Work Text:
Hermione stared incredulously at her boss. To say that the news she had just received from him was disappointing was the understatement of the century. “You mean to tell me that all of my work is going to be given over to that…” she tried to refrain from using the phrase that was on the tip of her tongue, but it came out anyway, “that cowardice bastard?”
“You heard me, Miss Granger,” the man behind the desk said, thankfully ignoring her slip of the tongue. “Until now, none of your work had any significant impact on making chan—”
Hermione interrupted him. “But now that I can actually make a difference with my work, you’re taking it away from me. Why?”
“You’re a Muggleborn, and he’s a…” her boss trailed off at the glare she directed his way.
“Well,” she prompted. “Are you going to finish your sentence?”
He didn’t reply.
“It’s because he’s a pureblood, and I’m a mud—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” he hissed, cutting her off.
“Or what? You’ll fire me?” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to give you that satisfaction because I quit.”
His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “You what?”
“Do I really have to repeat myself? I thought I was pretty clear in what I just said,” she replied. Reaching for the stack of parchment she had brought in with her, Hermione stood up. “I’m not bound to you. I’m not bound to anyone. I quit, and I’m taking my work with me.”
She turned and made her way towards his office door.
“Ah ah ah, Miss Granger,” her former boss said before she could reach his door. “Remember that little contract you signed before you started working here?”
She huffed and turned to face him. “Of course I do.”
“Then you must remember that little clause about anything you create while working here is property of the Ministry.” He grinned maliciously.
Taking a deep breath to stop herself from saying anything else, Hermione walked the few steps to her former boss’s desk and dropped the stack of parchment on the top. “Enjoy,” she hissed before turning and storming out of his office.
She quickly made her way to her desk and used her wand to gather everything that was hers and store it in her trusty beaded bag, including the original copy of her work tied up in two neat scrolls. Saying goodbye to only a couple of people she liked in her department, she told them she would owl them later and left.
It wasn’t until she reached the bank of floo fireplaces and called out the address of her flat that she allowed herself to grin. In the few moments she stood staring at her former boss before moving to drop her work on his desk, she encrypted all of her work that would take Zacharias Smith months, if not years, to decipher.
Calling out her destination, Hermione missed her former boss hurrying after her.
Looking around the crowded restaurant, Hermione grinned at all of the groups enjoying piping hot coffee and delicious fried dough covered in mounds of confectioners’ sugar.
Hands waving in the air caught her attention. Once they saw her looking, one of the men called out, “Granger! Over here!”
She squinted to try and get a better look at the two men sitting at the table, but she was still far enough away that she couldn’t quite see who was sitting there.
When she didn’t move towards them right away, the other man called out, “We have a place for you with us.”
“Go,” a voice whispered in her ear.
Hermione turned around to see who had spoken, but no one was paying her any attention.
Hesitating for only a few moments longer, Hermione looked back at the two men. She still wasn’t entirely sure who they were, but she made up her mind and weaved her way through the line. It wasn’t like they could do anything in the middle of a crowded restaurant in the middle of crowded New Orleans.
She didn’t have any issues with anyone waiting in line until she reached the front. “Excuse me,” Hermione murmured as she moved to go around the last two people in front of her.
“You’ll have to wait just like the rest of us,” one of the women said.
“But I have two friends at that table right over there waiting for me,” she explained as she pointed to the table where the two men were sitting.
Now that she was closer to them, she was able to get a better look at the two men. Hermione raised an eyebrow as she realised who was sitting there.
“Yeah, right,” the other woman snarked.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I promise I’m not kidding. If you would just let me by, please.”
“Love, we’ve been waiting for you,” a new voice said as one of the men approached. “Do you ladies mind letting her through? My husband has been dying to see our girlfriend all day.”
The two women stared at him dumbfounded as Hermione’s cheeks flushed dark red, and she had to bite her lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.
“Great!” He used his shoulder to push the two women apart and grabbed Hermione’s hand. Pulling her from behind them, he added, “Thank you!”
By the time Hermione and the man arrived at the table, her cheeks were still warm, and she knew the bright red hadn’t faded yet either.
“Dear Merlin, those women probably think I’m some kind of harlot,” Hermione snickered as she dropped into the open seat.
The man sitting at the table raised an eyebrow as the two of them sat down. “What did Ades do now?”
“What makes you think it’s my fault?”
“It’s always your fault, Ades,” he pointed out.
“Okay fine, I may or may not have told the two women that wouldn’t let Hermione through that my husband was just dying to see our girlfriend,” Adrian confessed with a smirk.
A bark of laughter had Hermione giggling.
“Only my best mate would say something so outlandish.”
“It worked, though,” Hermione said. “They were so shocked by Adrian’s comment that he was able to get me through, and here I am. Sitting with Adrian Pucey and Marcus Flint at a beignet restaurant in New Orleans.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “Speaking of, what are you doing here, Little Dove? Aren’t you supposed to be preparing to defend your new bill?”
“You mean Zacharias Smith’s bill that he has to decipher all of my notes before it can be brought before the Wizengamot?”
Adrian started to ask for clarification when a server came up to take their order.
When the two men sitting with her looked at Hermione, she placed the same order that she had the day before, “A large cafe au lait, regular with extra milk and an order of beignets.”
“That sounds good to me,” Marcus said. “I’ll have the same.”
“Make that three,” Adrian added.
“Your order will be out shortly,” the server replied.
“Thank you.”
As soon as the server left, Adrian turned back to Hermione. “Okay, so what’s this bullshit about your new bill being Smith’s?”
“I’m not like the two of you, or Smith,” Hermione replied.
Both men looked at her in confusion.
“You’re a female?” Adrian asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Blood” was all she said.
Marcus’s face darkened. “Are you telling me that they fired you and gave your work to Smith because you’re,” he dropped his voice and hissed, “a Muggleborn?”
“Yes, and no. They gave my work to Smith, but I quit. I also encrypted my work so it would take Smith months to try and decipher it,” Hermione explained. She touched the bag crossing her torso. “The original copy is hidden in my bag.”
“About damn time,” Marcus snarled.
Adrian smirked. “Good for you. You needed to get away from there.”
“I know, but what am I going to do now?”
The two men shared a look, and Hermione did not miss the identical grins that they shared.
“What? What are you two up to?”
“Where are you staying?”
Hermione frowned at the question. “The St. James Downtow—”
“That just won’t do,” Marcus said. “When we’re done here, we are going to get your stuff, and you’ll stay with us at the Hotel Monteleone. We have a suite, so there is plenty of room, and we will show you the time of your life.”
When Hermione started to argue, Adrian shook his head. “There’s no point in arguing with him once he’s made up his mind,” he told her with a chuckle.
“I’m going to regret sitting down with the two of you,” Hermione sighed, but her own smile softened her words. “I just know it.”
Marcus leaned forward and grabbed her hand. “I promise you that you won’t regret it.”
“And I promise to keep him in line,” Adrian told her.
Hermione laughed, “I know the two of you well enough to tell you that that’s not as reassuring as you think it is, Mister Pucey.” She winked.
Marcus released her hand as their coffee and beignets arrived.
She felt the coolness from the loss of the skin to skin contact, just as she had with Adrian. Hermione smiled to herself. Maybe her holiday would be more exciting than she initially thought.
Hermione found out just how exciting when Adrian and Marcus showed her the many delights of New Orleans famous Bourbon Street.