Hello again to anyone still following along. I do appreciate it! And I will say yes I know it has been a terribly long amount of time. I'm not making any promises, but I will say that I hope to keep on this a little more regularly...More often than like 8 months anyway.
Apologies in advance for any spelling or grammatical mistakes. Please let me know.
I will warn there is a bit of hetero and Hr/R action towards the end, just keep that in mind.
On with it then.
For Hermione, the entirety of the week went by in a daunting kind of blur. She tried, gods how she tried, to come up with some sort of exit strategy for the dreaded dinner.
On Monday she considered purposefully withdrawing herself from all interactions at the upcoming dinner, so as to not engage her emotions. But there was still the need to be polite and civil at the least, so there went that idea. On Tuesday and Wednesday she pondered the idea of coming up with an illness suitable enough to excuse herself, but left Ron to attend if he still wished. After no luck with that thought, her end of week ideas ranged from faking moods, attempting working overtime and lastly downright not attending.
Giving up and coming to the conclusion she would just have to make it through the dinner herself, her mood slunk and she became quiet and withdrawn. Even the usual welcome distraction of her work at the Ministry was not enough to repress her anxiety over Friday night's dinner.
Ever the overachiever, after the war Hermione properly completed her schooling. Of course she passed her N.E.W.T's with O's in all subjects. With that, not to mention the added bonus of being a glorified war hero, she of course received a direct offer from the Ministry. The offer meant that she could choose any career path she so desired, and basically had her first pick of the lot. It narrowed down after careful consideration to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Her work at the Ministry was not only something she was passionate about, and thrived on. But as of recent times it proved to be something of a mental crutch and emotional blocker for her… And yes, exactly like muggle cooking.
Alas, now the clock turned to five in the afternoon, of the Friday. Hermione simply sat there at her modest desk, quill held loosely in hand, staring into oblivion.
Her continuing work on rewriting and defining the laws for interspecies relationships amongst magical creatures, was becoming tedious and quite irrelevant to her once obeying mind.
The present odour of dust ridden shelves permeated the atmosphere of the room. The familiarity of it soothed her mildly. Hermione mused there would never be anything as tranquil to her state of mind, than that of ink and parchment and book bindings.
A chiming coming from her right office wall pulled her from her thoughts, and she glanced sideways as the clock finally signalled the end of her working day.
Two hours left. Shit what happened to all this time I had to prepare myself.
As her head slumped down on her fist, her elbow began sliding ever so gradually across the dark mahogany of her desk. She willed herself to get up, but as the twitch began in her leg muscles to move, Kingsley's head appeared in the small gap of her office door.
"Ah, Minister," Hermione picked her head up and readjusted in her seat. "Come in it's fine. What can I do for you" Kingsley pushed through the doorway, shutting it behind him as he begun pacing towards the witch's desk.
"Hermione, I hate to bother you so late in the afternoon at the end of the week. But it's a matter I can't possibly delay." Kingsley paused purposefully and brought himself to a stop a few feet away from her desk.
The young witch stared up at her boss meaningfully. She knew all too well having to break bad news, or having to dish out hard work.
"Minister, we've fought battles together. You should be sure in the knowledge that you can present me with just about any problem, and find a way to work through it."
Kingsley smirked for just a second, before his eyes glanced down hesitantly then back up to meet his colleague's serious gaze.
"That's the problem I'm afraid, this time you won't be able to." The young witch tilted her head in question, before he continued. "I know how dedicated you are to your work in reviewing and rewriting these laws. And I understand you've dedicated your career thus far to it. But you must realise you work almost around the clock. You've hardly even had a Christmas off."
Hermione's face dropped. She could see where this is going. And she was rather hoping it wouldn't happen. Least of all at this point in time.
Of course he'd be doing this now.
Before she could finish opening her mouth to make an argument, he chimed in. "Hermione, you need to take a break. No arguments."
"But Minister, I've only jus-"
"Miss Granger, I'm afraid I have to make you." Kingsley raises a wide hand calmly, in an attempt to stop any further retaliations "You're taking two weeks leave from next Monday." Hermione exhaled loudly and deflated, knowing the formal use of her last name and title meant she could not win.
Perfect.
After flooing quickly home, the brunette began getting ready in a fluster of speed, with equal amounts of worry and self- consciousness. Once barely satisfied with her appearance she sat herself at her vanity mirror, staring at her reflection, and tried to psyche herself into a frame of mind that would allow her total control over her emotions.
Not that it mattered anyway, no amount of time, preparation or reigning in of feelings could ever be enough.
She'd been so desperate to have any scrap of interaction with the redhead that alluded her, she had totally disregarded the fact that it would mean masquerading her emotions. She would ultimately be stuck with her thoughts in a very tension filled dinner party.
"Hey love, it's almost time. You ready yet?" Ron called from the end of the hallway. Hermione exhaled deeply, her heart beginning to thud wildly in her chest. She shut her eyes, and gathered herself before she had to face the world.
The next few minutes turned into a haze she would soon come to forget. A blur of autopilot functions and apparition before the sound of Harry's voice at the front door of Grimmauld Place snapped her awake.
"Hey, you guys! Come in, come in." Harry welcomed them both with a cheesy grin and an open arm, which he used to pull Ron into their usual pat on the back embrace. Hermione stepped through the threshold behind Ron, and followed Ron's gesture, wrapping her arms around her scruffy friend's torso. Ron was the first to mention his appearance.
"Blimey mate, I think you could use a hair cut," he gestured at Harry's hair quickly. Hermione had to admit, he did seem a little dishevelled. It wasn't just his usual unruly hair affecting his features, but now closer to the man she noticed his eyes puffy and irritated. She also noted, as he made the sound again, he had to clear his throat indignantly each time he began to speak.
"Obviously been too long then," he smiled weakly, shuffling uneasily towards the door to close it behind his guests. "Ginny's just uh, ya know, finishing getting all girled up. Won't be too long I guess." Harry rubbed his arm awkwardly, as if he didn't know what else to do, when things suddenly made sense to the brunette. They've been fighting.
Her heart dropped when the realisation hit her. A disturbing urge to seek out the other woman and comfort her, protect her, was overwhelming and pulled at her to move. Had she not been practiced in restraining her feelings that is.
There was only a tiny pause of awkwardness from Harry before he seemed to collect himself. "But come on in, I'll start pouring some drinks ey?" Harry said perking up, leading them through the now bright corridor and into the familiar surrounding of the combined kitchen and dining.
Once the trio had settled at the table, strong drinks in hand and mouth watering food to pick at, conversation began to flow easily between old friends. At this point, the worried witch couldn't help but steal momentary glances towards the kitchen doorway, in a way she was sure went unnoticed by the boys. Woman, stop stressing yourself out.
"Isn't that right dear, it all settles down eventually. We basically agree on everything now." Ron was grinning broadly at her, and snaked his arm around her shoulder. She replied confidently, almost scowling in his direction
"So we 'agree on everything now' do we? Is that what you're calling it?" As she raised a firm eyebrow at the man, his face paled instantly.
"Well I didn't mean it like that. I jus-"
"Then how exactly did you mean it Ronald?" She could feel her temper brewing. Stirring. Impossible ideas about the choices she'd made and their emotions, ones that she desperately needed to restrain, raised with her anger.
"I just meant that we both agree on things now, that's all."
Agree?! Its biting my tongue to save argument that we can agree on!
To save face, and herself, she stilled.
"While I know we agree on many things, Ron," she forced herself not to use his full name, "don't just think we automatically have nothing to differ on."
"I know that, I'm just trying to ease Harry's mind."
Harry bristled uncomfortably, feeling a change of attitude suddenly he spoke up.
"Look, don't even worry about it."
The brunette could suddenly feel the all too captivating change of energy overwhelm her senses. She'd notice her presence in a room anytime, anywhere and well always. As the heavenly voice struck her auditory senses, she struggled to keep her appearance in check.
"Oh no, please, do go on. Don't let my presence stop you now that you guys are this far into the conversation." Arms folded. Face raised in sarcasm. Red hair falling carelessly about her shoulders. Leaning against the doorway nonchalantly.
Hermione turned herself around, rather carefully and slowly, towards the doorway to meet the other woman's eyes. But before she could meet the others gaze, the image of Ginny standing there just as she was, stole Hermione's breath all too swiftly.
Fuck. She's still so fucking gorgeous.
Quickly feigning a deep sigh to recover from the brief rush of air being inhaled into her lungs, she greeted the woman standing before her.
"Ginny... hey." Her eyes were caught, entranced by the sudden eye contact from the other.
Perhaps it sounds silly, but looking into those hypnotizing brown eyes of Ginny's, Hermione felt the world stop. She felt like she was home. Warm. Safe. More content than she would ever be ordinarily.
But yet even sillier she felt the same sensations, like a sixth sense, being returned from the beautiful redhead's stare. It drenched her in an overwhelming sensation of belonging. To know she was needed so urgently in that moment, purely harmonious and completely reciprocated. And it was almost too much to bear.
And then just like that, the moment was gone from existence.
The quick interaction seemed to go unnoticed by the boys in the room, who simply stared at her dumbly. Ginny rolled her eyes subtly towards the two men, who both muttered small hello's. She took up her awaiting glass of wine and took a seat heavily.
"Look let's just move on, okay?" she insisted, taking a sip from her glass. "Mmh. Ron, how's that case going?"
The initial tension the two women first felt slipped away into we'll practised self restraint. Ginny barely even acknowledged Hermione after that, and as such the latter felt the need to pull herself away in spirit from the evening altogether. She knew however that duty to her partner and friends had to be served, and so she forced conversation. She opted for topics of trivial things, in the hopes she may just find some common ground with the youngest Weasley, but found she failed.
Long into the night the conversation ran, back and forth between the four friends. They each ate their fill contently, updating each other on the current status of their lives. Reminiscing on easier times and regaling such stories to each other for the umpteenth time. Drinking too much for their wits to handle.
The younger witch's entire lack of any interaction became all too much for the elder witch. She tried repetitively to ignore the creeping sensation of rejection swelling from her spirit. Alas she concluded, as her emotions ran the edges of her well placed boundaries, she needed reprieve. To bask in complacency, and refresh her mind with thoughts and actions that would bring her calculated blessings of comfort.
Christ, I need to get out of here before she actually kills me.
Glancing at Ron as he roared with careless, blaringly drunk laughter, she found her way out as one word ran through her mind.
Predictable.
And just like that, with one goal in mind she made her move with her nails up his leg, waiting for his face to turn crimson.
"Well, this evening has been great guys. We ought to do it again," Hermione tried her best to sound genuine. But the exaggerated look from the woman sitting across from her told her she knew otherwise.
"Yeah sure, absolutely." The words from the redhead stung harshly. The only interaction she'd gotten directly from her destined, and they were oozing with resentment. Not obvious to the others, but she knew it was there.
Ron brightened promptly, a light bulb obviously going off in his brain.
"Next week!" he swivelled, to his girlfriend. "Next week you're off entirely, even after that. You should spend a day with Ginny while she's off training too."
The other redhead in the room seemed to reflect Hermione's feelings, as she spoke up rather defensively for the better of the both of them.
"Ron you can't plan Hermione's time off for her. She's not a child, she can think for herself." The brunette never looked at the fierce woman, but thanked her internally nonetheless.
The older woman spoke up for herself then.
"Yes, what if I had plans already?" Ron shot back like he knew he needed to justify himself further.
"Well do you?"
"That's not the point."
"So you don't?"
"No Ron. I do not."
Harry chose this point to input. He could see the couple beginning to pick at an inevitable argument.
"Hermione, it's not like you're being forced to deal with a death eater."
She scoffed silently.
"Obviously we're not forcing you, just saying it's not a bad idea. You guys can catch up, chill out. Just, enjoy a girls day y'know." Reasoning wasn't giving her an exit. Not that the two men could relate to "girl time". But her mind in its state, meticulously calculating suitable reasons, could not produce a rebuttal for the situation. She was, how do you say? Well.
Screwed. She was screwed.
The idea ebbed at Hermione's fears. As if life couldn't get any more twisted in its plotline. Like the cruel joke it was, to some higher power, clearly wasn't enough for entertainment anymore. Unable to find her voice, the other woman broke her silence for the both of them.
"Right well then, looks like we've got some catching up to do next week 'Mione."
The two women then each dared a look at each other. Ginny, shooting a raised, educated glance at the other. Hermione, seeing the other's jaw slacken wickedly, was once again caught in those gorgeously deep eyes. Frozen, and in fear of her vocal chords giving herself away, she ghosted a smile and a convincing quick nod. The other pair in the room seemed satisfied at this, regardless of Hermione's remaining goose bumps, which had presented themselves at the last uttered word from the redhead.
She needed to get out of there. Finally, giving brash goodbyes to the couple, almost crumbling when social niceties meant she had to hug her tormentor goodbye, the pair left from the Potter's residence. Tipsy and almost entirely exhausted they flooed back to the safety of their home.
Hermione needed reassurance after that night. After seeing the woman who collided so incessantly with every thought, feeling and instinct she contained, she felt her soul ache with a new ferocity. Her one solution required urgency, as she dragged an exited partner to the bedroom, earning a joyfully expectant look from him.
"Really, you nicked off from dinner for this?" The redhead could only drop his jaw and allow himself to be jerked inside the room with a low, agreeable hum from the witch. "Merlin, I need to let you drink more often!"
And so she lost herself with only one goal in mind. One intention. She lost herself so utterly in the familiarity of a stubbled cheek upon her face. Of hard, lean muscles under her touch. Of strong arms that lifted her, adjusting her as she so commanded. Of rough thrusts from angled hips. Of all the sensations she had craved and now received in great relief.
As she reached the peak of realise, wracked by sweet euphoria, her thoughts diminished and disappeared to all relevance in the moment. Her never-ending mental barrage ceasing in utter tranquillity, as she finally made an attempt at sleep. The very last thing her memory seemed insistent on was morphing the vibrant red hair clutched in her grasp, into that of another's.