione, you haven't changed at all," said Ron with a long suffering laugh.
She smiled, choosing to take his statement as a compliment.
Then, with minimal preamble and Hermione's bottle caps in their pockets, the boys began to stand and squeeze their way out of the crowded booth.
Before they left, Ron leant over the table and kissed Hermione before whispering in her ear, "Be safe."
"You too," she responded.
Soon enough, only Fleur, Padma, Isobel, Bo, Susan, Luna, Juliet, Ebony, Astoria, Ginny, and Hermione herself remained in the booth.
"Shall we have some drinks before we go?" asked Juliet hopefully.
Isobel, who was on the end seat, leapt up, saying she would grab the first round before disappearing into the throng of wizards crammed into the tiny café.
Hermione glanced sideways at Ebony who was seated next to her. The younger woman looked somewhat more subdued than she normally would and this concerned Hermione. It wasn't often that she didn't see Ebony not being her usual, bubbly self.
"You alright?" she said into Ebony's ear, loud enough that she could be heard over the din of voices around them.
The younger woman forced a smile and nodded, but then the smile dropped and she shook her head.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, frowning.
Ebony looked pained, "I want to tell you but… I don't want to ruin your night!"
"It won't ruin it, Eb, just tell me. What's going on?"
"I… I got a job offer. In India," the younger woman admitted.
"But… That's great! What's the problem?" Hermione exclaimed, further confused by Ebony's glum expression.
"Well, if I took it, I'd have to move. And Blaise too. We'd have to leave England."
"Oh," said Hermione, her face falling.
"Yeah."
The thought of losing Blaise was hard enough but losing Eb would feel like losing a little sister. Hermione had come to sort of rely on the younger woman. There was something Hermione got from her that she didn't get from Isobel or Astoria. Those two were like her fellow warriors, fierce like Hermione, loyal like Hermione and ready to fight beside her. But Ebony was more like a comfort, a warm blanket that made all the bad things in her life feel ok again. When Isobel and Astoria were around, Hermione felt stronger, prouder, but when Eb was around she felt like it was ok to be weak, ok to be flawed.
What would she do if the younger woman left? She knew, logically, that she'd be fine of course, Ebony wasn't the only source of comfort she had. Hermione was surrounded by fantastic, supportive people, but it would still hurt losing someone so important to her. And Ebony was important, whether she realised it or not.
"So is that the only thing stopping you?" Hermione asked, trying to remind herself that Ebony's decision shouldn't be about her, "The thought of leaving England?"
Ebony frowned in thought and then said, "No, I don't think so… I mean, I'm sort of scared of the people I'd be working around to be honest. They're all really money driven and power hungry. I don't really want to turn into them. I feel like I've grown so much spending time around the tovarasi and I don't want to lose all that. But the money would be great, and it's India for fucks sake! It's beautiful over there! I don't know…"
"Well, you wouldn't lose us if you left Eb. We'll still be your family. I'll still be your family. I love you."
"I love you too, Hermione."
"And it's not like we'd never see each other again, is it?"
Ebony smiled sadly and shook her head, "No… But I'd still miss you. I can't imagine what life would be like not seeing you every week, not hearing your voice."
Hermione understood that entirely. Only a few months ago the younger woman had gone away on a research trip for two weeks and, because of the nature of her job, hadn't been allowed to contact any of her friends or family back home. During that time Hermione hadn't felt Ebony's absence every waking moment, she hadn't been depressed about it, but she'd certainly noticed it. She'd felt for those two weeks like something was missing from her life. There was a silence to it that felt unfamiliar. Of course, Ebony had come back excited and exhilarated by her trip, totally unaware of how Hermione had been affected but her absence had been noticed.
But, ultimately, Hermione just wanted the younger woman to be happy. And even if she selfishly didn't agree with Ebony leaving, if she was happy in India, if that life could make her content, then Hermione would help her pack with a smile on her face and she'd be ok, just knowing that this was something Ebony wanted for herself.
Hermione had just leant sideways to say as much to the younger woman when Isobel suddenly appeared at the table, her face slightly cracked under a mischievous smile.
"Where's our drinks?" demanded Ginny, laughing at Isobel's empty hands.
"I've found something better," Isobel replied, grinning, "How do we all feel about… illicit substances? Well, illicit back home anyway…"
Hermione exchanged a few glances with her friends, all of whom looked doubtful.
"What kind of illicit substances are we talking about here?" asked Padma slowly.
"They sell a potion here," answered Isobel, "called Brandwond. Apparently it's paradise."
Hermione was shocked to notice the same grin Isobel wore creeping up Fleur's face.
"What does it do?" asked Juliet.
"Is it safe?" asked Hermione.
Isobel rolled her eyes and sat back down heavily at the table, "Look. They sell you a vial of the potion and a vial of the antidote. So, that means that if anyone has a bad reaction or doesn't like it, they just take the second vial and bam, it's gone. It's brewed by a qualified potion master and everything."
Hermione fought back the desire to laugh as the image of a man who looked remarkably like Snape, bent over a cauldron full of the wizarding equivalent to drugs, flashed inside her mind.
"Eet is not 'armful," Fleur put in, trying to look reassuring over her clear excitement, "You just feel 'appier for a leetle while. Eet sort of… turns you into a god. Like you become your 'igher self while you take it. You are perfect on zis potion."
"Why haven't I heard of this before?" asked Ebony, looking slightly suspicious.
"Eet is rare, expensive and illegal in England. I did not know zat zis café even prepared it," Fleur answered.
"They don't," said Isobel, "I met a couple of guys at the counter who told me about it. They said you can only get it from this bar called the Alchemist. They said they'll take us if we want."
Fleur rolled her eyes, grabbed her clutch and stood, saying, "Tell your boyfriend's we don't need zem. I know zis place well. Let's go."
Hermione stood along with the rest of the group and together, they pushed their way out of the cramped café and onto the street.
She didn't quite know how she felt about taking this potion. Her somewhat prudish sensibilities were rebelling against the idea. But a part of her wanted to. She hadn't experimented with magic like this since the Dividing Line and even though it was illegal in the UK, she reminded herself that the Zeitei Otrava had been too but that hadn't stopped her then so why should it stop her now?
Making her decision, Hermione pushed forward a little to catch up with Fleur as the group made its way down the busy street.
"Fleur, have you ever taken this stuff?" she asked in a low, serious voice.
"Yes, three times," the older witch answered.
"And do you think I'll enjoy it? I mean, be honest with me, is this an experience I want to have?"
"I can't answer zat 'Ermione. Zat is your decision. But I loved every moment of it. Ze potion is soft, eet is loving. You will not feel bad, I promise. And eef you do, I will give you ze antidote."
"Are you going to take some?"
Fleur shook her head. "No, not tonight. I will, perhaps, buy some for Bill and I for taking later but I will watch over all of you tonight. I will make sure you are safe."
Hermione nodded, already feeling better about the idea. She let herself become excited.
After a few more minutes' walk, Fleur announced their arrival and as Hermione looked up at the bar, she felt her jaw drop.
The bar was exactly what she would have pictured a magical shop as looking like when she was a child. Everything about the place was gothic from the stone carven entrance to the red velvet drapes that hung around the windows. Everywhere she looked she could see how much money had been poured into the establishment. And what made it especially eerie was the spooky green glow that covered everything, coming, of course, from the gigantic radiant emerald letters that magically scrawled themselves in the air above the bar that announced its name: The Alchemist.
This place was significantly less crowded than the café they had just been occupying and once the group had stepped inside, Hermione understood why. It was very clear that this was a place reserved for only the most respectable and aristocratic of wizards. Every chair and table was intricately carved from mahogany, the high, domed ceilings painted meticulously in the style of Michelangelo or similar and the walls were covered in damask wallpaper that looked like velvet up close. There was not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. Hermione felt like the place was almost a work of art. She didn't want to touch anything for fear of smudging the paint.
Isobel and Fleur approached the bar confidently, with Hermione in tow, as the rest of the group moved to seat themselves in the far back corner to wait for their doses of potion.
A man, who looked just a little too pleased with himself, looked up as Hermione, Fleur and Isobel approached the bar.
"Goedenavond mevrouw, hoe kan ik u helpen?" he said in a bland, snooty sounding voice, the pompousness of which translated easily even if Hermione could not understand him.
Isobel smiled winningly and said, "Hallo, kreeg ik te horen dat ik hier kon vinden Brandwond."
The man raised a patronising eyebrow and gave a coughing little laugh that lacked any humour, "U mag in staat zijn om het te vinden, maar ik betwijfel of je kon veroorloven."
Isobel's eyes narrowed and her jaw stiffened, "Geld zal geen probleem zijn, zal je verkoopt het aan mij of niet?"
The man nodded, staring down his nose at her, "Dat zal ik doen."
"Goed," said Isobel, smiling smugly, "Dan zou ik graag tien flesjes, alstublieft."
"Tien?" asked the man in disbelief.
It was Isobel's turn to raise a patronising eyebrow as she responded drily, "Heb ik stotteren?"
The man's attitude changed perceptively. He gave a little bow, said, "Meteen mevrouw, mijn excuses," and disappeared through a door behind the bar.
Isobel rolled her eyes. "Pompous prat."
"What was all zat about?" asked Fleur.
"Tried to imply that we were too lower class to be in here."
"He said that?" demanded Hermione, shocked.
"He didn't need to," Isobel responded with a shrug, "That's the thing with these aristocratic purebloods, they communicate everything with these tiny, infinitesimal little gestures that only the trained eye can see."
The man appeared seconds later carrying a wooden box which he set down on the counter in front of Isobel. She opened the lid and peered inside.
Fleur looked over Isobel's shoulder at the contents and muttered, "Tell 'im zat eef eet is not pure, we will be back."
Isobel nodded and lifted her head to look at the man and said in a low voice, "Als dit niet zuiver, we zullen terugkomen."
He nodded curtly. "Natuurlijk. Dat zal zeshonderd galjoenen."
Isobel withdrew a small pouch from the folds of her cloak and began dolling out galleons. Hermione gasped in shock when she saw the amount being handed over and put her hand on Isobel's arm before the transaction could take place.
"Isobel! That's too much!" she exclaimed.
The younger woman laughed, "It's only six hundred galleons Hermione. You know how much I make. Think of it as a wedding gift."
Hermione withdrew her arm and stared, dumbfounded, as Isobel handed over a small fortune to the pompous man behind the bar who in turn handed her the wooden box.
"Dank u," said Isobel to the man, swiping up the box before leading Hermione and Fleur to the ornate couches in the back corner where the rest of their company were seated around a low table.
The three of them sat down and Isobel handed the box to Fleur who set it down on the table and opened it.
"Ok," she said, grinning around at them, "Ze purple potions are ze Brandwond and ze yellow is ze antidote. I will stay sober tonight so eef you feel at any point that you would like to stop ze effects of ze potion, come to me and I will give you ze antidote."
Hermione watched as she withdrew each vial of purple potion and handed them out amongst the company.
"Are we seriously going to do this?" asked Ginny, laughing breathily in disbelief.
No one answered her and she, like the rest of them, accepted her vial in silence after that. It wasn't until every single one of them held theirs in their hands that someone finally spoke.
"I'm sort of scared," said Luna.
"Me too," admitted Juliet.
Isobel snorted good naturedly, "Are you serious Jules? I know what you and George get up to once the shop's closed! Turning the back room into a Dutch oven!"
Juliet giggled, "Yeah, but that's different. That's just a bit of green. This stuff is serious!"
A silence fell as they all stared down at the little bottles in their hands. No one was game enough to make the first move. Every time someone came close, everyone's eyes would snap in their direction and they would understandably lose their nerve.
Finally, Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed, "Oh for fucks sake. Here, look…"
Swiftly, she broke the polished max seal, flicked out the cork and tipped the entire contents of the vial down her throat amidst gasps from the rest of the group and a loud whoop from Isobel. She didn't know where this sudden bravery was coming from but for some reason, she felt like it was the right thing to do.
Instantly, Hermione felt different, began to see things differently. Her head was spinning slightly, but not in a bad way. It was quite pleasant actually. In fact, she found, as she looked around, everything was pleasant. Very pleasant.
"How does it feel?" asked Ebony in a somewhat awed whisper.
"Um…" Hermione responded and then laughed. Her voice was so damn beautiful! How had she never noticed that before? Like little bells that jingled around inside her head. Even her laughter was breathtaking! She couldn't stop! The sounds just kept bubbling out of her mouth and they were so fantastic that she was laughing at her own laughter. This went on for a few minutes until eventually, she calmed. She realised that, though it was ok for her to laugh, it was also ok for her to be still. Yes, still seemed best. In fact, it seemed almost better than the laughter.
"Hermione?" said Ginny warily, looking slightly alarmed. Her voice was amazing too! When Hermione looked up at the younger woman, all she could see was Ginny's irrepressible beauty! She wanted to paint her or write poetry about her. She wanted to touch her all over.
"Wow," Hermione responded, congratulating herself on such a wonderfully simple sentence. Where did she come up with this stuff?
"So I'm guessing that this is a good thing, right?" asked Susan, looking to Fleur.
"She'll get used to eet in a moment," Fleur replied, "Eet is a leetle overwhelming at first. But in a good way."
"Right, well I'm in," said Isobel before downing her own potion. Soon, the rest of the girls, except Fleur, followed suit until the table was surrounded by beaming, beautiful, bright faces.
The feelings were beginning to sink in now, Hermione was starting to feel somewhat normal. But at the same time, she was as far from normal as she could possibly be. She found she had this great acceptance for everything, this divine wisdom. Like she could do anything and that no matter what it was, it would always work out for the best. There was no right or wrong anymore just the fantastic, incomprehensible, infinite wonder of life and love.
"Shall we leave?" asked Fleur, addressing the question to Hermione.
Hermione thought for a moment before answering, "We could leave, or we could stay. Either way we will be exactly where we are meant to be."
Fleur laughed and rolled her eyes, "Yes, I forgot about zis. Ok girls, let's go. I want to take you to zis place, a very good club where you can dance."
"Dance?" said Susan dreamily, "That sounds wonderful! Let's dance!"
The whole group seemed to share this sentiment as they leapt to their feet to follow Fleur out of the bar and back into the street.
Outside, Hermione was in heaven. Where once the pressing density of the crowds was a little stifling, she now felt like every single person that brushed her or bumped into her was caressing her lovingly. She wanted to just stand there in the street and allow it, allow hundreds of people to slide across her skin over and over so that she'd never have to let this feeling go.
But Fleur led them resolutely on and they followed complacently.
There was something taking place inside Hermione's body, something that should have frightened her but instead it excited her. She felt like, in that moment, on that night, she was a master of expression. That was all her being was meant for on this planet, regardless of the war, regardless of the past, regardless of her life. Hermione, just like every other living thing, was meant to express. Usually, expression was hard because it meant being vulnerable, it meant trusting in another. But it wasn't hard right then, because Hermione was perfect. There was no part of her that wasn't perfect.
As they walked, Astoria came close to Hermione, sliding her arm around Hermione's waist.
"When we get to this club, I think we should dance together," Astoria told her, almost on cue, as if she too had been having the same revelation Hermione had been seconds before.
"Yes, I think that would be nice," Hermione replied, smiling and realising that there was nothing more that she could possibly want in this world than to have Astoria's body pressed up against her own. There was love and affection there that needed to be expressed, and she couldn't think of a better way to begin expressing it that with physical closeness and intimacy.
And so, they went to Ichthys, getting lost in the violent laser light, the smoky floor, the scent of sweat and alcohol. Hermione's body did not seem to tire, though they danced for hours, and the whole time, Astoria was right in front of her. There was no space between their bodies, no negativity, only love. And when Astoria's hand drifted up under Hermione's shirt to cup her breast, she did not push her away, she could only draw her closer. Hermione needed that touch, because it was the only real thing in her world right then and it felt like paradise. Astoria's skin was like silk, her tongue tasted like nothing she'd ever experienced.
As the hours passed, the potion did not wane, and Hermione saw many of her friends intertwined just as her and Astoria were, throughout the crowd. All she could do was smile when she saw Ginny's small hands wrapped in Luna's silken silvery hair, or Susan's arms clasped tightly around Padma, or Isobel's tongue leaving trails on Bo's neck, or Ebony's legs tangled with Juliet's. There was nothing sexual or deviant about it at all, this Hermione knew. She was touching Astoria and allowing Astoria to touch her because it felt like real magic, because it was an expression of the truest unconditional love, because when she had someone so beautiful right in front of her, she could do nothing but worship her in the only way she knew how.
And so the night progressed. One of the best of Hermione's existence.
It wasn't until about one in the morning that Hermione was finally inspired to break away from Astoria's embrace.
"You are luminous," said a voice behind her, right into her ear.
Hermione whirled to find Ron standing there, beaming. Both her and Astoria gave cries of joy and flung their arms around him.
"Brandwond?" he yelled over the music.
"Brandwond," she confirmed, nodding and smiling.
"Yeah," said Ron, "Us too."
She squealed in delight and hugged him again. She knew that both groups had agreed not to cross each other's paths at all over the course of the night but she couldn't have been happier to find Ron standing behind her and to see Harry, Blaise, Draco, George, Neville, Charlie, Percy, Eli and Bill joining their company too. They all, bar Bill, had that same ethereal, sanguine smile on their faces and the half skip in their steps.
It was the cherry on top of what had already been a wonderful experience. And now it was only going to get better. Their group felt complete again. Hermione hadn't realised it before but she hadn't really liked splitting up like that. The group shouldn't be divided. Never. It was a relief that they were all joined back together again now.
Draco pushed his way across the dance floor to their little group of three and Hermione and Astoria reacted in much the same way as they had to Ron's appearance, crying out in joy and hugging him. There was a moment wherein all four of them got a little lost in their enthusiasm and jumped up and down along with the music together, laughing and holding hands. But it was only a few seconds before they regained their composure.
"I think we should sit down somewhere," Hermione yelled over the music, realising that she wanted this.
Ron, Draco and Astoria all nodded eagerly and together the four of them wound their way off the dance floor, ascended a flight of stairs in the far corner of the club and found themselves in a sort of chill out space where the music was slightly quieter and more relaxing. Pillows were arranged on the floor surrounding tall, intricate looking hookahs, bathed in the roseate glow of many lanterns that lined the fabric draped walls. It looked, in essence, like an opium den.
Hermione gleefully skipped forwards to collapse on a pile of nearby pillows where she was quickly joined by her three companions. They spent a happy four minutes trying to get comfortable on their mountain of softness that seemed on the verge of swallowing them all up.
A young man, who Hermione and Astoria immediately become totally enchanted by, approached their group within seconds and said, "Kan ikjewat te drinken?"
"I'm sorry," said Astoria dreamily, trying to attractively drape herself over a pillow and failing, "We don't speak Dutch..."
The young man smile beautifully and said, "I can get you drinks?"
Hermione nodded and Ron said, "Sure mate, can we get four ciders thanks?"
"Of course," said the man, waving his wand and conjuring a tray with four bottles on it, "This is best, this cider, very top quality."
Hermione accepted hers when he handed it to her before he walked away and quickly discovered that it was the most delicious thing she had ever put in her mouth. Like, it really blew her mind, this cider. It was an effort not to down the entire thing in one go.
"So where has your night led you?" asked Astoria of Ron and Draco.
"Well," said Draco, taking the reigns as Ron seemed incapable of speech at present having suddenly become entranced by Hermione's hair, "We went to the strip club and had a few drinks. It was pretty cool at first but it got old quick. So we left and went to this bar that Bill knew called The Alchemist…"
"That's where we went!" cried Hermione.
Draco grinned, "Yeah I guessed that… anyway, he brings us this box full of potions, tells us to take some if we want to have best night of our lives and then… yeah… we went to a nightclub down the street with a jungle theme, had a, uh, dance for a bit, before we decided to come find you girls. Just felt right."
"I'm glad you did," said Astoria, beaming at her partner.
"Me too," Hermione reiterated, matching the younger woman's expression.
She lay back, resting her head in Ron's lap as he played with her hair, all the while watching Draco. He was so beautiful. She couldn't believe it. It was quite literally making her speechless. Everything about him was angelic and serene. Pure. Draco was pure.
Without thinking at all, Hermione got slowly to her knees and crawled across the space that separated them. She was vaguely aware of Astoria smiling and moving out of the way so that Hermione could take her place by Draco's side.
His eyes did not leave hers at any point as she moved towards him until they were so close she could feel her own breath hitting his face. Neither of them spoke a word. But when her hands rose slowly, her fingers twitching, until they touched his face, he sighed into her touch.
It felt so nice to touch him again, like this, tenderly and intimately. Not in friendship but in love.
Her thumbs ran lines from his nose, along his cheeks bones, down his jaw to his chin and then up, over his lips, over his nose, over his eyes and rested against his temples. Her hands pushed through his blonde hair, smoothed over the back of his neck, and his Adams apple and jugular vein. She felt his pulse. Draco was real under her hands again. She could have wept.
And she almost did when, finally, his hands rose too to touch her back. His thumbs traced her path, he felt her pulse too.
"I'm so in love with you, Hermione," he said, in a voice that was thick through his glowing smile.
"I'm in love with you too Draco," she responded in the same tone.
Draco turned his head to look at Astoria and Ron who were sitting next to each other, holding hands and beaming. Hermione looked too and felt so much joy at the sight that tears built in her eyes.
"We're in love with each other," she told them.
"We know," said Ron with no hint of malice or negativity. He only smiled at her a smile that came from the very bottom of his soul.
Together, she and Draco crawled across the distance until the four of them were sitting crosses legged, knee to knee.
"This is so beautiful," said Astoria after a moment, "I am so happy that you've both been able to say that to each other."
"Me too," said Ron.
Hermione leant sideways and nestled her head into Ron's neck, finding Draco's hand at the same time.
She felt almost like her heart was not big enough to hold so much happiness. She knew, instinctually, that she'd didn't need to tell Ron that she was in love with him too. And she knew that saying those words to Draco and hearing them returned didn't mean that they had to do something about it. She offered her love freely, with no expectations or ulterior motives. Only with the wish to express some of the huge emotions she was feeling. She loved Draco. She loved Ron. She loved herself.
Draco moved his hand out of hers and when she turned her head slightly from the curve of Ron's neck, she saw that his face was inches from hers. He moved forwardly slightly and kissed her, right there, while Ron's arm was around her waist and her head was pressed against his skin. She felt Ron shifting slightly under her body and when Draco broke the kiss to plant his lips on her neck, she looked up to see Astoria and Ron kissing too. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
Astoria's hand landed on Hermione's thigh and moved upwards. Ron's moved down to cup her ass. Draco's was inching underneath her shirt. And Hermione's were busy too. Her fingers were tangled in Ron's hair, pulling slightly as the heat in the room seemed to intensify. The other hand was tracing light patterns on Draco's stomach, along the seam of his pants.
When Astoria broke away from Ron, her lips immediately found Hermione's and the groan of pleasure that resonated out of Ron's chest immediately into Hermione's ear sent fire licking up her spine.
"We should do this," said Draco lowly.
"Agreed," said Ron.
Astoria pulled away from Hermione and looked at the both of them seriously. "We should have a sex? All four of us?"
"I think so," said Draco, nodding.
"I like that idea," whispered Hermione, smiling.
"Right now?" asked Ron.
Astoria shook her head. "No, not here. I don't want it to be like this. We should rent a place sometime, a holiday house on the coast. Just the four of us."
"Done," said Draco firmly.
They spent a couple of seconds smiling at each other blissfully before the urge to touch, to caress, to reach some sort of completion became too much. It began again. But this time, almost as if talking about it had solidified their resolve, there was something more urgent, a little rougher, about the way they touched each other. It wasn't long before they all fell back on the pillows, a tangle of limbs and hands and tongues.
"Oi!" cried a voice some minutes later.
Hermione pried her face away from Astoria's chest, feeling Ron's hand leave her ass and Draco's disappear from between her legs, to look up and find Bill standing in the doorway of the room, doubled over in laughter, and Fleur standing behind him looking amused and disapproving.
Bill began to saunter over to them as they hurriedly sat up, adjusting clothes and hair.
"Leave you kids alone for two fucking seconds and suddenly there's an orgy!" he exclaimed, grinning like a maniac.
Fleur batted his arm, "I told you zis was a bad idea! Look at zem!"
"Hey, it's not my fault. We just underestimated our caretaker capabilities! Watching out for a couple of you would have been easy, but not fucking twenty!"
"Why? Is everyone else alright?" asked Hermione, feeling a little dazed.
"Yes, of course," said Fleur hurriedly.
Bill laughed, "Yeah, apart from the fact that we've just spent the last eight hours running around prying you lot off each other! Only the just found Susan and Neville at it in the bathrooms!"
"Bill!" Fleur chided.
"Wait," said Ron, shaking his head as if to clear it, "What do you mean eight hours?!"
Bill produced four vials of yellow liquid from his cloak. "I mean it's eleven o'clock in the morning, little bro. Time to get you lot home I reckon."
Hermione, Ron, Draco and Astoria stared around at each other dumbfounded. Hermione knew for a fact that it had been about three am when they'd come up here, she'd checked her watch. Had they really been… intertwined for eight hours?!
"So," said Astoria quietly, "Does that mean that the four of us just spent pretty much the entire night up here… making out?"
"Essentially, yeah. You four were the first to go," Bill laughed.
He handed them each a vial of antidote which they all took.
The effect was almost immediate. Hermione instantly felt absolutely mortified, tired, sore and overwhelmed all at once. And most of all, her lips hurt like nothing before.
She stumbled to her feet along with the other three.
"Wait, if it's eleven in the morning, why is the music still playing? Why haven't they booted us out?" asked Draco in a hoarse voice.
"Because zis is Amsterdam," Fleur replied matter-of-factly.
About half an hour later, Hermione stood on the hill beside the Burrow, blinking dazedly in the sunlight. On either side of her were Padma and Ebony, just as when they had left the previous afternoon.
"I still don't understand why we had to leave," grumbled Isobel off to Hermione's right somewhere.
She glanced across at Bill who, strangely, was looking somewhat guilty, "Well, it's been a long time since either of us took Brandwond and we, uh, may have forgotten about a few side effects."
Ron glared at his older brother, "Like what?"
Bill laughed nervously, "Nothing to be too worried about. It's just that the longer you stay on it, the harder the come down is afterwards and… We just forgot how, you know, how horny you get…"
This statement was meant by groans and cries of indignation from the group in order to stifle the end of Bill's sentence.
The noise must have alerted the house's occupants of their presence because suddenly the door to the Burrow burst open and out came Molly Weasley, Narcissa Malfoy, and Nina Granger.
"What the hell is my mother doing here?" moaned Draco, pitching sideways a little into Blaise.
"I don't feel well," said Luna before promptly bending over and vomiting all over her shoes. Ginny rushed to pull back her hair.
"Ah," said Bill with a feeble smile, "I'm guessing you drank alcohol last night? Yeah, you're not supposed to do that with Brandwond. Makes the come down worse."
It was Hermione's turn to glare, "What are you talking about Bill?! We all drank last night! Why the fuck didn't you tell us not to?!"
"We forgot," he shrugged, looking apologetic.
"I tried to tell you zis was all a bad idea," said Fleur to her husband.
Molly, Nina and Narcissa reached the group, their wide, excited smiles faltering at the sight of them. Without missing a beat, Molly surged forwards toward Bill, tea towel in hand and shrieked, "William Weasley!" hitting him with the tea towel for every syllable, "What have you done?! You were supposed to look after them!"
Bill cringed and cowered under his mother's attack, "Mum! I tried!"
"It doesn't very well look like it young man!"
"But… they don't look that bad, do they?" he asked weakly.
"They look as if they've just wandered out of Azkaban," observed Narcissa, looking amused.
"Honestly, we're fine," said Hermione, mustering the strength to speak as her energy seemed to be falling at speed, "We're just a little bit hung-over that's all."
"Right, well, in the house then. You can floo back to your own homes. I won't have you apparating in this state!" said Molly as she began ushering their rather wan looking group down the hillside towards the Burrow.
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione stood swaying dangerously in her own lounge room, sans Rose who had been left with her grandparents for another night, waiting for Ron to join her through the grate. When he finally stumbled out of the fireplace, he landed flat on his face and all she could manage at the sight was a feeble chuckle.
"Come on, let's get up to bed," she said huskily, helping him to his feet.
"Fuck I hope this clears up by tomorrow…" he groaned.
They wound their way up the stairs, each helping the other when they stumbled until they finally reached the bedroom and fell, fully clothed onto the bed.
"Wait…" said Ron wearily, "Isn't it supposed to be bad luck for the two of us to sleep in the same house tonight?"
Hermione moaned, "I don't care. It's not night anyway, it's only midday. Doesn't count."
Ron nodded and then began to giggle feebly, "Hey guess what?"
"What?"
"I got a tattoo last night."
"You what?" Hermione exclaimed, her voice hoarse.
"Yeah," he responded, grinning, before lifting his shirt to reveal a small otter tattooed on his pubic bone. "It's for you."
"Wow Ron… that's uh… really sweet," she said doubtfully. To her, the otter looked half deformed.
"Harry got one too," he told her then, dropping his shirt back over the tattoo, "And Draco."
"What did they get?"
"Well, Harry got a horse for Ginny… or at least I think it was a horse. And I don't know what Draco got. He wouldn't show us."
"That's weird."
"Yeah."
She couldn't muster the energy to speak anymore. She knew dimly that the mortification for all the things that had taken place that night would hit her at some point but right at that moment, all she felt was an all-encompassing, irrepressible exhaustion.
Within seconds, Hermione and Ron were sound asleep.
"Hermione… Hermione! Wake up!"
Abruptly, consciousness chased away her dreams and Hermione sat bolt upright. It was completely dark aside from the single lantern that had been lit in her room. She looked to her right to find that Ron was not there, and when she looked to her left, there was Isobel standing beside the bed, looking pale with dark rings under her eyes.
"Oh god," Hermione groaned, lifting a hand to her head, "I feel like…"
"Like death, I know," Isobel finished her sentence in a weak voice.
"What time is it?"
"The crack of stupid. Come on, we've got to start getting ready," Isobel answered shortly, "There's coffee and fags downstairs."
Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed, "Pepper up potion?"
Isobel looked pained and shook her head, "Doesn't work. Padma's had four vials. Nothing."
"What about George's cure?" asked Hermione in a slightly panicked voice.
Isobel only shook her head again.
Hermione groaned. Today was not going to be easy.
The two of them made their way downstairs to the kitchen where Ebony, Susan, Ginny, Luna, Padma, Juliet and Astoria where draped around various surfaces looking just as bad as Hermione felt.
"Where's Ron?" asked Hermione as Padma pushed a cup of coffee into her right hand and Astoria placed a lit cigarette into her left.
"I made Harry come and collect him last night," Ginny yawned, "Couldn't have you two sleeping in the same house night before the wedding. Bad luck."
Hermione fought the temptation to roll her eyes as she collapsed onto one of the unoccupied kitchen chairs and stuck the cigarette in her mouth.
"So Amsterdam was wild, huh?" said Ebony with a criminal amount of sly enthusiasm. True to her character, she knew she was pushing a button and she was going to push it anyway. That's what Hermione loved about her.
"I'm going to kill Bill and Fleur," said Hermione through gritted teeth.
"Yeah, why would they have let us have that stuff if they knew that was what it was going to do?" demanded Padma, "Least when I'm drunk I don't remember any of it… But the whole night's as clear as fucking day!"
Ginny shrugged, "From what I heard back home, it sounded like they both bit off more than they could chew. Thought they could watch all of us, make sure we didn't get up to anything too bad."
"Yeah well they got that wrong, didn't they?" Isobel giggled.
"I feel quite sorry for them actually," said Luna vaguely, "I mean, they did try. Fleur must have walked in on me, Dean and Ginny at least a dozen times…"
"Luna!" cried Ginny, cutting her off.
Ebony grinned wickedly, "You, Dean and Ginny?! Where was Harry in all of this?"
"Oh, he was there too," said Luna.
Ginny buried her face in her arms as the rest of the woman giggled madly. After a moment she lifted her head and glared around at them viciously. "Don't you all laugh! You did it too! Don't think I didn't see you and Blaise, Eb, disappearing into that alcove thing with…"
"Ginny!" Ebony and Juliet exclaimed at exactly the same time before flashing each other mortified looks amidst a gale of laughter from their friends.
"Uh, were Eli and I the only ones who didn't participate in an orgy that night?" asked Padma wryly.
Susan chuckled, looking smug and said, "No."
Hermione cackled along with the rest of them as her and Astoria exchanged a knowing look. But she was glad to find that there was no malice in that look, no bad blood. They were as close as they ever were, the whole group, if not closer. She was happy to see that now that the subject had been breached, it seemed like everyone was just going to put it down to a crazy night in Amsterdam.
She knew that what had taken place between her, Ron, Draco and Astoria would remain a secret. Whether Astoria and Ron had put the things her and Draco had said to each other down to the potion or not wasn't her concern. She'd meant what she'd said about being in love with him, and she got the feeling that Draco had meant it too. It was a relief to get it out there really, made their whole past feel so much less scary. The two of them had been fast friends ever since she'd shown up at his house the previous year and the night in Amsterdam hadn't changed that at all. Hermione was happy about that. All they'd done was acknowledge something that had long been felt but never uttered. That was all. They'd expressed themselves.
The past was dead and gone and that morning, as she sat around her kitchen table with her bridesmaids and smoked and drank coffee and laughed despite how awful they all felt physically, Hermione really felt that. She really felt like the past was properly behind her, not breathing ominously on the back of her neck. She supposed, really, that she'd felt like that for quite a while. But it wasn't until right then that she noticed it.
She was grateful for it.
And despite her acidic hangover, despite the roiling in her stomach and the headache that was threatening to make her day a living hell, Hermione Granger was ready to marry Ron Weasley.
By seven am, the makeup witches had arrived along with Nina, to try their best to make the group look less like murder victims and more like a wedding party. They set up shop in the kitchen and tittered along with Hermione and the rest of the bridesmaids easily, the only tense moment being when Hermione's seemed adamant on making her wear red lipstick, a resolution she stuck to until Hermione threatened to push her wand so far up the woman's nose she'd see stars. The girl quite wisely dropped the idea after that.
By eleven am, they were finally ready, dangerously behind schedule. Hermione had been squeezed into her cerulean dress, her hair had been tamed and her face made up until no one would be able to tell she felt like she was going to pass out any second. She'd felt absolutely fine until they'd told her to stand up and it seemed like the rest of the bridal party felt much the same. They were a different group from the one laughing down in the kitchen as they all stood silently in the hallway by the front door, teetering perilously in four inch heels.
It was only then that Hermione began to seriously doubt whether or not they'd be able to pull this off.
Soon, they were given the all clear and stumbled out into Hermione and Ron's front garden to apparate to the Burrow. It was a wonder none of them were splinched on the journey.
Molly, Arthur, and Barry met them at the apparition point and led them towards the great, golden marque on top of the hill that could have been the same one used for Harry and Ginny's wedding. By this time, they were twenty minutes late.
"Hermione," Ebony whispered as they stood outside, waiting for the music to begin and the gossamer curtains to be pulled aside so that the procession could start, "I think Isobel may not be quite up for this."
Hermione glanced at her friend at the head of the line and thought she might agree. There was a faint sheen of sweat on the younger woman's brow and her bouquet of flowers was drooping in her hands.
"She'll be fine," hissed Hermione sharply, "She's only got to walk down the bloody aisle and then that's it. We'll all be fine. The wedding will be fine."
But despite her words, Hermione felt a sharp pang of guilt and concern. She felt like it was her fault all of them had to go through this. With a sigh, she pushed forwards a little to stand next to her best friend and said quietly, "Are you alright?"
Isobel shook her head and said through gritted teeth, "Don't make me talk."
"What?"
"Don't make me talk or I'll vomit. I can do this."
Hermione patted her feebly on the arm, flashed her a delicate smile and moved back to stand by her father. Her view was certainly a bleak one. Not one of her bridesmaids looked particularly happy to be there. And she couldn't blame them. By rights she herself should have been lying on the bathroom floor with her head in the toilet. But, this was her wedding. Wouldn't really work without her presence. She was stronger than that.
The music swelled, the curtains parted. Hermione watched as Isobel headed the line and began to walk slowly down the aisle with faltering footsteps, followed by Ginny, Padma, Luna, Susan, Juliet and, finally, Ebony.
Then, it was Hermione's turn. She linked her arm through her father's, who seemed on the verge of laughter at the sight of them all, and began to walk.
At first, all she could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other. Heel, toe, heel, toe. But then, she looked up and saw them all arranged there. Her bridesmaids on the right, looking tired but smiling radiantly, and Ron's groomsmen, led by Harry, on the left. They looked about as bad as the bridesmaids, just as sick, just as happy.
But in the middle was Ron and despite the fact that she knew how he felt, knew he was probably on the verge of vomiting, he was still smiling so brightly that it almost hurt her eyes. And then all Hermione could do was smile back. She realised then, that this was the happiest day of her life. None of the rest of it mattered.
Hermione came to stand beside him, her Dad handed her over to her soon to be husband, kissed her on the cheek, and moved back.
"Dearly beloved," said the wizard presiding over the ceremony, the same one who'd been at Harry and Ginny's wedding, "We are gathered here today…"
Something was moving in the corner of Hermione's eye. She turned her head to see Isobel swaying slightly. She really did look rough. The younger woman had that look of someone in deep concentration, staring fixedly at the floor at her feet.
"To celebrate the…"
Hermione realised then that she'd made the, it was already beginning to seem, crucial mistake of allowing children at the wedding. She could hear Rose behind her saying, "Mummy? Is this a parpy?" while Nina tried to quiet her, Nikki grizzling behind them and James somewhere in the back of the church moaning loudly about being made to sit still by his uncle Charlie.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley…"
Hermione was beginning to feel quite hot in her dress. Had she put on weight since they'd bought it? It really was a bit tight… Oh god, what if she looked like some fat cow stuffed into a cerulean, condom like tube and no one had told her?
"Wilt thou love her, cherish her…"
Her mind really needed to shut up. This was her wedding for fucks sake. She was supposed to be radiant in her happiness. Hermione immediately plastered a somewhat manic smile across her face and Ron gave her a slightly alarmed look in response.
"Comfort and keep her…"
Rose seemed to be making quite a fuss back there. Her incessant questions were beginning to sound whiny and Nina appeared to be having absolutely no luck in silencing her. This boded ill.
"For better, for worse…"
Hermione looked up at Ron who was looking backwards at Rose and his mother in law. Hermione turned to see Rose struggling fiercely in her grandmother's arms. With a resigned sigh, Hermione held out her hand and Nina released the little girl who toddled frantically across the space dividing her from her parents and immediately disappeared into the folds of Hermione's dress as both her and Ron took one of Rose's chubby little hands.
"So long as you both shall live?"
With a start, Hermione's attention snapped back to the wizard in front of them just in time to hear Ron say, "I will," and beam at her.
"Hermione Jean Granger…"
She resisted the urge to say, "Present," in response.
"Wilt thou take Ronald Bilius Weasley…"
Hermione became vaguely aware of Isobel's bouquet beginning to droop out of the corner of her eye.
"In sickness…"
Yes, Isobel was definitely swaying now. Hermione looked round in alarm just in time to see Blaise, in full dress robes, launch across the aisle. Isobel's legs began to fold under her in a slow motion type curtsy and she collapsed in a heap, straight into Blaise's arms.
"Wilt though love him…"
Blaise was then dragging Isobel shiftily towards the side flap of the marque, her feet trailing along the ground out of her dress as if she were a dead body.
"Honour and obey…"
Hermione briefly considered following Blaise and Isobel outside the tent to see if she was ok before she remembered what she was supposed to be doing.
"So long as you both shall live?"
There was a pause wherein the wizard glanced politely between Ron and Hermione, both of whom were staring at the tent flap behind which Isobel and Blaise had just disappeared. After a second, Blaise appeared again, gave them both the thumbs up, and went back to his patient. Hermione gave a giggle, Ginny elbowed her in the ribs and gave her a loaded look before Hermione turned back to Ron and said, "I will," with laughter in her voice.
"I now declare you husband and wife," said the wizard.
The marque exploded in applause as Hermione was swept up into a kiss by her husband.
Weeks later, after a long and relaxing honeymoon in Paris, Hermione found herself sitting on her front porch, puffing on a cigarette with Astoria at her side. The sun was setting on the horizon and Hermione felt truly content to be there with one of the people she loved most.
"Hermione," said Astoria quietly, after some time spent in contemplative silence, "That night in Amsterdam, you know how you and I… how we…"
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, the contentedness vanished in a puff of smoke. She was suddenly worried that Astoria was about to bring up that awful foursome idea. It had made an appearance in her mind every now and then since and she'd firmly decided that it was never going to happen. She absolutely did not have the sexual charisma to pull that off. She'd hoped, desperately, that she'd not been the only one to put it down to a moment of potion induced insanity. "Yes…" she responded after a moment.
"Well, everyone was doing it weren't they? All the girls were being… intimate?" asked Astoria, trying to keep her voice low.
"Yeah, it was kind of hard not to," Hermione replied with a snort. She remembered what the potion felt like clear as day. It didn't seem possible at the time not to physically show her love to someone she felt so much for.
Astoria grimaced. "I know but… well, the boys were on it too weren't they? Before they came and found us? So… I mean… do you think they…?"
Hermione groaned and put a hand to her forehead, "Oh god…"
A/N – So I hope I'll be posting again from here on out. Fingers crossed. I can't make any promises but keep your eyes peeled. I'll try not to let you down again.
Also, I'm not going to reply to any reviews right now because... well... I don't have any proper excuse. I'm just lazy lol. But I will soon!
Missed you guys.
Xx
Desdemona
Dutch translations (Isobel's conversation with the barman at The Alchemist):
Goedenavond mevrouw, hoe kan ik u helpen? - Good evening miss, how may I help you?
Hallo, kreeg ik te horen dat ik hier kon vinden Brandwond. - Hello, I was told I could find Brandwond here.
U mag in staat zijn om het te vinden, maar ik betwijfel of je kon veroorloven. - You may be able to find it but I doubt you could afford it.
Geld zal geen probleem zijn, zal je verkoopt het aan mij of niet? - Money will not be a problem, will you sell it to me or not?
Dat zal ik doen. - I will.
Goed. Dan zou ik graag tien flesjes, alstublieft. - Good. Then I'd like ten vials, please.
Tien? - Ten?
Heb ik stotteren? - Did I stutter?
Meteen mevrouw, mijn excuses. - Right away miss, my apologies.