Disclaimer, The HP belongs to JKR. The story line and all new characters, new character development, new developments are my intellectual property.
Chapter 3
Closing Doors- Eighteen months later
Hermione had ignored Ron's ways since Hogwarts. Even when others told her, she didn't believe them. George was getting married soon, and, perhaps, he would settle down and all the partying would end. She had, however, suspected for years that Ron might be unfaithful; her parents hadn't liked him, since the New Year's ball at her father's club two years before.
Ron had drunk too much, nothing unusual and that had not been the problem. Many Muggle women had been attracted to his looks and his magic; there was no question, he had oodles of sexual appeal, and he was eating all the attention up.
That evening, he had looked quite dashing in his smoking jacket; gone was the gawky teenager. In his place was a handsome, tall wizard with deep blue eyes, long hair, and a dazzling smile. He had known his effect on women and was abusing it.
Hermione was growing more upset by the minute, and her father wanted to wring Ron's neck. She was their baby, their treasure, and nobody messed with Hermione Granger. Even her father and mother's friends were upset, and wondered why she hadn't married their son or nephew, and instead, had chosen a man who behaved so boorishly.
He had really done it that time, and to make it worse, he had left the dance floor with a debutante, for over two hours. True, he had later apologized and had assured her that nothing had happened. Yes, Ron was always apologizing, and Hermione was always excusing his shortfalls, to herself and to others who expressed their concern.
She had often heard Fleur complain about Bill, and had to wonder if all the wizards in that family were the same. Charlie had reassured her that it was because of George; the family tried to make it up to him, and it was all innocent fun, a likely story.
She missed Rabastan and more than once, she had wished to have enough courage to go and find him. Not once, had he written, making her fret; and soon enough, she recalled him daily (honestly, all day long).
Being married to Ron had been the best and the worst of things in her life. Her mother had warned her that he was emotionally immature, and had observed his roving eye more than once.
He had card night with his brothers, Seamus, Lee, Harry and other wizards; and once in a while they invited witches, but she was never invited. When she had asked, Ron's answer had chilled her.
"If you come, Bill will have to bring Fleur, Harry will have to bring Ginny, and it will turn into family night. The witches who come are dating the single wizards. It is a singles night. The married wizards just watch the single wizards have a fun time. We cannot be attached to our spouses all the time; and, besides, you don't own me."
-An Invitation – 31 October, 2005-
"Ron, we need to attend, even if it is at the Malfoy's; they are my most influential supporters."
"I am so tired of your career. First, that half-year wasted on the defense of the filthy swine, Lestrange. I wondered for a while if you were having a fling with him." He gave her a nasty knowing smirk.
"Then you take more cases, and now you wonder why I flirt with other witches. My mother is right; if you don't want to be married, there are other fish in the sea. Besides you have never wanted to commit with wizarding vows. You aren't the only one, you know?"
"You are not the only wizard either, but I love you. Tonight is an important night, so you know, I am going. They are celebrating Samhain, and I have never been to one. The guest list is very limited, and I have already accepted for both of us. You had earlier told me that it would be fun."
She had sworn to herself that this would be her last try. A few months back, WWW had hired a witch for a new slot, and she hardly saw him at all. She was no longer sure this marriage could be saved.
"That was before I found out Harry and Ginny were having a Halloween party. I would rather attend it than go to a stuffy Malfoy gathering." He wouldn't even look at her, his eyes were shifty.
"It would have nothing to do with the new attendant at your store, then? I have seen the way you behave around her; I know that she was one of your groupies at Hogwarts. So, if you don't come with me tonight, stay at Harry's or at the Burrow; after all, this is my flat. Ron, I have put up with a lot of humiliation since Hogwarts, do you know that enough is enough? Oh yes, I need to be at peace with myself, to regain my self-respect, and I just don't like what you do to me."
She didn't cry; she was done with it, over a year of tears, was more than enough. She had tried to reconnect with Ron, had sex with him at his request, whenever and wherever, had joined him at bars, games, but something had changed within him. It was the result of the success of the new stores, the interviews, and the good fortune; he was drunk on money and fame.
As for her, she looked out the windows daily, waited for a word from Rabastan, but it never came.
She started getting ready and carefully laid out the mask and the 14th century nobleman robes which she had bought for Ron. She dressed in a thin woollen robe with a low neckline that draped gently around her body. Her hair was half braided, and half down, small seed pearls were interwoven along her hair, which hung just a few inches above her neck.
Finally, she placed the lower nobility's circlet around her forehead. It was made of fine silk ribbons and semi precious stones. She tied a heavy belt across her hips, and slid a gold chain with a heavy medallion around her neck. The night was chilly so she decided it was a good evening to wear her grandmother's ermine hooded cape.
"So, are you dating a Death Eater, and that is why you are dressing the lady's part?" His hooded eyes were turned down, full of lust and malice.
"How can you say that? You are the one who is shagging half of the Wizarding world. Don't bother to deny it. Mrs. Worth, our dear gossipy harpy, delights in showing me your lipstick stained clothes; moreover, she promptly advises me that the color was charmed and cannot be removed. I would imagine someone wants me to know your indiscretions."
She looked at him with undiluted contempt. She should have gone to look for Rabastan. What if he had had an accident?
"Ah, she also told me she used to work for Molly when she was a Prewett; I have a spy living at home. I have wanted this to work, but I am no longer ignoring your escapades. This is your last chance."
"Ha! Who will love you as I do? I was voted one of the top ten wizards in Europe, by Witches Weekly. You are lucky to have me."
He looked smug, and Hermione just had it, she raised her hand and slapped him, although not hard; alas, she regretted it the moment she did it.
"I am sorry Ron. It was improper; and I shouldn't have done it." She was really sorry. What a bad way to end their story.
"Don't bother apologising. Have fun. I'm not coming back tonight. I will stay at Harry's. Thanks for the costume, I will be a hit."
Hermione went by the library and served herself a couple fingers of a fine Calvados her father had given her. Tears threatened to flood her eyes, but she refused to allow them.
She stepped into the Floo, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and said, "Malfoy Manor."
Samhain
When she arrived a house-elf dressed in a velvet tunic over a crisp linen napkin, guided her to the garden. There were bonfires burning on several places. The place had been transformed into a scene of a medieval festival.
Tents had been erected for the occasion; and there were small booths strewn along the way where 'vendors' displayed their wares, revellers moved to and fro, jugglers, dogs, and children were all around. There were entire pigs, boars, rabbits and fowl spit-roasting over open pits. Musicians and jugglers were all over the place, the air was charged with festivity and magic.
She remembered the real reason to attend this Samhain celebration. Luna Lovegood had come by her office.
"Hermione, do you want to go with me to Stonehenge Samhain's celebration? I promised a coven witches to help with the Food Divination booth."
"No thanks, I think I am lying low this year. I am just staying home. Besides can you imagine Hermione Granger and divination?" She laughed.
Luna had gone on and on, for hours it seemed, telling her all about Samhain and how it had been a tradition for centuries, and she had finally promised the blond witch to attend a Samhain party if she was invited to one, otherwise she would accompany her.
So when the Malfoys invited her, who was she to snub tradition? She could not turn them down when they told her there would be witches doing all kinds of traditional divination. She would kill two birds with one stone.
"Granger, so glad you could come." It was Malfoy; hanging from his arm was the flavour-of-the week-witch. All his witches appeared to be assembly made; tall, rail-thin, big boobs, long blond hair, and beautiful, yet their eyes were a little bovine and practically devoid of intelligence.
"Thanks for the invitation. I love your costume." Hermione eyed him appreciatively; he was a beautiful wizard.
Draco was dressed as Lord of the Manor, of course, or Son of the Manor; his tunic reached just below the knees and he wore hand sewn boots tied with leather strips. His mask was small, made out of soft leather with an elaborate design. He had the usual weapons from the era, and wore a fur cloak held with a large brooch, and it was all made for Draco Malfoy, über sexy wizard.
"Same there, you grow more beautiful every year, my dear lady," he gave her a deep bow and kissed her fingertips. "I still wish I had really seen you at school. The weasel doesn't deserve you," he flirted and totally ignored the gorgeous witch attached to him.
"It wouldn't have done you any good; I come in the wrong flavour." She didn't want to start an argument tonight; she had just turned 26 and felt very old, and the mention of Hogwarts and choices didn't sit well with her today.
"You would be surprised," he laughed. "So where is the lucky weasel?"
"Trying his luck elsewhere I would guess." She smiled wearily and quickly walked away.
Draco stood there; it took him a few seconds to react."Wait Granger, wait." Damn, he didn't to miss his one chance.
She didn't wait and aimed to get quickly lost in the crowds; so many people, wow, so much for a small gathering. She went by a stand and was served a tall mug of a smoking drink, mulled wine. Hmm, she took a considerable swig, better, much better.
She spotted the host and hostess and went to say hello.
"Mr and Mrs. Malfoy, thanks for having me over. So is this your idea of a few guests?" She smirked to Lucius, contentiously, just to let out some of her bitterness on the pompous peacock.
The Malfoys, dressed as royalty, with circlets around their foreheads, wore small masks made of rich velvet studded with stones, laughed at the same time. They didn't get her sarcasm.
"Not everyone is a guest, many are paid entertainers, and many others are here to tend to the comfort of our guests. So glad you made it. You look absolutely lovely." Narcissa greeted her.
"So where is the lucky half, Mr. Weasley?" Lucius asked with what appeared trained indifference. There was no love lost between Lucius and Ron. In an act of deference, he checked his perfect manicured nails. Hermione smirked.
"He had a previous engagement at his sister's home." Her voice was terse and stressed.
"Ah, you don't say so. I heard about their party, only organized a couple weeks ago. It would be presumptuous of me to assume their party was planned to sabotage ours, and of course a lot of our guests don't move in the same circles."
Lucius voice was enticing her to an argument. The Dark Wizard loved drawing her into interminable arguments, but she wasn't in the mood tonight.
"Only you could be so accurate. You are so very right. Their friends are really a lot younger, and you are ever so perceptive." Her eyes danced with mischief.
Narcissa let out a hearty laugh, "Touché darling, you have learned from the best."
Lucius smirked, not upset but a little peeved. He abhorred direct allusions to his age. He hoped the caustic petite witch, would never find out his need for reading glasses; and just at the thought of it, he shuddered.
"Please help yourself to anything that you find appealing, join the games, maybe a dance or two. If you would reserve me a dance, I would be honoured."
Lucius was letting her know the audience with the Lord and his Lady was over, and she was being dismissed. Who knows what else she could drag out of him in minutes? She was out for blood.
"Of course, just find me. Lovely party, thanks again for inviting me."
"Lucius, why did you dismiss her? I wanted to talk longer. Was my baby Luc upset about being called old? I know being over fifty—." Lucius stopped her.
"Talk softer, my age is nobody's business, and I didn't dismiss her."
Narcissa laughed, her big blond snake was so predictable.
Lucius would later regret not staying by her side; he would always blame himself. Samhain was a dangerous night when the veil between the living and the dead became very thin. More care should have been exercised when they had intentionally set the stage for uninvited guests; the type who might be interested in just such a witch: young, powerful, pure of soul, and beautiful. And she was alone, so very alone.
Divination
Walking away in the opposite direction, Hermione was ruminating. At twenty six, she had been married close to seven years and nearly divorced; she had made a decision; she couldn't stay married to Ron. Ironically, she had recently entertained the idea of a baby; she was glad to have kept it from Ron. The idea of further tying her life to the Weasley, had served as her deterrent.
She kept meandering about, eating here and there. She saw the divination tents and decided to check. She remembered promising Luna, and she could use some love advice.
Going through the divination booth, first stopped at the apple peelings' reading witch. She smiled recognizing the witch, Delores Umbridge. Too funny to see her dressed as a hag, just what she was, rather fitting, "Realistic costume, it suits you rather well."
Delores ignored her remarks her, "Pick an apple," Hermione did and handed to her.
Umbridge dexterously peeled it in one long peel, closed her eyes, pronounced an incantation, threw the peel over her shoulder, and declared "The name of your loved one starts with an R," Hermione smirked, what a tough guess.
"Your talents leave me speechless Madam, thanks for your advice." She turned around.
She walked away too fast and was unable to hear Delores calling her back. "I never seen this before, it changes to a C and then back into an R."
"Psst. Come in here my sweetie." It was an odd looking, wizened-old wizard.
"Don't you want me to guess the profession of your future lover, maybe you could learn who he is?"
"If you can guess, I would be surprised, but I am willing to try." She had promised Luna, and she kept her promises.
She entered a smoky tent where a big cauldron sat in the middle, it was full of still water. There was plenty of light shining over the cauldron, she guessed to assist the diviner.
The wizard asked her to light a red candle. He also pronounced some incantations, and told her to let the candle drip on top of the water.
"Enough, that should have been sufficient, stop!" He commanded in an imperious voice.
The shape that formed was undeniable, a crown of horns, of a stag to be precise.
"I must have done something wrong, this is not possible." He muttered.
"Why is he the king of the deer or what?" She laughed.
"Watch your words; forget about this, it was just a fluke. Leave, leave and let me be." His look was furtive, and he seemed genuinely spooked.
Whatever, what a disturbing wizard, okay, Mrs. Scamander, I have tried divination with an open mind, and the results were a farce as usual. My future lover will either be a weirdo who wears a crown of horns, or a very scary creature. Either way, I don't like the choices. I tried just for you, and there was a fabulous outcome, it is a great party.
Hermione thought; regardless, this was the last time she would try divination. Later, she would go and dance around the bonfires; there were several solo dancers and it would be perfect.
Encounters
She moved from place to place, ate her fill of delicious fresh food, all local and excellently cooked, drank some other drink, played a few games, greeted many people. She kept busy until she arrived at the edge of the area, arranged for the feast near the forest. She sat on a stump and closed her eyes, only for a few seconds. Just a little quiet time, away from the crowds, before she needed to go back and meet with a few people she knew.
A pair of arms enclosed her from the back. Ron, she didn't want him now. He did smell wonderfully, probably a new cologne. She tensed, not wanting to relax against him.
"Did you miss me? Why didn't you answer my owls?" The arms pressed her closer into the wizard's hard body.
Her mouth went dry. Could it be he, after one and a half years of silence? She had no right to expect more. She was the married one.
He moved the hair off of her neck, and a moist mouth kissed her neck slowly. Tasting her, he had opened his mouth while kissing her.
"Tell me princess, are you all packed? I have come for you."
She was speechless and afraid to look around. What if she was wrong and it was not him? And what about the owls, she had never received any owls from him. The crown of horns had made her remember scarier aspects of older rituals. About gods borrowing the bodies of loved ones, there were cases...
"Who are you?" She asked, hoping yet doubting it very much.
"As if you didn't know," she heard a deep chuckle, "Why the sad face? Where is that imbecile you call your husband."
"Let me look at you." She motioned to stand up, and he pulled and turned her around.
It was Rabastan, one that seemed years younger, his face barely covered by the mask allowed her for a closer inspection.
He was doing the same. "My eyes missed you, my body missed what it could only guess, and my soul has been lost without you. Tonight, You are given back by the gods of the land. I was happy to see you came alone. Come here, my dear love."
She stepped towards him as in a dream, and before she knew his arms were around her. His mouth was all over her face at once, she followed. She noticed they were no longer wearing their masks.
His kisses were like bonfires setting her body ablaze. The desire coursing through her blood was akin to pain, all consuming. Her body needed him.
She pressed closer to him, and he lifted her up by her thighs, sat on the stump with her on his lap and just held on to her. He had pushed her away from his groin. She tried to pull forward, and he stopped her. "No, not here, not jet, just let me hold you, let me feel you are real."
"I am real; I thought you had forgotten about me. You would be right, I am married, but I am alone tonight." Although she was happy, the fact was that he had dropped off the face of the earth.
"I told you before that I didn't care about your marital status, nor do I care now. You are mine, and I have come for you. Tell me you are ready to go with me."
He leaned over and picked up their masks, "Here put it on, I want to dance with you." He just look and her mask was back in place. Powerful, no incantation and the hand, had he waved it?
"Every day without you was worse that one year in Azkaban, and you would not write or answer any of my owls. Why was that?"
"I never received even one."
"I sent them, I followed the owl once, just to make sure, and he delivered the scroll. It was a few weeks after I left, I don't remember well going back home, I was very upset."
Hermione paled, Ron must have received them all. He was home before she was.
"What kind of messages were they?"
"I am not stupid. Nothing intimate, just banal talk until I was sure it was you getting my messages. I know you are telling the truth, you cannot lie to me. It was Weasley, wasn't it, I think I saw him but I cannot recall the details, I haven't been well. It is all foggy, I just cannot remember."
"It doesn't matter, it really doesn't, forget about him."
"Is that what you think Hermione?" It was Ron, standing right by their side. "You there, it is my wife you are holding, release her immediately." Hermione could smell alcohol on him. For goodness sake, how much had he drunk in just a few hours?
A/N Hermione should have paid attention to the diviners. They are right sometimes. I give you all a homework, read into Samhain and give me your guesses.
Reviews welcome. Next chapter this coming weekend.