Holy moly this took a long time to write. Sorry 'bout that, people. But doesn't this make a perfect Christmas present? I do love Christmas… last year I got this laptop… although I must admit this year, nothing as great as Maggie. (my laptop. Yes, I named it. No, I am not crazy, and no, I would not like those little pills. I'm fine, thank you.)
Enjoy, everyone. And when you are done, if you are in a Christmas-y kind of spirit, do me a favor and check something out for me.
If you speak French, also check something out… my cousin's stories on this site. It's in my favorites.
Hermione checked her watch again, and sighed. It was so like Kate to be late to a meeting like this. She was a busy woman, constantly swarmed by designers and companies and magazines. The restaurant she had chosen was nice- as always, Kate had taste. It was small and quaint, in a way, dark on the interior with succulent smells drifting into the main dining area from the kitchen. The pizzas were shoveled into large ovens on wooden paddles, and the tablecloths were checkered red and white, topped with a glass vase with summer flowers. It was just the sort of thing she loved.
She let her gaze wander from the busy kitchen to the bright spot of light cast by the post-noon sun in the welcome area. When she spotted her friend, tall and imperious and walking with a brisk, sharp step that let everyone know she meant business, she felt her face crack into a smile.
"Sorry I'm late, hon," Kate said, brash American accent cutting through the quiet murmur of other patrons. "Don't hold it against me, will you?"
Hermione rose to hug her friend again. "Not at all. What were you busy with this time?" Kate gave a dramatic sigh as she plopped into her seat, slinging her purse over the chair.
"Everything and nothing. Gwen was in right after you left, she was just furious that she missed you. Chewed out my ass for not calling her." Hermione laughed, shaking her head thinking about her friend and fellow model.
Gwen was a French model she had meet in Paris, during her first few months modeling. The girl was popular for the same reasons Hermione was- she had the same kind of frail, angelic beauty that made her stand out in a crowd. Tall, blonde, and with the most beautiful blue eyes Hermione had ever seen, Gwen was nothing like what she looked like. She was intelligent, feisty, and a terrible flirt with a sultry French accent. She was the one who had introduced Hermione to Jean-Baptiste, as well as the one who told her to dump him. She had Hermione had developed a close relationship, one that photographers used when they needed girls who contrasted each other but could look like best friends for a shoot. She was one of the few people Hermione really missed.
"Yoohoo. Earth to Lily. And you're back." Kate leaned back in her chair, and smirked at Hermione. "She is doing the Gustavo show. She misses you."
Hermione picked up a menu. "You're shameless." She used the leather bound menu to hide her grin as Kate cackled in amusement.
"Yes. Yes I am. But I need you. And Gustavo didn't stop talking about you for the rest of his visit." Kate leaned forward again, and grabbed on of Hermione's hands. "Please? Pretty please? With an cherry on top?" And whipped cream?" Misreading Hermione's look, she pouted even wider. "Non-fat whipped cream that tastes as good as the real stuff?"
"I told you I'd think about it," Hermione said crossly. "What are you having?" Let me guess, she thought. Salad.
"Salad," Kate said, letting go of Hermione's hand. "You are freezing, girlie. Get something hot." She winked, and adopted a decidedly mischievous demeanor. "And speaking of hot…" She trailed off. "Aren't you going to tell me about Harry?" Hermione shifted uncomfortably, switching her legs, and fidgeting in her chair.
Hermione groaned inwardly. "There is nothing to tell. I'll have the lasagna." She caught the waiter's eye, and lifted a finger and an eyebrow.
"Yes, miss?" It was probably a uni kid, and Hermione resolved to give him a big tip. She had always felt a twinge of guilt for never continuing with a Muggle education. Maybe she would remedy that in the near future.
Hermione smiled gently at him, and laughed inwardly as he blushed. Boys. "I'll have the lasagna. Small, please. Kate?"
"Salad, no dressing, croutons, or cheese," Kate rolled off with a practiced air. "And a glass of wine. Red. What do you have?"
As the waiter answered her, Hermione looked out the window, blinking slightly at the light. The restaurant was a tad too dark for her tastes, but it did give the illusion of privacy. Finally Kate sent the waiter away, returning her attention to Hermione.
"I want to know about this boy who made you leave on of the most profitable careers a girl can have." She scowled. "I'm losing a lot of my income because of him. And the public will mourn once word officially gets out."
"It isn't like that," Hermione protested, brow wrinkling, then flattening out with the almost audile snap of habit. "Yes, Harry wanted me to come home, but I could model just as easily from London. I'm the one who wanted to leave." She closed her eyes, and delicately squeezed the bridge of her nose. "It was my decision. I-"
She stopped, unsure of whether or not to say more. Kate, however, wanted to know the truth. "What, Lily. What?"
Hermione looked at her friend with large, pleading eyes. "I ran away. And that was wrong. So I came back. And that is all there is to it." She didn't feel as her posture and eyes changed from supplicating to determined, but Kate did.
"Lily. Baby, if you're in trouble I can help you out. You know that." Kate was obviously confused, and even a bit shocked. "What exactly?"
Hermione giggled derisively. "I was running from my life, to be partially honest. But look! Lunch is here." They were presented with their food, and even took a few bites before resuming the conversation.
"So you need to put things to rights?" asked the agent. "You need to do what you need to do?" She seemed defeated, and accepting. Hermione had the sneaking suspicion that it was a ploy; it was just like the tall blonde.
Hermione considered it for a moment, savoring the taste of the finely made lasagna. "Yes. That is one way of putting it."
"Then put things in your other life to rights, Lily!" Kate said earnestly. "Do this last show. Tie up loose ends. And maybe you can come back one day. Show one life the other. I want to meet the people you've always talked about. Harry and Ronald and Luna and Neville. You've spoken of them like they were your family, not your friends."
"They are my family," Hermione replied. "My parents- they hated me. I did something unforgivable and they hated me for it. And then they died. So my friends are my family." She shrugged, at the shock on Kate's face. "I wasn't close to my parents anymore. Boarding school, you know."
She forced herself to stop fidgeting like a five year old in church. Hermione hated the pity she saw in the eyes of those she both knew and didn't know when they learned about her parents. It had been the common expression on the faces of everyone she saw in the weeks after the Prophet had run the story. Just days after her parents all but disowned her, some of the unfound Death Eaters had murdered them. Theirs was not classified as a Suspicious Muggle Death- no, the Dark Mark above the house placed it firmly in the Voldemort Revenge Killing category.
"I'm so sorry," Kate said softly. "Damn me and my big mouth. I should have known not to mention family." And she should have too, Hermione thought. How many times had she found a reasonable- or unreasonable- excuse to leave as soon as family was discussed? It was only in the last few months Hermione felt less guilt and sorrow and rage at their deaths. Harry's unit finally bringing in some of the last untried Death Eaters helped somewhat, and time had healed more.
But she just pasted a bland smile of her face and shook her head. "It's fine, Kate. And I was the one who brought it up, I guess. But you're right, in a way. I do want to show some my friends what exactly I've been doing for the last two years." Before, the thought of Harry or Ron at a fashion show would have been ridiculous. But now, even if it was just in her head, she could see it happening. It would be good for them to see her in what had become her world.
Kate beamed at her. "That's the spirit, baby girl! And think of your man seeing you in that gorgeous gown- the one with the long sleeves and skirt and the open back? In…" Kate frowned, and tapped the edge of her fork against her full lower lip. "Not white, or black. Scarlet. Maybe violet. Emerald. Gold. Bronze?"
"Not white," Hermione agreed. "That'd make it look too much like a wedding gown. I like the idea of it in a deep forest green, or red." Then she realized what she had said, and scowled. "I still haven't decided for sure yet," she announced, unsure if it was futile or not. "And Harry is not my man."
The corner of Kate's eyes crinkled as she smirked smugly. "Interesting how he is the first one you thought of, especially with Jon on this side of the pond. How is the rascal anyway?"
The conversation moved on from there, but Hermione's thoughts kept darting back to the fashion show. She wanted to do it. It was almost pulling her- the idea seemed better and better as it ripened in her mind. She would invite Harry and Ron, Neville, Luna if she felt up to it, Ginny, and George. That was five, maybe six people. Ginny would love to get dressed up. And she felt that she could force the boys into nice suits.
As she was exchanging goodbyes with Kate, and leaving a good tip for the waiter, she paused suddenly, and broke into a huge smile. "I'll talk to him," she said, fighting the urge to giggle.
"What?" Kate asked, raising an eyebrow. "Who?"
Hermione gave her one of her 'special' camera smiles. This was the one that said, 'You and I have a secret,' and it made everyone smile back. "Harry. I'll see if he feels like going to a fashion show. And I'll ask some of my other friends."
Kate squealed and leaned over, wobbling uneasily in her heels, to hug Hermione. "Great! I'll be so excited. Call me tomorrow morning?"
"Sure," Hermione said, returning her friend's hug. "But my friends are more than a little unusual. I'll warn you now."
A few hours later, Harry and Hermione were sitting on the floor of Hermione's living room, eating Lao Mein and Sesame Chicken, relaxing and laughing together. Two wine glasses full of cranberry juice rested on the formerly pristine coffee table, the coffee table now littered with white and red cartons full of noodles and rice.
"So," said Hermione, clacking her chopsticks together. "How was your day?" She tilted her head to look at him, snorting when he fumbled with his chopsticks and dropped a piece of chicken on his lap.
Harry mock glared at her, then twitched his fingers to call a napkin from a pile on the other side of the table. "Fine. We thought we had another suspicious Muggle Death, but the house fire was the fault of a gas leak, not any curses or hexes we know. And my partner Ben wants to meet you."
It was Hermione's turn to drop her food in shock, although she recovered enough to make it land on her plate instead of her carpet or lap. "What?" Harry just grinned at her, in the exact same way he had since their first year. Sometimes it was all she could do from jumping on the man, and other times all she could see was the scrawny eleven year old.
"I want you to meet my partner, Ben. And he wants to meet you too," Harry repeated, enjoying her surprise. "I thought we'd invite him over for dinner."
"At your place, right?" Hermione asked, smirking when Harry blushed and stammered.
He was adorable when he was flustered. "If you want. I'm sorry, 'Mione. I didn't mean to sound rude." He looked so helpless, Hermione couldn't help laughing.
"If you want to have it here, we can have it here. When do you want to do it?" Thoughtfully, she glanced over at her dining room.
Harry considered for a while, munching on some kind of crunchy green vegetable. "Saturday?" His curiosity was aroused by the pale pink blush that infused Hermione's cheeks.
"Actually," she said. "Well. Kate made me an offer to do a show Saturday. And she told me I could invite as many of my friends as I want. And it would be a good way to say goodbye to the modeling world, and-"
"It sounds like a great idea," Harry said calmly. "A really great idea. I, for one," he said with a wink, "Would love to see you in skimpy swimwear." A shiver ran through Hermione at those words. God, Harry. He was killing her. And her hormones- it was like being an insecure fifteen year old again. Was he this flirty with everyone?
Blush spreading, Hermione grinned at him, baring her canines. "You, George, and Ron. I dunno about Neville." Now it was time for a little test- would he be possessive? More than he had always been, of course. Although he had always seemed alright with Krum. It had been Ron who had a problem with the famous Seeker.
Harry frowned, a dark jealousy coursing through him. Swimwear in the current decade was nothing more than tiny triangles and string- more revealing than underwear! No one but him should see Hermione in her underwear. Not George- and definitely not Ron. He had to protect her from their lewd eyes. Suddenly, he was ashamed. It was selfish of him to want to be the only one to see her in her underwear. Ron had probably seen Hermione in her underwear. Maybe George. And definitely Jon King. He looked at her like he had seen her in her underwear.
Using every bit of his considerable will, Harry forced himself to shrug. "You're beautiful, Hermione," he said sincerely. "A man would have to be gay, or married to a Veela not to want to see you in your underwear." It was when she gave him a strange look he realized his slip. His cheeks were burning- he must have been as red as a tomato. "I meant swimsuit. All men want to see you in a swimsuit."
Hermione laughed, throwing her head back. Her hair was up in some kind of fancy clip, leaving her slender neck free of her heavy mass of curls. "Merlin, Harry. What I meant to ask was if you thought it was a good idea for me to do the show." She cast him a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. "You don't think it would look like I was rethinking my decision to leave?"
"Nah," Harry said, with a decisive shake of his head. "I think it's a good idea. Plus I want to see you in your element." He winked at her, Banishing the remains of their dinner to her kitchen. "What exactly is going to happen?"
Hermione beamed at him, the wide, happy grin on her face making him smile as well. "Well, first, there is the show. You would sit in the crowd and watch as a bunch of sticks in expensive fabrics strut their stuff. Then we have the party, when we come out in the evening dress outfits and our highest heels and best jewels. Basically, the models are treated like eye-candy. Most of them walk around and simper and giggle. Some of us," she said with an eye roll, "Some of us prefer intelligent conversation. We make introductions and talk. Then comes the after party."
"The after party?" Harry asked in mock horror, throwing his arms up. "You make it sound like torture."
Hermione wrinkled her nose, rising from the carpet to lie on the sofa. "It can be fun. But if all they want to do is get you in bed with some hot shot it isn't. Since I was usually single, the 'unspoken rule' was that I should hop into bed with someone important." Her frustration was evident as she continued her rant on the use of the women to persuade the rich to invest in a designer.
"So we're going to all of that?" asked Harry. "Show, party, after party?" He could deal with that. Ginny would love it, and Ron would hate it. He wasn't sure about George, or Neville. Luna would do everything as she always did- wander around making strange comments. At least the Muggles would attribute it to her pregnancy.
Hermione shook her head, motioning him up to the sofa. "The after party is by word of mouth only. I don't think I'll take anyone to that one. I might not even go myself," she mused. "Do you want anything for dessert?" she asked Harry.
"Not really," he answered shaking his head. "Do you want to put cranberry juice in wine glasses and pretend we're grownups?" She laughed and nodded.
"I have cranberry juice in the fridge for just that reason," she said, voice full of grim amusement. "And I'd like to think that I am a grown-up."
As Harry walked to her kitchen and got the juice, Hermione's cell phone started calling out with a tinkling tune. Sighing, she picked it up, not glancing at the number. "Hello?"
"Hey, Princess," said the tinny voice of Jon King. "How're ya doing?" She smiled unconsciously.
"Fine, fine," she drawled. "And why are you calling me at," she checked her watch, and grimanced. "Ten o'clock at night?" She laughed with him, barely noticing Harry returning with two glasses full of cranberry juice.
She could almost see Jon shaking his head. "No reason, darling. Except that I heard you're doing one more show." The curiosity in his voice was evident. "Why?"
She shrugged, accepting the juice from Harry with a smile of thanks. "No reason. The clothes are gorgeous and I'd like to show my friends here what I did for the two years of dropped off their radar." They laughed again, Harry watching her with narrow green eyes.
"Well, I'm coming," Jon announced. "I'm not going to give up the chance to see you in something tight as hell and twice as sexy." Hermione shook her head in exasperation.
"Don't expect anything," Hermione warned, voice stern. "The days when you could do that are long gone, Mister."
"Ah, yes," Jon said, a hint of bitterness threading through his voices. "Give that crazy wizard of yours a 'hallo' from me, won't you, Princess?"
"Of course," Hermione said, shaking her head again. "See you Saturday, Jon."
"I'll be waiting," said the American. "Have a good night, darling. Dream of me." He hung up, leaving Hermione somewhere between resigned and annoyed.
"Jonathan King?" guessed Harry. "You sure sounded happy to hear from him." An image of the two of them together flashed through his head, causing him to frown. The picture in The Daily Prophet of Jonathan King holding Hermione tight and kissing her on the early morning streets of New York City made him distinctly uncomfortable. The handsome American seemed to represent all of what made up the Lily-Hermione he had come to love and hate at the same time.
Hermione shot him a look. "I was. He was one of my first friends in the business."
"I heard he was more than that," Harry said voice deceptively calm. "I heard you were romantically involved." The quick surprise in Hermione's face was all that was needed to tell him he was right. "I thought so," he said quietly.
"That is none of your business," Hermione said, voice deadly. "Who I sleep with and who I date is none of your business."
"You're my best friend," said Harry, choosing his words carefully. "I care about you. I didn't mean to intrude." The burning jealousy when he thought of Jon King aside, it was true that Hermione had the right to date who she wanted. But she had slept with King! Slept with him!
Hermione nodded tersely. "You're my friend too, Harry," she said, most of the venom fled from her voice. "And you're opinion matters to me. But not as far as that, okay?" she gave him a weak smile. "Between you and Ron, I'd never have a boyfriend."
"Well," said Harry, clearing his throat nervously, "Back to our original subject. When do you want to have dinner with Ben?"
Hermione sipped from her cup, pensive. "How does Monday sound?" Sunday, she thought, they would be tired. She didn't think she could cook well after partying well into the morning.
"Okay," Harry said. "I'll ask Ben to come over…" Hermione nodded at him, a tired grin on her face. "To come over here at seven. I can come over and cook when my shift is done at five."
"Alright," Hermione agreed. "I'll see you tomorrow then?" Harry nodded, and stood to embrace her, acknowledging the dismissal.
She relished the moment, when his arms were around her and her face was tucked into the crook between his shoulder and neck. She rose on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, feeling the stubble of the day beneath her lips.
"Can I Apparate from here?" he asked.
Hermione nodded, drawing her wand and casting a small Silencing spell. "There. Go ahead."
And with a crack, he was gone.
"Hello?" The crisp, accented voice answered with a bored greeting, making Hermione smile on the other end of the phone. There really wasn't any one else like Kate.
"Kate, dear, it's Lily." The fake name came easily to her lips, but left a sour taste in her mouth.
The change in Kate's tone was immediate. She knew that Hermione had decided on something. "Lily, darling. Are you going to do it?"
A smile came to Hermione's lips. "Yes. I'll need six passes. Maybe seven, depends if one of my friends brings a date." Ginny might- she didn't know. It seemed like the youngest Weasley was still half in love with Harry. At least Hermione knew that Harry was totally over Ginny- although she didn't know why that fact made her so smugly happy.
"Perfect. I'll arrange it. Prime seats for all of them!" Kate announced, and Hermione could almost see her turn to her computer and start making arrangements. The click-clack of the keyboard in the background let her know she was right.
"Thanks, Kate," said Hermione, real gratitude in her voce. "I'll see you Friday for the fitting and practice run?"
"Hell yeah, baby!" Kate drawled. "You're pretty, money-making little ass needs to be down at Gregori's by 8:00 AM Friday morning."
"Okay- wait. You said Gwen was doing the show?" She wanted to see the spunky French model again. She need a good session of girl talk that Ginny was uniquely un-suited for.
"Right," said Kate, and Hermione could almost hear the nod. "And she is the next person I'm calling. She's in Paris until Friday, but she will be here Saturday night."
"Great! Tell her I miss her. And I can't wait for my friends to meet her." Hermione wondered how the feisty blonde would react to the equally feisty redhead.
"Will do, darling. See ya later." A click ended the call, and Hermione tossed her phone across her bed. The early morning and the promise of a nice run at a nearby park had gotten her out of bed; and tired but happy, the exercise had landed her back on top of the soft covers.
Plans made for her weekend, Hermione wandered over to her living room, and was struck by the sight of the huge leather bound book she had been reading that night after the party. The one Harry and seen, and the one that made her think of curses and babies, now, thanks to the silly wizard she called a best friend.
She needed to research.
Walking back to her bedroom, she took a shower, carelessly pulling her curls into a bun with a nearby pencil- a trick she had learned as a child. It took no time at all for her to get into 'study mode' and back into the living room.
When Harry came over, hands full of groceries, he found her lying on her stomach, totally absorbed in her heavy tome. A forgotten pencil was barely keeping her hair in its loose bun, and her eyes and her quill were moving fast. A long sheaf of parchment was covered with Hermione's neat handwriting, and a small set of reading glasses were perched on her nose.
Harry felt his eyes lingering on the back of her neck, noticing for what seemed like the hundredth time how smooth and white it was. How there was a little freckle that just begged to be kissed. Kicking himself for noticing, he set the bags down, cans clinking.
Faster than he would have expected, and wand was pointed at his throat, and Hermione was in a defensive crouch. When she recognized him, she didn't say anything, but she dropped her wand.
"Sorry," Harry said, heart racing. "Didn't mean to scare you."
Hermione sighed, and shook her head. "Doesn't mean anything. I've been jumpy today." She frowned, looking out at her lovely view and taking note of the dusky purple of the London sky. She stretched slowly, and frowned deeper. "What time is it?"
"About seven o'clock," Harry replied, checking his watch. "Are you hungry?"
Hermione closed her eyes, taking stock of her body. "Yeah," she said, surprised. "Just let me put my research away." The day had really gotten away from her- lunch had been forgotten, as had her cell phone. She had six missed calls, all from Jonathan.
"Damn," she muttered. "Is my hearing going too?" The sullen, bitter mood had enveloped her after reading just a few chapters of her book. The pessimistic view of life had come and gone in the beginning, when she wasn't sure what was happening to her- most of the time she felt fear and a slowly diminishing hope that whatever had happened wouldn't happen again. When she had finally gotten the guts to start researching, full of fear of what she would find and full of worry that if she didn't find out it would kill her, she had sunk into a deep depression and stayed there for a few weeks.
But now was not the time to succumb to a dangerous state of bitter resignation- she had a show to do in a few days, and she was starting a new job Monday. Now was not the time.
Next chapter will be the fashion show! I swear, I'm reverting back to my preteen self, writing this story. Tell me what you do, or don't, want to see… I promise some interesting conflicts. Think of all our favorite HP characters in a room with Gwen and Jon and Jean-Baptiste and Kate…. and a few other people.
Okay: SUPER DUPER HUGE favor time, for those who love me. I need you to go to FictionPress and read a short story of mine. And then review. It's not just for reviews- the short story is for a school assignment and I need feedback for the paper I need to write on it. So I need to see what different audiences think about it. http:/www .fiction /s/2979867/1/Dear_Doctor_Grave All you need to do is go read it and leave a review.
Other news: I have begun to write a Severus/ Hermione story. I know that squicks people out, but if there are any readers of mine who like SS/HG let me know if you want to see one written by me. (If you liked When A Lioness Fights, I think you'll like this one) Let me know.
Sorry for the huge A/N. Review, and check out my other stories. Thanks for reading.