Disclosure Hp belongs to Jkr. The storyline, new character development, new events, and new characters are my intellectual property. Glorioux .
A/N The third in the No-series. No more tears, Not Over, and now Not a Friend. I will try to write a story that mentions a lot of the reviewers, let me think. Draco gets the witch and maybe Blaise, he is a strange character here.
Not a Friend
The Blond Enemy and the Traitor
Her feet were killing her, it had been a hard day at the Ministry, and all she wanted was to go home, but she needed to attend the reception for the foreign visitors.
Although she debated with herself on the merits of going home, she knew how it would look, and how it would be a bad mark against her. Many were already upset with her latest promotion, and the whispers of favoritism were polluting the air around her, never mind that she worked weekends, and whenever necessary.
Since Harry had his own life, hers had become rather lonely. She had neither made many friends at Hogwarts nor during her University studies.
Her only lifetime friends were Muggles, and they would expect her to meet her duties, to take on the place her parents had left in many associations and social lives, where the Granger family had representation. As of lately, she thought about going back to her Muggle life.
Ironic, she was somewhat a Muggle equivalent of a Pureblood, a fact which had gained few friends at her school before Hogwarts. Her parents had wished a 'normal life,' for her, or the idea of what normal should be. They didn't get that being driven to school in a Bentley by a uniformed driver, a lunch box prepared by chefs, 'protection' waiting for her outside of classrooms plus minding the school grounds, still made her stick out like a sore thumb.
"The other children notice," she used to cry, "I don't need it. They call me names and make fun of me."
Her parents were unmoved, she was their pride and joy, and they often explained to her why she needed 'protection,' why they wanted her to see how others lived and so on, hence at the end of the day, nothing changed.
She never invited her school mates to her home, not because after a couple of birthday parties at other homes and they would have liked her even less. It was already bad enough, others attributed her good marks, and class ranking to her perceived social standing.
Thus, she had welcomed Hogwarts where she would be an unknown. Yes, an unknown she was, to the point she was considered mud under their Pureblood's feet.
It is time to get a freshening spell and change clothes, she thought. She was alone in this world since her parents were now officially dead or missing, surely the first, at least according to the Australian Aurors who found their home full of dark magic residues, just a few weeks ago.
Her parents had liked their lives there and bought a home in a rural area. They made many friends and had decided to stay for a while.
Hermione wore one of her mother's couture cocktail gowns and some of her jewelry and shoes. They were the same size, a 36 euro size, and both were curvy in the right places. Amazing how similar their bodies were.
Her mother liked sexy yet understated gowns, mostly to look elegant and drive her formal husband crazy. She could remember catching her parents leaning against the stairs, near the front door when they came back from one of their evenings, too needy for each other to make it to their room.
Not even forty years old when they were gone, they married when she was six, she remembered their wedding. Her mother had been pregnant at barely sixteen; her father was the same age. Their guardians-parents made them wait until they finished with the Uni.
She missed them much and still hoped that maybe there was a chance. In two weeks she was taking a sabbatical to follow a few obscure, yet promising leads.
She stopped right there, this was always the case, her mind still took her right back to them, and this wasn't good.
With a glamour charm, she applied suitable eye make-up, two-tone eye shadow to match her dress. She changed into the deep azure-blue dress with the low scoop in the back, fitted waist and flowing skirt with a puffy underskirt a few inches above her knee. She wore a mink wrap that belonged to her grandmother to cover her shoulders.
Then put her hair up in a chignon held by two bird sticks with sapphires for eyes, and the matching chunky necklace and bracelet. Finally, she chose her diamond studs; ones she received for her sixteenth birthday from her now dead grandfather.
She chose a deep red lipstick for her lips to match her nails, and a couple of drops of her mother's favorite Joy, a lovely old fashioned perfume. She changed her shoes to a pair of slingback-high heeled shoes of the same blue of her gown. She was ready, so she shrunk all her things into a small matching evening clutch, placed her wand into her leg holster, and was ready to go.
Hermione wasn't aware of how different she looked when she took the time and assumed she was as unseen as always. Upon entering the room, she saw Harry with the usual suspects, and if she had entertained any ideas of joining them, Ginny's eyes were a deterrent, she still blamed her for trying to take what was rightfully hers. Other cold stares from that crowd did the Dark thoughts clouded her mind. They blamed her for Ron's death; namely, because the golden trio was too occupied in giving each other pleasure, when, unfortunately, two Death Eater renegades came upon them.
It happened during a holiday with the Weasley; they have gone for a walk, into the forest to indulge in their favorite pastime, each other. The three of them had been together since the year after the war.
Presently, Harry was back in the fold, but she was the scarlet witch. Too bad that he came crying to her door whenever he was drunk. "Forgive me, you are my love even if I married her, I betrayed both Ron and you, forgive me, my love."
Someone was talking to her.
"Exciting party, don't you love these social events, you must since you haven't moved from the same place since you entered the room."
She looked at her left where he stood and eyed him with apprehension, why was he talking to her? They weren't friends, not even acquaintances, nor she wanted to be other than their status quo. Moreover, a war over or not, they would never be more than that.
She ignored him and started to walk away; it wasn't her place to exchange niceties with him or with any of his crowd for that matter unless they worked for her.
A cold and soft hand forcefully grabbed her left upper arm with steely strength, "Didn't your parents teach you that it was impolite to walk away while someone is talking to you?" he raised his voice.
As he stepped closer, the smell of liquor was overpowering, and before she could answer, "Your skin is so soft," his grip eased as he let his hand run up and down her bare arm. "How can you smell so sweet?" His voice changed, lower and seductive.
She was speechless for a second, his hand on her made her anxious, it made her ill. She pulled away, "You are drunk, let go." she hissed between clenched teeth.
"And you look and feel like—"
"Like a human female, or did you mean like a Pureblood? You bloody bigoted prick, let me go. I guess you still haven't learned a lesson." She hissed between her still clenched teeth.
"But I have, haven't you heard? My parents were attacked last week, they are both in a coma. Attacked by some filthy snatcher, my uncle Lestrange was severely wounded, he is expected to die. He had married, and his wife is pregnant. Only a miracle can save them."
She remembered now, "Sorry about your tragedy, but you must let me go, you are bruising my arm," she hoped to have reached him, and instead, his hand tightened around her arm, and his body got closer, she could feel his body heat.
"I am still talking, you don't get to leave, darling." his speech was somewhat slurred.
"Let her go," the voice belonged to one of his supremacists' band. "You are making an spectacle, your lovely fiancee is looking straight at you."
He let go of her arm. "This conversation isn't over, darling," he told her as he was leaving.
"Which conversation, and who is darling?" She asked, but he couldn't hear her anymore.
A couple approached her, Kingsley and Andromeda, the couple of the year, her likeness to Bella always scared her. The only difference was her hair, brown and barely wavy, and sometimes different shades, Tonks had inherited the trade. The taller witch dressed in dark clothes, was obviously pregnant. Harry was talking to King while his eyes devoured her.
Always the same, wanting sexual intimacy while married to his choice, not to her. She was done with him. It had been months since she had barred access to her home, and it was better that way; it hurt too much.
She stood and exchanged a few niceties, averting her eyes from Harry. He stood so close to her that she could smell his cologne. His hand snuck behind her, and his fingers barely touched her lower back; and he closed his eyes in delight. He was always doing that, why, oh why?
"Hermione, beautiful as ever, and where is your guest?" King asked.
"I didn't—"
"Darling, here is your wine." Someone touched her arm and kissed the back of her head.
She turned around, "Ah, you, thanks." She smiled gratefully.
She saw Harry's fists clenching. Great, "I am here with Zabini."
He flashed his dazzling smile, wrapping his arm around her waist, "Blaise, silly witch, or my dear, either will do." He dropped a kiss on her shoulder.
Hermione was about to pull away when she noticed Harry's eyes narrowing.
That was when she saw Ginny waddling towards Harry, "Love here you are," she gave Hermione a venomous smile. Hermione felt the room spinning.
Ginny was pregnant, gods, she didn't know. Harry was colorless, his eyes down and looking ashamed, it seemed as if the room was moving around her, tears threatened to make their presence.
"Well, nice to see you all, we are being summoned, we must take our leave. Darling, come," Blaise held her hand firmly and pulled her away before Ginny reached them.
As soon as they were out earshot, "Let me go, I don't know what game you are playing, but..." Hermione yanked her arm.
"Hermione, you dropped this," it was Harry. She quit pulling and stepped closer into Blaise. Goodness, he smells good, she thought as Blaise stood behind her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, tighter, and held her against his chest.
"I didn't —"
He had one of her diamond studs, not possible, she always used a sticking charm, unless, yes he had used wandless magic and removed it.
"I told you not to use magic on them, or in anything of mine..." she hissed.
"I needed to explain, please listen. She got me drunk. It is true, I should have told you months ago," Harry reached for her arm.
"Let her go; she is with me, "Blaise growled.
For once, Hermione was grateful to be next to a Death Eater.
"You knew I wanted a family. Gods, forgive me for saying that. It wasn't my fau—"
"I don't care, go back. Blaise, darling, let's go."
Harry was left standing, rage coming out his eyes, and murder in his heart, Hermione was his. Two male shadows read his mind and shook their heads from side to side, no, she wasn't. He needed to be taught a lesson.
"Bloody traitor," one of the two shadows hissed. Harry looked around. He could have sworn that he had heard Ron.
"Let her be, or we'll make you." He felt cold, someone had grabbed his arm and pushed him away from Hermione, the hand was cold as ice. That voice he recognized, Sirius'.
Just my imagination, he thought, wanting to deny what he believed real.
"So Granger what was up with Scar-face? You are no longer friends?" Blaise asked casually.
"None of your business," she responded angrily.
They were at the snake-filled table.
"Sorry, my wayward date stayed talking to her former beau. Hermione, darling, I think you know most everyone."
"Blaise sit here by me." The blond enemy called. "A better idea Miss Granger, you sit next to me, and Blaise next to Daphne."
Blaise smiled dazzling, "That sounds like a good plan." He winked to Daphne and blew Hermione an air kiss.
"No, it doesn't, Blaise darling." She retorted between clenched teeth.
And before she could complain, Greg Goyle, the enforcer, held her by her waist as if she was a small twig, and sat her by the hated snake.
"Greg, thanks for helping Miss Granger. Theo, you pour a glass of champagne for our dear guest." Draco rested his arm around her chair, and Astoria stood up and pushed her chair in.
Draco didn't even turn around, "If you leave, you go alone. Don't be a baby if you still want to wear my ring, if not, give to Blaise, you grow tiresome. I have an altogether better idea, give it back, the engagement wasn't official. I want beauty and brains. Blaise, my ring?"
Blaise stood, and Astoria slapped the ring on Blaise's hand, turned around and left. He put it in his pocket.
Several laughs rang around the table, and a few nasty stares came by Hermione's way. Hermione couldn't believe the callous behavior.
Daphne winked her eye to Hermione, "My half-sister is a dimwit, but Draco likes her type, blond and empty. Don't worry; she'll worm her way back."
She smiled, "By the way, I hardly recognize you, you are gorgeous tonight, I am glad that you don't dress like this at work, the wizards would never get any work done."
"Aye," answered Blaise, who also worked at the Ministry but not at her office, then he took Daphne's hand to kiss the top, gallantly.
Daphne worked as one of the legal clerks at her office, a special bureau right under Kingsley. Hermione, at her young age, had achieved great success.
While not a Minister, she was an assistant Deputy to Kingsley. They conducted a type of Special Affairs operation, conducting investigations as required by Kingsley. They were not Unspeakables, but a liaison between several ministerial offices, doing the groundwork for King.
"Thanks," she answered curtly, squirming on her seat because Draco's hand was now touching her shoulder; he was pulling a stray curl around his pinkie. Everyone was back at their business, but Blaise looked on, his eyes enjoying the view.
She felt trapped, as a mouse stalked by two giant snakes. She remembered, Blaise was called the Looker, now she wondered where the name came from.
A/N Harry is a bad apple here...