Chapter Text
one: all get better in time
EVERYTHING IS BLACK
Sounds of a large room of people, murmured conversations, glasses clinking, restaurant noises.
Ron (unseen at this point) : I still can't believe it!
FADE IN SLOWLY:
INT. FANCY ITALIAN RESTAURANT- JUNE 7, 2013
HARRY (unseen): What? That he’s settling down, or marrying a bloke?
Out of focus at first, then clearer, hands cutting an expensive steak and potatoes, fine china, white tablecloth all come into view.
RON (mid-mastication) : Second one. I mean there have been so many witches! Ramilda told me once he was the (in a higher pitched, sing-song voice) best snog of her life. The best snog. Broom closet- fourth year. On and on about how it was so tender, and slow, and he was a right tease, and kept teasi-- Oh. Oh. Maybe...
Harry and Ginny can now be seen, in dressy-casual muggle wear, on the same side of a booth, bustling restaurant in the background.
GINNY (with an eye roll): Just because a bloke snogs a lot of girls in school, even well, does not make him straight, Ronald!
HARRY: Ginny’s right, Ron.
RON: I know that Harry! And yeah, I know I should be more “aware” or “enlightened” or whatever. But I’m still getting used to my sister being… not who I thought, I guess.
GINNY: Excuse me?!
RON: Well, you took forever to come out. Wasn't I the last brother you even told? And after you were married, by the way. Spent more than twenty years thinking of you one type of way, only to realize that you weren’t…who I thought. Adjusting a decade or two of history with someone else, now, is…I mean, doesn’t change anything. Obviously. But still.
HARRY: Ron, you know that Ginny has always been the same person right, Mate? Didn’t change who she was just because she realized something about herself.
I knew. (Harry turns to Ginny now.) Before she ever told me, officially. Or I supposed. I'd seen the way she was always flustered around Bones starting in third year and there was this one time…I found her, maybe, possibly about to snog Trina in the quidditch changing rooms when she was in fifth. Just because she chose me—
GINNY (interrupting, and reaching beside her to grab/squeeze Harry’s arm abruptly) : HARRY! You never told me that!!!
We briefly see Ron with a somewhat nervous expression, then back to Harry and Ginny, seemingly oblivious to others around them, in their own private conversation.
HARRY (to Ginny): Well it was none of my business back then! I was just glad that whole Dean thing was over and I had so much on my mind with the Dumbledore field trips and with trying to figure out what Mal-
GINNY (interrupting again): Yeah, but still! When I finally decided to come out to you, I was so fucking nervous! I was sure you would either cancel the whole engagement…or worse- laugh! And you know how I feel about that. I was beside myself with worry! And you knew the whole time. THE WHOLE TIME, HARRY!
HARRY (tenderly): Didn’t change anything, Love. And I wanted it to be your decision to let me know. I was so happy the day that you told me because I knew . Knew that you finally trusted me. Full-on. I just wanted to put your mind at ease about the whole thing. Not tell you that I had years of knowing who you are, long before you decided to let me know.
GINNY (eyes lit up and her signature tiny hitch of a smirk): Well, if I remember correctly, you did ease my mind very well… and you also eased my—
RON (mortified, squeakily): I think we get the picture- let’s move on, shall we? I’m enjoying this very fine medium-rare steak, and I would rather it didn’t reverse course. Please and thanks, Gin… and you too, Harry! Sheesh!
GINNY: Sorry Ronald.
Ginny and Harry both beaming a little across the table and not seeming even one percent sorry about it.
RON: What about you, my lovely wife? Did you know he was marrying a bloke?
CLOSE UP ON HERMIONE:
Hermione’s face conveys the following: How she loves these nights. Loves it when her friends let her pick the muggle establishment for date nights. Loves getting caught up as they all seem to be busier these days. Even loves it when Harry and Ginny rile up Ron. Nights like these make her feel more complete. She feels like she approached a bit of that soaring happiness she had once felt so long ago. Wistful. Eyes Twinkling.
HERMIONE: Yes, actually. I did.
RON: Well he could have fooled me!
GINNY: Not me. Although, I'm more open-minded than some. (She gives Ron a pointed look.)
HERMIONE: You know the inventor of the scale muggles use to measure sexuality and attraction was invented by a Wizard?
Three blank faces stare back at her mid meal and so Hermione does what she does best. She educates.
HERMIONE: Alfred Kinsey, famous Dualist in the time of Grindelwald? The first ever Dualist, actually. (she looks to each of them) No?
Still three blank staring faces. Hermione gets the excited shoulder shimmy she always gets when she is about to impart knowledge and dives in.
So, in the thirties, when Grindelwald was gaining power in America and after he escaped the MACUSA prisons, there was a lot of talk amongst the wizarding communities in both Britain and The States about wizarding “purity”. Those believing that true power was tied only to blood purity and wizarding status were growing in number. Now we all know that isn’t true-the purer the bloodline, the greater the magical abilities- because there are those who have extreme ailments due to the inbreeding in their lineage. And there are Sacred 28 families with squib children, etcetera. Which, one would hypothesize, then, that there is not any direct causation, or even correlation, from being magically purely “bred”, as it were, and one’s strength of magical ability.
GINNY (interrupting): ‘Mione are we talking about pure blood prejudice or human sexuality?
HERMIONE: Both. I’m getting there, I promise.
Kinsey specialized in magical lineages at Ilvermorny so he already knew the pure-blood argument was bogus, but with the growing number of Grindelwald supporters, he sought a way to prove that the argument held no merit. He thought if he could show that magical ability was neither inherited nor bloodline-made- it just was , then some of the nutters would see reason and be more open minded. So he developed a scale of strengths and magical skills based on hundreds of interviews with all types of families.
Many don’t know, but he was also a squib. The first squib to request to study and research in both the magical world and the muggle world where he studied biology and psychology at Harvard in a tumultuous time during muggle history. MACUSA let him research and teach there as part of a program he was designing where magical and muggle research could mutually benefit each other.
This led him to a very controversial area of muggle psychology, well, controversial at the time, to do with sexual orientation and he used his research methods for the magical scale to improve his scale on human sexuality. His wizarding scale was eventually buried by MACUSA, but for some reason his muggle scale- The Kinsey Scale- is still used today.
Hermione looks up from her wine to catch her breath and realizes Ron, Harry, and Ginny are all looking at her with that glazed over look and she catches herself with an embarrassed biting of her lip.
HERMIONE (cringes): Apologies. I know this doesn't interest everyone. Guess I went off on another one of my rampages to educate the masses, didn’t I?
HARRY: No, no, ‘Mione. It’s fine. All Good. Sometimes you just go so fast it's hard for those of us who have half your brain to keep up. (He gives Hermione a soft, reassuring smile.) So this Kinsey guy from a hundred years ago wanted to show that powerful witches and wizards can come from, say, muggle parents and squibs can come from Sacred 28 families. He tried to prove that there was a spectrum of magicality no matter your lineage. Interesting.
Harry, bless him, tries his best to make his face appear very interested.
HERMIONE: Correct. Yes, Harry.
HARRY: I think I remember reading something about him during that awful eighth year at Hogwarts- when we all had to go back and pretend we could study after defeating a megalomaniacal snake face and almost dying an absurd amount of times.
RON (offhandedly and still eating) : Or in your case, actually dying. Once.
GINNY (after shooting an unnoticed glare towards Ron): Hermione, didn’t you have something to do with that class- Squibs, Muggle-borns, and Half-bloods? The one we all had to take that year?
HERMIONE: I may have sweetly slash strongly encouraged McGonagall that adding some educational courses might be needed to avoid repeating history. I helped her pilot it our last year. I wonder if we would have had any Voldemort at all if both old-guard wizarding families and children like me were made aware of some of the lesser known pillars of our community that came from surprising heritages. And I wonder if it would have helped me when I was younger to know that there were powerful witches out there who came from muggle parents without a trace of magic in their ancestry.
RON (having finally finished his medium-rare steak, looks up to engage) : Oh right! That Kinsey bloke’s lineage was from the Flint line, right? (Looking quite impressed with himself towards the others at the table) . See- I do remember some things from school! Had struggles with that family, I bet, being a squib.
GINNY: And also, where does The Kinsey Scale come in, ‘Mione? I’m still a little lost here.
HERMIONE (first to Ron): Yes, Ron, most likely Dr. Kinsey struggled as the Flints are notoriously vile. And I'm sure they hated his research, but he had a determination to help reverse some of the nonsense that was happening at the time. Both in the muggle world and the magical one. (To Ginny) And just as he developed his scale of magicality to combat pure blood prejudice and hate, he developed a similar scale for what he could see was growing discrimination in the muggle world towards those with varying attractions. He sought to prove that sexuality was innate, not something made-up, or so clearly defined by preconceived notions. It just is. A little girl with powerful magic can be born from two non-magical parents, and a little girl who possesses a heart big and lovely enough to be attracted to both men and women can be born from two straight parents.
Hermione and Ginny smile warmly at each other from across the table.
I'm grateful to Kinsey for making pathways for future witches and wizards. He's part of the reason why I have a thriving career today, and the reason I can work so freely in both Muggle Academia and The Ministry. Guess you could say I'm a bit of a Kinsey-o-file.
RON: Huh. (then a pause) So this scale. Is it like a rainbow?
GINNY: No, Ronald Obvious. The Kinsey Scale is a scale. Zero to six. Zero meaning you are completely heterosexual with no attraction to anyone with your same gender, and six is the opposite. You don’t have any attraction to someone of the opposite gender. However, it does not account for anyone of another gender, those not on a binary spectrum.
HERMIONE: Yes, there are limitations to it.
RON: Well I think I’m at a zero then.
Ron finishes his final drop of Guinness.
HARRY: Really? Not a single thread of attraction to anyone of a male persuasion? Not even Lyon Guessey, best Keeper in the IQL, and an ‘Adonis’ according to you, Ronald Weasley, last week, when we attended the match against the Cannons?
RON: Hmmm. I mean, would I want to be him? Sure. Yeah! I might want to trade places with him, but I don’t think I would ever want to shag him! Ask ‘Mione. She will tell you I’m a Zero!
Three snickers for the unintended double entendre.
And an additional snicker from Ginny who sees Ron’s smug face, completely oblivious to any double meaning.
GINNY: Ronald. Again, circling back to earlier, just because you enjoy shagging your wife, does not mean you are necessarily a flat zero on The Kinsey Scale. Personally, while I have been very attracted to a few blokes, Harry being the one I was attracted to the most…
(Ginny pauses and gives a sly look to Harry, again, making Ron whinge a bit) I would actually consider myself around a 4 on the Kinsey Scale. Which is not quite as in the middle as one would think.
RON: Huh. Well, good for you, Gin. That makes sense. But I think the most I could ever get to would be a 0.25. What about you, Harry?
HARRY: I guess I would say somewhere between a 1 and a 2? Dunno really. I don’t feel like I’m at zero, but not sure if I could follow through on an attraction enough to say I was a full 2? Not like it matters much nowadays since the mother of my children is a rich and famous Quidditch star and I would be broke if I stepped out on her with some bloke - Oooofff!!! Gin!
Harry holds his tender shoulder.
GINNY: Harry James Potter, not that it would ever come to this, but you would be just fine. You always forget about your bloody vault.
HARRY: Oh yeah. Right. Well, good thing I won’t be needing it. He shoots a wince/ wink at Ginny while still rubbing his shoulder.
RON: How did we get onto the Kinsey spectrum…erm…scale, anyways? Oh right, Blaise’s wedding invitation! I was surprised we got the owl for it today, weren’t you ‘Mione? Especially with all that mess about George and the shop way back. I would have figured he’d left us off his wedding list to avoid anything awkward.
Hermione has seemingly pulled back from the conversation while everyone discussed their Kinsey Scale number, she is currently distractedly swirling her glass of the house red, having been lost in a memory of when she came here with her parents on her 17th birthday, right before sixth year. She stares across the restaurant to another booth.
FLASHBACK
INT. OF THE SAME EXACT MUGGLE ITALIAN RESTAURANT, DIFFERENT BOOTH- SEPT 19, 1996
JEAN GRANGER: Hermione. (Sigh.)
Jean expresses her daughter's name as a sigh. She has always had this signature way of saying “Hermione” that made her daughter feel as though she was both a little child to be coddled and cared for and also an adversary, all at the same time.
HAROLD GRANGER: What your mother is trying to say is that we’re just not sure how much more of this is healthy. How much more can you take? Yes, you're seventeen now, and you know your mom and I think that you are incredibly capable. And I'm certain one day you will conquer the world, but at what point are you going to be too burnt out to have anything left when you do?
Hermione’s face flashes several emotions. If her parents only knew the dangers she had experienced over the past 5 years. From the troll in first year to the final straw that put her in the hospital wing after Sirius was killed, of course, her parents were informed...somewhat. Sure, Dumbledore and McGonagall gave the Grangers an outlined report with each incident, glossing over the too-scary-for-muggle-parents type of details. She feels both guilt and relief at all of this, but mainly guilt because she knew the dangers she was entering into would only keep getting worse.
Jean and Harold’s faces show that, even given the watered down details of events- from both Hermione and the school’s reports home, they are starting to show signs of feeling like what Hermione could be going through is way too much. For them and for her.
HERMIONE: Mum, I know it seems like going back would be too overwhelming for me. I know that you cannot wrap your mind around how I can handle myself, but I am capable , and more I’m needed. I’m good at what I do. Without me, I know they wouldn’t make it through and it wouldn’t just…It would be bad! For you and…and…and for EVERYONE!
Jean gives Harold a startled look.
Hermione looks frustrated with herself and her loosening grip on her control. She knows she has overplayed her hand in an attempt to appeal to her parents’ humanitarian sensibilities. Overshooting the runway as her parents weren’t even aware of any power-hungry, nazi-esque wizards on the loose, much less another power-hungry group of zealots with extreme prejudice against people like her parents. These details were not in the dialed-back versions of the “incident reports” sent home.
JEAN (concern in her voice): Hermione (sigh)…
Hermione cringes. There it is again. The sigh that has been driving Hermione mad ever since her hormones seemed to grow enraged at any given trigger. The sigh is currently in competition for one of her endocrine system’s biggest threats.
HERMIONE: MUM! (She looks around the restaurant in embarrassment as that came out much more screechy than anticipated.)
Hermione hates, above most things, losing control. And here she is, doing just that. Losing control is tantamount to losing a battle. Losing control means that the zealots might win. Losing control means that Harry and Ron might not make it through. She hates, for any reason and under any circumstances, losing her control.
Harold looks across to Jean. A whole silent conversation passes between them.
JEAN: We’ll think about it…
END FLASHBACK
BACK TO: INTERIOR MUGGLE ITALIAN RESTAURANT- JUNE 7, 2013
Hermione is still swirling her wine glass, still half in her memories.
RON: ‘Mione?
HERMIONE: Hmm? Oh. Yes. Yeah, a bit surprised to get the invite.
GINNY: Well, Harry and Blaze have been working closely at the DMLE over the past few years. Maybe he wanted to include the entire Golden Trio in the wedding list?
HERMIONE: It could have been Theo who pushed for it. I swear half of our non-work conversations are about this blasted wedding.
Hermione puts on her best posh accent and imitates Theodore Nott.
‘Hermione, darling, it will be a veritable who’s who of the wizarding world. You wouldn’t want to miss it. Think of the FOMO! Isn’t that what the muggles are raging about these days? FOMO? Forget FOMO, dear, I have TOMO…No, no. Not Theo of Missing Out, but aboso-fucking-lutely terrified, with a capital “T”, of missing something juicy. Or interesting. Or even the barest morsel of wizarding world tea. I shall not miss out. That IS my mission.’
GINNY (giggling and leaning over the table): Spot on impression, Hermione. You two must spend a lot of time together.
HERMIONE: Well, he has been the biggest help with my Ministry projects to date. I knew he was good at potions when he was the first to pass the N.E.W.T.s, but ever since he achieved Potion Master, he has really made a name for himself in the world of plant alchemy.
RON (a little melancholy) : I wonder what his Kinsey number is…
Harry, Ginny, and Hermione notice Ron’s mood shift. They all know that during these lovely nights out, there often will come a point when Ron gets in his feelings, seems a bit down. (It happens less when George and Padma join them.)
Hermione wonders if it is because he feels left behind by everyone else moving so quickly forward. Or maybe his ups and downs have always been there. Either way, she feels a kinship with him in this. She, too, often feels a bit left behind. Like she cannot keep moving forward at the pace of everyone else...at least with some things. She looks at Ron reassuringly. This must make them a good match then.
HERMIONE: I wouldn’t be surprised if Theo had his own scale made just for him.
GINNY (raises her glass in salute) : Truth. Theodore is on a plane all his own. Never knew a bloke who's been with so many different people.
HARRY (suppressing a shiver) : Or so many all on one occasion.
GINNY: Also, true. So… who do we think will be at this wedding to top all wizarding weddings?
RON (a bit somber still and pettily) : Probably a bunch of Sacred 28 Pricks and their inbred spouses, plus everyone in the Ministry who wants to be in the good graces of two of the world’s richest wizarding families.
HARRY, GINNY, & HERMIONE (in unison) : RON!
RON: What? It’s not that far off…How did he meet this bloke anyways?
HARRY: Luther? Blaze met him when we had that mission to Prague last year. The one where we were dealing with that peddler of dark artifacts that kept showing up all over Europe. Luther was Blaze’s contact before and during the mission. Found him via a list of old-money Durmstrang professors. Used one of his family’s vaults as bait.
RON: Oh, right! I remember Macklebee telling me about that crazy witch last time I was over at the DMLE. Crazy stories about that one.
HARRY: Yeah. Never caught up with her, though. Prague was a bust. Happy Blaze found Luther. At least one good thing came from such a waste of a mission.
Each couple finishes the last of their desserts. Hermione yields the last of their shared cheesecake to Ron, and Ginny races Harry (and wins) to get the last bite of chocolate torte from their plate. She grins in triumph.
RON: Think Malfoy will be there?
Hermione tenses and Ginny eyes Hermione cautiously from across the table.
Only Ginny knows what had happened all those years ago.
HERMIONE (re-focusing her eyes, straightening her shoulders, and giving Ginny a slight shake of her head that she was good. Everything was OK) : I doubt it.
HARRY: Yeah, Blaze said that Malfoy hasn’t been around much for the past couple years. I mean, I’m sure he will get an owl for it- wherever he may be- but I doubt he’ll come..
GINNY: When was the last time anyone saw him?
HARRY: Blaze said he stopped by some party at Nott Manor last Christmas…or maybe the Christmas before? Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in over a year. At that gala for The Harpies, right Gin?
RON: Do you think The Ferret is still alive?
“RON!” Again, all in unison although a bit muted because it was something that might have crossed each of their mind at one point or another.
HARRY: Of course he is. The Black Tapestries at Grimmauld would indicate if something happened to him.
RON (wincing then shuddering): I still don’t know why you kept up that old, family tree wallpaper. Even after the renovations, Harry! It always gives me the creeps.
GINNY (with a brief glance, to Hermione, then with a solemn face) : I think he’ll come.
HERMIONE (barely above a whisper) : Why do you think that, Gin?
GINNY (less serious, jovially now) : Because he’s Malfoy! He loves all things posh. He seems to crawl out of his hole and show up for the big stuff. And Merlin knows he loves to make a scene!
HARRY: I dunno, Ginny. He hasn’t been back to Wizarding London for a long time.
GINNY: What does Theo think, ‘Mione?
HERMIONE: About Malfoy coming to the wedding? How should I know? Malfoy has not once been the topic of conversation in all of our sessions at the lab.
GINNY: Strange, that. Seeing as he is up to date on, how did he put it? Even the barest morsel of wizarding world tea ? Aren’t they mates?
Hermione gives a what-are-you-on-about-? look across to her friend.
HERMIONE: Well, I don’t know about Theo’s abilities to actually fulfill his self-imposed life mission, but I do know that we must be getting home now. It's late and I have some presentations to go over before my talk on Monday.
HARRY: Oh, right, I forgot you were presenting at our next Auror training. See you Monday, then. Ron, mate, your wife’s research has helped us obliviate far fewer muggles than we used to. The DMLE has made big strides in improving its after-mission protocols. Makes me feel less slimy about some of the stuff I have to do at work.
RON: Yeah, I’m pretty proud of her.
Ron puts his arm around Hermione and gives her a squeeze.
GINNY: Look at us, two married couples making moves, winning Quidditch cups (hopefully, plural , with the one coming up), curing muggle diseases, wrestling international dark artifact smugglers, and…whatever…you…decide to do next Ron!
Ginny gives a slightly deviant, but trying to seem innocent, smile with this. She knows this not-all-too-passive aggressive dig would be something Ron will stew on.
RON: Alright, Gin. Thanks for that. I do have some irons in the fire, you know. No need for all of that protective sister-in-law stance. I know that look.
GINNY: What, Ronald? I didn’t mean anything by it! Truly. I’m sure you will figure something out soon!
Hermione, both knowing why Ginny does this and wishing so very much that she would stop, gives Ginny a stern look. For some reason Ginny seems to think that the best way to get Ron motivated is to insult him.
Hermione would never understand their twisted sibling dynamics, and it made her grateful to be an only child. Then, as she often does when she has these thoughts, she immediately regrets thinking it. How she would give anything for a sibling to have shared memories of her mother and father these days. All of this plays out on Hermione’s face.
HARRY: On that note, let's be going, Gin. We have to relieve your mum, who has either fallen asleep on our couch hours before the kids or she’s cooked them every sweet imaginable and our kitchen is a den of chaos.
Amidst cheek kisses, hugs and talk of scheduling another get-together soon, both couples walk out of the restaurant towards the alley to apparate away to their homes.
___________________________________
June 7, 2013
Hermione sat on the edge of the bath and chewed on her left thumbnail in anticipation of what she felt might be coming.
Why was the bathroom always the place for these late-night talks?
In the six years that she and Ron had been settling into their home, they dedicated whatever they were not saving to purchasing fine furnishings and old French antiques (which Ron couldn’t be bothered to distinguish from the cheap mid-century tables found at the big, blue, muggle Swedish store). Hermione was quite proud of the style and aesthetic she had curated for her home, a combination of vintage and antique furniture, family heirlooms from the Burrow, and the tastefully conjured item or two (dinnerware of Hermione’s own creation, a bar cart set, etc.).
However, important conversations always seemed to happen around the kitchen sink or the rim of the tub. Somehow the least glamorous nooks and crannies ended up holding the most memories over the past several years since they purchased this flat with a good chunk of her Order of Merlin funds and a sum that Molly and Arthur had saved up as a wedding gift. And Merlin knows they had plenty long enough to save up because the Granger- Weasley wedding was a long time in the making.
At 33, Hermione had been with Ron the better part of her life. She couldn't really remember what her life was like without him. It was always meant to be him. She knew it. It just took her a few years to settle into a life with Ron and fully commit. She loved him. He was her safe, warm, worn-in sweater that kept her from feeling the cold. Yes, he was sometimes stubborn and change-averse, but he was the best book she knew the plot of inside and out and would always go back to every year to read and relish in the comfort of it.
She knew him, and he knew her….
But in times like this one, performing their nightly routines side-by-side, they often got into these talks, while harmless…mostly…they would still worm their way into Hermione’s stomach and deposit a sense of unease that she couldn’t seem to shake. Usually these talks were about Ron’s career and his future plans. Sometimes, though, there was another topic that would make the unease sink deeper.
She supposed she should be grateful that most of these heavy conversations happened around the places in their flat that she did not hold as dear. She should be grateful that their cozy living room held memories of game nights with Harry, Ginny, George, Padma, Neville and Luna. And that their lovely sitting room nook mainly reminded her of opening Christmas presents or after-date-night drinks. But she really couldn’t feel that gratitude at the moment over the wormy, winding, tug in her gut at Ron’s next words.
“If we somehow knew the future. Like if a seer were to tell us, right now, what our family would look like in, say, 15 years…how many wild, red-headed little ones do you think would be running around ‘Mione?”
Children.
Growing their family.
”I say probably two or three at least,” Ron was trying to engage her in a topic he knew was fraught with land mines.
It made sense. Harry and Ginny were proud parents of three. James was almost ten, Albus was six, and little Lily was almost four. The time for raising young kids together had passed. Hermione felt this as both a relief and a burden. Relieved she no longer contemplated forcing herself into it for the sake of the children sharing the same memories as their cousins. No more, “Oh, but wouldn’t it be so great- cousins going to Hogwarts together?” from Molly. And no more, “I did have some notions of us side-by-side with our prams around the Wizarding Italian Gardens someday, but that is just because I love you so much ‘Mione.” This from Ginny.
None of those comments had entered her ears for a year or two, and when Ron, himself, would bring it up, she had two choices. One, she could masterfully skirt around the subject, or, two, have a most unpleasant conversation where she would inevitably leave feeling not on the same page .
Hermione endeavored to choose the former whenever possible.
Why couldn’t she have been ready when everyone else seemed to be? Could she try a little harder to be open to it now?
She wanted children. She wanted to grow their family.
In theory.
But she also loved her career. She was the first Dualist allowed to work on both muggle and magical memory research. And she loved her research. She got to work with Dr. Dunlap, talented mind and squib, at Oxford where she could meld her knowledge of magical healing and memory care to help muggle research on dementia and other maladies facing the non-magical community. She would never be able to reverse it or make it right- what she did to her parents, but she made things better for those who faced losing a loved one to a similar fate.
A fun, but unexpected side venture of her research, was developing new and magical remedies for the DMLE to use to conduct more humane ways to maintain The Statue of Secrecy when on mission. Theodore was instrumental in their development of new potion solutions Harry and his fellow Aurors were using. She loved getting ideas for the ministry from the advances muggle chemists were making with their synthesis, and conversely, she loved advancing Alzheimer’s research with her knowledge of plants and potion alchemy, giving back to muggle families in honor of her own.
She loved her career. Equally in both of her worlds, magical and muggle. Her work invigorated her.
She even loved her side projects and hobbies that had nothing to do with her career. On occasion a friend would ask her to help out with a decorating project. It started with the shower she threw for George and Padma several years ago. She used a mix of found objects from the Weasley home, an older collection of glasses Molly had up in the attic and more curated pieces. She charmed some flowers, sourced some antiques from Italy, and even conjured the most beautiful set of dinnerware of her own creation. Her collection of sentimental items, good taste, and artistry was something that others began to eye and want for their special events. She did a few baby showers and garden parties, and some larger projects. Ginny asked if she would design Lily Rose’s room for her. That was Hermione’s favorite project to date.
Her friends wanted to pay her. She always said no. It was more a form of therapy for her than anything else. She had seen the mind healers. She had taken the right doses of their potions and minded their instructions over the years.
Yet, she still grieved. The mind healers did not ever teach her how to fill the hole she felt when she thought of her parents. Time did not ease the grief of losing them, of losing Fred and all the others. But as the years went by, there were more days when she wouldn’t feel the pain, where the hole of grief felt so big it might swallow her. She could now go longer between times of deep sadness, but never did the grief itself feel less than .
When she decorated and curated spaces, she felt the closer to her mother. Jean Granger did not suffer nonsense, was a stickler for oral hygiene, and was usually pretty frugal. However, the one area where she splurged and let her frivolity reign was in her decorating. That woman knew how to make a home feel elegant while cozy, and no one could have accused her of not having style.
Hermione had loved traipsing around London, heading into Harrods or those little boutique stores in Hampstead when her mother had an inkling to redecorate a space in their home. She had such fond memories of bonding over decorating and rearranging with her mother.
So why couldn’t she think of having children to pass this down to? To bond with?
When Hermione thought of children, she mostly thought of disruption. What would she have to give up? Could she still have hobbies? Would she feel further away from her mother if she became one?
She knew, vaguely, that she could balance keeping a semblance of all the things that brought her joy while she raised a couple of Granger-Weaslies. (She had convinced Ron that the hyphen was necessary and he was most likely fine with it due to the fact that she had finally committed in the first place. The order of the names was selected arbitrarily based on alphabetical order; however, she harbored just a tinge of satisfaction that the alphabet granted her last name priority and prominence.)
There was just something that kept her from picturing it. Every time. And even worse, she didn’t know what that thing was.
Then her stomach dropped further with his next words.
“Alright- I’m just gonna say it, then. I think it’s finally time, don’t you?”
“Ron, we don’t even know the results of any of the interviews you went on this week. I know George says that he needs help at the shop, but we both know that Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes can only really support one full-time salary. The best George can offer you is part-time pay.”
“I meant what I said to Ginny tonight at dinner. I have some other things cooking. I’m going on more interviews. Have some faith in me ‘Mye.”
Hermione winced. “Ron, you know I hate it when you call me that.”
”Sorry.”
“It’s sad really. George tapped into a lucrative market for the stupid and delightful, but then turned down that offer to franchise. We both know he would have made a killing. But now…”
She knew she was distracting him. Getting him to shift to a different subject while she tried to figure out why she wasn’t blooming ready yet to say yes…or no…or have any answers at all.
This limbo is tormenting us. As soon as the thought popped into her head, she knew she had to figure it out, and soon.
A couple years into their marriage, she passed it off to Ron not really having much success. At least not enough to sustain her cutting back. Then her career skyrocketed, and she thought that was the reason for her hesitation. But then they had that 2-year run where her career was thriving and Ron had The Den .
In the spot where the old Quidditch shop had been on Diagon Alley, The Den was a glorious establishment. The new “it” place where wizards and witches would gather to watch quidditch games, drink fire whisky, and eat tapas and desserts. It really was a den of good-times and good people, and it didn’t hurt that the owner’s sister was a rising star chaser with The Harpies.
But just as Hermione began to think that she didn’t have any more time to figure it all out, Ron began to show signs of stress. Like his success with The Den wasn’t ever enough. Sure, there were months that were slower than others, but by the 1-year mark he was turning a decent profit. She never figured out why it went under at the end of its second year. She knew, though, that in the time since The Den ceased to exist, Ron had not exactly been the same. He had bobbled between jobs, still looking for something more stable.
In spite of all of this, she didn’t want to bring up Ron’s career struggles as her main reason for tabling the conversation. Again.
For one, she wasn’t quite sure it was the main reason. And also, she knew that Ron was feeling pretty low lately. She didn’t want to poke the bear… or lion, or gryphon? so to speak.
So she got him talking about George’s missed franchise opportunity. She knew that the person behind that would most likely come to the forefront of Ron’s mind and get him to change the subject.
“Fucking Zabini!”
She was correct.
”Ripping off my brother’s ideas and then building an empire on his back like he was NOTHING! I know we talked about it at dinner, but I forgot how messed up that was! Someday I will repay that prick for what he took from my family. I don’t even want to go to that fucking wedding. Would be surprised if George goes too.”
“Well….”
“Well… what??”
“Well George did have some part to play, didn’t he? Harry said Blaze was very inclined to bring him on as an equal partner. I still wonder why he didn’t agree. Do you think it was too hard to do it with someone other than Fred… or…was it something else?”
Ron huffed and something passed over his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. Maybe she was imagining it because he immediately changed his expression when he met her eyes in the mirror.
And she knew that look.
“Subject change, ‘Mione. What do you say to us starting right now?”
Even though she knew she was not ready, the smoulder faces he was making in the mirror were so dorky and so very Ron that she knew he was trying to get her into a better mood. He could tell that she was troubled by something, and in usual Ron fashion, he tried to cheer her up.
This made her melt for him a little, and when he did the dance that she still to this day found so ridiculous, but could never stop laughing at, she decided that she would give in.
Just this once she would play along and see where that got them.
Maybe if she pretended to want to start trying with her body, eventually her mind would figure out how to get on board.
“Sure, Ron,” she said between fits of laughter…”Why not!?”
He looked at her then and his face morphed from goofy into one of complete awe and raw hope.
It broke her. She didn’t know the effect that giving in would have. In her mind, the constant talks about children and when to start a family were more of a way to take his mind off his job woes. She didn’t know until this moment that maybe, just maybe, he was a believer in the age-old fallacy that a child could fix it. That bringing a new life into the world would fix his indecision and their financial struggles. That a little red-headed, spunky wee one would somehow bring them closer together than they had been over the past year or two.
And with that sober truth in mind, she told him to go and get into bed while she changed into something she knew he would like. As she went into her closet, with trembling hands, she first cast a muffliato then a dilluminating spell that would not let any light changes be seen from under the door.
Then she quietly cast a contraceptive spell and green glowed three times over her abdomen.
After a longer time than expected, as Ron seemed much more eager to make sure she was… satisfied, Hermione laid on his chest and thought about their future. As much as she tried to picture a kitchen full of curly, red-haired, feisty little ones… she just couldn’t make her brain get there. After a while of wishing up futures that never really seemed to develop into satisfying daydreams, she felt her eyelids grow heavier and heavier.
She gently peeled off of Ron and reached for the comforting object she housed in the back of her night stand drawer. After all this time, she didn’t know why the odd round object calmed her so, but it did.
As she tried to imagine her future one more time, and as she oscillated between awake and asleep, she had the sense that everything was going to be alright. That familiar object in her hand, still, as she drifted off to sleep.
Everything will be okay.
A strange thing, comfort. Hermione forgot that it existed only in the absences between all the other pesky feelings. A brief respite from worry, fear, lack, shame, or unease. Comfort was fleeting . Comfort was deceptive.
Because when Hermione awoke next, things were very much not okay.
Notes:
This is a Draco & Hermione story… I promise.
CW: Marital strife, obtusity and assumptions made about the LGBTQIA+ community
Hermione and Ron’s home, purchased 2007, shortly after their wedding: https://www.plumguide.com/homes/1280812/london-tales
Could they afford this 4 BR with a good chunk of a modest Order of Merlin dowry and a small chunk of change from The Weasley’s? Probably not. But that curb appeal!
Trigger Warning to any professional script-writers that may come across this fic. The format is used with liberties here and does have a purpose, to be revealed in time.
Chapter Title is from Leona Lewis' song, Better in Time (2007).
I gave myself a rule that chapter titles had to come from a song that could have been known to the characters within their time period.Also, not that it matters, because I am not in charge of you, but Hermione’s job is pronounced: doo-AL-ist. As in “the nature of duality”. You are free to say it however you like.
Note: There are very few of them that exist, and they are similar to Unspeakables in the Department of Ministries. Dualists, however, work across multiple departments, and also in major muggle universities, thus working in two worlds.I give Alfred Kinsey a lot of credit here for his motives, but I've always found it fascinating that someone who died long before I was born was challenging the status quo with science. There is a lot out there about his research and also those who challenged him/ tried to discredit him, etc.
Chapter Text
two: ha-ha-ha, bless your soul
February, some other time
Hermione awoke and was immediately sure she was still dreaming.
How was this possible?
She was not in her bed with Ron, in their Knightsbridge home. Did she wake up inside another dream?
But, no. This seemed…familiar.
This, perhaps, was not a dream?
This had happened...already.
She looked up and saw Ron’s angry red face that almost matched his hair. His arm was winding back to throw the bottle. A bottle she knew was a vintage bottle of muggle whiskey without even looking at it. Muscle memory kicked in and she ducked as the bottle sailed over her head.
Just like she had done the last time.
Because she had already lived this moment once before.
Then she saw Ron’s red face look at her in shock, just like she knew it would. But it was a face she hadn’t seen in over seven years. Fewer lines around the eyes and shaggier hair. His open, surprised face held less of the time-hardened weariness she saw in that same face just last night.
Somehow, against all reason, Hermione knew exactly where and when she was and promptly fainted.
Notes:
I (think) this will be the only chapter that is not full-length as it informed me it wanted to stand alone. Chapters 3 and 4 to come soon!
Chapter title is from Gnarls Barkley's
Crazy (2006)
.
Other contenders were:
i remember when, i remember when i lost my mind
does that make me crazy? possibly.
Chapter Text
three: a trouble that can’t be named
February, Some other time that will shortly be revealed
“Hermione!”
“Mye, please. Please wake up!”
“HERMIONE!”
Hermione’s eyes slowly fluttered open.
Maybe it was all a dream, or a hallucination, or a stress reaction to…something?
Did I cast my contraceptive spell incorrectly last night?
How in the world could she have ended up back here?
She clung to the hope this was a hallucination. Maybe the muggle wine at dinner had gone bad? Or the vintage Merlot that she drank with Ron when they got home? Maybe that was it. They did get it as a gift from George… but he hadn’t pranked a sibling in a long time, ever since becoming a dad himself.
Hermione glanced up to see that very specific Sugababes concert poster.
Koko. February 28, 2006.
That exact rust color of Ron’s coat as he hovered over her.
That godsdamned Coldplay song in her ears that would forever remind her of this night. So much so, that she turned it off whenever it came on the radio thereafter. If it was playing in a shop, she would walk right out.
She had never seen Ron wear this exact, rusted-red pea coat again after this night.
And she knew.
She was here.
Back in that muggle bar in Camden where she had told Ron she wanted a break.
Seven years ago.
Their Big Break where she took almost an entire year to decide what she wanted. She had never done anything like it before that point. She was just so tired of doing everything because of a should . Sure, they had some on again off again times before this, but Their Big Break was different.
In 2006, Hermione was dreaming of all she could accomplish, and Ron was dreaming of their settled future. She did not feel settled back then. (If she were being honest, she didn't feel settled now.)
Ron had been hinting at proposing and all she could think about was her parents and how much the war had stolen from her. How she felt trapped by decisions and time and deadlines and dreams. How she was still oscillating between grief and hope, still- more than seven years after The Battle of Hogwarts.
It wasn’t that she wasn't ready to commit to Ron, even though all signs pointed to them spending their lives together. She wasn’t ready to commit to anyone. She didn't want to get married without her parents. She wasn’t ready to commit to someone, even Ron, faithful, steady Ron, the best friend to her best friend without Jean and Harold by her side.
She was so full of restless energy back then. She had spent so much time trying to be the best, not to win but to survive. She wanted to take some time to be the best because she could be, just for herself, for her own dreams and passions. Not because she should be. How could she have learned to do that if she acquiesced? Just gave in and got married because she was supposed to?
To be honest, she oscillated right up until the end. Ron throwing the whiskey that night nailed the coffin shut. She knew she had made the right decision.
“Hermione… are you alright? I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were there when I threw it. Please forgive me, ‘Mione, please!” Ron’s face was much less tomato-colored now and he looked so young. Fresh-faced. She became mesmerized with his virtually non-existent crow's feet.
“I just turned around and threw it without looking and I will never forgive myself for being so reckless so please, please, please say something, yeah?”
“…What?”
This is not how it had happened.
On that cold February day in 2006, when she told him she wanted a break, they argued and she had to keep stressing the seriousness of which she was intending to break up with him. When he finally understood that she was committed to being apart, he looked so dejected and had blurted out that he had been released (again) from the Auror Training Program and would have to find another career path. Third time was it, no more acceptance into the program. Harry had written a special circumstances letter to get him in that final, third time by the skin of his teeth, and even The Chosen One couldn’t pull any more favors with The DMLE.
Then, after Hermione said something about that, maybe , being for the best, Ron got up, picked up the bottle from the table, then turned again to throw the bottle against the bar wall. Hermione, on her way to get some napkins from the bar, had to duck to miss the object being lobbed in the vicinity of her head. Then, Ron, shocked and ashamed, gave her a long, hardened look to see if she would say anything. (She didn’t.) Then he just walked right out of the bar.
He definitely did not ask for her forgiveness. She didn’t see him again for months.
However, 2006 Hermione, the first time , had not fainted.
“Sorry, Ron, erm sure? It’s fine…maybe.” She was more referring to her mental state at the moment than the bottle throwing incident.
Which, come to think of it, was still something that irked her after all these years. He never was violent in this way again, but just knowing that he was capable of this kind of extreme behavior put her on edge from time to time. Over the seven years after The Bottle Thrown Incident, Hermione tried to only bring it up in as few arguments as she could. But it popped up, maybe once or twice a year, when they had a good row.
Now, here, the second time , she had the knowledge of all their future arguments where he would say, “You know I never knew you were in the path of where I was going to throw it, right?,” or “I was at an all time low that night, ‘Mye- you KNOW that I would never do anything like that again!,” or “MERLIN'S MUSTACHE, IT WAS A ONE OFF HERMIONE!!!”
He was technically correct. It was only that one time that she felt so scared, terrified, like she didn't even know him. But the possibility of it was always lingering beneath the surface. She remembered a small handful of occasions when she questioned whether he would fly off the handle again, but he never did.
Thirty-three-year-old Hermione now knew two different versions of the same event, and she did not know what to do or say. She was most definitely still in shock.
“Excuse me, Miss,” a kind-faced muggle barkeep was now bending near Hermione on the floor, offering a hand and cautiously shifting his eyes to Ron’s, giving him a reprimanding look. “Are you alright.”
“She’s fine, mate. All good, I think now.” Some of Ron’s redness returned in his face as he said, “Look, I’m very sorry about that. I will pay for any damages and all that. It has been a crap day, and…well, I way over-reacted.”
“Uhh yeah. So you did order that Macallan, sir. However, your bill has been settled. And while we appreciate the business, we cannot have behavior like that here. We are going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Right…yeah. Erm…Hermione? You ready to head out?”
That broke through Hermione’s dazed confusion and something snapped within her. She didn’t really know what was happening right now, but she did know what had happened in the moments before the throwing of that blasted bottle. She had been very clear that they were no longer an item for the foreseeable future.
Very clear.
And although she knew they would eventually get back together, she never felt like he understood her need for the space in the first place. She felt that same trapped feeling that she felt back then, and she snapped.
“NO, Ronald. Pretty sure we just broke up. We are not together!” She shifted her face to the barkeep, “I’m so sorry, just give me a minute and I will go.”
Awareness then descended over Ron as he looked at her for several seconds, shuttered his face, and turned to leave the bar.
Before he was completely out of the door, he turned to Hermione and said, “No.”
Wait… “No, what ?”
“No is my answer to your proposed break. Just. No.”
Then he was gone, out the door, most likely to the nearby alley to apparate back to The Burrow. Hermione stood frozen in place, staring at the door, head spinning.
For multiple reasons.
“Ma’am you can stay here as long as you like. I only meant for him to leave, not you. Far as I can see, you didn’t do anything to deserve that. No one deserves that.”
“Thank you. Erm… I think I will sit here a bit, thanks.” She made her way to the bar. Okay, yes. Maybe just sit down and think this through. That is what she needed.
She needed to make one of her lists. Lists were calming and soothing, and in any time of extreme stress, Hermione made a list. Any goal, no matter how insurmountable, always felt more manageable when broken down into smaller parts.
Break it down into what you can control, Hermione.
- Figure out how the hell this happened. This one would probably be the most difficult. She always started her lists with the most unmanageable tasks, then easier from there. She was sure she gave her old time turner back to McGonagall, and the Ministry said it destroyed all of them after that horrible incident in fifth year…Nevermind. She was getting distracted. She could figure this one out later.
- Find someone safe…someone she could trust to help her work it out. Where did she go the first time? Harry and Gin’s? No, she went home to her parents flat because she hadn’t sold it at this point yet. She wanted to keep it indefinitely, but after The Den went under, the choice was to sell or take out a Goblin loan at Gringotts to pay some of the debts accrued. She couldn’t go back there. Couldn’t face the place that she grieved so long to give up. Well, this time was already different, and in for a penny and all that with messing up the timeline. (Although she had done some research on how The Department of Ministries created the turners and it was harder than most would think to mess up the future.) This time, she would immediately go see Harry and Gin. Once she gathered herself.
- Get a drink. This would aid in the self-gathering.
“What’ll it be?” This from another friendly bartender behind the bar. “On the house of course!”
“Oh. Well, thank you.” She was pretty shaken up. Maybe she did need a drink to settle her nerves a bit. “I think I’ll take…I don’t know…how about a 20 year old Macallan?”
The bartender eyed her nervously for a minute until she huffed a giggle and he relaxed and laughed along with her.
“I’ve never tried it, actually. Just a finger or two, neat. And I’ll pay of course.”
“No worries, we actually have another bottle open from some prat who came in earlier with a few blokes.”
“Great, thank you.” Another prat , as opposed to hers who just left. She didn’t take too much offense. Part of her wanted to go run after 2006 Ron, and a part of her knew that this version of him was not someone she ever really wanted to get to know better. At least based on the stories he told her after they had reconciled.
As she sipped her single malt scotch whiskey, she liked the feel of it. So smooth with a touch of sweetness at the end. She didn’t do things like this anymore. She hadn’t let herself enjoy anything this frivolous and extravagant in a very long time. Not since…
Well, that time was far in her past. Well, no. For this Hermione…it hadn’t even happened yet.
A thought hit her.
“Hey, who is the mug-,” She faked a cough, “Who is the Prime Minister at present?”
“I didn’t notice you hit your head when you went down. Are you sure you are OK? How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Four.”
The Bartender seemed pleased she gave the correct answer, then he asked, “You tell me, then- who is the current Prime Minister?”
“...Tony…Blair?” Hermione held herself back from saying “ for at least another year ”.
“Correct. And last question, just so I can sleep well tonight. What day is it?”
Moment of truth.
Deep Breath.
“February 26, 2006?”
The look of relief on the bartender's face told her everything she needed to know. She was definitely back in time.
Hermione decided a taxi would be safer than apparating in her current tipsy state to 12 Grimmauld Place. Thankfully, she could count on her younger self to always be prepared as she had muggle cash in her Bag of Everything. Turns out, Grimmauld was just a pit stop since she had forgotten about the renovations that took most of 2005-2006. It took her a while, but she finally remembered a cross street and the taxi driver dropped her close to Harry and Gin’s temporary cottage in a wizarding village near Camden.
After James became a very active toddler, and since they knew they were going to want to have more in the future, The Potters thought they would make Grimmauld Place a more child-friendly abode. Have some Ministry-approved extensions done to the backyard, liven up the old home so it didn't seem like such a grim old place anymore. It was past time to freshen things up.
Hermione approached the cottage, pretty sure this was it. Then almost as soon as she could knock, a groggy, younger, disheveled Hairy answered the door.
”Hermione?”
“Hi, Harry. Can I come in?”
”Everything ok? A bit late, but, yeah. Of course.”
“Also, I might need to stay…a while.”
“You know we are always here for you, ‘Mione. Whatever you need.”
”Harry…You are not going to believe this.”
INT. HARRY & GINNY’S COTTAGE KITCHEN- FEB 27, 2006, early am
A long oak table in a wide galley kitchen, cluttered with kick-knacks and toddler toys, wooden floors, jute rug under the kitchen table with a few visible crumbs, mostly clean stone countertops with a few dishes drying near the sink, and 50s era appliances. Harry is putting on a pot of tea.
HARRY: It was Gin’s turn to have a full sleep. I’m on night duty tonight and James had just decided he wanted a cuddle after he got up for the loo. Saw you when you were coming up to the gate.
HERMIONE: Harry…How did you…What I’m trying to say is…Remember back when…no, this is different.
HARRY (looking concerned towards Hermione): ‘Mione you are scaring me a bit. Is it about tonight? Oh! Right, tonight’s thing...wait…You finally broke up with Ron didn’t you? That is why you are so upset?
HERMIONE: Well, yes… and also no. I did break up with Ron… both times, actually, but that isn’t what I want to talk to you about…wait, ’finally’? What do you mean finally ?
HARRY: Gin has suspected for a while now… wait, both times? What do you mean both times?
HERMIONE: I think I should start over. But first, let's have some of that tea, yeah? Come sit.
Harry brings 2 mugs of tea over, hands Hermione one across the table and sits, cautiously eyeing her.
HERMIONE: Remember back in third year when I had that time turner?
HARRY: Yeah…
HERMIONE: Well, I do not have one in my possession anymore, I promise… but somehow… I seem to have done it…again.
HARRY: What? Used an illegal artifact so that you could learn more at Oxford or something?
HERMIONE: No, Harry. I’m already a Dualist and on salary there, I can learn whatever and whenever I like.
HARRY: What is a “du-AL-ist”??
HERMIONE: Oh, right, yes. My dissertation isn’t for a couple of months from now, and my approval by Shaklebolt as a Dual Researcher doesn’t happen until later this year….Ugh! Harry, listen! I’m not talking about learning, or school, or anything to do with my career.
An adorable green-eyed small wizard with periwinkle blue pajamas and hair that could rival Hermione’s in untameability comes toddling in to tap Harry on the leg.
JAMES: Why Auntie My-eee here? She woke me up.
HERMIONE (delighted by this interruption) : James! Ohmygoodness , let me squeeze you! Look at you! It has been ages since you were this tiny…
James toddles around the table to sit with her and Harry gives a concerned/ perplexed look to Hermione.
HERMIONE: So sorry for being too loud, sweet boy. (Quieter) I will try to use my inside voice from now on.
Hermione stares in awe at James’ small form and James giggles towards Hermione like she is hilarious.
JAMES: S’okay. Axewally, I lied a wittle. I not go back to sweep when Da’ says to. I’s playing wiff uncle Charlie’s Dino-toys… (he giggles at himself)
HARRY: James, what did mummy say about playing with your toys when it is time for shut eyes?
JAMES (sighing) : Good wifzards can only grow good iff’n day sweep real good…Sowwey Dah-die.
HERMIONE (with a grin towards Harry) : Sounds just like mommy. So very wise, and correct…although she could use a bit of work on her grammar skills.
GINNY (enters from doorway to hall): Excuse me! Three-year-old grammar is an art form which I am incredibly adept at, Auntie Mione! Also, Hi! Hullo. What are you doing here at 1 am?
HERMIONE: So sorry, Gin! I really need to tell you both something, but I don’t want to (covers James’ ears in her lap, and whispers) say it in front of James.
GINNY: Come on, James. Let’s use your special lamp that shows the sky and see if that doesn’t help you finally get some sleep.
JAMES (running after his mother down the hall): Yesssss, I wuv de sky stowies.
HARRY (to Hermione): It’s something George is beta testing with the nieces and nephews…for the shop. It is this special lamp you can b—
HERMIONE (interrupting): Yes, Harry, I know. It’s a lamp that has a calming soothing voice telling classic childhood stories set to constellations. The child thinks it is entertainment, but the voice is designed by George and charmed to lull them to sleep faster. I already know that he will call them Sky Stories , in honor of James since, after all, he is the lamp’s biggest fan. They will make a killing. So much money, in fact, that it will attract the eyes of investors, even Blaze Zabini.
HARRY: Wait…what? George just dropped it off this week, it isn’t even anywhere near all of that yet.
HERMIONE: Yes, Harry, that is what I’m trying to tell you. (Ginny comes back in.) Okay, Gin, can you sit down, please? I would just feel better if I told you both this. At the same time.
HARRY & GINNY (warily in unison): Alright.
HERMIONE (takes a deep breath, long pause, then all in one breath, says): I have traveled through time somehow and I live in 2013, June actually, and Ron and I just broke up here , but we are married there , and I have no idea how, or why or when, and it just happened, a few hours ago actually, and I came here, and I’m not even sure if it is wise to tell you due to the effects of time travel, and I have no ideas how to get back home or why, or how , again, but I knew I needed to come here and tell someone.
Very Long Pause from the Potter side of the table
HERMIONE: And I trust you. Both.
Another long pause and looks of disbelief and shock from both sides of the table.
GINNY: Holy shit, Hermione!
Another long pause wherein they all stare at each other.
HARRY: Okay. So let me understand. You traveled through time… today?
HERMIONE: Yes, a couple of hours ago, actually, so technically (looking to the clock) yesterday.
HARRY: Right. And what were you doing before you… time traveled?
HERMIONE: Sleeping most likely.
HARRY: Where?
HERMIONE: In my bed. At our townhome in Knightsbridge.
GINNY (dubiously) : Next to…Ron? Because you’re married ? Wait, if you didn’t say yes tonight, then how does that even happen?
HARRY: GIN!
Ginny gives a very embarrassed look to Harry and then to Hermione.
HERMIONE (with a sinking expression) : What? No. No, no, no. Seriously?
GINNY: Sorry, Hermione. But, wait (to Harry now) I mean she isn’t this/our/whatever-the-fuck- She isn’t 2006, Hermione, right? So why can’t I tell her- it’s not spilling the beans if she’s already married to the git!
HERMIONE (whispers): He was going to propose that night? Why didn’t he ever tell me that?
HARRY: Yeah. Uh. Told us earlier this week.
GINNY: Wait, sorry- Hermione? Did you break up with him before- the first time?
HERMIONE: Yes- both times. This time and back seven years ago.
HARRY: Ah! “Both Times”. I get it now…but wait, why did you break up with him this time if you are married? Why not just tell Ron?
HERMIONE: Right. Yes. This is the bit that might be hard to explain.
GINNY (waving her hand in Hermione’s direction) : I’m guessing not, since, well, TIME TRAVEL!
HERMIONE: True. Look, I know you are his sister, Gin, and Harry, you love him like a brother. I just don’t know how to tell you…
Well, for one, the choices he made during our break- the stuff he got into. Little stories eked out through the years during times when he wanted to get something off his chest. I never held it against him, really. And I still don’t know the half of it, but the Ron he is right now…here in 2006. I don’t really want to know this Ron.
HARRY: Was he more like Prat Ron who left us in the woods when we were hunting horcruxes?
HERMIONE: That’s a good comparison, yes. It was like it was necessary for him to make some bad decisions. To figure some things out. To get perspective. He sort of...had to go through a dark season to see the light.
And that time… this time …That break was important for me as well. (saying this more to herself) It may have been the last time that I remember being truly selfish…
Anyways, never mind all that for the moment. When we finally reconciled back in 2007, he told me, albeit vaguely, a lot of hard-to-hear stories…and I don’t think I should betray his trust.
Also, why are you both not freaking out a bit more? I AM FROM THE FUTURE!
HARRY: You do realize that you are… The Hermione Granger? Right?
HERMIONE: What?!
HARRY: I mean you've done this before! And I wasn’t that surprised when I found out in third year that you had been time traveling every bloody day! I wouldn’t be surprised now if you told me you time travel regularly for work since I hardly understand most of what you do anyways…
GINNY: Okay, let's come back to the mindfuck that is time travel in a bit, shall we? First, Hermione, do you have any…evidence? Anything that will help us make sure you didn’t just bang your head and now you’re having a spell… or something to help us know that you are from 20…when?
HERMIONE: 2013
GINNY (aghast) : 2013?! Godric, that’s seven years from now!
HERMIONE: And a few months…
HARRY: I think Ginny is right. We do need to rule out a few things, and I’m guessing you do not want us to floo you to St. Mungos.
HERMIONE: Right. Right. Let me think…I did just tell Harry about the Sky Stories Lamps, named after what James calls them- you should really negotiate a cut by the way. They are going to be huge. You can confirm that with George, but… blast. That won’t be possible until sometime in the summer when he will roll them out at the shop…Hmmm.
Merlin, seven years is a long time to remember things…
Wait.
Oh.
Yes, right…
FLASHBACK
EXTERIOR OF THE BURROW- APRIL 1, 2006 (the first time)
Hermione walks from outside through the door of the Weasley home, winding her way through a raucous crowd of witches and wizards. There is a big sign that says “Happy Birthday George” and a smaller one underneath it saying “Fred, Forever In Our Hearts” near the fireplace. She winds her way through the crowd until it clears, coming up on Harry, Ginny, George, and Padma, all with drinks in hand, mid-conversation.
GEORGE: Stubborn Git! I cannot believe he missed this year. He knows how important this party is to Mum, and he what? Can’t be bothered to show his ruddy, baby face?
PADMA: It has been eight years, George. Can’t he miss one in a decade? You and I don’t get a break from the life-death hybrid of our birthdays, but can’t we cut others some slack?
GEORGE (kissing Padma on the cheek) : You are a better person than I am, darlin’.
GINNY: Well, with how he’s been like lately, I’m a bit relieved he didn’t show.
HERMIONE (walking up to the group): I believe that would be my cue to apologize? He probably heard I would be here and decided not to show. Sorry George, truly.
GEORGE: Ah. No worries, Hermione. I will just have to send a special gift to my favorite brother, living that is. I wonder if he still has an affinity for flobberworms…
HERMIONE (rolling her eyes) : I know today is just as much about celebrating Fred, too, and I hate that I mucked it up. I just couldn’t bear not being here for Molly and you…And I thought we could be civil…
GINNY: Don’t go apologizing because my brother is a stubborn codfish. It’s his fault for not showing his face, Hermione! For damned sure not yours. I’m glad you are taking a break from that sullen twat!
HARRY (quietly towards Ginny’s ear) : Gin, do you need one of your calming potions? You know what the healer said this time around.
HERMIONE and GEORGE (both catching on, swirling their heads towards Ginny) : Wait… (they both notice at the same time that Ginny has only been drinking sparkling mulberry juice in her flute and at the same time say (GEORGE) are you two… (HERMIONE) don’t tell me…)
HARRY (grinning widely) : Yea. A boy. He’ll be here in November.
GINNY: If he comes early he might be a birthday present for Mum.
PADMA: Oh Harry, Ginny, that is wonderful news!
Hugs all around.
GEORGE (at first to Padma) : We need to crack on with the baby making! My little sister’s got 2 on us now! Good Gallant Godrick, so fuckin’ happy for you two. Cannot wait to see Mum blow her lid.
HERMIONE: So happy for you both. Truly. (then pulling Ginny to the side) Are you sure you’re alright, though? What Harry said about the healer?
GINNY: Yes, it's just this thing where my magic affects my blood pressure or some nonsense. It’s a Prewitt thing. Mum said she had it with the twins and Ron. I am to keep a calm temperament this time around. Said to take some calming potions, take a walk, try to keep my mood…’even’ .
HERMIONE (looks to Harry conspiratorially with a smile) : Did that Healer even know who she was talking to?
HARRY (grinning back): She definitely underestimated her patient’s ability to remain…'even'…for any given period of time. Only until the third trimester, though. Then she should be in the clear.
GINNY: Hey, you two! I’m right fucking here, so no need for a chat on my-- Ugh. Fine. Alright. Harry, give me the damn potion and let’s go tell Mum.
GEORGE (and Padma, following after Harry and Ginny) : I cannot wait to see her reaction when…
George’s voice blends into the background and the murmurs of the party as the four of them walk away.
Hermione looks longingly after them and then her face changes, furrowed brow, contemplative. Then she looks forlorn, and is lost in thought…
FLASHBACK (within a flashback)
EXT. A CLIFF-SIDE GROVE OF HOMES SOMEWHERE OFF THE COAST OF AUSTRALIA- SEPTEMBER 20, 2004 (early morning)
Hermione appears in jeans and an Oxford hoodie, seemingly from out of nowhere and then she carefully places a small object into a cloth and puts it in her pocket. We zoom out and see the setting is a group of homes in a cul-de-sac by a beach in Australia, undetermined location. Hermione starts to walk towards one of the cottages, a gray-blue sprawling, modern bungalow with an a-line roof and a wrap-around porch.. As she walks, someone reaches out and grabs her arm.
ANDORA FIG: Wait, girl!
HERMIONE: I just need to look at them. It was a rough one.
ANDORA (with a downturned face full of concern) : There’s been a…new development. Something you should know.
HERMIONE (extremely agitated): What? What happened? Are they ok? Andora, I have been paying you and trusting you all these years…If something happened…Why didn’t you tell me? Arabella said! How could you…
ANDORA (testily): Just give me a minute! (Andora picks up a large gray kneazle who has followed her out into the cul-de-sac) Everyone is alright.
Andora looks perplexed at how to proceed. Hermione reaches out and pets the gray kneazle.
HERMIONE: Hello Hargrove.
ANDORA (softly) : It’s you I’m worried about. Know there have been zero signs. Not a single one in the years I have been watching them. But every now and then…I don’t know what to make of it, but they get this wistful far off look. Like they're trying to remember a…a fond memory? But at the same time, also looking like something is missing? They would often get this look whenever someone brought up the topic of children.
HERMIONE: You don’t think… are they starting to remember?
ANDORA: NO.
The definitive nature of Andora’s answer slams Hermione in the chest and she clutches her right hand over her hoodie.
HERMIONE: Of course. Right.
ANDORA: But they maybe had an inkling that something wasn’t quite right… it being just the two of them.
A long pause where Andora searches Hermione’s face.
HERMIONE: What do you mean?
ANDORA (tilting her head back and forth slowly): Maybe they had enough of a drive to try to fix what they couldn’t remember. In whatever way they knew how. And that is what I make of… that .
Andora points towards the side yard of the Bungalow that overlooks the ocean where Jean and Harold Granger are laughing and walking out with a young elementary-aged child of ambiguous age, probably 5 or 6, who also has very wild dark brown hair. The child is laughing as she gets into a swing and Jean takes a turn to push her on the swing set.
HERMIONE (stares at the scene in shock, then emits a whine and then a whimper, breathing the word) : How?
ANDORA: I know, love. I know. (Andora gives Hermione a clumsy pat and takes a deep breath.) They let me know a couple of months ago that they matched with a family here and were doing some home visits. I thought I would tell you when it seemed like it was final. You know how those things go sometimes. Then when they told me they were bringing her home for good, it was so close to your birthday that I thought I would wait and tell you after that came and went.
But here you are today.
Happy Birthday Dear.
HERMIONE (still staring at the scene in the side yard of the bungalow): I thought about not coming. I knew it would hurt to come today. I far underestimated how much.
We see Herald lean in to tell something to Jean and then all three of them laugh for a bit. Then, Jean notices the neighbor and her friend across the street and throws a casual wave. Hermione limply waves back and stays for a while longer watching the family of three from across the street with Andora Fig.
A large, orange half-kneazle comes out of the Granger's (now Wilkins') home and nuzzles Hermione’s ankle. Hermione sits on the ground and whispers a few sentences to the fat, orange beast that seems to know she needs comfort.
END FLASHBACK(S)
BACK TO: INT. HARRY AND GINNY’S COTTAGE KITCHEN
Hermione, Ginny, and Harry all around the large oak kitchen table again. Hermione on one side, Harry and Ginny on the other. Harry and Ginny are staring intently at Hermione who is lost in thought with a slight crinkle to her nose.
HARRY: What is it?
HERMIONE (shaking her head free of the memories and determinedly looking across the table) : I know something. It might even be too early, but it is one hundred percent not my business.
HARRY: Well, we can probably handle it? Can’t you just tell us?
Hermione looks to Ginny and tries to hold back, biting her lips with her teeth, but fails, to suppress a wide grin and dips her eyes to Ginny’s abdomen.
GINNY: No. Hermione Jean Granger if you tell me…Are you about to say what I think you are? Am I PREGNANT RIGHT NOW?!
HARRY: Impossible.
No.
We've used both charms and potions because we didn’t want to be pregnant during renovations. I thought we’d start trying once we moved back into Grimmauld… (looking towards Hermione who has her eyes covered loosely with her hands) Yes, I know, TMI, ‘Mione, but here we are.
GINNY: Well TMI or not…do you remember that one time a couple weeks ago, Harry? At your office? Sorry ‘Mione, but we absolutely did not use anything that time. Remember Shaklebolt sent you that Patronus and we have both never dressed faster. Come to think of it, my favorite red bra is probably still in a drawer in your desk!
HARRY (very red-faced at this point) : Right. Heat of the moment. Said we’d do it after.
Aaaaand we didn’t.
Right.
GINNY (hesitantly giddy) : But how can we even confirm? I can make an appointment with a medwitch tomorrow?
HERMIONE: No need.
Hermione casts a diagnostic charm towards Ginny’s abdomen.
HARRY: When did you learn that kind of healing magic? I know you didn’t learn that at Oxford?
HERMIONE: Something I picked up later on down the road. I found that having some more basic healer skills helped with my research.
GINNY: Guys. Look .
There is a glowing, tiny, pulsing orb extended out over Ginny’s torso with swirling blue and purple light. Harry and Ginny look at it lovingly, and then into each others’ crying eyes.
HERMIONE (biting her lower lip and crying a bit herself) : Do you want to know if it is a boy or a girl? Totally up to you. Sorry to have told you early, I know that is a bit of a violation. But this was all I could think to prove it to you.
GINNY (still crying) : No, we can wait. This proves it enough for me. When is it? How long do we have?
HERMIONE: First of November. So the, erm, office episode was most likely the…cause. You decide to push up the renovations to move back into Grimmauld Place early because you are both overly ambitious about what can be accomplished and you are two stubborn people who do not like to wait.
HARRY: Sounds accurate.
HERMIONE: Don’t worry. As always, you have lots of help.
HARRY: Okay, Hermione. I would love to help you figure this out, but I’m absolutely knackered and I now know that my wife is carrying my second child and needs way more sleep than she's been getting. Can we come at this fresh in the morning?
HERMIONE: Sure, Harry. I know this is a lot for (looks to clock again)…2 in the morning. You both believe me, though, right?
GINNY: Yes. Without a doubt.
HARRY: Absolutely, 'Mione. Its honestly not the craziest thing we've been through together. Although it is up there. But we're here to help you figure it all out.
GINNY (in the hallway door, uncharacteristically vulnerable and unsure) : ‘Mione. We’re still good friends, right? In the future?
HERMIONE (grinning) : The best of.
GINNY (relieved) : Wonderful. So let’s get some sleep, and I will be at full best friend potential in the morning. (Looking concerned and taking in Hermione’s demeanor) Will you be alright in the guest room for the night?
HERMIONE: That sounds lovely.
Notes:
CW: Domestic Violence, pregnancy, grief and loss
The Title line is from Coldplay's Clocks (2002)
Other Contenders were:
"Confusion that never stops"
"Closing walls & ticking clocks"This whole song fits the first part of the chapter so well. Just don't ever play it around Hermione. I picture Hermione viewing The Bottle Thrown scene set to Clocks in the background like one pictures the Marissa shooting Tray scene from the Season 2 Finale of the OC where violence is set to Imogen Heap's Hide and Seek.
Chapter Text
four: on my face, all i see is a glow
February 27, 2006
Arm in arm, entering Diagon Alley, Ginny nudged Hermione’s shoulder, “I still can’t believe what a right twat my brother turned out to be. I mean…who is still that lost at 33?”
“Actually, quite a lot of people. You don’t just wake up in your thirties and have it all figured out.”
“Well, actually, I can believe it.” Ginny ignored Hermione's insights. “Mum often gave him the benefit of the doubt, cut him too much slack. Even though I was the youngest, as her only girl I think she was harder on me. I’m not complaining, and no excuses for him, of course. But I guess it makes sense why he is so out of sorts and takes to mooching off his wife.”
Hermione felt both agreement and defensiveness at Ginny’s words. “You are starting to sound like Ginny of the future. I’ve never understood your need to poke, prod, and needle to get him to sort himself out. I must say, it has ramped up as of late.”
“Well. Good on me, then. Also, HERMIONE, what about last night- here- in 2006. Why did you never tell me…future me…that he did that? That was very bad form on his part. Very bad. I shan’t speak to him for the foreseeable future.”
“Based on past evidence, I doubt you will have many opportunities to do so.”
Breakfast with Ginny that morning was part interrogation, part confession, and even part therapy session. Ginny’s questions bubbled forth and she wanted to know so many things. Hermione answered as best she could, wincing through the inquiries about The Bottle Thrown- the event Ginny was curious about most.
A twinge of guilt hit Hermione as she elaborated on the long-held secret, spilling forth details over breakfast with an ease that felt both liberating and regretful. She could have done this very thing a long time ago.
Nursing her oolong tea at the Potter breakfast table, she reflected on why she never had. Had she wanted to protect Ron’s image with his friends and family? Or perhaps had she also wanted to protect her own as she ended up taking him back less than a year later? Before, she didn’t dwell on what others would think and why she never told anyone, knowing it was a secret she was planning on taking to her grave.
However, recent circumstances called for reconsideration.
Ginny knew so many of Hermione’s secrets that no one else was privy to, but for some reason she always held back any secrets that delved too deeply into her problems with Ron. Perhaps it was the sibling excuse, but also something felt definitive about voicing her concerns about her marriage out loud. To anyone. It felt natural to spill everything to Ginny now, though, especially since it was sort of a freebie. Once she got all this sorted she could go back to her real life, and her Ginny wouldn’t be the wiser. Probably. Most likely. Even so, she needed allies here and telling the truth, the full truth , was a risk she was willing to take.
As Ginny floo-ed over to The Burrow to drop James off with Molly for the day, Hermione sat contemplating her marriage at the Potter’s breakfast nook. Despite Ron’s multiple career changes, he was very…change averse. He struggled whenever a plan, even a small one, took a turn in a different direction. The most notable time that stuck out to her was the time they decided to go see a muggle movie at a local theater. Hermione was steeped in research, and The Den was just getting up and running. They had been spending weeks as ships in the night. So they picked a movie date night, deciding on the one with the tall, blue aliens that everyone was ranting and raving about. When they got to the theater they realized the remaining shows for that film were sold out for the rest of the evening.
Ron wanted to use magic to conjure seats in the back because his mind was set. Hermione, rule follower as ever, wanted to change course and pick a different film. What started out quite small and harmless ended up one of their spicier rows. That argument covered a wide range of topics:
- The Bottle Thrown
- Ron’s confession to one of his misdeeds during their 2006 Big Break
- Suggestions she had for how he could better his relationship with Change and Flexibility
- His wanting her to cut back on her research and special Ministry projects, which usually went hand in hand with the next topic
- Insecurities that her success brought up for him, mostly related to her not having enough time to support his newfound success in business because she had a book signing or a speaking engagement. “I mean when would you even have time to visit The Den, Hermione? I know, I know. The public needs to praise their Golden Girl, and we must give the people what they want!”
Ron had left her to spend a week-long stint at The Burrow, and the few peaceful days he was gone allowed for a distance she was, truthfully, relieved by.
Now, walking beside Ginny down a dated Diagon Alley where the old Quidditch shop still stood and where Buttercup’s Bakery was still in business, Hermione felt relief from the same sort of distance. They stopped into the bakery to get a couple of those delicious palmiers that transfigured into cinnamon buns halfway through eating. Good gracious heavens, how she had missed these! She remembered the time she took her parents a baker's dozen of the magical pastries home one Christmas, and her father, a dentist with a raging sweet tooth, ate the whole box, save two, in under an hour. She and her mother had teased him about that for many months after.
And yet, even with the memory trigger that cracked open an ache in her chest, Hermione still felt like she could breathe easier here. She took a few deep breaths for what felt like the first time in forever. As they window-shopped and laughed, she noticed how things were different here. No navigating needs between home, and work, and friends and relationships. No work deadlines or pressures when she found herself stuck on a particular problem in her synthesis. No book ideas she needed to be generating to keep up with the constant uncertainty of her and Ron’s financial future. She didn’t even have a single acquaintance asking, “How are you and Ron doing?” with specious concern. No need to sprinkle in just enough truth with a positive spin to keep the vultures at bay. “Well we hit a tiny rough patch, but we’re finding our way.”
Here, she could just be. And breathe.
And doubts about the future felt much farther away.
A few more deep breaths and they were in front of Flourish and Blotts as the door was swinging open. Hermione barely noticed an oncoming wizard through his stack of books exiting through the open doorway and she exclaimed, “Oh! Pardon me!”
With her next inhale, she froze. Sandalwood, fresh parchment, and a tiny bit of wintergreen.
No.
This wasn’t happening.
Sandalwood, fresh parchment, more wintergreen.
No.
And then there was no more breathing. Not a breath in, nor a breath out, and maybe not ever again from this moment on because the person who was staring back at her, over his freshly purchased stack of leather bound tomes, was the very person she never thought she would see again.
That she could see again.
That she was allowed to see again.
Or at least see this close.
“Breathe, Granger. Never seen a bloke carry books before? Believe it or not…” He stage-whispered more towards Ginny’s direction, “I do read.”
“Breathe, Granger”…blonde hair…defined deltoids…those eyes…rough touches…tangled limbs.
No. She could not think about such things right now.
Ginny, noticing something was amiss, slowly dug her elbow deeper into Hermione’s side. She tilted her head, gauging why her friend was so caught off guard and frozen like a statue.
Hermione was entranced. She kept staring at his eyes, searching for those few tiny flecks of gold and emerald she knew were there, the ones scattered throughout one of his blue-grey eyes. When the light would hit his right eye just so, it looked like those flecks were swimming in a foamy sea. She knew those eyes intimately , had stared into them… had dreams about them .
She blinked several times to try and tamper down her senses, her emotions, make her body obey her and give some kind of response other than glaring, which by the feel of her face, she surmised was happening at present. He was looking at her with a mixture of posh disdain and a slightly raised eyebrow as if he might genuinely be concerned. Or put out. Or just disgruntled by her presence. Ugh. She did not need this right now.
Ginny’s eyes were ping-ponging between the two of them, trying to get a read on Hermione’s strange behavior. Probably wondering why running into Malfoy would cause someone to go catatonic?
Then the platinum-haired wizard spoke up, “Well, Granger,” Then turning to Ginny, “Weasle-ette.”
Ginny gave a curt nod toward him as he walked past, “Malfopotamous.”
That shocked Hermione enough out of her stupor to say, “ What? ”
“Yeah, we see each other a lot now that he’s a partial owner of The Harpies,” Ginny explains, like it is common knowledge for her and Malfoy to have stupid names for one another. “He shows up giving pointers where they are not needed nor welcomed , and I give him pointers on how to fix his scathingly dull attitude.”
Malfoy smirked, “That’s not what Coach Helga said last week. I believe she found my suggestions most welcome.”
“Ew, gross, Malfoy! For fucks sake!”
Hermione tried not to outwardly cringe when she remembered the voluptuous Helga Strompt. Malfoy was with her, albeit casually, earlier that year. She tried to reign in her swirling thoughts. Was she still glaring? Was that jealousy? No, surely not.
“See you later Red. Give my regards to your lovely coach next practice, yeah?” Malfoy threw a wink at Ginny and casually over his shoulder to Hermione, “Granger, scintillating conversation as ever.”
“Later, Maleficent.”
Then Malfoy apparated away.
As they made their way through towards the back aisle of the bookstore, Ginny jerked at their linked arms. “Hermione? I have never seen you that tongue-tied in my life. Explanation. Now. please !”
“OK…yeah. Yeah. Just… Just give me a minute.” Hermione didn’t know what to do with herself. She was still quite flustered. She needed to gather her thoughts.
- For one, she saw him. It had been years.
- Two, he wasn’t even her Malfoy. Could she even call her Malfoy “her Malfoy”? No, definitely not. Still, he- past and present, if she were honest- held this pull, luring her in like one of those muggle lights for insects her parents used to keep on the back porch. The embodiment of an attraction that would inevitably end in disaster.
- And three, he didn’t even blink at her in recognition or acknowledgement. Nothing! And why would he? For him, they hadn’t even begun…anything. This Malfoy just knows her as a swotty, over-achieving, Golden Girl who wasn’t worthy of his attention. As much as she wouldn't like to admit it, this hurt most of all.
Ginny, hands on hips, waiting, was staring at Hermione with maternal concern. She’d told her friend all of this once. She could do it again.
“Only you know this. I trusted Future You with this; however, before, details were doled out in pieces over months. It is going to be a lot to take in at once. I’m going to trust you with this, Ginny, because I know you will keep my secret. But just for my peace of mind, you have to promise to not tell Harry or Ron or anyone about what I’m about to tell you.”
Ginny looked at Hermione a little dubiously, then seemed resolved and calm. “Okay, ‘Mione, lay it on me. I’m ready.”
“Actually…it would probably be easier to show you.” Hermione thought to herself. “Where am I keeping it these days?”
“Griffin-Gals, what a pleasure. ”
Two tall, broad figures emerged from the next aisle of over.
“Merlin, is it Teach a Slytherin to Read Day at the Bookstore?” Ginny rolled her eyes. Then she was grinning smugly at the two handsome wizards now standing in front of them. One Hermione knew quite well and considered a dear friend. The other was a fond acquaintance. Here, both were just casual former schoolmates.
Hermione schooled her expression as she looked towards the curly brunette wizard with his horn-rimmed glasses. “Theo. Good to see you. Blaise.” She nodded towards the other dashingly fit wizard.
Theo smirked at her, “Did we walk in on some secrets about to be spilled in these back stacks of enlightening publications? Don’t mind us, carry on.”
“NO!” Hermione and Ginny denied this at the same time.
“Ah, drat. Too bad, then.” Theo was displaying his toothy grin accompanied by his dimple that seemed to draw everyone in.
“Well, I think it might be fortuitous that we have run into these two lovely ladies, don’t you think, Theo?” Blaise was less exuberant than his counterpart, but his eyes still sparkled with mischief.
“Yes. For many reasons. Which ones are you referring to?”
“We should invite them to our big night, yes?” Blaise looked at them open, warm.
“Ah. That. Lets!” Theo was bouncing now on the balls of his feet.
“Granger. Potter. What are your plans for this evening?” Blaise asked.
“I have a small toddler who I promised to take on a broom-ride and a visit to his Uncle’s shop for some lollies.” Ginny then pointed in Hermione’s direction, “She has no plans.”
Hermione looked at Ginny as if she threw her right underneath a fresh double-decker.
“Granger, what do you say? You up for a night of Clerical Colleagues and Cauldron Fizzies?”
“What?” Hermione wrinkled her nose and giggled in confusion.
“Blaise! I thought we were going with Muggle Middlemen and Margs . Margaritas are decidedly more muggle than stuffy old Cauldron Fizzies! That drink is more appropriate for the holiday season. It’s February, darling!”
“It’s still up for debate, Theo,” Blaise said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he shot a dazzling smile towards Hermione. “Whichever one, Margaritas or Cauldron Fizzies, are you in, Granger?”
“What are you two idiots even talking about?” This from Ginny.
“You must come to find out, Ginerva.” Theo gave his sauciest wink.
“Hermione would love to. Give us the details,” Ginny said without missing a beat.
Hermione stared daggers towards her traitorous friend. Could she even be called that at the moment? Then she looked towards a pair of wizards with their twinkling eyes and half grins, “Possibly. Maybe. We shall see.”
“Good enough for me, then. We will be at Odeon in the West End, Shaftesbury Avenue. 7 pm tonight.”
“The muggle movie theater?” Now Hermione was even more confused.
“That's the one!” said Blaise.
“To…watch a movie?” She was growing quite curious.
“No, silly,” Theo looked at her like she was adorable.
“Okay…but what will we do? What do I…wear?” Hermione needed clear instructions if she would later go into whatever minefield this was.
“Well, we have been going with a theme of frumpy muggle office attire; however, we have since discovered that is decidedly unsexy.” Theo shuddered.
“Again, I say- What?”
“Last time, Daph wore the starchiest shirt known to humankind paired with a horrible skirt and the brightest white plain jane trainers. Made her look like a sack of potatoes with two fluorescent suns for feet. A pair of…what do the Muggles call them, Blaise?”
“Keds.” Blaise, bless him, seemed done with this part of the conversation. Hermione had always liked Blaise. He’d been studious enough in school, and even as a Slytherin, he mostly avoided the usual Crab/ Goyle/ Malfoy troubles.
Hermione was getting the feeling that whatever this was- it was related to Blaise's undeniably adorable Muggle Phase. She had forgotten all about that, but now, recalled the period a few years after the war, which became quite the scandal in the wizarding community. Blaise had become fascinated with popular muggle culture, something he was obviously shielded from most of his life. Having twenty plus years of zero exposure meant his learning curve had been quite steep. He hosted the most hilariously bad karaoke parties, and when Jodeci released their “best-of" album, Back to the Future, in 2005, Blaise vanished for two whole weeks. He also once claimed that REM would be the next big band to break out…in 2006. Hermione, for her part, found his bumbling muggle obsession endearing, yet other more traditional witches and wizards had looked down on him for introducing their community to so many frivolous muggle inanities. This was mostly remedied with time, as Blaise became a respected Auror and continued to make his estate more and more galleons with his investments.
“Right. Absolutely no Keds, Granger.” Theo’s face was so serious at this point, Hermione wanted to laugh at the absurdity.
“Okaaaayyy. IF I go. And that is a big IF. I will just wear what I want to. Sorry I asked!” Hermione was laughing and staring at these two wizards like they had lost their minds.
“Lovely. Wear what you like. And IF we see you at seven, we will be ever so delighted.” Theo gave her a salute as he and Blaise walked towards the front of the store to purchase their books.
“So many questions…" Ginny turned to Hermione, "And now that we are through with all that nonsense, it’s my turn. Spill it, ‘Mione.”
Hermione had remembered, sometime while Theo was waxing ridiculous about white trainers, where she kept it. Her Pensieve. It was at the last place she wanted to go. Nevertheless, she gathered herself and walked them out of the bookstore to apparate to a place she thought she’d never go back to again.
Notes:
Chapter Title is from K-Ci and Jojo's All My Life (1998), in honor of Blaise's foray into muggle R&B during his 2-week stint after Jodeci's greatest hits album was released. Jodeci led him to K-Ci and Jojo, which led to The Wu-tang Clan, and so on and so on. He was a better man after those two weeks.
You're all that I ever known
When you smile, on my face, all I see is a glow
You turned my life around
You picked me up when I was downI almost went with Jodeci's (1991)
Come & Talk To Me
because Hermione most definitely couldn't talk to him.Chapter five is a doozy, but hopefully will be up in a week!
Chapter Text
five: why’d you sing hallelujah
February 27, 2006
Apparating onto a well-manicured walkway lined with lilacs and rosebushes, Hermione and Ginny both stared at the sturdy, foreboding structure in Hampstead Garden Suburb. Neatly trimmed hedges, the side garden with its little, blue bistro table and chairs, and the remnants of an old wooden swing pulled Hermione’s eyes all over the yard. Ginny started walking towards the porch, yet Hermione stood as if her shoes were affixed to the cement footpath.
“I can’t.”
“What is it?”
“I sold it. About two years ago.”
“Sold what?”
Hermione stood frozen, waving a limp hand in front of her childhood home. “We were drowning in debt from a business venture- Ron opened a pub. Everything was great at first, and then…I still can't quite figure out how everything went horribly wrong. It started turning a small profit, but then there were some costly repairs, a few vendors who didn’t deliver, and by the end of it we were a hundred thousand galleons under water. I had to put it on the market to pay off the debts. The place that held so many of my favorite memories, my home.”
Ginny looked at Hermione for a long time. “We don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”
A lone tear made a slow trek down Hermione’s cheek. “It was awful, Gin. I grieved for weeks after I had to let it go. Weeks . This is cruel. To have it here now just… looming …like everything isn’t so incredibly wrong with this godsdamned situation. Like it’s mine again, but it’s not. Like I can just go in and awaken all the memories that I buried and mourned. And why the fuck am I even here in the first place!”
“‘Mione, why don’t you start by telling me why we’re here? Maybe that will help.”
“My pensieve. I kept it here.”
”Hermione, how the flip do you own a pensieve?”
She looked at Ginny with a curious expression, tears drying up as she held back a smile. “Since when do you say ‘flip’?”
“Ever since hearing an adorable ‘WELL, FWUCK’ coming from my three-year-old’s mouth right after his pillow fort fell the other day. Trying something new- being a better example .” Ginny waved a hand nonchalantly in the air.
“You may as well give up on all that now. I can attest that your anti-cursing phase does not last long,” Hermione giggled primly.
“Answer my question, ‘Mione! How the fuck do you have a pensieve here? The Ministry is stingier than a goblin with his sword when it comes to handing out permits, not to mention they are incredibly pricey!”
“Ah, yes. That. Wait…how do you know so much about pensieve ownership?”
“Harry and I thought about purchasing one, but the ministry wouldn’t allow it. They said all he should be satisfied with just the one at work. Although…we did not want to use it in a…professional capacity. We want--”
“Enough! I get it. I get it. No need to elaborate. Merlin’s beard Ginny. I told you I never want to know details about what you and Harry get up to.”
“Yes. One of the great weaknesses in our friendship- each of us shagging the other’s brother or brother figure in your case…But seriously, back to the pensieve! How do you own one?”
“Do you want the short version or the lengthy one?”
“Are you capable of the short one?” Ginny smirked at her friend. “Go ahead. Lay it on me.”
Hermione gave a detailed account of her work with various departments across The Ministry over the years. She told Ginny about how she started out in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes in Obliviation Headquarters in hopes of helping her parents. She was quite surprised to find that she was already a local celebrity there as they had never seen a long-term obliviation spell executed that thoroughly before. The closest in 1978, when a talented witch, who one day was quite cross with her muggle husband of five years, made him forget she ever existed. The DMAC Obliviators were able to reverse most of the damage done, but it took weeks and still some memories did not come back. Hermione’s memory erasure spell was far greater. Her parents' memories were so surgically removed and the strong familial bond of protection that the spell caster used made the obliviation irreversible. Even though the DMAC Obliviators were in awe, they still made many attempts to reverse Jean and Harold Granger’s memories from 2000-2002, yet to no avail.
This, however, led Hermione to further dive into memory research, ethics and best practices for the DMAC department when it came to memory removals, and eventually several projects regarding interrogation with the DMLE. She eventually became an expert witness at many Wizengamot trials as she transformed how they used the pensieve to discern guilt or innocence. Her biggest contribution was keeping innocents out of Azkaban.
What does one need handy in order to study how memories form and can be manipulated? A pensieve. So the Ministry gave Hermione her own pensieve and full permits for home use to conduct her research. She knew that she wasn’t going to bring back her parents, but she could at least make penance by helping others.
“Did you know Ginny, that memories can be manipulated based on the recollector's emotional state? For example, I can give you two pensieve memories of the same event, from my own head, and they could tell two completely different stories about what happened. We tried different methods of memory retrieval, and while sweat actually produces the most factually accurate pensieve memories- as opposed to tears or self-retrieval, it still was only in the 60-70th percentile. So we worked on potions to counteract any emotional manipulation of memory and we were able to come up with an elixir that provides a 97th percentile of accurate events.
"Most of 2005 was spent in field research- me and my pensieve, working out the formulas. Eventually, I used the pensieve with my muggle studies. But in a very different way. Studying the memory recollection of those with dementia. Learning how to better synthesize our compound for trials…”
Hermione caught herself, “Sorry, Gin. I know I’m boring you. Essentially, what started out as wanting to right wrongs turned into a thirst for knowledge regarding the ethics and best practices for a great many endeavors. Most needing a pensieve to conduct research. In 2013, it’s at my lab in Oxford. But I kept it here until I sold the house.”
Hermione was occasionally self-conscious of her need to share her knowledge. It was like once she opened up the tap and let some of the facts pour out, she couldn’t dampen the flow. There were times when the anecdotes, evidence, and background information spewed forth for minutes until she realized that she was either being made fun of or tuned out entirely. But Ginny just stared back at her and said without judgement, “Wow. I knew a little about what you did for The Ministry, but not all of that. You’re so bloody brilliant, ‘Mione. It's one of the many reasons I love you.”
And Godrick, Hermione loved her for that.
They ventured into the front door, walking across the entry hall’s herringbone oak floors. Hermione noticed the sitting room off to the left, remembering where she last spoke to her parents before she cut them off forever.
“Hermione, darling, how about we go to CoffeeBerry for brunch later. I would love to have a mother-daughter chat before you head back to school.”
“Sounds lovely, Mum.”
“Well, since you’re both leaving me out, bring me back a frangipane tart!”
“Of course, Dad. Wouldn’t dream of not doing just that.”
And then.
“Obliviate.”
That perfectly horrible memory was now one of many tucked away in the magically extended cupboard in the alcove under the stairs.
“Fair warning, Gin. These memories are not like the ones I use for research…They will have my…feelings throughout.”
Hermione and Ginny leaned over the pensieve in her old childhood bedroom. “I don’t have to see your memories to know whatever it is that you want to tell me. I’ll believe you if you just want to tell me.”
“It is actually better this way. I will either go into far too much detail or I will leave out anything important due to not wanting to be…judged. This way I can just rip off the band-aid.”
“What?”
“Muggle expression. It means get it over with quickly and abruptly. Avoid drawing out the discomfort.”
“Ah. Makes sense to me.”
Hermione grabbed her wand, took a long wisp of a memory from her right temple and put it into the pensieve.
Ginny tied her hair back, gave her friend a reassuring smile, and dove forward.
EVERYTHING IS BLACK
Sounds of a ringing of a shop-keepers chime, some bits and pieces of French phrases, some English as well, the bustling noises of crinkled paper and whistling tea kettle.
THE SMOKE CLEARS: INT. BUTTERCUP’S BAKERY, DIAGON ALLEY - June 14, 2006, early morning
The floors are a black and white diamond-shaped checkerboard pattern, a nineteenth century brass & copper cash register sits on the butcher-block counters, there is an antique bakery case full of a wide variety of pastries. Hermione is waiting near the register to receive her pastry and tea.
HERMIONE (as she receives her pain au chocolat and earl grey tea) : Merci, Colette!
The shop bell rings as a new customer comes into the bakery.
A MALE VOICE (unseen) : Bonjour Colette, vous êtes ravissante aujourd’hui. Je suis là pour la grosse commande.
COLETTE: oh la la , Bonjour Monsieur Malfoy, espèce de coquin.
Hermione’s spine goes ram-rod straight and she freezes, her back still to the man ambling around the shop.
COLETTE (putting the last of a few pastries into a box) : Un moment. Tout est presque prêt. Dis aux joueuses que je vais aller au match contre les Prides la semaine prochaine. J'ai ajouté quelques palmiers supplémentaires pour partager avec l'équipe. Je sais bien que vous assistez à leurs entraînements les mercredi après-midis.
MALFOY: Merci. Mettez les pâtisseries supplémentaires sur mon compte, s’il vous plaît, et ajoutez aussi le petit déjeuner de cette charmante sorcière. Je paierai comme d'habitude en fin de semaine. (Malfoy walks to wait beside Hermione, then notices who she is, clears his throat and hoarsely replies) Granger .
HERMIONE (nods slightly towards him with her eyes) : Malfoy.
COLETTE: Mon Dieu, look at the two of you! So lovely together, side by side. You should ask this brilliant woman on an outing tout suite. C'est une belle matinée pour une promenade, n'est-ce pas?
Hermione looks mortified, mouth hanging open and staring at Colette in polite outrage.
MALFOY: You know I only have eyes for you, Colette.
COLETTE: Shameless flirt. I’m more than twice your age. Although…if I were younger…
HERMIONE (with feigned politeness) : If I can please pay, Colette, I'll be on my way.
MALFOY: Oh, I’ve already taken care of it.
HERMIONE: I understand French, Malfoy, and I don’t need anything to be ‘taken care of’. I can pay for my own breakfast, thank you.
MALFOY (giving a slight smirk) : Ah yes. I forgot you have The Weasel should anything need to be… taken care of . Tell me, Granger (leans into her personal bubble) does he?
HERMIONE (incredulous at this point, parchment pastry bag and takeaway mug ignored on the counter, hands on hips) : What?! (The realization of his innuendo dawns on her face and then she rolls her eyes.) Merlin, Malfoy. As crass as ever. For your information, we broke up. Months ago. But I get ‘taken care of’ just fine by whomever and whenever I please.
Hermione’s face looks slightly shocked at her own brazenness as she does not normally fib like this.
MALFOY (still stoic, but eyes dancing) : Interesting.
HERMIONE: What is?
MALFOY: You’re different.
HERMIONE: Than what? A bushy-haired little school girl who beat you for top-marks almost every single year and also gave you an actual beating?
MALFOY (the quickest smirk tips up the right side of his mouth): Well not that different then. Or maybe I am…
HERMIONE: What, you don’t go around letting murderers into schools full of children these days?
Malfoy visibly jolts at her statement and all humor is gone from his face. Hermione's posture and face immediately fall and she looks at him with remorse.
MALFOY: I deserve that.
HERMIONE (looking at him dubiously) : Malfoy, I…
MALFOY (interrupting): Can I walk you out, Granger?
SMOKE ENTERS, EVERYTHING FADES TO BLACK THEN THE SMOKE SLOWLY CLEARS AWAY
A montage of Hermione and Malfoy walking down Diagon Alley with different pastries and different outfits ensues. Sometimes Hermione is eating a magical palmier, sometimes a croissant, sometimes a scone. Draco’s outfits change from day to day, but mostly a casual variety of black dress robes. Hermione wears her formal robes open over different business-casual work attire as they walk several mornings from the bakery to The Ministry entrance.
EXT. DIAGON ALLEY- June 14 through July 5, 2006, mornings
Three outfit changes, and they walk along in companionable silence, occasionally exchanging polite, un-smiling, but not unkind, looks toward one another until Hermione finally speaks up.
HERMIONE (breaks off a piece of her blackberry scone): This is the third time in barely over a week, Malfoy. Other witches would start to get ideas.
MALFOY (straight faced, very serious): What? I am on mission. Each box of Colette’s delicious palmiers gets me one step closer to a meeting with the head of the DMGAS. I cannot help that you stop in for breakfast before work at the same time I need to procure my secret weapon to woo his assistant.
HERMIONE: Why do you need a meeting with Gerald Foust?
MALFOY (grumpily): I had plans for the Harpies to make it to the League Cup this year, then our best chaser found herself growing another Boy Wonder (he gives Hermione a sidelong glance), my best seeker got an offer from The Cannons she is heavily considering taking mid-season, and then there is Hel…Coach Strompt. We are not exactly on the best of terms at the moment, and I need to work a more…political angle if we still want to make it to the cup for the first time in decades.
HERMIONE (eyes wide): Sounds like there is a story there. With Helga Strompt that is. Please (she holds out a hand to stop him from telling her anything) no need to elaborate on my behalf…
A few more outfit changes on their morning walks to the ministry.
HERMIONE: Malfoy it has been over two weeks! Surely she will allow you to attend practice again?
MALFOY (affronted): Granger, you are underestimating my…abilities. She will need more time to grieve the loss. (The left side of his mouth quirks up.)
HERMIONE (rolling her eyes sky high) : Godrick, Malfoy. Just, no. Also, Helga Strompt does not strike me as someone who would need to settle for your…’abilities’. She could have any wizard she wants. Especially with that hair and those hips.
MALFOY (smirking, eyes dancing): Oh?! Are you throwing your hat in the ring?
HERMIONE (scrunching up her face): Ugh, Malfoy. One, she would probably eat me alive and two, there is no way she is still hung up on you, of all people.
MALFOY (looking as smug as possible): You do not seem to know what you are talking about. Are you sure you are the Brightest Witch of Our Age? Do you need more education?
HERMIONE (trying to still roll her eyes, but breaking a tiny smile): Get over yourself, Malfoy.
They walk the rest of the way in silence. Then two more outfit changes.
MALFOY: I’m afraid our breakfast walks will soon come to an end, Granger. I will be off with the team while they travel for the next month.
HERMIONE (somewhat patronizingly): Look at you. Such a dedicated quidditch club owner, aren’t you?
MALFOY (not taking the bait, nodding): Most dedicated.
HERMIONE (trying to keep the same teasing tone, but also letting in some wariness) : Has Helga taken you back then?
MALFOY: No. Nothing like that. I just like to keep a close eye on the teams’ progress. Spending a month without watching a match is too long. And Helga, at least, seems to be able to tolerate my presence at practices again.
HERMIONE (attempting at nonchalance): I’ll be in Paris next week for the match against Quiberon.
MALFOY (succeeding at attempting nonchalance): Oh?
HERMIONE: Ginny decided we both needed a girls trip. In a month, I’ll be in the final stages of my PhD dissertation. Her condition during this pregnancy has really taken its toll on her. So before we both have to disappear for varying reasons, we are making a big to-do of it in Paris. We’ll be there for about a week.
MALFOY (politely) : Well maybe I will see you in the owners box, then.
A few final outfit changes, then the final scene of their morning walks unfolds.
HERMIONE (both mournfully and wistfully): I know! I’m gutted. I had been looking forward to walking around Montmartre with a fresh baguette. There is a tiny little restaurant near Sacré-Cœur that has the best chocolate torte you have ever imagined in your-
MALFOY (interrupting): Are they sure it is Black Cat Flu?
HERMIONE: Yes, although my friend who is a St. Mungo’s healer says that it is a fairly mild case. Children do not exhibit the symptoms as severely as adults. Ginny had to volunteer to quarantine with James and they will have to do so for three weeks to make sure they are both past the contagion point. She's livid with Charlie for bringing it with him from Bulgaria last week, although it hasn’t been proven that Charlie was the carrier. Probable though. The black cat population is more heavily concentrated in The Balkans. Did you know that muggles have a saying- ‘don’t let a black cat cross your path’? They consider them highly unlucky. A few hundred years ago a belief started circulating about witches turning into black cats. Which makes sense. There was a feline animagus community back in Eastern Europe that got…
Hermione catches herself going on and on, stiffens and turns beet red with embarrassment, eyes on the ground.
MALFOY (tongue in cheek, open, encouraging, eyes moving from her lips while she was talking and back to her eyes) : Do go on. You were telling me about an Eastern European cabal of McGonagalls…
HERMIONE (clearing her throat, much less animated than before): Yes, well. I was just making the point that there is some merit to the muggle saying. A long time ago, a non-magical person probably saw a black cat turning into a witch who may have had the Black Cat Flu. It transfers to non magical beings more like a severe respiratory virus. That is the most likely explanation for thinking a black cat an unlucky creature.
There is a stint of silence where she is still looking at the ground while they walk, and Malfoy seems to be patiently waiting for more.
HERMIONE (finally looking up to him, briefly meeting his eyes) : Sorry. I do that.
MALFOY: What?
HERMIONE: Forget that not everyone loves facts as much as I do. Delving deep into a topic is like breathing for me, and the need to educate is...hard to turn off sometimes.
MALFOY (smiling to himself): I’m aware.
HERMIONE: As I age, it seems like it gets harder and harder to reign it in.
MALFOY (puzzled, brow furrowed): Why would you want to?
HERMIONE: Well my friends have these…silly names for it: ‘Hermione’s Rampages to Educate the Masses’ or ‘’Mione’s Soap-box Du Jour’. But if I’m being honest, it is something I’ve been self-conscious about since first year at Hogwarts.
MALFOY: Makes perfect sense to me.
HERMIONE: How so?
MALFOY (takes a beat first): You were thrown into a whole new world from the one you came from. So you learned everything you could. Even carried that bloody Hogwarts a History around everywhere. You became so fucking brilliant that you single-handedly saved the wizarding world from a madman, so why would facts not be something you would hoard and cherish? Knowledge is might, Granger.
HERMIONE (dumbfounded): I…I think Harry would be the one who saved the wizarding world. Not me. I was just supporting...
MALFOY (scoffing): Fuck that , Granger. You know Tweedle Wonder and Tweedle Wheeze would have been completely lost. They wouldn’t have found a single godsdamned horcrux or…Salazar, they wouldn’t have ever made it past third year without you!
HERMIONE (blushing again, staring at him and whispering) : You flatter me, but you are incorrect. I was not prophesied about, nor could I have gone up against him . I wasn’t a living horcrux.
MALFOY (taking another beat): Well, I’ll cede that we may have needed The Boy Who Lived. But definitely not The Weasel.
They walk along in contemplative silence. Hermione’s brow is slightly furrowed and several emotions pass over her face as she works something out. Hermione looking down, Malfoy watching the emotions pass over her face.
MALFOY (looking back down, smiling slightly): I quite enjoy it, myself.
HERMIONE (halfway paying attention): What?
MALFOY (nodding towards her but looking straight ahead, stoic): Your brain. How it works. How you always bested me no matter how hard I tried in school. Except on rare occasions, of course. How I can almost hear your mind working as you pick apart whatever it is you are dissecting in silence over there.
HERMIONE: I’m not dissecting. Just…caught off guard. (turning towards him with her full attention and a self-deprecating tone) And what exactly do you ‘enjoy’ about my brain, Malfoy. Did you wake up this morning and think, ‘You know what would make today grand? Hearing a thesis on black cat idioms. That would really get me going’?
MALFOY (holding back a smirk): The way your mind-- It's definitely se--(stops himself abruptly and clears his throat)…What I mean to say is that it’s quite nice to...(pauses to gather himself). You’re self-assured, Granger, and you know things. Your brain is…nice.
HERMIONE (looking at him with wild, smiling eyes): Malfoy! Were you about to say my brain is…Do you think my brain is sexy ? You think my mind is ‘nice’? (beginning to sing-song) You think it’s goooor-geous?
MALFOY (very sternly, all playfulness gone) : What are you on about Granger?
HERMIONE (in a sing-song voice a-la-Gracie Hart) : You think it’s gooor-geous? You think it’s sexy. You want to smooch it. You want to huuug it. You want to….
Hermione, very pleased with herself giggles and grabs her side, leaning over in a fit of laughter. Malfoy looks at her with an unamused expression.
HERMIONE: So sorry, Malfoy, I had to. I forget you probably have no idea what I’m talking about. (takes a pause to catch her breath) It is a line from one of my favorite muggle films.
Hermione continues giggling and humming the same sing-song “tune” as Malfoy takes one pastry from the box. He sets the box on the ground and walks towards her slowly with intention, face unreadable. Then he looks at her with heat and she stops her taunting hums. He struts to her, face smoldering either with want or anger, she is unsure. He slowly gains on her until he is flush with her, their thighs brushing. He towers over her. Then he leans down, slowly. She looks up at him with anticipation, her mouth opens slightly and pupils dilate, starting into his eyes. Just as his lips are a few inches from hers he brings the pastry up to his mouth slowly, then takes a huge bite of his croissant.
She stares at him, mouth hanging open, taking a moment to realize what just happened, then her eyes go wild with delight.
HERMIONE: YOU have seen it!?
MALFOY: I’m a man of many secrets, Granger.
Malfoy walks away to pick up the pastry box and calls over his shoulder, his back to her as he nears the ministry lobby doors.
MALFOY: Maybe I’ll see you à Paris next week. Tell Red I wish a speedy recovery to her and the Potterling.
EVERYTHING FADES TO BLACK
Ginny removed her head from the pensive and let her hair fall back down to her shoulders. She spent some time contemplating what she had seen. “Many thoughts. First of all, thanks for the heads up to keep away from Charlie when he comes home for summer holiday. And second, ‘Mione. What the fuck ? Don’t get me wrong- that was some top notch flirting. Good job to the both of you. But Malfoy ? How did I not see this coming? How… just how?”
Hermione smiled shyly at her friend. “That’s basically what you said the first time. With that same disbelieving look. I thought you were disgusted with me back then. I mean how could I have fallen for my childhood bully, no less? How ? But now, knowing you and Malfoy were… are …chummy…Now, I’m not so sure.”
“I would use a different term, but yes, we tolerate each other. And I’m not disgusted. I’m mostly upset with myself for not putting this together sooner. You do have a lot in common. Uptight. Top marks. Over achieving, ambitious types. Refined tastes, etcetera. I didn’t think you had it in you to go all the way to the dark side. And I mean, let's be honest. Ron has always been the safe choice .”
”Ginny, don’t be cruel.”
”No, I’m serious, ‘Mione. You have been with Ron, on again, off again, for over four years now and sometimes I am convinced that you are sticking it out for the sole reason of not rocking the boat.”
”Ginny.” Hermione let out a breath of exasperation. She’d had a similar version of this conversation a few more times than she would have liked over the years. But Ginny never relented. Whenever this topic came up, albeit only on rare occasions, Ginny would bring up her time in 2006 with Malfoy like it was some beacon of hope. Instead, for Hermione, it was a season she wanted to forget. It felt more to her like an anchor that would pull her back under if she dwelled on it too long.
“You and Malfoy meet in June then?” Ginny offered her friend a subject change. “I noticed a copy of The Prophet on the counter in the bakery. I wonder why you are back in time now? Why February before you were even supposed to meet?”
“I’m not here to hook up with Malfoy, Gin. I’m sure The Magical Powers That Be did not send me back in time to cheat on my husband. As you seem to want to forget- I’m currently married. To Ron. Your brother.”
“Right, I keep forgetting about that.” Ginny gave Hermione a sympathetic smile. “Look. It’s just hard to picture it! I don’t know if you remember, but you have spent the past six months on the fence about him, worrying he might propose. Talking yourself into the idea, and then back out of it, and then into it all over again. ‘Ron and I are just meant to be. Why am I fighting it, Ginny?’ Or, ‘What if I make him miserable, Gin? Why does he even still want me?’ And you know what? Every time. Every single time I ask you what you want out of life, out of your future marriage. I ask you to picture your life in five years. What does it look like? And now? Now you can actually answer that bloody question! So what did it look like ‘Mione? Five years in? And more now? Are you incredibly happy?”
Hermione cringed at the first memory that popped into her head- her five year anniversary dinner with Ron. It was definitely not the picture of marital bliss she had in mind when she was younger. It wasn’t even what she expected when she pictured a future with Ron as a twenty-something. It was a fairly bleak comparison to all of those aspirations, actually.
When Hermione thought of her and Ron five years in, it wasn’t that they would have knock down drag out fights or glaring issues like unfaithfulness. But she did have this ever-present undercurrent of dread. It settled in some time after The Den went under and just before Ron started pushing to start a family. Something just felt off . There were good moments when she forgot about that off-putting feeling, though, and she decided that’s just what marriage was. Maybe her parents were an anomaly. Most people had good enough. Not everyone gets a great love that feels like home, safety, being known. Hermione saw that in her parents' marriage, and it overflowed to her, wrapping her up in their support and care. And there was the crux of it. She'd had all that love, felt seen by two wonderful humans. And she ruined it.
So why should she get to have anything close to that ever again?
She shouldn’t. Instead, she and Ron had a cornucopia marriage, a bunch of good mixed in with some bad and even some “just OK”, never knowing which feeling would be stirred up and forward facing from day to day, hour to hour. But their marriage was nice. Acceptable. Even fun at times. And yet, occasionally, that undercurrent would feel so strong, palpable .
She was exhausted by the uncertainty toward the end of year four. Occluding, compressing her anxious thoughts down so far, and putting her agreeable side front and center seemed to help. No need to have to sort through how to feel if her feelings could be conveniently stored away. At Ginny mentioning "five years in", the first memory to pop into Hermione’s head was a mostly nice anniversary dinner where Ron was discussing quidditch club stats and Hermione was occluding.
“Last night, both you and Past Hermione decided to dump my arsehole brother. Not that I don’t love him. Of course, I always will. But I love you like a sister too, ‘Mione, and he doesn’t deserve you. Maybe he works his way towards that in the future? But even then, I cannot picture you as a keen match.”
“How so?” Hermione had never heard Ginny speak so plainly on this subject before.
“I know my brother. He’s about simple pleasures, small goals, things he can do to get a laugh. You’re about grandiose achievements, your brain works a mile a minute, and you like nice things. I’ve seen you get all giddy over a posh jumper. Not that Ron would know the difference between cashmere and Mum’s scratchy sweaters.” Ginny gathered her thoughts. “I cannot work out how you two could ever be compatible! But it isn’t my place to judge you or judge for you . And I know I’m coming on strong; it’s just that..”
“What”
“Well, the thing you said to Malfoy. About your friends’ ‘sayings’? ‘Mione’s soap boxes’, etcetera? I’ve never said anything like that. In fact, I rather like your education sessions. You give me things to talk about at those boring DMLE parties Harry has me going to.”
“Huh…But I’m sure I’ve heard Harry say something about my little speeches before.”
“Think it through, Hermione. Have you ever heard myself or Harry use those terms to describe you or the way you are?”
Hermione sat in quiet contemplation for a moment. Then she looked at Ginny. “No, I cannot remember a time when either of you said anything like that. Merlin’s beard, has it been only Ron this whole time? I mean, I knew he came up with some of the catch phrases for the way I…go on sometimes…but I guess in my mind everyone else said it too. Eventually I started just using those terms to talk about myself. Seemed easier.”
“If I know Ron, and I definitely do. It is because he is insecure about his own intelligence. And yet another area you two differ.”
“Sometimes opposites make a relationship work! Look at you and Harry. He is very sweet and even-tempered, and you are…You.” She gave Ginny a lovingly wry smile.
“Harry and I are actually quite a lot more alike than we are different. Yes, we may have some personality differences, different interests, but our values and goals are almost always in the same vein.”
“Ron and I have similar values and goals.”
“Name them.”
“Well he likes to…We both…” Hermione scrunched her nose and stopped to think. Then she had one. “We both love to be around people. Spending time together with our loved ones and friends is top priority.”
Ginny looked at her for a long time in silence. Then she said, “Hermione. It shouldn’t take a couple of tries to come up with something. You should know immediately what you share with your partner of more than a decade. Also you can’t have other people as a shared value. If the tables were turned, you would tell me that was a cop-out answer.”
“Why are you saying these things?” Hermione whispered.
“Look you are my favorite person on earth, next to my husband and son. But I’m not in charge of you. You make your own decisions based on what you see fit for your life. Not me. Don’t mind me.” Ginny looked full of compassion. “Maybe it's the hormones?”
Hermione was lost in thought staring out the window. Her thoughts were interrupted by Ginny softly asking, “Was that all you wanted to show me? About Malfoy?”
Hermione’s awkward laughter burst forth from her before she could stifle it.
“That’s a ‘No!’ then.” Ginny grinned wickedly in anticipation.
“So much more actually, but I’m probably going to have to censor it….”
EVERYTHING IS BLACK…
Notes:
Chapter title is from Damien Rice's Delicate, on his O album (2002). There was a season of my life from 2004 to 2006 when I had to buy this CD a couple of times due to overuse! One particular Spring Break with friends heading to the FL panhandle where this and only this album was played on repeat, blasting through my friend's terrible 4Runner speakers. Still highly recommend.
So why do you fill my sorrows
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known?
And why do you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to ya?
Why do you sing with me at all?We might live like never before
When there's nothing to give
Well how can we ask for more?
We might make love
In some sacred place
The look on your face is delicatein case you've never seen it- the Draco palmier RomCom reference is from Miss Congeniality (2000).
Also, I'm on IG now. Come say hi and see who my brain (of its own accord, despite my best efforts) will forever fancast as Draco :). @cmpumpkinwrites
Chapter Text
six: if it means nothing to you?
EVERYTHING IS BLACK
Cheers, whistling, and jeering can be heard from hordes of voices.
The smoke begins to clear as two witches fly by on their brooms, one in emerald green and gold quidditch robes, the other in florescent pink and black.
INT. OWNERS BOX, UPPER LEVEL OF FRENCH NATIONAL QUIDDITCH STADIUM - July 15, 2006, 2 pm
Hermione has grabbed a vol-au-vent filled with asparagus and gruyère, and pops it into her mouth, closes here eyes in satisfaction, then grabs another. Neville Longbottom walks up beside her.
NEVILLE: Hungry?
HERMIONE (hand in front of her mouth): Starved. Thank you for joining me, Neville. You know I hate to portkey alone.
NEVILLE: No trouble at all, ‘Mione. I had to be here in any case; glad it worked out. My supplier of Ethiopian shrivelfigs, and a good friend of mine, sells at the Place Cachée every July.
HERMIONE: Oh right, I heard about what the second years did last Fall! Must have been devastating to lose so much of your teaching materials.
NEVILLE (chuckling, self-deprecating): Not that I’m one to talk, but yes. Our experimentation with watering charms did not turn out too well. Removing that lesson from the curriculum next year, but, yeah, we lost most of our potted shrivelfigs and half the dittany. Those second years, well third years now, remind me of our lot. Especially the Gryffindors.
HERMIONE: They are very lucky to have you, both as Head of House and as Professor. But Godrick, Neville, I don’t know how you do it. You must have the patience of a saint.
NEVILLE: Well, if I’m being honest, it takes its toll. My friend, Abel- the shrivelfig supplier, he teaches as well. We usually get together around this time of year for drinks and commiserating. I actually might bugger off to meet him. Do you mind me leaving you to watch the match alone?
HERMIONE: Sure. I’ll be fine. I think I saw Susan and some of the girls around here somewhere. I’ll go fill them in on how Ginny and James are doing.
NEVILLE (looking across the owners box and pausing on one person in particular, brow furrowing, eyes narrowing): Alright. Just shoot me a patronus if you need anything.
HERMIONE: Will do, Nev.
Neville exits the owners box. Hermione crosses behind some of the box seats and grabs a couple more buffet items, while half-watching the quidditch match. She stops to look around and hears someone coming up beside her.
MALFOY: Decided to brave the journey without Red?
HERMIONE: Obviously. (She says this absently as she continues to look for the group of friendly acquaintances she is sure are around somewhere.)
MALFOY: Looking for someone?
HERMIONE: I usually come to these things with Harry. And Neville left me to meet up with an old friend. Thought I saw Susan and Millie earlier…
MALFOY: They left a moment ago. Something about The Champs-Élysées being more ‘entertaining’.
HERMIONE (fidgeting with her beaded bag): I do not blame them. I was ordered by Gin to at least make an appearance on her behalf. If you must know, I’m not a huge fan.
MALFOY (smirking ever so slightly): You don’t say? You know you can be off doing something you consider a better form of entertainment.
HERMIONE: I'll stay a bit longer, then head out.
There is a break in their conversation when The Harpies score against Quiberon. Lots of cheers and celebrations ring out in the owner's box. They stand near one another in awkward silence.
MALFOY: Shame we aren’t having this match at the Quiberon pitch. Bretagne is better this time of year. Here it’s uncommonly hot and no escape from the dull tourists that descend upon Paris in summer.
HERMIONE: You would have something against La Ville Lumière.
MALFOY: Not the city, just…people . Why are you here, Granger?
HERMIONE: Well...I can’t do anything to help James or Ginny. Harry is off on some auror mission. My research is finished but still waiting on final approval from the dissertation committee before I can even start writing it. I started to feel quite useless, and it was driving me mad. And the hotel suite was already booked so here we are.
MALFOY (scoffing): Granger, are you telling me you came to Paris because you had nothing better to do? No one you needed to assist, no problems to solve?
HERMIONE: I like helping people. And…maybe.
MALFOY: Alright then, I have a proposition for you. Someone you can help.
HERMIONE: As long as it isn’t you, go on.
MALFOY: Well technically, it is me. Somewhat. A charity I help fund is having problems with its board. I’m assuming your do-gooder spirit has you participating in a charitable organization or two.
HERMIONE (nodding) : A few. One I’m particularly proud of.
MALFOY: Go on.
HERMIONE: I started an organization that supports the muggle parents of witches and wizards.
MALFOY: Their parents?
HERMIONE: Yes, most muggle parents find themselves out of their depth when their child’s magic begins to exhibit. I shattered all my family's heirloom dinnerware when I was six. My parents needed support. Training. Other parents to talk to. And there is no government aid for such things in the non-magical world. So I created it- we provide educational videos, a liaison from the DMAC, a crisis line 24/7, group gatherings- that sort of thing.
MALFOY (looking mildly impressed): A whole set of porcelain dinnerware? Salazar, Granger, of course you did.
HERMIONE (slightly smug): And when your magic showed itself?
MALFOY: Floated a paper dragon. I was seven.
HERMIONE (with a self-congratulatory smile): Well, we can’t all be winners.
Malfoy smirks. They stand near one another for a bit longer. Then Malfoy leans in towards Hermione.
MALFOY (matter-of-factly): Let me take you to dinner.
HERMIONE (eyes widening): What? Like…a date?
MALFOY: Of course not, Granger. I need to borrow your brain. For my charity…issue. And in return, I’ll buy you dinner. (nonchalantly waves a hand) I know your normal modus operandi is to give help freely and abundantly, but I’m more quid-pro-quo. Dinner in return for your consultation.
HERMIONE (now a little flushed with embarrassment) : Oh. Alright. That’s…acceptable. (turning back to him, looking up to meet his eyes) When?
MALFOY (not smiling, but with a gleam in his eye): Tonight. I know just the place.
SMOKE FILTERS IN, SWIRLS AROUND, EVAPORATES
A NEW SCENE UNFOLDS
Hermione and Malfoy sit at a simple wooden table with mismatched vintage plates and flatware. Atop that table is a half-eaten array of shared dishes: a perfect dome of stuffed cabbage, a square of vegetable gratin, confit de canard, saffron pasta with scallops, a finished bottle of wine, and two glasses, only dregs of wine left in the bottoms. Hermione sits at a wooden bistro chair and Malfoy is opposite her at a booth. The scene is cozy, and the restaurant eclectic in style- sepia style wallpaper on one wall and street signs on another, mahogany floors, and the room dim, lit by only vintage sconces and lamps spread about. However, the fare and the dress of the clientele suggest the restaurant is more upscale than it seems. Hermione is dressed in a yellow halter style dress with velvet flowers, her hair loosely pinned up, and Malfoy is dressed in a black button down, sleeves rolled ¾ way, and black trousers. They are mid-conversation.
MALFOY: How is that supposed to help me Granger?
HERMIONE: You asked for my advice!
MALFOY: Yes, but I thought you’d be more insightful with your solution!
HERMIONE: Leave it to you to ruin a perfectly lovely evening in one of my favorite places. (calming down somewhat, she looks around the restaurant in nostalgic fondness) My parents first took me here when I was ten. (with a mockingly rueful look towards her dinner companion) We had been in Montmartre being dull tourists all day, and when we spotted the bright yellow awning and beautiful mural of the deer, we walked closer. The smells were what drew Dad inside; for Mum, it was likely her sore feet the deciding factor. We did two tours of the basilica and I believe I added twelve stops of places Edith Pilaf, Picasso, any artist or musician really, had ever stopped to have a cup of coffee or read a book.
MALFOY: Yes, well, a little bird told me there was a place in Montmartre that had the best chocolate torte..
HERMIONE (astonished): You mean you chose this place because of…? Wait- the chocolate torte isn’t even on the menu? It’s a secret off-menu item that you have to request before you--
They are interrupted by their server bringing them a large triangle of a simple looking chocolate torte on a very large plate. He sets it in the middle of the table, then pours a bright red raspberry sauce around the outside of the plate, lights the sauce aflame, and walks away.
MALFOY (rather proud of himself): You were saying…
HERMIONE (mouth hanging open, saying more to herself): You have to call at least a day ahead for this…
Hermione studies Malfoy at this point and he stares back at her with an unreadable lack of expression. She starts to speak but he interrupts her.
MALFOY: I think you would do well, Granger.
HERMIONE (confused, brow wrinkling) : Do well with… what ?
MALFOY: Be on the board. Fill the missing seat. Help the rest of the board understand what needs to be done to further the cause.
HERMIONE (still reeling from the abrupt subject change) : I’ll…think…about it. (after a few more beats of silence, she attempts to change the subject again) I’ve always wondered why they call this place Ma Biche et Mon Loup. Such an odd pairing. A bit morbid...
MALFOY: How so? Many an odd pair exist in nature. The warthog and the mongoose, coyotes and badgers, the tiny honeyguide and humans. One is more predatory, one is more… vulnerable . But they work together nonetheless.
HERMIONE: Yes, but those are mutually beneficial relationships. The birds and humans both want the honey. The coyote and the badger hunt together. They share a common goal. The wolf a natural born predator, the doe a gentle herbivore…
MALFOY: Who's to say that the wolf and the doe don’t share a common goal?
HERMIONE (disbelieving, teasing): They share as little in common as you and I! Qui est la biche et qui est le loup?
MALFOY (clenching his jaw, contemplating her): If you have to ask, you are most definitely not the wolf.
HERMIONE (blushes, unbeknownst to her, as she takes a bite of the torte): Have you ever eaten at a muggle restaurant before?
MALFOY (pupils constricting a bit, eyes brightening from their previous state, and clutching his chest): Granger, you injure me. Do you think I’m still thirteen, living under a rock, and have no idea about muggle culture? Romantic Comedy films? The Who?
HERMIONE (a surprised smile blooming): You know of muggle popular culture?
MALFOY: Somewhat. Don’t get me started on Blaze’s mission to enlighten us. I’m far less into it than he is, but yes, I dabble.
HERMIONE: I had heard a thing or two about that. Honestly I didn’t believe it until George and Padma told us they went to one of Blaze’s parties…it was a karaoke night? Oh!! You were probably there. Please tell me you sang karaoke too! Maybe I can get Padma to give up a memory of it--
MALFOY (waving her off) : No. I have not, nor will I debase myself to do…that. Ever. (huffing out a laugh) Blaze cannot carry a tune for the life of him, but he loves that particular muggle pastime. Theo's a big fan of Queen.
HERMIONE: What about your parents? What do they think of your cohort and their dabbling in all things muggle?
MALFOY (sighs) : Surprisingly Mother views it as giving us a more well-rounded worldview, and I do not know what Father thinks as he removed me from his visitor list two years ago. He still lets Mother come, though.
HERMIONE: Sorry, Malfoy.
MALFOY: Water under the bridge. He’ll be out in a couple years and then we will deal with the fallout all over, but I’ll be ready.
HERMIONE (unsure of how to proceed and aware of the need for a subject change): So you know about Romantic Comedies- what is your favorite?
MALFOY: Sense and Sensibility .
HERMIONE (surprised): Huh? What was your least favorite?
MALFOY: A tie with the latest version of Pride and Prejudice -merely for the fact that it did not hold a candle to the BBC version from ten years prior- and 10 Things I Hate About You. Far too unrefined for my liking. I will concede that it was an adequate adaptation of The Taming of The Shrew. Clever, those muggles.
HERMIONE (face open in wonder): Fascinating…and quite hard to imagine- you sitting through any of those films- and Miss Congeniality too?!
MALFOY (fondly): You’d be surprised how many inane activities I’ve sat through for Blaze Zabini. And Theo as well, I suppose. They have these viewing parties where they rent out muggle theaters and do some sort of charm work with the electricity so that we can all view…What are they called? The box thing…with the advertisements.
HERMIONE (giggling and trying very hard not to): Television. You mean programmes on the telly?! (realizing more of what he said) Oh… how brilliant . Yes, I’m guessing they could charm the cable wiring to view a local station (thinking, then gasping) I bet they use a variation of the electronias charm combined with diversio - yes, almost like hotwiring a car! Brilliant!
MALFOY: If you say so.
HERMIONE: It sounds like a good time.
MALFOY: It can be. I’ve seen some popular TV shows , British, French, mostly American, (he shudders) and have endured many a muggle karaoke bar. I’ve likely seen all Romantic films from the past decade. We started with Jane Austen. Those were the most tolerable, of course, but then we got into adaptations- both Jane’s and Shakespeare’s. Went on from there.
HERMIONE: The BBC Pride and Prejudice is my favorite, tied with Miss Congeniality of course.
MALFOY (smirking): Predictable.
HERMIONE: What!?
MALFOY: Two highly opinionated, go-it-alone types as the protagonist.
HERMIONE (nose scrunching): I beg your pardon.
MALFOY (calmly, confidently): They are both capable, intelligent women. But take Elizabeth Bennet, for example. She could have saved herself a world of trouble by making the right decision in the first place.
HERMIONE (incredulously): Not true! She didn’t even like what Darcy had to offer. He was arrogant and if she had gotten with him in the beginning, or at the halfway point when he first proposed, she would have lived a life of misery!
MALFOY (a small smile spreading across his face): Strongly disagree, Granger. Darcy was the same throughout; it was Lizzie who had to change. Character development was all on her. If she had been more sensible, she would’ve seen the lifeline right in front of her the whole time.
HERMIONE (eyes wide in shock, louder): She didn’t want a lifeline, she wanted love and companionship!
MALFOY (still at his regular, even volume): She was the linchpin- her father's confidant, her mother's counselor, the manager of her sisters’ everything , even her older sister’s happiness. She had no room to think, dream or breathe. Barely let herself go on holiday which, by the way, was how she was able to be relieved from all her burdens by accidentally running into Darcy at a most opportune time.
HERMIONE (surprised she is considering his opinion and more softly spoken): She had a lot to deal with, that is true.
MALFOY: Can you imagine what he could have afforded her sooner? If she let him?
HERMIONE: No…
MALFOY (smiling slightly): Support. Relief.…Eased her burdens .
HERMIONE: What are you saying, Malfoy?
Malfoy’s small smile tur ns wolfish. Hermione stares at him in disbelief and she feels that she just walked into a trap of some sort, but cannot figure out what or how.
MALFOY: Carrying such a weight on her shoulders. Do her feelings resonate, Granger?
HERMIONE: With me?
MALFOY (chuckling): Yes?
HERMIONE: Occasionally.
Malfoy waited for her to go on with one arched brow.
HERMIONE: Ugh, that insufferable expression! You think you know me? Think a few morning walks mean you know who I am all of a sudden?
MALFOY (smile gone, voice deepening, resolute): No. But I know a bit about what you need.
HERMIONE (oblivious to Malfoy’s demeanor change, riled up): Ha! And what is that, exactly?
MALFOY: Release.
Hermione goes still, unable to breathe.
MALFOY: Along with a few other things. Escape. A way to get out of your head.
Hermione can only stare at him in confused astonishment.
MALFOY (voice gravelly): Tell me I’m wrong, Granger?
HERMIONE (barely above a whisper, voice breaking): I…can’t.
She appears appalled at the words that just left her mouth.
MALFOY: In that case, I have a proposition for you.
HERMIONE: The given freely kind, or the quid-pro-quo kind?
MALFOY: Always quid-pro-quo, Granger.
HERMIONE (dipping her head, speaking only to herself): Definitely not the wolf, Hermione…
Malfoy calls over the server, speaks to him in French, but never taking his eyes off Hermione, he asks for the check and a pen and the server gives him both. Malfoy begins to write something on the back of the customer's copy.
MALFOY: I’m assuming you are staying at the hotel the players usually stay at since Ginny booked the accommodations?
He looks at her, she numbly nods her head a few times. He points to two different spells written on the back of the paper receipt.
MALFOY: This is the charm to get onto the penthouse elevator. This is the charm to open the doors to my suite without my wand. I’ll add some instructions below. You can read them once I leave. That might help you…digest…my proposal.
Malfoy lays the piece of paper face-down in front of Hermione. Then he pulls two hundred euros from his trouser pocket and lays the money on the table, gets up to leave, and tips his head toward Hermione.
MALFOY: If I don’t see you later, Granger, have a wonderful time in France.
Hermione sits at the table a moment longer, dumbfounded. Finally, she turns over the piece of paper, her eyes wide with shock and intrigue. Under the two password charms, it reads:
“Ma Biche, Let me help you forget. Everything. For just one night. No strings, no obligations, only what you need.”
EVERYTHING FADES TO BLACK
AS THE SMOKE CLEARS:
INT. HOTEL HALLWAY, SEVENTH FLOOR- July 15, 11:57 pm
Hermione steps out of her room into a dark grey hallway, bright white marble floors with gold inlay. She closes the door and walks slowly to a bank of elevators.
HERMIONE (barely above a whisper): Supremapavimentumelio .
A slender, single-doored elevator reveals itself to the left of the bank of elevators and opens. Hermione steps inside and it travels several floors higher. Then the doors open again and she steps out into another hallway lined with marble and gold floors.
She takes a few deep breaths to steel herself, then walks to the end of the hall.
HERMIONE (with eyes shut): Venatorium Malfoy.
A series of locks click and the large wooden double doors open at the end of the hall. Hermione opens her eyes and Malfoy is immediately there, stepping out of his suite, blocking her entry. He stares at her for a beat, studies her face, searching for something. Then reaches out and gently grabs one of the loose curls by her ear, following it down, letting his pointer finger trace along her neck down past her clavicle and his thumb follows a bit lower, lingering at the line of her dress.
MALFOY: So I was right.
HERMIONE: About?
MALFOY (ignoring her question): Granger, do not enter unless you are ready to let go. This is my one warning.
Hermione’s expression runs the gamut of fear, surprise, and settles on terrified intrigue as her pupils widen.
HERMIONE: What about a safe word? (swallows)
MALFOY (wolfishly smiling, eyes alight): What’ll it be, then?
HERMIONE (gaining a little bit of her sense back and smirking): What about… Ferret ?
Malfoy stares at her in shock for a moment, then lets out a hearty laugh and Hermione cannot take her eyes off him. She looks as though she just lost the upper hand and doesn’t want it back. She reaches for his face, her hand seemingly moving of its own accord, and caresses the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, mesmerized.
MALFOY (surprised by what he sees on her face, smile fading, swallowing as she stares at his throat): Ready Granger? Anything you are uncomfortable with, say the word and we'll stop.
Malfoy takes Hermione’s hand from his face and holds it to lead her into his suite. She hesitates for a moment and then she willingly takes an exaggerated step over the threshold, holding eye contact with him the whole time, as a nonverbal contract of sorts. The gesture immediately causes a shift in his demeanor from playfulness to heated dominance.
MALFOY (leading Hermione to a living room area of the suite): On your knees Granger.
Hermione’s eyes widen, sparking with desire, and she slowly lowers herself to her knees onto the plush carpet near an oversized sofa. Malfoy sits on the sofa in front of her, leaning forward and traces her bottom lip with his thumb.
MALFOY: Here is our evening's itinerary. I will make you come no less than four times. I will tell you what to do and when to do it. Nod if you understand.
Hermione, pupils blown wide, nods in the affirmative.
MALFOY: Good. (tracing her bottom lip again, staring intently at her mouth, this time smudging her lip stain) Beautiful.
With both hands on the sides of her face, he gives her one gentle kiss, lingering and drawing back slowly. Then he slowly unzips her dress and unsnaps the back of the halter straps, leaning in but not kissing her again, just breathing the same air, searching her eyes.
Hermione’s breathing is heavy. Malfoy then lifts her dress over her head, very slowly, making sure to skim both sides of her body with his pinky and ring fingers all the way up.
He takes his time and removes her hair pins one by one so that her hair is wild and loose all around, then he leans back to get a better look. Her black demi-bra and black lace underwear are all she is wearing.
MALFOY (tortured, devouring her body with his eyes): Fucking Godrick, Salazar, Rowena, and Whoever the Fuck. (jaw clenches, demeanor shifting back to commanding) Stand.
Hermione stands up. Malfoy brings her closer to him by the backs of her thighs, skirting the tips of his fingers into the lining of her knickers near the fullest part of her arse, his head resting just below her bra on her stomach. Her breathing begins to quicken and her heartbeat elevated. He takes a deep breath in and looks up at her.
MALFOY: Breathe , Granger.
Hermione breathes deeply like he is modeling for her.
MALFOY: Keep breathing. Good.
Malfoy uses his wand to conjure up a few ropes. Hermione stares at them, eyebrows shooting up.
MALFOY: Unclasp your bra.
Hermione shakily reaches a hand back to release her bra and just before it falls…
EVERYTHING FADES TO BLACK
Ginny pulled her head out of the pensieve. “What the hell, Hermione! That was just getting good!”
“I told you I would censor it!”
“I know, but after a decade of friendship, this is the first time you could really dish out all the details! And fuck, the details are probably delicious! ”
“I draw the line at you seeing me naked. What do you want to know?”
“Was it as good as it seemed? Was it just that one time? If not, did it get more or less kinky? How big are we talking? And fucking ‘ferret’, ‘Mione?” Ginny lost herself to laughter. “Best safe word ever. Did you use it?”
“Yes, probably more so. No, several more times, actually.” Hermione paused to think on the next question. “Yes and no. Big enough, trust me. And I panicked! But he seemed to take it well, and, no, I never had to use it.”
“So it was good. Huh. And not just one night. Very interesting…” Ginny studied Hermione then like Hermione studied the results of her mass spectrometer readings.
“What is it?” Hermione moved about very uncomfortably as she was not used to being the subject of someone else’s scrutiny. She was the scrutinizer, for Godrick’s sake! “It’s nearly half past five. Don’t you need to floo to get James?”
“How did it end?” Ginny ignored the time chiming from the antique grandfather clock downstairs.
Hermione's face crumpled and her eyes began to water.
"Poorly then." Ginny gave a sympathetic look.
“I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s been so long since I have thought about all of this. I’m not even sure why I’m here in godsdamned 2006!" Hermione gathered herself. "It just wasn't…meant to be. That's all.”
“Are you going tonight then?”
“To what?”
“Blaze and Theo’s weird thing. He might be there.”
“Oh, that. And OH! Yes, you’re probably right,” The realization weighed heavy as Hermione considered her options. “Do you think I should?”
“Hell yes I do! Grab him and do whatever kinky stuff you two are into while you’re at it.” Ginny tried encouraging her friend by bouncing her eyebrows.
Hermione looked at her friend amused, “GIN! Married! Remember? To your brother!”
“Fuck. I keep forgetting about that.” Ginny somehow looked both sheepish and unabashed at the same time. “And I do have to run. But you’ll be okay here? Alone?”
“I’ll be fine.” Hermione gave a reassuring smile. “You can use the floo downstairs. I had it installed a few years ago.”
Ginny gathered her things to head downstairs and looked to Hermione one last time, “I don’t know why you’re here, ‘Mione. But I do think that Malfoy was onto something.” She pointed to the pensieve and continued, “I hope you find what you need.”
Notes:
I originally was planning on having 5 & 6 be the same chapter, but I'm a sucker for a cliffhanger ;)
Chapter 6's title is the second part of the same line as Chapter 5- from Damien Rice's Delicate, from his O album (2002).
So why do you fill my sorrows
With the words you've borrowed
From the only place you've known?
And why do you sing Hallelujah
If it means nothing to ya?
Why do you sing with me at all?We might live like never before
When there's nothing to give
Well how can we ask for more?
We might make love
In some sacred place
The look on your face is delicateMa Biche & Mon Loup are actually two separate restaurants, one in the 18th and the other in the 17th of Paris. Do tell me if you ever stop in/ have been to either!
A loving hat tip in this chapter to Emerald_Slytherin for her Queen-loving Theo in Secrets and Masks. When I picture Theo performing karaoke, it only makes sense he would choose Queen, his favorite band. Queen was once my husband's favorite too, but I promise he never performed evil deeds while singing Bohemian Rhapsody.
I'm on IG now- would love to connect! @cmpumpkinwrites
Chapter Text
seven: life has a funny way
February 27, 2006...still
Quite shocked with herself, Hermione stood in the lobby as seven pm came and went. Earlier that evening she found herself doing her makeup. Just in case. Then she grabbed a party dress from her old closet. May as well see if it still fits. At one moment she was trying on shoes she hadn’t worn in years, the next she found herself at the apparition point in the West End, walking towards the theater. It was a nice night for a walk, after all.
Here now, staring around the theater lobby though, she was contemplating a full one-eighty back to The Potter’s home. But she also found herself distracted by what she saw. Of course, having grown up in the muggle world, she’d been to this movie theater before with her parents, and it looked nothing like this. Blaise’s muggle events had quite the reputation, and yet, she was wholly unprepared for how elaborate they would be.
Taking her time to admire all the enchantments and charm work, she noticed the interior was a rich hunter green. The floors were black and white penny-tiled with a plush runner carpet flecked with golds, peaches, and mint greens, a runway into the main theater. It was something out of a 1920s Palm Springs fever dream.
A rowdy group entered behind her and she saw Pansy Parkinson with white designer shoes, the most ridiculous (for Pansy) muggle-style miniskirt, and cropped button down running past and yelling, “Whooo! I feel God in this Chili's tonight!!”
What was happening?
Why did that sound familiar?
When she got into the main theater, there was not the usual stadium seating in front of a large screen. Instead, it was more of a speakeasy environment with a few bar areas for drinks, sitting nooks in the corners of the room, a viewing area in front of the main screen with several plush booths, and trays of crudites and hors d'œuvres floating about overhead. Several people she knew (vaguely), were dressed in the strangest drab outfits, with the exception of Pansy, of course, that reminded her of frumpy corporate attire. She was beginning to feel overdressed in her simple, square-necked, long-sleeved purple mini dress.
“Hermione Granger, you are a site for sore eyes.” Theo came up behind her placing a kiss on her cheek.
“Theo, what is everyone wearing? How did you get ministry permits to transform a muggle-owned theater?” Hermione was still spinning around noticing new details about the room. “And what is all of this?”
“It helps to be a rich wizard, and to know people,” Blaze said as he joined them, nodding toward her. “Glad you decided to come out, Granger.”
Hermione smiled and something dawned on her. “Did you rent the whole theater out?”
“Of course we did, silly. Have to protect The Statute,” Theo looked at Hermione like she was adorable. “Also we needed to make some aesthetic adjustments. These muggles and their sense of style and ambiance.” He gave a slight shudder.
“This is incredible,” Hermione exclaimed, still in awe.
Theo offered her his arm, “Let's take a turn about the room, shall we?”
“Give the men a good look at our figures?” Hermione didn't miss a beat, laughing and taking Theo’s arm like old times. Except it wasn’t old times.
Theo, wide-eyed, looked at her like she was, well, a witch. “I say that all the time!” He continued to study her, “Are we soul mates?”
Hermione, relieved, grinned at Theo, “I think we might be, Theodore.”
They walked around the room, tasting the different drinks, deciding her favorite to be the Middlemen Margs. “I’m sensing a theme here. What are we viewing?”
“The Office. American version,” He leans in to whisper, “Best version, but don’t let anyone here know I said that." They continued their circuit, briefly pausing to say some hellos. "I have a friend who gets us access to hit shows from the states. We’ve rigged up a bit of a point-to-point tunneling protocol, a magical VPN if you will, all we had to do was…Well, you probably don’t want to be bored by all of that. Wait, what am I saying?! You’re Hermione Granger, of course you’d want to be bored by all of it!”
“Oh, Theo,” Hermione gave his arm a squeeze with the hand she had looped through, “I’ve missed you.” This version of Theo was much lighter than the one she saw a week ago in her lab. Her Theo had been more subdued in recent months.
“Well, Granger. Didn’t know you were that fond of me at school, but sure, I’ve…missed you...as well.” He said, giving her a funny look. "Although we did see each other just this morning..."
Right . Hermione needed to get herself together. But it was so hard with Theo. He had an easy way about him that made him the perfect friend to talk to in almost any situation.
Theo’s eyes searched hers a bit more, then he seemed to recall something, “I do need to pick your brain. How do you like working at The Ministry? I’ve been contemplating switching to a new career path. And by career path, I mean beginning to lay bricks as I haven’t one at all.”
Hermione started to answer Theo, but then she had to recall her exact Ministry duties and what she thought of her current position. Where exactly was she in February of 2006? She was pretty sure she was in between projects, a dull few months auditing and inventorying at The Ministry as she was spending more time at her Oxford lab to finish the last of her dissertation experiments.
“I like it fine. You really should consider it, though. I know you will be excellent in whatever you decide to do, Theo. Your potions work is impressive.”
“Well, Granger. Didn’t know you thought so much of me. Do go on about how impressive I am.”
She was so tempted to give Theo a list that would probably make him suspicious. In many ways, this was her best friend. They’d spent so much time together in the last few years, and just like Ginny, they talked about anything and everything, except Malfoy. Speaking of, she really needed to get it together before he arrived. Could she do this? Maybe she should leave before she vomits up everything that happened to her in the past twenty-four hours.
Has it only been twenty-four hours?
She glanced across the room and spotted George and Padma. Wonderful, a respite from having to spill her guts. Again. “Theo, will you excuse me?”
“As you were, Granger. Frolic about as you please. Oh…,” Theo looks over her head, “I think my boyfriend just showed up so I need to go attack him...I mean say hello.”
Hermione walked in the direction of her only other friends at this party, then ran immediately into a hard solid wall of black.
“Granger.”
Hermione knew that voice well. Knew that scent well.
Breathe, Granger…
I know what you need…
Why the bloody hell did she think it would be a good idea to come to this immediately after dredging up all those memories?!
“Malfoy,” She somehow managed to say out loud.
“Twice in one day,” He said, aloof and looking around the room.
…make you come no less than four times this evening…
“What?” Why couldn’t her brain stop this strange word association game?
Get it together, Hermione. He doesn’t know anything about you other than what he gleaned from school days.
Okay, right. What did she know about him “now” other than he was a prat and a bit of a bully, some leanings toward blood prejudices? Well, that might be enough actually. She ran with that.
Donning her most indifferent face, which probably was still quite easy to read. “Why are you here? Don’t you detest anything muggle?”
“Excuse me?” His stare burned through her, not in a good way. Not in the way she wanted. Wait. No. Of course, she didn’t want that. “Seriously, Granger! Are wizards not allowed to change? Or do your preconceived notions blind you?”
”Excuse me?”
He ignored her and pressed forward, “How’s The Weasel these days?”
Flustered and irritated at the subject change, she attempted to temper her anger. “If you must know, which you mustn’t, truly. But I’ll fill you in anyways, you squid. We broke up last night.”
Fucking Merlin, she looked around for anyone else she could talk to. What was she doing?
“Typical. Sure you’ll be back together in no time.”
“Why do you even care? How’s the lovely Helga?” Hermione was rather proud of herself for remembering that bit of information from this morning.
“She’s grand.” Malfoy, aloof, looked over her head and his demeanor shifted as he muttered, “Fucking brilliant.” His glare was acerbic. “Potter.”
To her great relief her friend walked up to them cheerfully. “Hello.”
”Harry, what are you doing here?” Hermione made no attempt to mask the softening in her tone at Harry's arrival.
”Ginny gave me the invite. She had plans with James but said for me to come in her place and…her words, “be wing-man if need be”. Whatever that means. Essentially I got off early and wanted to come see if you were okay.” Harry looked precariously over towards a scowling Malfoy’s direction.
”Already moving on to another poor wizard, then, Granger? Tell me who he is so I can give him fair warning.”
”I beg your pardon?” Hermione tried searching his eyes. No evidence of green or gold, only icy blue-grey. Who was this Malfoy? Why was he speaking to her like this? Maybe the Malfoy she walked with from Buttercups’ and spent those nights in Paris with was a fluke. The right recipe of timing and circumstance. Maybe this was who he really was… is. Wherever he may be now.
Or maybe he was simply having a bad night.
Whatever it was, she did not want to spend anymore time with him so she grabbed Harry’s hand and drug him away. Lowering her voice to a whisper, “What did Ginny tell you?”
”Not a lot. Just that you had someone mysterious in your past, during you know- your break up period with Ron. Wouldn’t give me any more details than that other than it was someone ‘unexpected’.”
Brow furrowed and absently staring at the screen, Hermione was deep in thought when a deep voice spoke up, joining their group.
“Stealing Dwight’s desk supplies and putting them into a snack machine? Bloody brilliant! Reminds me of the time Fred and I stole all Ron’s clothes. We hid them all over the burrow and it took him three days to find everything. George and Fred, the OG Jim and Pam!” George gave each of them a friendly nod. “Harry. Hermione. What brings you two to one of Blaise's parties?”
”I have no idea.” She replied flatly, staring back again at the screen, halfway trying to remember which episode this was, halfway attempting an escape.
”Just here for ‘Mione. George…heard from Ron yet?” Harry glanced at her, eyes searching her face in their usual way when he wanted her permission to share something.
Oh, right.
Hermione came back to the present moment and turned towards George, immediately filling him in. “I broke up with Ron last night.”
”Ah. Yes. I did hear about that. No worries from me, Hermione. You know me and Padma are here if you need us.”
”Thanks, George.” She missed him too. This younger version of him hadn’t yet gone through the many, many lows of business ownership. Yes, he was maybe a couple stone thinner, but he had a light, loose way about him that had nothing to do with size or shape.
The three of them paused to look at the screen where Michael Scott was dancing erratically on a tiny dance floor aboard a ship of some sort. Someone called out from across the room, “Goyle, he clears the dance floor faster than you can with those moves!” A few people broke out in laughter. Goyle raised his drink in the air and mocked a bow.
Another group was heard having a spirited conversation. “The Slytherin table was definitely the ‘cool kids' table.”…
”Ah, muggle high school. What a riot that would have been!”
“I would have dominated!” Hermione recognized last last voice as Pansy Parkinson’s.
“Ugh. You most certainly would have.” Hermione, not realizing she said that rather loudly, cringed when she saw that Pansy noticed and was making her way over to their group.
“Well, thank you, Granger. I will take that as a sincere compliment as you have exposure to such things.” She glanced at George and nodded, then settled her eyes on Potter and smirked a little too smugly. “Potter. Give the wife my warmest regards.”
Harry rolled his eyes, but gave her a warm. “Hello, Pansy. Will do.”
Hermione didn’t even want to know what that was about as she had too much else to sort through. Why was Malfoy’s attitude affecting her so? She was careful to keep the more detailed memories of that summer tucked away deep inside a box in the recesses of her mind. So why were they now casually springing up willy nilly? Why did she even need to keep them sealed up so tightly in the first place? Well, she knew the answer to that. It wasn’t like she never thought of him at all over the years! But today felt…different. Probably a combination of seeing him in real life for the first time in forever and reliving certain…events. Maybe showing Ginny the pensieve today was ill advised.
Presently, her guts felt a similar internal struggle they'd felt long ago when she contemplated a life altering decision between following silver-blue eyes into a whole other life or moving forward with the life she always pictured. A time when she wasn’t sure what to do. And if there was one thing Hermione hated more than most, it was not knowing what to do.
She looked about the theater and met Malofy’s eyes. It was hard to believe that the man staring daggers at her was someone she'd shared a brief but intimate season with. She knew how he took his tea, his favorite treats, even a few of his favorite books. She even knew the sounds he made when he—
That's enough, Hermione!
“Granger, join me at the bar?” Pansy interrupted the world’s worst staring contest.
Surprised by this but willing to entertain it since she needed a refill to make it through this night, Hermione allowed Pansy to lead the way. She had always admired Pansy for her bold fearlessness. They had gotten a little close that summer as well, but never nearing the title of ‘friends’.
“Haven’t seen you at one of Blaise and Theo's parties before.” Pansy scrutinized her martini. “What gives?”
Hermione was without pretense at this point and blurted out, “Pansy, I truly have no clue what I’m doing here. Ready to leave, if I’m honest.”
Pansy gave her a good once-over. “Granger, I’d wager you are much in need of a stiff drink and a good time. Maybe that will help whatever is happening with…” She paused to circle a hand in front of Hermione’s face and wrinkled brow, “…all this.”
A tall blonde woman came up to join them then and circled her arms around Pansy’s waist, giving her a soft peck on the lips. “Hello, Love.”
“Granger, you remember Daphne from school?”
“Ah, yes. Lovely to see you again, Daphne.”
“Daph, Granger was just telling me how much she was in need of a memorable night. Should we play—“
“No. I wasn’t. Truly, thank you for the offer, but I’m afraid I am terrible company at the moment and am developing a headache.” She tried giving warm smiles to the two women.
“Well, let us know if you change your mind. Always here to help a fellow witch let her hair down.” Pany’s offer seemed sincere, only a tiny bit nefarious as most things with her probably were. She may have been genuinely inclined to help, but Hermione couldn’t stand being here a moment longer. Her head was fuzzy and she wondered what possessed her to come here at all. She headed back towards Harry to inform him she wished to leave.
A loud voice sounding somewhat like Theo's rang out over the crowd, “Jim and Pam…star crossed lovers or no? That sexual tension…the pining."
And another called back, "Haven’t seen such forlorn unrequited wanting since…5th year, right?” Someone else responded with something about lunch hours and lingering looks. Then a bought of laughter. She caught Malfoy’s profile and noticed he wasn’t joining in the commentary near him, just clenching his exquisite jawline.
Exquisite? Definitely time to go.
She lost track of Harry for a moment and in her search to locate him once more she stopped to view the screen. Jim had found an unlikely confidant in Michael, who was tied up to the rail of a ship. She started to listen to their conversation on love, loss, and when it is time to give up. Then she was interrupted by a haughty scoff she knew well. That was it. She’d had enough.
“Something to share with the class, Malfoy?”
”’Engaged is not married’, ‘Never give up’. What a crock.” Malfoy was beside her now, seemingly a little drunker than he was before, frowning at the screen. “Say those words to any respectable wizarding family and you will be laughed out of any influential circle in London.”
“Not something you can relate to then? I can see the headline of The Daily Prophet now: Disgruntled Malfoy Disagrees with Silly Muggle Mockumentary'.” Hermione resisted rolling her eyes so far back into her head. Mainly because she really was developing a headache.
“First of all, witch, who are you to say I cannot relate?” Draco turned to look at her for what seemed like the first time tonight. “But of course I disagree with most of this dribble. It. Is. Ridiculous.”
”Well, if you think this is ridiculous,” saying that last word in her best Malfoy posh superiority dialect, mimicking him, “Then stick around for the next. Even I hate that one. Michael injures his foot on a George Forman!” Why was she staying and sparring with him, and about The Office of all things?
And where the hell was Harry?
Malfoy’s demeanor changed from seething to intrigued confusion momentarily, “The muggle fighter? Is he in this next episode?”
Hermione calmed somewhat as well, “No, his tiny, baby grilling device is. Michael likes bacon in the mornings.” As if that explained it.
“What? How do you know this?”
“I’ve seen it at least a dozen times.”
”It just came out a month ago in the states and is only now available for whatever the fuck Theo uses to transport it here.”
Hermione, realizing her error, has to think quickly because, of course, she hadn’t seen it yet…in 2006. “I have a friend. Who knows about VPNs the muggle way. He got it and I…used a tape recorder… And…it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to explain myself to you! I’m leaving. Goodbye, Malfoy.”
She walked away in a huff and heard him mutter, a tiny slur to his speech, “Are all professional fighters required to make cookware when they retire?”
Catching her breath, Hermione gathered herself in the lobby of the theater once more.
”There you are.”
”Oh, thank Godrick, Harry. Please, let’s go home.”
”Are you alright?”
“Harry—" Fiercely wiping her eyes, she tried holding them back but the tears began to fall. “I just…I think this was all too much.”
”It’s Malfoy isn’t it?”
”What?! What are you…wha…” She was beyond the ability to put up a good defense.
”I saw you arguing. I haven’t seen you like that in quite some time. Angry and…something else.”
Hermione debated denying it, but it took too much from what little reserves of energy she had left. “I don’t know anything anymore. I don’t know why I’m here. Showing Gin all those memories today…it was…harder than expected.” She let out a long sigh. “I just really want to go. Maybe I'll think more clearly with a good nights’ sleep.” Something dawned on her and she let out a heartless chuckle. “Or even better yet. Since sleep is how all this started, maybe I’ll wake up back in 2013 and all this fantastical weirdness will be over and done with.”
”Maybe.” Harry paused for a moment to gather what he wanted to say. “Or maybe you’re here for a reason.”
He waited for Hermione to look at him before going on. “Look, I don’t contend to know what you have been through over the past seven years; however, I do know you. I have seen my dearest, oldest friend wither away the past few months bit by bit by bit. I’ll catch glimpses of you every once in a while, but I don’t see you nearly as often as I used to.” Harry paused and checked that she was looking at him. “‘Mione you used to glimmer.”
She stared at him, fearing what he was about to say, but wanting him to go on all the same.
“Remember when we were in Professor Sprout’s, third year? You were determined to have your own section of the greenhouse dedicated to medicinal plant cultivation. You taught yourself all about certain herbs and what could grow in what season…I don’t even know what all you did because well, you are you and I am me .” Harry gave his classic self-deprecating snort. “But I remember seeing what you accomplished by end of that year and you were so bloody proud. So was I. You had this light in your eyes that shone so bright with pride, confidence, accomplishment.
“Then Ron said something. I don’t exactly remember what, but I saw the light in your eyes dim down a few shades. Sure, you were still grinning and proud, and I’m sure others didn’t notice. But I did. From the way I’ve seen it, the past two years have held many days like that one. Over time, the real Hermione has been seeping out. I don't know…What I mean to say is, Hermione, Ron is my mate. But you are my best friend. And I absolutely cannot believe I’m about to say this, but if for some bloody reason Malfoy brightens your eyes again and brings back just a small portion of the Real You, then I’m all for you exploring it."
Hermione stared at Harry at a complete loss. She contemplated what he said and couldn’t come up with any objections other than, “But I’m married.”
”Right, married.” Harry let out a deep sigh then asked neutrally, “And happy? Content? Fulfilled?”
Hermione was thinking this through when a bright white horse came barreling through the lobby, encircled them, and then exclaimed in Ginny’s voice, “Come home. Now. Ron’s here.”
Notes:
Can you dedicate a fic chapter? I think I'd like to. This chapter is dedicated to The Popcast (specifically Erin Moon and Jamie B. Golden) - a show I’ve listened to and supported for a decade now. I do hope it is on forever. I grew up an only child of a single mom, so TV has always been a close, dear friend. However, I would never have considered myself a “pop-culture” person until I listened to The Popcast. Now I live for their weekly updates.
When I was plotting this fic, for some reason I just kept coming back to the pop culture moments of the 90s and 2000s, the moments that would have shaped all these crazy kids if they had access. And I must say that my magical VPN idea was inspired by Jamie B. Golden herself- she is how I learned of VPNs years ago.
More muggle pop-culture sprinklings to come!
If you are interested, they watched The Office (American version), Season 2- Episodes 11-14. The two episodes mentioned were "The Booze Cruise" and "The Injury" (one of my favs because of Dwight's and Pam's brief but meaningful friendship).
And if you have any favorite pop-culture memories/ moments/ movies/ shows from 2005 or earlier, please share in the comments! It might make it into one of the next few chapters.
Chapter title is from Alanis Morrisette’s Ironic (Jagged Little Pill album, 1995)
Life has a funny way...of helping you out
Well, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything's okay and everything's going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out
When you think everything's gone wrong
And everything blows up in your face.
Chapter Text
eight: god, i feel like hell tonight
BLACKNESS
Two loud cracking noises heard in quick succession.
FADE IN: EXT. POTTERS COTTAGE- Feb 27, 2006
Harry and Hermione walk from across the street towards the home. The front door is ajar, Ginny standing in the opening. Ron is waiting on the lawn, beginning to make his way towards the two arriving. His face is worried, contrite, and downcast. He starts to reach his arms out preparing to embrace Hermione, but stops himself.
RON (looking between the two of them, then finally at a low volume): What have you two been up to? (politely nods towards Hermione) ‘Mione, you look nice.
Harry looks to Hermione, gives her a nod, then walks past Ron, clapping him on the shoulder both in good nature and gentle warning. Then he joins Ginny as they shut the door behind them, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the front garden.
HERMIONE (closes her eyes, exhausted): What are you doing here, Ron?
RON (with a deep breath first, for courage): I’ve taken the day…and…I think this can still work. I know I’ve been—
HERMIONE (holding out a hand to interrupt): Ron, please stop.
RON (pleading): I’ve missed the mark a few times lately, but I can do better. We can be better . Tell me what to do, ‘Mye, please. I’ll do anything. (more emphatically) Anything!
Hermione looks at him, at a loss for what to say. Ron’s face brightens as he takes her pause as reluctant consideration. Hermione is immediately taken back to another similar moment.
FLASHBACK
EXT. FIELD, THE BURROW- December 24, 2006
Hermione and Ron are alone sitting near each other around a fire pit, The Weasley home is fifty yards away in the background. Each under separate plaid wool blankets, but then Ron removes his to give to Hermione. She seems appreciative, but there is polite tension in their exchange.
HERMIONE: Thanks.
An awkward silence, then they both break it at once. RON saying “Look, I…” and HERMIONE saying “Ron, I’ve been meaning to…” Another pause.
HERMIONE: You go first.
RON: I’ve been doing a bit of contemplating these past few months. Had some...revelations.
HERMIONE (smirking with smiling eyes): Not much like you.
RON (taking the jab good-naturedly with a smile and nodding): I’m not proud of who I was earlier this year, but the time away helped me. Gained perspective. And I know we’re not back together yet, but I appreciate you giving us another chance. Giving me another chance. I’m different now, Hermione. And I’ve seen what my life would be like without…I’m not going back to that.
HERMIONE: What if I decide we should still go our separate ways?
RON: I would respect that of course, but it’s always been me and you, Hermione. We’re endgame.
HERMIONE (taking a beat to consider): Things would have to change. Time apart has helped me see things more clearly also, and there are some nonnegotiables going forward.
RON: Great, ‘Mye. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything .
HERMIONE (cringing, then softening to him): First, going forward, please don't call me ‘Mye. I've never really liked it.
RON (trying to not show too much excitement at the phrase 'going forward'): Done.
HERMIONE: Second, you will keep anything disparaging about my work to yourself. I’ll be working longer hours now in my new role. You must figure out how to deal with it.
RON (grinning now): Space and Freedom for work. Done. What else?
HERMIONE: I will not be made to feel guilty for what I’m passionate about. I’m serious, Ron.
RON (sobering a little): Of course. I’ve been a right prat about that. I was sort of…Well, I guess I was a bit jealous of how easy it's always been for you.
HERMIONE (leaning her head back, creating more distance between them): Easy?
RON (pausing to gather himself): What I meant to say was I wish I had your…sense of purpose. I only seem to figure out what I don’t want, but not what I’m really good at, you know? I’m still not sure about what is in store for me with all of that.
Something passes over Ron’s face. He frowns and looks down at the fire.
RON: Will you…Would you be alright with that? If I never figure it out?
HERMIONE: Ronald Weasley. You will find your way. There is something that is a perfect fit for you. You just haven’t found it yet. I’m certain of it.
Ron and Hermione grab hands and exchange soft smiles.
RON (using his knuckle to remove a tear from the corner of his eye): See, we’re good together, me and you. This is why we need each other.
END FLASHBACK
BACK TO: EXT. POTTER'S COTTAGE LAWN
Ron is standing patiently on the lawn watching Hermione think, waiting for her to tell him what he can do to fix this.
HERMIONE (scoffs): The onus of responsibility is on me, then?
RON: Wha…
HERMIONE (with a touch of vehemence): Shouldn’t you be the one who tells me what your plan is. How YOU intend to make things right ?
RON: Where is this coming from ‘Mye?
HERMIONE: STOP CALLING ME THAT!
RON (taken aback): Sorry. I’m not a mind reader and sometimes you are just so… Closed . But I’m right here! I’m willing to do whatever it takes.
HERMIONE: You say that but…
Hermione is abruptly hit with another flashback.
FLASHBACK
INT. FLOURISH & BLOTTS- August 23, 2006
Hermione, a couple books under her arm, is busy reading the inside jacket of another book in the Autobiography section. She hears footsteps coming up the aisle but does not pay them much attention until a male voice speaks. She pauses her reading, but keeps her back to him.
MALFOY: They say there’s a first time for everything. Brace yourself, Granger. I was wrong.
HERMIONE (grinning to herself, but giving pretense that she is still engrossed in the book jacket’s contents): Alert The Prophet. What about?
MALFOY: Once wasn't enough.
HERMIONE: For whom?
MALFOY: You, of course.
HERMIONE: How do you figure?
MALFOY (a smile in his voice): General observational skills, obviously.
HERMIONE (finally turning to face him but removing all evidence of her previous emotions): This is the first time I’ve seen you in weeks. You’ve had nothing to observe.
MALFOY: True…
HERMIONE: Well?
MALFOY: Come to dinner with me.
HERMIONE: Hmm…evasive maneuvers again.
MALFOY (nods her direction): You’re rather hungry. You need to eat.
HERMIONE: How could you possibly know that?
MALFOY (releasing a long-suffering sigh): This witch…First, I was in here hours ago picking up a book and knew you were not to be disturbed. (He waves a hand in her direction.) You had that intense Granger-on-a-mission look about you. So I left you to it. Second, after drinks with Theo, I stopped back in on a hunch, a correct one. And look at you. Still here. Lastly, I heard your stomach rumble while I was watching you decide between historical fiction or autobiography.
HERMIONE (eyes twinkling, but not yet smiling): Malfoy. Are you stalking me?
MALFOY (his look dims a few shades, then he looks offended, then his face changes to something more mischievous): Would you like me to?
HERMIONE (swallowing quickly, then eyelashes fluttering): Absolutely not.
MALFOY (shrugging): Dinner then?
HERMIONE: A date?
MALFOY: Of course not, Granger.
HERMIONE: Alright…
BLACK SMOKE ENTERS, THEN FADES AWAY.
EXT. RESTAURANT PATIO- August 23, 2006, later that night
Draco and Hermione are sitting at an outdoor bistro table, mid-conversation, plates and wine mostly finished.
HERMIONE (takes a deep breath for bravery): How did you get started, erm…How did you learn…(she gathers herself). How did you get into all of that?
MALFOY (takes a moment to consider how to answer): After my brief stint at Hotel Azkaban, I decided I didn’t want to be back in London. So I traveled a while. Expanded my horizons. Met some interesting witches and wizards. One in particular while I was in Japan introduced me to the art of shibari. It had a profound effect on me so I stayed a few months to learn more.
HERMIONE: So you traveled the world to learn new…exotic tricks?
MALFOY (chuckling slightly): Nothing like that. And Paris was the first time I ever tried that ‘exotic trick’ with anyone else in that type of...capacity.
HERMIONE (eyes widening): I see. And how did you know I would…like it?
MALFOY: Personal experience.
HERMIONE: Oh. Oh . So you’ve…
MALFOY (enjoying her unease): Yes. It was helpful for a brief season. Solo, of course.
Hermione takes a moment to picture what he might be implying, her face goes from flesh-toned to vermilion rather quickly.
MALFOY (grinning over his last sip of wine): You enjoyed yourself then?
Hermione is silent for a long while as she considers him. Malfoy stares across the table at her, his face morphing into an unreadable expression. Then he breaks the silence.
MALFOY: I thought you might.
HERMIONE (surprised at his answer): How did you figure?
MALFOY: I may not know you as well as Potter One and Potter Red, or any of your other friends or acquaintances. But I know some aspects of your (tilts his head slightly, side to side) circumstances.
HERMIONE: Which are?
MALFOY (takes a deep breath): You are a-- (catches himself from saying too much)…You carry a heavy burden. Do you not?
Hermione stares at him again in silent consideration, unsure how to answer.
MALFOY: You have your research, yes?
HERMIONE: Correct…
MALFOY: An ever growing amount of Ministry projects also?
HERMIONE: Yes…
MALFOY: You have friends- people you care about?
HERMIONE: Doesn’t everyone?
MALFOY (leaning forward, an elbow now on the table, challenging tone but kind eyes): Not everyone is the Gryffindoriest Gryffindor. The bleeding heart arrow may have hit you the hardest.
Hermione glares at him.
MALFOY: You’re also self-important.
HERMIONE (with a quiet fury, glare deepening the parallel lines between her eyebrows): Okay, Pot. As if!
MALFOY (nonchalantly): You think the solution to every problem must come at a burden to yourself and no one else.
HERMIONE (irately): Malfoy, If you knew the things I’ve—
MALFOY (cutting her off and offering her his attempt at a warm expression): I know about your parents.
Hermione’s righteous indignation deflates. Wide-eyed, she mouths “how” without realizing she is doing so.
MALFOY: A hunch during the war- when Grayback couldn’t find them and eventually gave up. I surmised that had something to do with you. It was confirmed a few years ago at a meeting I took for one of my charitable organizations. A few Obliviators from the DMAC were there, discussing the most successful obliviation spell they'd ever seen. They let slip the timing and the dates matched when your parents disappeared.
HERMIONE (blinking, willing her eyes to not tear, looking down at her plate): I see.
MALFOY: That amongst other things is how I knew.
HERMIONE (realizing he spoke then looking back to him): Knew what?
MALFOY: That you might be interested in our…Parisian activities.
HERMIONE (gives him her most incredulous look): Because I was a terrible daughter?
MALFOY (winces): No. Because you’ve had to make great sacrifices. And you cannot turn it off. You never stop to think about yourself. What you might need. Because you are self-important, but not self-ish. Ever.
Hermione stares back at him stricken by his slightly scolding tone, confused, and some other unnamed emotion. Malfoy pauses, then proceeds more calmly.
MALFOY: And because…because I can relate. I know the benefits of being forced to let go on occasion. And the relief it can bring.
Hermione continues to stare as a few tears escape her hold on them. Malfoy speaks as the memory goes black.
MALFOY: Anytime you want to be selfish, Granger. I’ll be around…
END FLASHBACK.
BACK TO: EXT. POTTER'S COTTAGE LAWN
Ron is waiting again for Hermione to speak, taking in the softness on her face as she experiences the flashback and attributes the look to be for him. He reaches towards her and starts to brush a lock of hair from her forehead. Hermione startles and then swats his hand away. His mood shifts abruptly, face going dark, a tension rumbling beneath the surface.
HERMIONE (noticing his shift and visibly triggered by it): You need to leave.
RON (monotone, hardened eyes): Why?! We were finally getting somewhere. What just happened?!
HERMIONE: Ron. I cannot stress this enough. Give me space. Now.
RON: You need to stop acting like a...
HERMIONE (livid at this point, bringing far more baggage into this than 2006 Ron can handle): That. That right there. (She points at him, circling her finger around his face.) That is exactly what I do not need. Maybe you should think more about what I would NOT want. (patronizingly) Would that be easier for you?
RON (affronted and bewildered, staring at her): Who are you?
HERMIONE: If you have half a mind to give a bloody iota of consideration to what I desire, you will get off this lawn. Right now. Apparate to The Burrow or wherever the fuck else and leave. Me. ALONE!
Harry and Ginny are seen cracking open the front door and contemplating stepping in for aid.
RON: Bloody hell. Calm down. It was just a question.
HERMIONE (not remotely interested in calming down): A statement actually. You didn’t ask me anything, you demanded!
RON (rolling his eyes): And here we go…
GINNY (interrupting): Time to go Ron!
HARRY (scratching the back of his neck, gearing up): Gin’s right. Why don’t I head to The Burrow with you and we can have a nightcap?
Ron looks from his sister to his friend and to his ex-girlfriend, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times as he doesn’t realize how to salvage this situation. Finally, realizing he is defeated, he takes a long last look at Hermione. His eyes harden, he clenches his jaw, and he turns to walk toward the apparition point across the street.
Harry gives Hermione a sympathetic look and then follows Ron.
Ginny waits a moment, then nods her head towards the house and both women walk inside as everything goes black .
February 27, 2006, very late
Holding two fingers against her neck, Hermione took a few deep breaths as she tried to calm down. Once her pulse was where she wanted it to be, she slowly pulled a tendril of light from her right temple then carefully placed it into a vial she accio-ed from her bag. Ginny was cautiously watching the whole process.
When she finally looked up from her current chore, Hermione noticed her friend giving her a curious look. “Do you do that often?”
”What? Yell at him? Not usually, no. Especially not like that.”
”No- the memory thing,” Ginny pointed towards Hermione’s beaded bag where she had stored the vial.
“More often than is good for me,” Hermione said with embittered self-awareness.
”Is that what the charmed cupboard was for? At your parents’ home? Alcove under the stairs, full of vials?”
Bone weary and exhausted from keeping it all together, Hermione stared at her friend and confidant, deciding how much to divulge. It wasn’t just this never ending day where she didn’t belong. It was years of managing every pretense, keeping the bowls, plates and even the bloody flatware spinning up in the air, ignoring the gods-damned persistent niggling that was eating away at her insides- all of it. She wanted to say, “fuck it” and simply let it all go. The how of such a task, however, eluded her.
And what was the point to all of her acquiescing, micro-managing, and plodding forward- where had any of it gotten her? Back in time to this dreadful year of her life that she already lived through? No. She was done. She was tired of it all and simply wanted relief. So she decided to tell Ginny something she never told anyone before.
”It started when we went back to Hogwarts, eighth year. I recorded key memories for my parents in case…In case I could ever find a way to reverse what I’d done. I was terrified of forgetting something important to share if they ever…
“When it became clear that their memories could not be restored, I kept on doing it. I couldn’t stop. Sometimes I kept a perfect moment to save for later, only to file it away and forget about it in a few days. Sometimes I kept something to compare and contrast, which inevitably would lead to collecting other related moments. And at some point I started recording things I did not even want to remember again. And on and on it went…coping and punishment- neither bringing much relief.
“I believe it would classify as a type of hoarding, which would make sense since a mind healer once told me I had obsessive compulsive tendencies. And I suppose it is not all that different than someone's gran keeping an inordinate amount of newspapers from every day of her life. As if she can go back and find something again in the piles that litter her home!
“But knowing they are all there. That much my life is available to me. It helps on the bad days." She let out a very long sigh. "There have been a lot of those lately...
“I am aware that my parents will never know me again. And it's not just about them. It’s also figuring out how to make things work with my marriage. Trying to work out how to have children when I’m not sure I even want to be a mother! Trying to get to a place of ease when I'm constantly looking for another shoe to fall out of the damn sky. Trying to be on the same page as my husband when I feel like we are in completely different books!
"Fifteen years, Gin! Fifteen years! The past decade and a half I've been pulling memories from my temple and placing them into vials. Because when I do- for the briefest of moments- It feels like there might be something better coming. Where things don’t feel so bloody chaotic. Where I can control my own gods-damned happiness. I’m not proud of this, but the vials...they bring me comfort. And I don’t know how to quit them.”
“How many?” Ginny asked softly.
“I’ve kept half a dozen or more memories every week. Probably thousands.”
“I’m so sorry, Hermione. That sounds awful.” Ginny tempered her own emotions and placed her hand over Hermione's, squeezing gently.
”It actually is.”
”Why did you do the pulse thing?”
”Memories can be tainted if your sympathetic nervous system triggers your HPA-axis into a negative feedback loop.”
Ginny stared back patiently, knowing Hermione would dumb it down for her.
“Essentially it is why traumatic memories can appear distorted when you think about them. I learned long ago that if I don’t regulate my fight/flight/freeze response, it can make certain memories highly inaccurate. So I calm myself down, reduce my heart rate before retrieval.”
“You do realize that you just described the thoughtful, careful, consideration for storing a traumatic memory, yes?”
Hermione wrinkled her brow and gave this some thought. “You’re right. I never thought about it like that, and I’ve done it hundreds of times.” She gave an humorless guffaw. “I guess I don’t consider—”
"Hundreds of times?!”
Hermione looked up at Ginny and realized her slip-up. “Yes. Not all are related to Ron; however, many could be attributed to him over the past year or two. Dozens of arguments and…a few key issues. I’m sure you’ve gathered that things are not great for us in the future.”
“Yes. I have.” Ginny looked carefully down at the floor, more quiet than she usually was in conversation. Then she finally spoke up, “Hermione?”
“Yes?”
“Are you happy?”
Hermione lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “You and Harry both. Is anyone? Truly?”
“I am. And yes, I know I’m not your Ginny. But tell me. Do you think she is happy with her lot- in the future?”
Hermione didn’t need to take very long to decide and she closed her eyes and sighed, “Yes, actually, I do.”
“Is future Harry happy also?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Are you happy? Like we are?”
“Well when Ron is doing--”
Ginny gently interrupted her, “I didn’t ask about Ron. I asked about you.”
Something dawned on Hermione’s face, tears beginning to fall. “Do you feel like you need Harry as much as he needs you?”
Ginny didn’t immediately answer. “Probably depends on what you mean by “need”. We have…an equilibrium. Sometimes the scale tips towards one of us taking more than the other. He has a greater capacity for giving; I’m better at challenging. But I think we would both say that although we need each other differently, it evens out.”
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes while Hermione tried to work out how this answer affected her. Then she looked up and said, “I don’t know if that helps me or not, Gin.”
“Fair enough. What if I put it to you then? Do you need Ron as much as he needs you?”
“A week ago I would have emphatically said, ‘Of course!’” Hermione gestured to her bag across the room, “Part of what I just remembered was Christmas of 2006. When we got back together. What if I…I just… liked being needed?” She looked at Ginny with pleading eyes. “That’s not the same. Is it?”
Ginny reached out to clasp their hands and softly said, “No it isn’t. But is it enough?”
“I don’t think…I don’t want to…” Hermione couldn’t really go on at this point.
“You don’t have to decide now. Just keep thinking on it.”
Hermione did think on this for a moment until a memory popped into her mind. She never knew why this particular memory stuck with her as it was one that came before her memory collecting days. A seemingly mundane memory of her parents on an average day*.
But it shifted something for her. Hermione steeled herself, hugged Ginny and got up to head towards bed. As she left the sitting room she declared, “I’m done with thinking. Perhaps now is the time for action.”
*HERMIONE'S MUNDANE MEMORY
EXT. GRANGER HOME IN HAMPSTEAD GARDEN SUBURB- August 5, 1991
Jean and Hermione are in the family car, a black Vauxhall Cavalier, getting ready to run errands when Harold runs out the front door towards the car in the driveway.
HAROLD (urgently): Darling, wait! You forgot your swatches. Might need those at the upholsterers.
JEAN (taking the swatches from her husband): Oh, thank you, Harold. What would I do without you?
HAROLD (leaning in to give her a kiss through the car window): Probably rule the world, I’m sure.
Hermione and Jean snicker at this common answer, a familial inside joke.
HAROLD: Oh! I called ahead and had your favorites ready for takeaway at The Grounds if you want to stop there first.
HERMIONE: Thanks, Dad. You’re the best!
HAROLD (winking to Hermione): Anytime, kiddo.
JEAN (waving out the car window): Thanks again, Love. See you tonight.
HERMIONE (to her mom as they drive away): Dad is aces.
JEAN (grinning): He has his moments.
HERMIONE: You and Dad make a good team. I hope I'll have that too, someday. When I'm old.
Jean: You will, Hermione. I'm sure of it.
Notes:
CW: hoarding, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and subtle narcissistic tendencies
Chapter title is from Sheryl Crow’s Strong Enough (1993), album: Tuesday Night Music Club; however, my favorite version of this song is The Chicks' cover.
God, I feel like hell tonight
Tears of rage I cannot lie
I'd be the last to help you understand
Are you strong enough to be my man?
My man
Nothing's true and nothing's right
So let me be alone tonight
'Cause you can't change the way I am
Are you strong enough to be my man?
Chapter Text
nine: witchy woman
February 28- March 1, 2006
Despite a killer night’s sleep and her previous determination for action, Hermione stayed put the next couple of days. Mostly because she had a hard time figuring out in which direction she should take herself.
First, she contemplated heading to her old chemistry labs to lend her past self a hand. She could solve a particularly tricky step she’d had with synthesizing her target molecule. Or she could leave her past self some notes on how to improve her dissertation defense. But upon further reflection, those minor setbacks all turned out fine. She was happy with the Muggle side of her career.
For that matter she was also quite content with the Ministry side of her career. There wasn’t anything in her professional life that she could improve upon, save herself from, or help out with- at least nothing of great significance. So why should she meddle with something that brought her such fulfillment?
Giving up on that, she tried a different approach and decided to make a list. She went through every step she took, everything she ate, every action, and any person she talked to- all the events of June 7, 2013. Everything that led up to her waking up seven years in the past.
But nothing from that day seemed out of the ordinary:
- She woke up and ate her usual breakfast, a fried egg on toast with earl grey tea.
- Then she headed to her lab by floo connection, same way she always did. Theo was out but that was not unusual as he took time off for a holiday every quarter.
- She went to The Ministry to meet with a committee that she had been meeting with for months.
- Followed up by an hour or so writing some new book proposals in her office- nothing unusual there.
- Then she headed to the restaurant to meet Ron, Harry, and Ginny. She'd even eaten there a few times before and her meal had never produced any strange after-effects like traveling through space and time.
- Her conversation with Ron before bed was not that unusual either. The clandestine contraceptive spell was something that felt necessary on occasion.
The only thing about that night that she remembered being slightly out of the ordinary was when she grabbed that round trinket from her nightstand before falling asleep. Of course, she had held that same bauble before, many times, and it never led to this! No, the unusual thing was the feeling she had when she held it. Peace and Contentment. That was sort of…new. She usually fell asleep exhausted by her racing mind.
Harry came home then and debriefed her on his talk with Ron from the night before, assuring her he would be staying away and not bothering them for a while. Even enlisted the help of Molly, Arthur, and George. Hopefully, this gave them some space and time to figure things out.
“You didn’t tell any of them anything…else, did you?” Hermione wasn’t sure she could face more people knowing. Keeping the circle small for now was helping her. Also, she wasn’t sure she could face Molly with the indecision swirling around in her head. Molly had been a surrogate mother to her the past fifteen years, ever since losing her own. And knowing she was heading towards some ambiguous place of upheaval- come what may of her marriage- felt like a betrayal to her mother-in-law. She simply couldn’t deal with all of that and figuring out how to get back to 2013. She was Hermione Granger ( -Weasley, yes; however, she never called herself that when giving herself a pep talk), but even she had her limits.
“No, of course not. Easiest thing was to blame it on the breakup. They all understood. Said they'd help keep him busy.”
“Thank you, Harry.” Grateful for this small mercy, she then led Harry through her day of brainstorming, making lists, and getting nowhere. “I don’t think there is anything that truly stands out. Everything was pretty typical about that day. Until ending up here, that is.”
“Hmmm. You mentioned an object. May I see it? Might be something useful to take a look at?”
She threw him a skeptical look. “I doubt it traveled here with me, Harry!”
He thought for a minute, scratching his head. “Wouldn’t hurt to check your bag though, right?”
Sighing loudly she acquiesced, “Very well.” She got her bag and opened it. “ Accio Madame Zelinsky’s… trinket? I’ve never retrieved it this way as I never keep it on me. I don’t even know what to call it. A talisman, maybe? It’s not really important.”
“Talisman ? Hermione, did you get all superstitious in the future?” He smirked at her, knowing that there was a ninety-nine percent chance that she did not .
“No. It’s more like a holiday souvenir. Just something I came across at a…pivotal time and so I kept it. As a keepsake.”
“What exactly is it?”
“A business card, maybe? Or like those little baskets of gum or candy or trinkets they have at muggle checkout counters. Take a sticker- free advertising? Except this was from a traveling seer…so more unusual than candy or a sticker, I guess.”
“You visited a seer?! Who are you?!” This, the same as Ron posed the night before, was asked with friendly teasing instead of harsh incredulity.
“It was on a whim. One day, with Ginny- so more a dare than a whim. Merlin! I haven’t really thought about that day in forever. Believe it or not, it wasn’t entirely unhelpful. In an over-the-top, ridiculous sort of way. Later that week, I came to an important decision while wearing the same coat I had when we visited her- Madame Zelinsky. In my pocket was the little trinket I’d grabbed at the last minute on my way out. And I found myself wanting to keep it as a keepsake to remember the relief at the end of that long hard year, finally knowing what I wanted to do.”
Harry took some time to take in everything she said, then a thought struck. “When exactly did you get it, Hermione?”
“Maybe…first week of December? 2006.”
“Brilliant. So you should not have it in your bag right now. Right?” He pointed towards her beaded bag.
“Correct. If I did. It would have also traveled from the future. That would be impossible! Or prove...significant?” Hermione waited a bit. “But nothing has come.”
“Hmmm.” Harry, one hand on his hip, one on the back of his neck, looked up to the ceiling as if there were some answers there.
“Oh! There is one more thing I can try. Give me a moment.” Hermione had made some improvements to her extended bag over the years. One being a way for her to call items wordlessly when she couldn’t be bothered to think of the name of something she needed. Why did it always seem like when one was in a hurry that remembering the name of a needed object proved elusive? After one-too-many “Accio…the….damned...whatchamacallit!!”s, Hermione put a new enchantment on her bag. This came in handy during seasons where she was burning the candle at both ends.
So she pictured the round object, the weight of it in her hand, and the last time she held it on her person.
Suddenly, a small bronze object appeared in her right hand, dissolving into existence from nothing. She startled and looked at Harry who returned her wide-eyed stare as he whispered, “ Definitely significant.”
Something new stood out to her as she raised the round object closer to her line of sight, well three things new.
Harry studied them as well and asked her, “What do those mean?” Pointing to the three small runes etched below the line Madame Zelinsky’s Wares, est. 1326.
“I have no idea.” Hermione studied the three markings, two she did not recognize and one she did, but sure she was mistaken. Then she met Harry’s eyes with trepidation in her voice, “Those are new.”
“So you’ve worked out it probably has something to do with that thing , but you have no idea why or how it got you here?” Ginny broke the silence the next morning over breakfast as they were all sipping their tea and contemplating their next move. She turned to Harry to ask, “Time turner?”
“Don’t think so. At least it’s not like one I’ve ever seen: although, we have two Unspeakables taking a look at it.”
Only Hermione had touched it. Harry, out of an abundance of caution, went so far as to have her transport it to his office at the DMLE to keep it from his precocious toddler. He put it under a notice-me-not charm and under a protective dome so no one else could get to it either. Together with Kilmartin, Head Auror, they formed a plan to gather information and Harry was granted permission to bring home any files with a mention of a “Madame Zelinsky”. So far, they hadn’t turned up anything of note.
“I wish I remembered more from that day. Back when I got the blasted thing.”
Ginny sat up straight with excitement, “I know! We could use your pensieve again!”
“You have a sanctioned pensieve?” This shocked exclamation from Harry.
“She was given one with full permits for her research and she keeps it at her parents’.” Ginny turned towards her husband, “I know we’ve had little time to catch each other up, but she let me see some of her memories from 2006- the future. They were…interesting.” Ginny turned to Hermione with a conspiratorial look.
“So why aren’t we over there right now, taking a look?” Harry asked.
“Because I don’t remember it. I’m sure I did file that memory away and stored it carefully. In December of 2006 . Which we don’t exactly have access to...”
“Ah…right. And I'm assuming you’ve already tried your strange bag trick?” Harry deflated.
“Yes. A few times. Nothing.” Hermione was in full problem-solving mode, brain running through various scenarios. “I could try to recall from memory, but it’ll be choppy and garbled at best.”
“The ones you showed me a couple of days ago were from memory, right? Those hadn’t happened yet either?”
“True, but those were ones I have…reviewed.” Hermione was trying to push down her embarrassment.
“Reviewed?” Harry asked.
Ginny looked to Hermione, silently imploring her to proceed with revealing to Harry what she was comfortable. A look to say that it would be safe, so she gave him a truncated more palatable version.
“Ever since I did the thing to…Ever since Obliviating my parents, I’ve kept memories. Some to watch over and over again like a favorite movie. Some to try and make sense of things during more difficult times. And lately, as I told Gin, times have been extra difficult.
“Eventually things got away from me, and now I have thousands of memories that I store with less-than-legal extension charms in my lab. I’m not proud of it, but here we are.”
Harry’s open and encouraging face seemed to be free from judgement so she went on.
“But Ginny, the memories we viewed the other day were ones I had revisited over the years.” She noticed Ginny’s rise of excitement at the realization that she might relive racier memories of anyone who wasn’t Ron and promptly tempered it, “Albeit rarely ! And in a sense, I was showing you more recent memories of my memories. To pull something that you haven’t thought of for years would be next to impossible. I wouldn’t have any kind of linear recollections- just feelings and bits and pieces. If only I could access that December 2006 vial…”
Ginny seemed to recall something then, “What about the research you mentioned? It was in 2005, right? Something about tears or sweat? Or a potion?”
“Yes, but…Wait…No, that wouldn’t work…Well, maybe that could…” Hermione conversed with herself for a moment working it out. Then her eyes lit up with determination. “It has never been done before, but worth a shot.” She gave Ginny a grateful look then turned to Harry, “I’m going to need you to sneak a couple things out of the Chief Warlock’s Office of Provisions and Reserves.”
EVERYTHING IS BLACK
Disembodied voices of Ginny and Hermione are heard, but garbled as if several rooms away.
SMOKE REMAINS, CLEARING SOME, BUT NOT ALL THE WAY
EXT. SOMEWHERE ALONG DIAGON ALLEY, OUTSIDE A TEMP. MAKESHIFT SHOP- December 3, 2006, 2:15 pm
Ginny and Hermione are walking around a Holiday Market Festival in Diagon Alley. Everything is hazy. They stop in front of a vendor tent.
GINNY: Go on! You should do it!
HERMIONE: Uggghh, Gin! You know I’ll hate this.
GINNY: Yes, but you owe me one. And you never know. Could be like when I offer James a choice of fish fingers or a jam sandwich for lunch…sometimes I make something amazing up about whichever one I want him to pick. Else we’d be discussing the merits of both all day. Merlin, that boy inherited his Father’s penchant for avoiding decisions…
HERMIONE: Wonderful, except I’m not a toddler and I believe my jam sandwich is no longer an option…Completely different worlds. It would never work.
GINNY: Makes sense Ron would be the fish in this scenario. But I’m not talking about them.
HERMIONE (huffing, exasperated): Ginny...
GINNY: Hear me out! Just the other day, I made up a story about how our jam is made by special fairies in Sweden, and James still picked fish fingers. Why? Because that is what he wanted the whole time, anyways!
Sometimes you need a push- even if it is something completely fake or bizarre or ridiculous! To help you understand how you really feel, what you really want.
This is your life Hermione. And I’m not talking about choosing between two bloody men. I’m talking about choosing a path that is right for you. You have many options- not just two.
The scene shakes like an earthquake, then a garbled gray blur…Hermione and Ginny enter the tent…A wizened, throaty, feminine laugh…A crystal ball on a table. Then a few bits and pieces of a conversation cut in and out. Nothing can be seen quite clearly, as if seen through eyes missing their extra-strength prescription lenses.
MME ZELINSKY:..sit…ten galleons…you are searching…no…
HERMIONE:...theatrics…we should go…
MME ZELINSKY: Wait! Wait.
Madame Zelinsky’s face goes from blurry and hazy to crystal clear. She is older, white hair, a life-weathered ruddy face, but an attractive one. She grasps Hermione’s hands across a round, green table filled with knick-knacks and dried flowers. Ginny stands off to the side. Both women are startled by the seer’s abruptness.
HERMIONE (concerned): What is it?
MME ZELINSKY (stares off into the distance, face blank, voice soft and steady): A time to move forward and a time to look back. The answers you seek lay in the choices of your past. Back to where you started and make your way through. Two become one and one becomes two.
Madame Zelinsky's face clears and her warmth returns. She shudders slightly, then gives the young women a matronly smile.
GINNY (dryly): Suuuuuper helpful.
Hermione starts to ask something but is cut off by swirls of gray and blurs of close-ups of objects from around the tent shop: a pair of antlers, moss, volumes 3, 5, and 6 of something called The Prophet’s Saga , a very ancient looking globe or map, perhaps. Every choppy vignette isn’t quite clear.
DISSOLVE TO BLACK
Clear and unclouded now, Hermione and Ginny are walking out. There is a small wicker basket and sign nearby saying, “Take Me”. Hermione digs through the basket of trinkets and metallic business cards until she spots the bronze round object. She hesitates and looks to Madame Zelinsky who is further back in her tent, still sitting at her table, staring back.
Madame Zelinsky’s face blurs and separates, seemingly three faces all at once, like a mirage. The face on the right and left are blurry and gray, but the center face is clear, staring back at Hermione with a smile that seems neither friendly nor cruel, but omniscient. Hermione shudders with chills, stares back at her a beat more, then grabs the bronze trinket, puts it in her coat pocket, following Ginny out of the tent.
FADES TO BLACK
Lifting their heads from their third viewing of the same memory, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny looked at each other for at least a full minute in silence before one of them spoke up.
Harry went first, “Its more small, mundane decisions. Not the truly important ones.” He gave Ginny a wry look to convey that she was right but it was still something he got to be a little defensive about. "Besides that, I have some thoughts..."
Their first time viewing it seemed too confusing to draw any conclusions, so they’d decided to watch it at least three times before discussing it.
Hermione was shocked that the choppy memory even turned out this well.
Earlier, when they all met up, and after a brief (for Hermione) explanation about targeting the neocortex, long-term memory storage, and several other things that made her friends’ eyes glaze over, she took the vials that Harry successfully snuck (stole) out of The Chief Warlock’s private wing of the Wizengamot. But she kept her expectations low as she drew up her theoretical memory-boosting concoction.
She’d had him grab (steal) three ingredients. One was the potion of her creation- the one improving the accuracy for witness memory retrieval. Problem was, most witnesses did not take the stand seven years after a crime, so she needed a couple other items. A key ingredient in a future drought she would develop for improving memory storage, a boost for the neocortex of sorts. And the other potion- part of her long shot theory, but it seemed to work better than she expected as she was able to get bits and pieces of that day back. A day she hadn’t thought about in a very long time.
“What are your theories? I still cannot make heads or tails of it…” Hermione rubbed at her temples.
"First, how did you interpret that prophesy...thing the first time?"
"A time to move forward and a time to look back. The answers you seek lay in the choices of your past. Back to where you started and make your way through. Two become one and one becomes two." Ginny repeated the prophesy...thing out loud again for the group.
"I honestly didn't even remember it! I remembered her saying something about going back to find answers and I guess at the time I took it as confirmation that I was supposed to go back to Ron?! But I was already leaning towards reconnecting with him anyways. I had all but decided he was my future. Truthfully, I didn't think much of it!"
"Right. Totally see how you got there. Look back, answers are in your past, go back to where you started. But how did you interpret the last part?"
"Again, I didn't think about it. Maybe I thought that it was about getting married finally? I mean he did propose soon after we got back together, which was later that same month."
"Sure..." Harry sighed deeply, tilting his head in thought.
"What is it Harry?" This from Ginny.
"I think I would have thought the same thing- that all of it had everything to do with you going back to Ron...If you weren't here right now. What if..."
"Go on." Hermione was glued to Harry's train of thought.
"What if it was about here. And now. What if the prophesy was about time travel the whole time?"
"What?!"
"Hermione, you traveled in time. With an artifact. And none of my files even mention a Madame Zelinsky. If she had artifacts like that she would have been marked in some International Wizarding Database somewhere. She most likely has a network of aliases. None of this is adding up."
"You think some witch, dealing in dark artifacts had little old me in her tent and decided to...what? Set up a scheme to have me time travel for her seven years later? To what end? For what purpose?"
Ginny offered, rather unhelpfully, "What if the time travel is not nefarious, but like...a lesson? You've lived your life, then come back to the past to have a do over? Some kind of perspective? Aren't there muggle films about this?"
"If that were true, why not bloody tell me the 'lesson' in the first fucking place. Then I could avoid having to go back in time?!" Gods she hated divination and also It's A Wonderful Life for that matter, yet here she was. Of course, she knew none of this was Ginny's fault. She was only trying to help. "Sorry, Gin. That wasn't about you."
Ginny, thick-skinned and raised by a pack of brothers, did not seem bothered by Hermione's outburst and gave her a reassuring smile.
"Look." Harry reached across where they were sitting and placed a gentle hand on Hermione's knee. "Just entertain the theory that the prophesy might have been about this. You traveling here." He held up a hand to stay Hermione's objections, "Just for a moment. Think about it, Hermione. 'Back to where you started and make your way through'..." He made his voice as gentle as she'd ever heard it for this next part, "Where did you start when you first came back here- back to 2006? The first thing you remember doing after you got here?"
"I woke up in that bar. With Ron the night we..." Realization dawned and Hermione gasped and raised a hand to her her mouth, eyes wide, whispering, "I broke up with him. Again."
"That last line though..." Ginny started to bring up another point but was interrupted by a soft pecking against the window. A gray owl with a note tied around its leg was waiting patiently so she let it inside. "Whose owl is that?"
"Dunno. I don't recognize it." This from Harry.
Hermione did.
She grabbed a tiny treat from her bag to give to the creature while she removed the tie and unfolded the note. "It's from Theo."
Notes:
Chapter title is from Eagles, self-titled album (1972).
Chapter 10: but you don't really care for music, do you?
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
ten: but you don’t really care for music, do you?
March 2, 2006
“Hello, Darling! So happy you showed.” Theo greeted Hermione with a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you for the invite, Theo. How could I deny your adorably corny request?” Hermione replied with a wry smile.
When she got the invite from his owl, she wasn’t all that surprised. Whenever Theo made a new friend- her, in this case, even though he wasn’t her new friend- he was like a dog with a bone, wanting to hang out over and over until said new person proved or disproved their worthiness as his companion. The trial period was fast and intense, and Theo loved making new friends.
His invitation was somewhat lacking, though, from the variety of invites she’d known him to send in the future. She gave it a 4.6/10 on the Theodore Nott Scale of Creative Requests:
Your presence is kindly requested at Nott Manor,
Tomorrow Evening, 8 pm.
Join us for a Night of Musical Frivolity.
Bring your pipes and bring a friend so you won’t have to Du-et yourself.
~Love, Theo
It seemed he got better with time.
Harry and Ginny found a sitter for James, and she was very relieved to have them both by her side tonight. In case she ran into him.
After the three of them studied that garbled memory from all angles, she figured her friends might be on to something. Could she really be here because of that blasted Madame Zelinsky prophecy?
Ginny and Hermione had discussed their thoughts on said prophecy at length. All day. And while getting ready for tonight's event, Ginny put forth a most preposterous theory.
“Hear me out and promise not to get your knickers in a bunch, okay?”
“No promises, Gin.”
“What if the ‘make your way through’ part was related to…Malfoy?”
“What? You think I somehow went ‘back to where I started’ - breaking up with Ron, apparently, and the ‘make your way through’ part involves…Seducing Malfoy ?” Hermione had winced as she realized that her own answer to this far-fetched question was undetermined.
“No! Well, maybe? I don’t know, but I know that last time- according to you, that is- you went through the whole of 2006. Found someone different. Ended up having amazing sex. Although, regrettably, your details are somewhat lacking! Had a man who seemed to really see you…Do you remember what he said, ‘Mione? In that memory where you were walking from Buttercup’s to The Ministry everyday?”
“No?”
“He said something about you being the reason for Harry and Ron making it through. Saying that without you, they wouldn’t even have made it through third year. And he wasn’t far off! Whenever Harry tells me stories about all those times I missed, even the time you three left us to hunt horcruxes during the war, he always speaks of your involvement like it was crucial . So many of his tales end with something to the effect of ‘And Hermione saved the day… Again. I don’t know what I would have done without her.’”
“Oh.”
“Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy agree on something.”
“Hmmm.”
“All I’m saying is that you had someone- however briefly- who really saw you. Gave you what you needed. Somehow, despite how selfish we all know him to be, but he put you first. And you went back to Ron in the end.”
“You don’t understand everything that happened, Ginny. There is so much more to it all.”
“Sure. I’m sure there is…Of course.”
“Despite how much you do not like him for me NOW, Ron ends up being a good husband!” Something twisted in Hermione’s chest then and she went on to say, “Sometimes. And My Ginny is privy to all those good times, too. You are not.”
“Yes. Again, I am aware that there are seven years of memories I cannot begin to understand. But you are here , ‘Mione. That bloody bronze thingy sent you to me . And here, I have had the not-so-privilege of witnessing of my brother being a fucking plonker when it comes to you. He makes you feel miserable! And it didn’t used to be that way when you were just friends. And, and, and though I believe he deserves…someone out there, of course I do. I love him. But he is. Not. Good. For. You. ”
They were both quiet for a few moments while Hermione was lost in her head and Ginny calmed herself down.
Ginny broke the silence, softening a little, “I know I’m harsh, ‘Mione. And brash, and impulsive, and headstrong. I know you don’t like how I handle things sometimes- now or the future, probably as I’m certain I do not mellow with time. But it’s all coming from a place of love. I’m only Bitchy Ginny for those who really deserve it, and you’re someone who is most worthy!
“You deserve ‘all the time’, or even ‘most of the time’. Not good ‘sometimes’. What if you were just a teensie bit open to the idea that maybe, just maybe you are supposed to ‘make your way through’ to a different decision?”
“If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t say I’m entirely… closed off to that possibility…”
“Great! Leave the door ajar- good enough for me!”
So she decided to take a look at her life and see if she would do anything differently this time around. The second time in seven years she had a clean break. From her husband.
Maybe she would take this time to see what decisions she would change with more wisdom under her belt. Maybe those decisions would lead her back to the same conclusion she reached last time, that Ron is the one. Or maybe she would end up choosing singlehood. Or maybe she would find something else that she needed to learn from this wacked out experience.
She allowed herself to think of all of the possibilities. All but one. She wouldn’t consider him a viable option. Not yet. Probably not ever, but as she told Ginny, she would leave the door cracked. Just a little- a tiny sliver of light shining through. But all other potential futures, life lessons, skills, whatever she could bloody learn in this godsforsaken place- all of that she would open herself up to fully to see where that brought her.
Despite it being incredibly infuriating, Ron was right about something. She was “closed”. So she decided to start with saying “yes” to Theo’s invitation. See where a few out-of-character yes-es would lead.
Couldn’t hurt.
As she walked to get some drinks with Theo, he promised this party would be more fun than the last. “I do have a favor to ask, Granger…”
“Sure, Theo.” Wonderful. An opportunity where she could give an easy ‘yes’.
“Tonight's theme, as I’m sure you have surmised, is Duets Only. No one is allowed to sing solo. So, what do you say? Save a song for me?”
“Erm…” Hermione looked at Theo’s kind, open face. She knew that Theo had a decent singing voice though hers was…just adequate. She thought about songs that they had sung in their lab together when the curmudgeonly, elderly lab tech was gone and they could blast the speakers. This brought forth a memory of a tale he once told her- almost a year into their friendship, when it felt safe for each of them to share the more dark personal history bits.
He’d told her of the time he discovered an old AM radio in the Room of Requirement which he would occasionally sneak into his Slytherin dormitory. He’d sat around with a few of his mates, in awe of the types of music they’d heard over the speakers. She had giggled uncontrollably when he first told her, picturing several wizards stupefied by what was probably a few channels of Scottish oldies or some classical station coming out of an ancient radio. Theo had informed her proudly that they did find one station with spotty reception that played current hits. Then his dad had heard him humming a muggle tune when he was visiting Nott Manor for Christmas. Theo returned to Hogwarts that January with nothing new, no presents but a black eye and a few bruised ribs.
Theo had quickly returned the radio to the Room of Requirement never to seek it out again. She’d told him that she was pretty sure that Seamus found it again with other DA members during seventh year, and it was crucial for their connection to the outside world. So it had been for the best that he returned it. It wasn’t any great conciliation, though.
Now she was moved to say yes to him. “Of course I will, Theo. Endless Love okay?”
“Granger! Perfection!” He turned to go put their name in the queue, but then stopped and turned around as he remembered something. “One more thing. I’ll need your wand to sign you up. We play by some-” He winced, “Questionable rules here at Nott Manor.”
“Such as?”
“Well, you sign up with your wand for the song you chose to sing.”
“Okaaayyy. What for?”
“Well there are consequences. For backing out. I’ve charmed the machine to make a bond when you select your song. Something may or may not happen to those who don’t go through with it.”
“Like an unbreakable vow for chickening out of karaoke? Theo, are you mad?”
“No, no! Nothing like that…Well, something like that. But not nearly as bleak. More…embarrassing than untimely death.”
“Theo, what did you do?!”
“I realized from the last couple of karaoke nights that these hooligans actually needed some skin in the game!” He looked at Hermione like she would surely understand.
“Theo, what exactly would happen to me if I didn’t end up going up to the stage to sing? If it were my turn?”
“Nothing too terrible.” Then he replied impishly, “Maybe some pustules. A small handful of pox?”
“Good gods.”
“Well, a few facial blemishes never hurt any of these vain fuckers in the long run!”
“Savage, Theo.” Hermione was laughing even though slightly horrified. She shook her head at him, “Absolutely savage.”
“Well, now you know. Do you wish to proceed? Give me your informed consent to put your name with mine in the queue? Be the Carey to my Vandros?”
Hermione was still (mostly) fine with singing with Theo, but she wasn’t typically the type to take these kinds of risks. However, doing things differently and all that…”Actually, Theo, how bout I’ll be the Ross to your Richie?”
“Even better. I knew I liked you!”
She handed him her wand and gave him her permission, “Sign us up!”
This event was more thirty-three-year-old Hermione’s speed than the one she attended a few nights ago. Everyone was dressed casually, more like themselves as opposed to the vague clerical attire from last time. She wore a cream flowy dress she felt confident in, good in her skin. The ambiance of Theo’s home was tasteful in its lavishness and much homier than she knew he grew up with. Top shelf drinks and gourmet food at every corner, but still subtly understated, cozy.
She also loved duets. Ginny and Harry had sung an Elton John and Kiki Dee classic to kick everything off earlier. Blaise and Pansy just finished up an ODB and Kelis song that Hermione knew would be stuck in her head all night. She hadn’t heard that in forever! She even heard one of her favorite Cranberries songs sung with beautiful harmonies by Pansy, Daphne, and another woman she didn’t recognize.
Her duet with Theo was mostly painless. They fumbled their way through, laughing at times, and faking earnest love for each other at other times. Well, Theo probably was. Hermione really did love him. Like a brother, that is.
She could admit to herself that, although out of her comfort zone here, she was having a pretty good time.
It didn’t hurt that Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.
She passed by two Slytherins, who she vaguely recognized as a couple of years older- she wanted to say Alice and Maggie…Molly? They were in deep discussion about The OC. Probably because Goyle and someone else she didn’t know were singing California by Phantom Planet, alternating verses.
“But Seth Cohen is fucking fiiiine.”
“Seriously? No way. Give me Ryan over him any day. I love a good bad boy. Oh, or better, yet, Sandy Cohen. Yes. Daddy!”
Hermione snickered as she walked further towards her friends, noticing Pansy Parkinson was also looking for Harry and Ginny as they reached the couple at the same time.
“Harry. Ginevra .” Pansy said Ginny’s name with an almost purr? She was looking at the two of them with mischief, kindness, and something…else.
Strange.
“Hello, Pansy,” Harry was grinning ear to ear and stealing glances at his wife. “How are you this evening?”
“Well. Quite well.” Pansy directed this to Harry, then turned to Ginny, “Nothing to say, Darling? No ‘Hello’?”
Ginny just stared back and gave a weak smile, fidgeting. Finally she eeked out, “Parkinson,” barely above a whisper.
Hermione could not work out what was happening. She had never, not once, seen Ginny like this. She seemed unable to speak a single syllable in the presence of Pansy.
“How’s married life? That precocious toddler keeping you on your toes?” Pansy seemed to ask this question quite innocently, but Ginny was becoming more turnip colored by the minute.
Harry answered for them, “Sure is. He’s got a few of his dad’s foibles, but thankfully those are counterbalanced by his mothers bravery and drive to learn new things. We think he might just make it.”
Where was that bravery and gumption now?
“Well, I have to go find Daph. I’ll let you two get back to it.” She smirked one last time and winked at Ginny. Then she nodded towards Hermione and said, “Granger,” as she walked away.
Ginny was watching her go, completely speechless, mouth slightly agape.
“Okay, Gin. What in Godrick's name was that about?”
Harry was full on laughing at this point, that is until Ginny threw her hand back to knock him in the sternum. He attempted to dial down his laughter and told Hermione the story of a time before he and Ginny were married. Apparently Pansy Parkinson had a crush on each Potter (then Potter and Weasley) at some point or another. This knowledge, having reached Harry’s ears, gave him an idea.
Ginny chimed in, “Harry knew I’d always had a crush on her. Like massive. And he thought it would be a bit of fun if we ever got the chance... Well we’d had a conversation about, you know- ground rules and all that, thinking it would never ever come to pass.”
“Yes, well, we were out one night at the Leaky and Pansy sort of…approached me? I was nervous as fuck. But Ginny had just come out to me and I thought, dunno…could be a fun way to show my support.” He was clearly loving how uncomfortable his wife was and continued, stifling his giggles, “But alas. Wasn’t meant to be. Ginny completely froze up. I have never in my life seen this fearless woman go all deer-in-the-headlights. Before or since.”
“Yeah well. She has that…” Ginny pointed in Pansy’s direction, swirling her hand. “Crazy sex-witch thing going on about her. I thought I could have handled it. But yeah. I just sort of spaced out. She and Harry made a nice evening of it, though!”
“Harry!!” Hermione went from shock at the unfolding of this story to being shocked that Harry could possibly cheat…or kind of cheat…or whatever the hell this would have meant for them.
“No, no. Not like that. I don’t think Gin said more than three words to her that whole night, so, at first, I was trying to be polite. Carry the conversation. But then we talked all night. Mostly about Ginny and life and everything. She’s sweet, actually.”
Ginny huffed at this.
“Where was Gin during your get-to-know-you chat with Pansy?”
Harry got tickled once more but finally answered, “She laid there a while staring at the ceiling and eventually passed out.”
“Please don’t remind me…” Ginny had her hand covering her eyes as if that could erase the memory.
“I got to know Parkinson a bit. Turns out she hasn’t grown up that differently from how I did. Two parental figures who never understood her, constantly trying to get her to be something she wasn’t. She told me there was someone she was madly in love with, but wouldn’t say who. Would never have guessed Daphne Greengrass!” Harry glanced over to the two witches they were discussing, who were leaning into each other sharing a private conversation, seemingly very much in love.
Hermione couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She gasped, “How did I never hear about this?”
“Well it’s not something I like to advertise. Clearly!” Ginny was regaining some of her composure.
“Understood.” Hermione cringed at the images her brain began to conjure and went for a subject change, “Have either of you seen Malfoy?”
Ginny’s eyes lit up with a twinkle and Harry gave his wife a fondly laced warning. “Might want to think carefully about what you say next, Gin…Especially now that she has some ammunition on you.”
That sobered Ginny and whatever direction she was planning on taking this conversation, “No, actually. Haven’t seen him all night.”
“Good.” Hermione truly wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. “Good.”
Just then, Theo’s voice rang out as if he was using the amplifying charm. “Listen up ladies and gents! It is the moment we’ve all been waiting for, but never thought would come to pass! Our Pouty Prince has decided to grace us with his presence and make his karaoke debut. I know, I know- we thought we’d never see the day!”
There was a kerfuffle behind Theo and she spotted him , leaning in to whisper something.
No.
Why is he here?
And what is he doing?
Theo again, “Well, it seems like we have a bit of an empty slot. Who would like to sing along with Monsieur Grumpy Pants?”
Several hands belonging to those of the female variety shot up in the air.
“Well, well, well. Looks like we have…several volunteers. Drakey, any help here?”
Malfoy shrugged a shoulder and rather arrogantly, laughed a little, and mumbled something about taking a guess.
Theo looked delighted by either what Malfoy said or his own idea and addressed the gathered crowd, “Wonderful! A game! Whoever can guess the muggle artist for the song Drakey chose gets to du-et with him." He waggled his eyebrows at his over-used pun. "Start calling out your guesses!”
The one that Hermione remembered to be Molly… or Maggie? cried out, “Fleetwood Mac!”
“No. Sorry.” Theo positioned himself as some kind of bizarre duet auctioneer, settling in and calling on those in the crowd. Malfoy sat back and looked off into the distance, like he was both put out by Theo’s enthusiasm and also not that interested in this little game, nor the outcome.
“The Beatles!”
“No.”
“Ryan Adams!”
“Ew!" Theo bunched up his face. "Lady Lohan rid herself of such filth for a reason."
“Wu Tang Clan!” This from Blaise and Pansy who both started the chorus of C.R.E.A.M. in unison and lost themselves to their Method Man lyrics. “Dolla Dolla bill, y’all…” This got a small chuckle from Draco.
“He could never.”
“Pearl Jam! No, REM! No, Counting Crows!” Goyle, bless him. He may have just been naming his newfound favorite bands.
“Nope.”
Hermione jolted upright, realizing something recently viewed a-la-pensieve. Tuning out the guesses from the crowd, she was back at a bistro in Paris at a conversation where she was (apparently) lied to:
“Honestly I didn’t believe it until George and Padma told us they went to one of Blaze’s parties…it was a karaoke night? Oh!! You were probably there. Please tell me you sang karaoke too! Maybe I can get Padma to give up a memory of it--”
Malfoy interrupted her, waving her off, “No. I have not, nor will I debase myself to do…that. Ever. (huffing out a laugh) Blaze cannot carry a tune for the life of him, but he loves that particular muggle pastime ....”
That lying prick. “Ever”, Merlin’s arse. Seemed he was debasing himself now!
She looked up at him, in his smugness and come-what-may attitude about this bloody crowd fawning all over themselves to sing a stupid song with him. Who the hell is he to rule up there like he is the life of the party. He doesn’t even look like he bloody cares what happens!
Ginny shouted out a guess now, “Spice Girls!”
This got a good laugh from everyone, and a “No” again from Theo.
After a couple of ridiculous guesses like “N Sync!” and “Kenny Rogers & Dolly Parton” were thrown out, Theo gave a hint.
“We all know that our Resident Curmudgeon is partial to lesser known artists.”
Hermione listened to some people guess obscure bands. Even one ridiculously well-known guess ( Oasis! But to be expected- many famous groups were ‘lesser known’ to this crowd.)
Suddenly, she remembered a time when she ran to his flat after a particularly difficult session with her dissertation committee. She was feeling overwhelmed, afraid all her hard work for the past several years would all be for nothing. What if she couldn’t defend her research properly? What if she missed a crucial step in her synthesis or made a big mistake, but would only find out in front of a room of a hundred people as she fumbled over her presentation? She was having nightly dreams of showing up to school or work naked and underprepared.
He had offered that August night a couple weeks before, so why should she not take him up on it?
“Anytime you want to be selfish, Granger. I’ll be around…”
Still, she half expected him to slam the door in her face when she showed up on his doorstep all heavy breathing and nervous energy. Half expected him to say, “Granger, really? I wasn’t serious. Just being polite!”
But instead, he’d simply nodded his head back towards his flat and she'd followed him inside.
They had sat on his couch and she told him all about everything that was going on. She figured he would call her silly, or insult her for worrying so much. But instead he just listened as she expelled all kinds of fears and stresses. As she recalled, she had felt much better afterward. Then he'd fed her, and then… other things.
She remembered their conversation about music that day on his couch and realized she probably had more knowledge of the music he liked in 2006 than anyone else.
[FLASHBACK]
INT. MALFOY’S FLAT- September 7, 2006, 9:19 pm
Malfoy and Hermione are sitting in his living room, on his luxurious down sofa, having finished eating, several baskets of Dim Sum litter the teak and iron coffee table. They are sitting quite close in proximity to one another, each with a digestif in hand. Hermione's legs are criss-crossed under her and Malfoy has one arm on the back of the couch.
HERMIONE (points her finger up towards the ceiling): What is this? I like it.
MALFOY: Iron & Wine.
HERMIONE: Wow- a bit obscure for a muggle music newbie. How did you hear about them?
MALFOY: Blaise has a Music Concierge.
HERMIONE: A what?
MALFOY: You know- one of those curators who work at the stores with the vinyl...discs?
HERMIONE (trying to hide her laughter): You mean a clerk… At a record shop!?
MALFOY (perplexed, not understanding the disconnect): Yes. I believe you also call them albums?
HERMIONE: You are ridiculous. (She said this with more fondness than she meant, absentmindedly leaning closer to him on the sofa.)
MALFOY (seemingly content to be ‘ridiculous’): Well, Blaise’s man- at the album store. He knows exactly what I like and sends me anything new- within my tastes- as soon as it is available. Also a selection of older albums once a month. The large ones, of course. Never those smaller fragile, metal things. (He shudders.) The sound is far superior coming from the vinyl player.
HERMIONE (restraining her giggling more successfully): Enlighten me. What’s ‘within your tastes’?
MALFOY: I tend to gravitate towards artists whose music is…soothing. After years of chaos, living with a murderous madman, several months of the unrelenting sounds of the ocean, and then the constant background noise of traveling, different languages- Well, I tend to want my home's auditory landscape to be…calm. Serene.
HERMIONE: Makes sense. Who fits that bill then?
MALFOY: A wide range of artists: Sufjan Stevens, Iron & Wine (he nods towards the record player as this is currently playing), Damien Rice. Some instrumental stuff - Bela Fleck and Victor Wooten. I also like U2, Patty Griffin, a Tribe called Quest, Radiohead. Rhianna’s voice is quite soothing, but I prefer her lesser known music. I have an appreciation for truly good music, no matter the genre.
HERMIONE (eyes wide, considering): Wow. I did not expect…most of that.
MALFOY (takes both their glasses now, sets them on coasters): As I’ve tried to inform you, Granger, I’m a man of many secrets.
HERMIONE (dubiously): Indeed.
MALFOY (leaning back in, even closer now that the drinks have been dealt with): Would you like to share a secret with me now? Even the field?
HERMIONE (swallows, then looks away, suddenly realizing they are much closer than she realized): A secret? With you?
MALFOY: Only fair…
He brushes a lock of hair that had fallen loose from her high bun, moves it from the front to behind her shoulder with just his middle finger. Then he unnecessarily adjusts the strap of her camisole that she is wearing under her off-the-shoulder jumper. She shudders involuntarily and leans into his touch.
MALFOY: Or maybe I already know your secret Granger…
HERMIONE (breathless): Which is?
MALFOY: You came here tonight to be selfish.
HERMIONE: I wouldn’t call venting about my dissertation anxieties ‘selfish’.
MALFOY (giving a definitive one shake of his head): Not that.
Hermione stares at him while he magically, slowly removes all her hair pins, undoes her top bun, curls falling about her shoulders. He brushes her hair back, then runs both his thumbs along the pulse points in her neck, from jaw line to collar bone, smirking as he does so.
MALFOY: Selfish in another way. You want to take something from me, don’t you?
HERMIONE (on a breath): Yes.
MALFOY: And you will take it. And I’m going to let you.
HERMIONE: Who would have thought you could be so...selfless…
MALFOY (moves her hair to lean in towards her ear, but not quite touching it with his lips): Trust me, Granger. I’m not.
Malfoy and Granger apparate into another room in his flat, a bedroom of sorts, but not the main one- less lived-in. There is a queen size bed, and also a large box-shaped contraption surrounding the bed with wooden beams and metal supports. He snaps his fingers and after a moment, a new song begins playing- a version of Hallelujah.
He begins to conjure ropes, hoisting some over the beams, and slowly wrapping another in a loop around his hand and elbow, the veins in his forearms pronounced. Hermione is mesmerized by them. Then she stares around wildly, in awe, in lust, and in trepidation, breathing quickly.
MALFOY (calmly as he goes about his work): Breathe, Granger.
HERMIONE: Who is this, now? (She goes to point toward the air again but startles as she realizes her wrists are already bound together. She lifts both tethered hands up and stares at the ropes, breathing heavily.)
MALFOY: (Makes sure he has eye contact, nods his head and magically disappears all of her clothes except her knickers, then arches an eyebrow as if to say " No bra?”)
HERMIONE: Camisole.
He stalks over, slowly. Then he reaches out and kisses her carefully, long, languid, slow, one hand on her chin, one hand pinching a nipple lightly as he draws away. He leans back, looks at her and one side of his mouth lifts in triumph at her, disheveled and panting.
He finally replies to her previous question about who is singing.
MALFOY (pointing to the ceiling and with a strange echo as if she is saying it with him): Jeff Buckley.
A disembodied voice excitedly shouts…“Ding, Ding, Ding!”
[END FLASHBACK]
“Ding, Ding, Ding! The Golden Girl is correct, folks!” Theo’s loud voice registered now. He gave a flick of his wand, then slow clapped toward her.
Oh no.
Gather yourself, Hermione.
Coming out of her haze, she realized her stupid, stupid blunder and her eyes snapped up to a pair of cold gray ones. He looked… bored.
Why did he seem like such a c-word? Like he didn’t even want to be here?
How dare he?!
How dare Theo?!
How dare she be so careless?!
And what was she looking like right now? Flushed? Panting? Godrick, she hoped not.
Gather, Hermione!
She shouted to her traitorous friend/ not-yet-friend, “I’d rather the face boils, thanks!”
In fact, she wished him no amount of gratitude, glared one more time at Malfoy, then turned towards the bar.
“Alright, leeeeet's take five!” Theo, with his game-show-host voice, nodded at Blaise, who played DJ whenever the Karaoke queue was on pause. Thankfully, the signal was quickly received and an upbeat dance song launched in an attempt to relieve some of the awkward tension that had settled on the room.
Hermione found herself at the bar ordering a French 75 from Theo’s lovely elf, Gorgie, who she happened to be great friends with later on, when a dark voice quietly spoke up behind her.
“You don’t have to sing.”
“What?! Not good enough to grace the stage with you, Malfoy? Don’t want me to ruin your obscure Leonard Cohen cover?”
“No.” Malfoy looked off above her head.
“So you admit it then!” Hermione was indignant. Again, how dare he?
“No!” He met her eyes then and took forever to say more. “I’m being a gentleman.”
“A Gentleman?” She truly couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
Theo jumped into their conversation then, “Granger, I’m so, so, so, so sorry!”
Hermione knew that look. “What did you do?”
“Please, just trust me. You need to sing the song.” Theo was wildly adamant about this.
“Why do I? And actually, you said that I needed to use my wand. Right!? Well I didn’t!! I didn’t sign up with my wand!” She was quite relieved to remember that stipulation, hand clutching her chest. “Thank Merlin! I should be free then?” She looked back at Theo who did not seem to share her relief, and then chanced a glance at Malfoy who, shocker!, leaned back like he didn't want to breathe the same air.
“About that…..” Theo looked positively mortified, no change in his face.
“THEO!” Hermione had seen many a victim of Theo’s rash pranks. But she’d never been one. Until now. “What. Did. You. Do.”
“Errrrmmmmmm…Don’t be mad!” Theo, at least, looked like he had just accidentally ran over Crookshanks and didn’t know how to fix it. She had never seen him this worried and repentant. It made her feel a tiny bit better. But not that much.
“You didn’t.” Malfoy’s voice was ice cold. His non-verbal exchange with Theo seemed to confirm something for him and he pinched the bridge of his nose and took a long breath in, looking down at something in Theo’s hand.
“Didn’t WHAT?!” Hermione was over this. But as she was gearing up to berate Theo or make Malfoy answer, she saw something that belonged to her in Theo’s left hand.
That was the flick she saw. Right. She’d given her wand to him earlier with permission to use it.
“Here, Granger. I’m so sorry. Your name is already alongside his in the queue."
She closed her eyes and tried her go-to breathing techniques. They weren't really working so she asked, “What will happen?”
“It’s fairly… substantial. I make different rules for him." Theo paused to frown at Malfoy. "But this time, he has a partner and I forgot to alter my charmwork, and I’m truly so, so, so sorry, and I would a thousand percent take your place, but you would still get the--- Just please, Granger. Please sing it. I will never forgive myself if our friendship ends before it starts! And trust me. You would never forgive me...”
“Cryptic. Maybe I don’t want to know...” She looked Theo in the eye, studied him. He truly seemed tortured. It was an innocent mistake. Somewhat. Innocent for Theo, who she knew really hated letting people down. He didn’t know the history between her and Malfoy. Hell, Malfoy didn’t even know the history between them!
Theo was dumped about a year and a half ago by a wizard he truly cared about, one of his longest relationships. That face he wore for a month in 2011 matched his face now. And it was for this reason that she decided to go through with it. She could sing one bloody song with an idiot twat for a friend. Letting out an extremely long sigh, even for her, she relented, “Fine.”
Theo looked immediately relieved. Malfoy looked stunned at first, then incredulous, then pissy all over again. He let out one scoff-laugh hybrid and shook his head.
“Be nice, Drakey! She’s doing you a huge favor!”
He gave another scoff-laugh and his voice hardened. “Whatever. I’ll sing it too.”
That prompted another glare from Hermione. She really should watch all her frowning. Her elevens were getting quite pronounced— Wait- not here, not on this twenty-seven year old face!
She happily frowned with abandon.
He stared back, jaw clenched so tight that he looked like he wanted to vaporize her with his stupid eyes that weren’t even that pretty without their flecks of green and gold.
How did this douchey man become the person she knew? In just a few short months? Time really was strange. Because she didn’t like being around this Malfoy. Couldn’t picture how they ever connected at all.
She was over this. “How magnanimous of you! Let’s get this over with”
Madame Zelinsky could go fuck herself. Wherever she was.
She was on stage with Malfoy, who stared back at her, nostrils flaring, trying to remain polite while furious...politely furious?
Despite herself, she had to admit he didn't sound...entirely unpleasant. Not that this song was particularly challenging to sing either, but they were managing, curtly agreeing beforehand to alternate verses, him, her, him, then her, and harmonizing on the "Hallelujah"s. There were a lot of those.
He sang towards her general direction, playing along with the duet of it all. Until the second line or so. She tried and failed to look back. Around the first chorus (if one word repeating counted as a chorus), Malfoy spotted Helga in the audience. He sang some lines to her. She seemed rather taken by his singing voice too.
She had to admit that there was something...attractive about Malfoy with a microphone, stupid oxford sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. Forearms that she'd known up close, between looped rope, waiting to--
Focus, Hermione!
Despite her frustrations with the man, she couldn't stop her body from reacting to this forced proximity. The stage was on the small side, having been set up in a drawing room and all.
She diverted her attention back to the crowd, eyes falling on Helga again, and feeling something...annoying tugging at her gut. Helga Strompt was a beautiful woman. About Hermione's age now, if not a little older, but without all the effects of years of frown lines. Perhaps she glamoured. Either way, she was the kind of lovely that was hard to find anything to be catty about. Strong, fierce, curvaceous, tall, blonde...She was a confident woman as was to be expected. Making her way in a world where she often competed (and won) against old-fashioned ideals (and old-fashioned men), she was a force to be reckoned with on the streets and in the sheets, if Malfoy's stories about her were true.
She was still studying Helga's Malfoy-gazing dove eyes when Ginny came into view, closer to the stage, giving her wide eyes and a nod towards Malfoy.
She looked to Malfoy then and realized she'd been caught. He noticed her staring Helga down and looked at her with a raised eyebrow as if to say, "Jealous?"
She glared back as if to silently respond, "Of course not!"
This is how she found herself singing the last few rounds of the (one word) chorus staring heatedly at Malfoy. He heatedly stared back.
Then the song was over.
He smirked at her and let out a huff.
She shoved her microphone into his hand.
He looked at her then and seemed...confused?
She was not staying around to figure out why.
"Well that looked...painful?" Harry tried and failed to come up with any word to lighten the mood.
"It was tolerable. At least it's over now." Hermione was so happy to have it behind her. She didn't like feeling so angry with him. But she had her reasons. She also didn't like feeling...other things with him. Also- reasons!
Harry placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "A group of us are headed back to the cottage. You don't mind, do you, Hermione?"
"Say the word and we'll cancel it." This from Ginny.
"No, no. That sounds great actually. I think I'm ready to get out of here. A smaller crowd sounds nice." Hermione was so grateful for these two.
"Right. Anxious to get away from Malfoy, I bet." Harry said.
Ginny looked back and forth between the two of them, face worried and with a half smile, trying to see which one of them to direct her next statement to. "Please don’t be mad…”
Well, Hermione was grateful for one of them.
Notes:
Chapter Title is from Jeff Buckley (cover of Leonard Cohen) from the album Grace (1994).
Blaise and Pansy sang "Got Your Money" (1999)
Ginny and Harry sang "Don't Go Breaking My Heart" (1976)
Daphne, Pansy, and Whatshername sang "Dreams" (1993)
And I believe Goyle's (bless him) favorite song is "Round Here" (1993- Counting Crows)This chapter was a bugger to write/edit. I'm sure I missed an error or two, but I wanted to get it out- thanks for your patience!
Also, I'm on IG at @cmpumpkinwrites if you want to connect!
Chapter 11: hold this thread as i walk away
Summary:
CW/TW- Inner dialogue relating to indoctrination/ control and brief allusions to narcissistic/ abusive partner- more on this at end of chapter.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
eleven: hold this thread as i walk away
March 2, 2006, very late
Hermione wasn’t mad.
Per se.
More uncomfortable.
Yes, with Malfoy coming over to the Potter’s, a little, but more so with her general state of being.
Here in 2006 she was thrown completely out of sorts. Hermione generally stayed in sorts if she could. There was the time travel of it all, but also the man. And not just the man, but the memories that accompanied him. Then having to go stand near that man with that smirk and that smell, and, of all bloody things, singing! She remembered, despite her resolve to “make her way through” differently this time, that she was not built to be spontaneous.
To top it off she could count on one hand how many times she had found herself feeling as distressed as she was right now.
Hermione was a curator.
Of home, spaces, and events, yes, but also of a carefully-crafted internal life. She stayed away from any gut-wrenching, sternum-squeezing, heart-racing situations. Of course, those kinds of feelings did come up from time to time. Usually in various relationships.
Mainly her marriage.
But if she ever noticed an inkling of uncertainty or confusion or uneasiness creeping in, she would find ways to manipulate her way back to a more comfortable state as quickly as possible.
She had her formulas, mantras, and redirection tactics:
- If anyone asked when she and Ron would “ever start a family”, she would hit them with a “We’re busy enjoying being Aunt & Uncle for now!” (mantra)
- If Theo asked her about how her marriage was doing, she would find one good moment from the past week or two and give him that. Sometimes she would sprinkle in an argument anecdote for levity. “Well, Ron and I had such a lovely dinner on Wednesday. And yes- We’ve been struggling, but our mind healer said, ‘You're making great progress’ at our session last Thursday.” [point of fact, Ron was absent from that particular session, but Theo did not need to know that] (formula)
- Whenever she stumbled in her research or was at an impasse with a Ministry project, she would remind herself that science had its rules and The Ministry of Magic had its policies and procedures. “Go back to the basics; there is comfort in the order of things.” (a staple mantra)
- If Ginny got too strong with razzing Ron at a game night, she would redirect the conversation to another topic she knew would get her riled up even more. (redirection)
- And if Ron got that look in his eye- the unpredictable one, she knew how to be supportive and glass-half-full for him- “I believe in you!” or “I’m sure you will figure it out soon!” (so many mantras)
She had her contingencies; she managed moods; she crafted go-tos and fall-backs to have in her pocket for the next time she felt panic creep closer.
But here none of it worked. Here, no amount of managing or mantra-ing, or redirecting could push back down all of the ghosts floating to the surface. Specters of past decisions and haunts of the future that lay before her.
Quite unnerving.
List-making helped.
A little.
So she thought of another one. The only other few seasons where she had felt this out of control:
- The War, especially the camping portion
- Her Parents, the depression, angst, loss, and more stages of grief over her decision
- Those few short months with Malfoy
- Some would say her marriage- but that was more of a simmering undercurrent, which- as established- she managed. She was also ready to admit that the managing may be taking its toll.
- And now because- Time Travel, and though she was loath to admit- also Malfoy
Speaking of Malfoy, it turned out Ginny hadn’t invited him... exactly. She did, however, mention it to two fellow Holyhead Harpies, who in turn invited Coach Strompt, who in turn asked Malfoy to tag along with her. Now, at the Potter’s cottage with Hermione was Harry, Ginny and her two teammates (Ilona and someone Hermione would definitely try to retain the name of next time she heard it), Helga, George (solo, as Padma had a shift at St. Mungo's), Theo, Blaise, Goyle…and Malfoy. A very odd crowd indeed.
After sending home the sitter, putting out some snacks- charcuterie, spreads, crisps, wine, and casting a Muffliato so James could continue to sleep peacefully, Harry and Ginny called out their limited game selection. Much of their wizarding and muggle games were still in storage at Grimmauld so the group begrudgingly decided on an early 2000s version of Trivial Pursuit. But they’d made it more interesting with a minor drinking element, shortened to just trivia and the wedge- no board. Witches against wizards, as there was (almost) an equal amount of both. Considering Goyle (bless him), the women seemed to silently agree that he did not pose much of a threat and were fine with being a team of five against six. Although his newfound knowledge of 1990s alt rock did win him a question or two.
Mostly, though, Hermione and Malfoy dominated the game, making it quite close. Harry, Theo, and Ilona, a beater for The Harpies, coming up behind them in support for their respective teams. In the end, the men got their sixth wedge first. The orange one- Sports & Leisure- ironically as the quidditch players (and definitely Hermione) were all out of touch with muggle sports. So the women, as agreed upon beforehand, all took shots of some exceptionally strong firewhisky. Except Ginny- hers was mulberry cider to fool everyone.
Hermione later found herself chatting with George and Theo around the cheeses, the two men getting along swimmingly, laughing about George’s new product experiments for the shop. With the exception of when she was vaguely aware of Malfoy and Helga, leaning towards one another- not quite PDA level, but definitely in each others’ personal bubble- Hermione was enjoying herself. Perhaps she was more aware than she wanted to be.
“The Gruyere seems to be out…” Theo backed up from their chatting trio and called out, “Georgina!”
A lovely elf in a pale pink dress appeared in front of Theo in a flash. “Needs assisting Monsieur Nott?”
“Would you be a dear and grab a few wedges of the Brie de Meaux and Gruyerre from that…special place?”
Georgie popped out of sight and was back just a few seconds later with the cheeses. Instead of handing them to Theo, the elf busied herself re-arranging and refreshing the table. She popped back out a time or two more and added a couple of things to the table. Then nodded in satisfaction with herself.
“Thank you, my dear.” With a nod Theo dismissed her. Then he looked at Hermione warily, “Just so you’re aware, she is free to leave me, Granger. And I pay her very well.”
“Oh, I know.” Hermione thought about her first encounter with the house elf.
Theo was in his kitchen, attempting to help Georgie, who didn’t seem very welcoming of Theo’s brand of “help”. Hermione had shown up in the middle of things as she and Theo were going to have dinner discussing a new project he was joining- his first one with the Ministry.
At first, she was worried he was the type to harass his house elf. He said, no, it was the other way around. She was free to do as she pleased…including harassing him at will. Then she decided to assist Georgie with getting Theo out of the way, distracting him with some ministry gossip. Theo forgot his ill-advised cooking plans, and joined Hermione on her way out of the kitchen, which was clearly Georgie’s sanctuary. Hermione looked back to the elf. They exchanged a “What are you gonna do with him?” look and became fast friends after that.
“Grand. After my mess-up earlier tonight, I didn’t want you to think any less of me. Even when Father was awful to our elf staff, I’d try to make things as comfortable as I could.”
“I’m sure you did, Theo.” Hermione noticed Georgie hadn’t left yet, but was speaking with Malfoy in the corner, in French, but she couldn’t quite concentrate hard enough to pick up any of the conversation. They were speaking too quietly and her firewhiskey/ wine haze turned her internal translator into mush.
Then Georgie was in front of her. “Missus Granger needing anything?”
“Oh, no, Georgie, I’m fine.” Then Georgie looked to Theo with a questioning look and he also responded, “All is well, my fair Georgina.”
She smiled up at both of them, then disappeared with a crack.
“What would have happened, Theo?”
“Well, I’m assuming we would have moved on to the lesser cheeses, enjoyed our wine, but found it lacking in gastronomic fulfillment?" Theo seemed confused by Granger’s question, but humored her nonetheless.
“No!” She laughed. “What would have happened if Malfoy or I didn’t sing? Earlier.”
“Ah, well, that. Let's just say that you---”
“A type of Incarcerous …am I right?” Malfoy decided to join their conversation.
Theo glanced back and forth between the two of them. “Partly. Yes,” he said sheepishly.
“What else, Theo?” Hermione glanced dubiously towards the interloper.
“Well…there are a handful of places and things that Drakey does not care for. And I usually embed the binding spell with a bit of, wellll… a sort of mimicking of boggart magic. A very special charm I came up with a few years ago when someone-” He looked darkly to Malfoy, “Decided they would send me all over the world against my will.”
Malfoy snickered to himself and shrugged to Hermione in explanation, “I traveled alone for a while...but it got lonely on occasion.” Then to Theo, more sternly, “And it was only twice. Three at the most.”
Theo rolled his eyes, then filled her in on exactly what happened. “Lonely sad bugger would send me port keys to wherever he was. On a whim. Like I had nothing better to do! First time, of course, I had no idea. There I was- mid-coitus by the way- enjoying myself…somewhat, and then I looked up and saw this man’s bloody owl circling me. Cepheus, Drakey’s owl, swooped down and his talons released a pouch and a little token- a coin, if I remember correctly- dropped down right into my hand. Next thing I knew, I was streaking through a lovely vineyard somewhere in Tuscany. Spooked several Italian house elves, and a gardener. Finally found this git fully pissed, laying by the villa pool.”
Hermione took a few moments to piece this tale together, “You sent a portkey by owl?! With no explanation?! So risky! Who does that?”
“This nutter!” Theo raised a thumb toward Malfoy. “Although, to be fair, I had a much better time getting sloshed with him than I was getting railed by Mr. Whatshisname... Actually, what was his name? Hey, Blaise, remember that adorable dummy you set me up with a few years ago? The one from that gym you invested in? Or was it the one who…” Theo trailed off as he went to discuss with Blaise.
Awareness coldly washed over Hermione as she realized was now alone without a buffer. She figured staring at Georgie’s tablescape handy work was a good option. Maybe he would leave too. Then she felt Malfoy move closer to her and reached across her, leaning in close, brushing his forearm briefly against hers. She froze.
Godrick that smell.
How did she always find herself intoxicated by the combination of sandalwood and mint and…maybe some kind of pine? Balsam? Spruce? To be safe, she silently listed all known conifers.
Turns out Malfoy was reaching for the Brazil nuts and popped one in his mouth. To cover up her awkwardness, she started in “So that’s why he--” and he said, “He might be a while--” both at the same time.
“Yes. That, and probably a few other reasons are why he feels the need to come up with special charms. Just for me.” Malfoy was unreadable as he studied her.
“I’m still picturing Theo stark naked amongst a thorny cluster of grape vines.” She looked at him and then all the pent up laughter she’d been holding back came bubbling forth, finding him laughing with her, but softer. “Those poor elves...That poor gardner!” She couldn’t stop giggling now. At the absurdity of the two wizard’s friendly rivalry hijinks, at the oddity of speaking with him and it not being so bad, and at the painfulness of sharing a moment with him that felt normal.
A little like old friends.
But we were more than that and also…not even close.
The thought sobered her.
Malfoy caught on to her mood change and said, “Look about earlier, Granger.”
“Yes?”
“I was. Rude.”
“Malfoy! Isn’t that your M.O.?” It came out with a scoff and harsher than she anticipated, but she stood by her delivery. Obviously.
“No- I mean. Well, I was. Preoccupied.”
“So your rudeness has excuses?”
“Salazar, witch! Can you give me a minute?” He looked at her with, not a pleading expression, but one of resolution, determination. But also a miniscule amount of contrition in his voice? So she granted him his request.
He went on, “I have been dealing with…an issue. Lately. A family matter. It has made me quite preoccupied. I’m afraid I’m not quite myself. And somewhat rude. Even to my friends. Not that you and I are …could ever be--”
She interrupted his painful attempt at an apology. “So your rudeness is now because of a…family matter?”
“That’s not…exactly…what I’m endeavoring to say.” Malfoy ran a hand through his platinum locks, tugging a little. “Granger, I know that we have had history.”
Unwillingly, she let out a humorless guffaw. If he only knew!
“Yes. I was terrible to you in school. Worse even. I also know that despite the cunty twat I was to you and Boy Wonder, you still stood for me at my trial. I know you were part of the reason I had such a short sentence at Azkaban.” He took a deep breath. “And I thank you for that. Truly.”
He took a deep breath then went on. “But you have no idea what I’ve been through the past few years. The sacrifices I’ve made to be able to--”
Another single, grim laugh escaped her lips without her express permission, “Sacrifice? Sacrifice, Malfoy? What could you possibly know about the word?!”
He looked at her darkly, voice frigid, “I know plenty.”
Whiplash. That is what this conversation was. She thought they were on their way to whatever version of a truce they could muster, her knowing everything he was capable of- the good and the ugly.
Then she was instantly triggered by that word. Sacrifice. She hated that word. Not so much the word itself, but hearing it leave someone else’s mouth usually set her off. Yes, sacrifices were a part of everyone’s life. Selfless acts made the world go round, and all that. But she had sacrificed more than most. All the time- in her marriage, with her family, with her future, with her spending, so many sacrifices! She wasn’t asking for a reward- just some justice that her own set not be listed as synonymous with whatever paltry sacrifices someone else wanted to justify.
And to hear it leave his mouth? This posh prat who got what he wanted, whenever he wanted it- even her once upon a time, only to throw it all away! Yes, he spent six months in Azkaban. Six Months! Then he traveled the world for years, doing Merlin knows what. He wouldn’t know “sacrifice” if it bit him on the ass!
Then, lightning fast, she remembered his father, who, to this Malfoy, was still serving a decade-long sentence. His mother too, who didn’t return much to Wizarding London. And she could relate to what it was to lose a parent.
Her initial rage gave way to empathy. She also remembered all that he did during the war to try and save both his parents from harm, and she felt like a right fool.
Her decisions, her choices, her sacrifices- those were her responsibility to bear. Comparison was a constant struggle, made her quick to pass judgement. But she could also logic her way through. And she knew how to apologize. “Sorry. You may know a thing or two, I guess.”
His brow was furrowed. He seemed to be working out what to say next. His face cleared, “This got away from me. All I wanted to say was that I’m aware of how I…come across. I’ll do better.”
That was not what she expected. She just looked at him, dumbstruck. “Thanks?”
“I’m going to walk away now, while things are…neutral. But I’ll try to be more…cordial. Especially now that Theo has chosen you as his Friend of the Week. Should be seeing more of each other from here on out.” He nodded to her and looked at her a bit too long for her comfort before walking away.
Watching him go, she noticed Helga watching her. Hermione quickly schooled her face into something more neutral and attempted a smile and a weak wave. The Harpies coach smiled back, warm, not vindictive, jealous, or catty like Hermione expected, making her feel much worse about the resentful stirrings in her gut towards the witch.
Ginny approached then, looking down at the table, “Wow! Who brought all the food?!”
Could he not? Here? Now?
The ropes were… distracting to say the least.
Hermione was trying to concentrate on the story Ginny was telling Theo and Harry. Something about a hilarious flying stunt from practice, blah, blah, quidditch story. To be fair, Hermione wouldn’t be that into this story even if Malfoy wasn’t doing what he was doing.
But he was.
And it was mesmerizing.
He was transfiguring ropes from cheese twine, absently winding them through his fingers, his wrists, his forearms, unwinding, reducing it back to twine only to start all over again. A fun party trick? Don’t need an icebreaker when you know your ropes? She gave herself an internal eyeroll.
Maybe it was his go-to fidgeting activity? Even distracted, drink in one hand, the other mindlessly fiddling with the evolving twine- he was the picture of relaxed and collected. Party-favorite Malfoy.
She couldn’t stop looking at the ropes and the deft hands (and forearms) that wove them in and out, in and out, around, and all over again. And again.
This brought back certain…memories as she remembered those hands. Doing many different things.
She needed to get out of here!
Now, only one room away, Malfoy was demonstrating to Helga, Ilona, and Goyle, how he could bind Blaise’s arms and torso, showing off different ties. Blaise willingly obliged as a happy participant.
Molfoy silently transfigured the twine into the correct length of rope, tied up his volunteer, and stated the type of knot he was demonstrating. So nonchalant, so confident. So…frustratingly self-assured.
“Nodome”
“These are Ladder Ties”
“Your basic Fishermans- not as elegant.”
And so on…
At one point she saw him talking to the group with his back to Blaise, then she noticed when Blaise realized that his wrists had been bound without him even knowing. She saw his eyes go wide along with everyone else's. Malfoy’s eyes twinkled mischievously as the group oohed and awed. She knew that awe quite well herself. Their eyes caught and she realized she’d been caught staring, mouth open and most likely looking like someone lost in a not-suitable-for-public memory.
Ginny’s eyes widened like saucers for a good few seconds before she gathered herself as she, too, finally noticed Malfoy showing off his party trick. She turned to Harry and Theo, “Excuse us for a moment?” Then she pulled Hermione off to the sitting parlor in the front, currently sans occupants.
“Oh my god. I mean I believed you, but…Wow!” Ginny fanned her face.
“I know.” Hermione and Ginny shared a what-in-the-world giggle or two. “Thanks for the rescue, Gin.”
“I might need to cool off a bit myself.” She looked back two rooms over and said, “Or maybe I should see if he’ll give Harry some lessons in…knots?” She laughed again, then noticed Hermione wasn’t doing great. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Hermione’s face crumpled. “No…”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know, Gin. Everything here just feels… bad. Awful. Overwhelming.”
Ginny thought for a while, considering, empathizing. “Okay. Tell me how it’s different.”
“It isn’t so much that here is different. I’m different.”
Ginny knew Hermione enough to be silent now and let her process.
“Most days- in my real life, in 2013- I am at least…in control. Maybe. But here I feel…perpetually out of sorts. And every time I try to get back in the driver's seat, I’m thrown from the bloody car!”
“I see.” Ginny grabbed Hermione’s hand. “What is it that you feel in control of, exactly? What makes you feel more comfortable in your time? Aside from it being where you should be and all that.”
“Well, there’s my work. I work a lot and Ron is always going on about how I should cut back and relax more often, but it’s fulfilling! Working in both jobs is not only my life's dream, but like two dreams in one. And to be quite blunt, I’m fucking good at it. I love the pace and the challenges…but…I’m not used to time away from my work. I don’t think I’ve had this much time off from either job in years. It’s making me feel restless.”
“Alright. There’s that then. Definitely no work here, nothing for you to have jurisdiction over…Other than figuring out exactly why you are here in the first place. Much less satisfying probably…”
“Yes. And. Well, there’s Ron. I know he’s sort of the elephant in the room. It's tenuous at times, but we have reached an equilibrium…a system. I know exactly what to say when…I know when to avoid--” She thought for a moment and then the next words tumbled forth in a sigh. “I guess you could say I manage him.”
“Is he your third job?”
“What?! NO!” Hermione halted. Was he? Nevermind that now. “And you! And Harry. You both are much better at leaving me be! Older Ginny is far less meddlesome!”
“I feel sorry for the bird. She’s missing out.”
Hermione felt it was a great time to grab the blue chenille throw pillow from the settee they were sharing and screamed into it. With that out of the way she went on, “Ginny, I’m serious. I love you, but Old You is better at staying out of my business. And I know I’m here- in your home- messing up your life and living with you and I’m bringing all my junk into your home and into your business and-- Oh gods!” Hermione stopped and gaped. Then her next words tumbled forth in a rush, “Ginny!! I haven’t even asked you how you were feeling all week? I’ve been a selfish cow! How are you doing? How are you feeling? I’ve been so self-absorbed since I showed up on your doorstep. I’m a terrible friend! Yet another thing out of sorts- HERE I’M SELFISH!”
You came here tonight to be selfish…
Shaking her head, ridding it of that husky, deep voice, she looked to the ceiling for answers.
“I’m fine, Hermioine. Strangely, knowing quite early about the pregnancy, and also confirming my condition-- it’s sort of a relief in a way? And because of you - with proof that we make it to the end mostly fine- well, I don’t have to worry about that either. So I’m actually doing better with the whole thing because you are here.” Ginny squeezed a hand and smiled. “A mother’s biggest threat is always the unknown. With you, the mystery of the next nine months is well defeated.”
“Oh.” Hermione couldn’t offer anything more at the moment for risk of getting too emotional. They sat in silence for a while.
“Do you have more?” Ginny asked
“More what?”
“More things that make you feel out of control here?”
“Well, there’s him.” She nodded her head toward the other room.
“And how- exactly- does he make you feel out of control?”
“Oh, Ginny…” Hermione shut her eyes, forcing the filled reservoir of unshed tears to fall. Eyes still screwed shut, she went on, “Would you think me so terrible if I said I think I still, maybe, have feelings for him?” Now was a great time for another chenille pillow groan so she partook.
Ginny waited until she was finished and they were once again facing each other- each with opened, seeing eyes. Then Ginny gave her signature smirk and said, “About damn time.”
“But I can’t!”
“Why?” Ginny’s voice hardened a little.
“It was awful,” she whispered in reply. “I think the mountain-top high made the low so much deeper. A chasm. I never want to feel like that again. In fact, I’ve curated my life so that I don’t. Fucking. Have to.” Hermione felt the injustice of her being here deep in her bones.
“I want to be Team We-Hate-Him here, ‘Mione, but with all that I’ve seen...both tonight and in your memories…Well, I can’t figure out why I would?”
Straightening from her hunched, chenille pillow clutching position, Hermione made a decision. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“I’ll show you the end. It’s time I faced it all again anyways. And you probably need to know everything if we’re gonna figure out how to get me back. If it is tied to this Madame Zelinsky nonsense.”
“You mean you’ll… show me?”
Hermione nodded her head. Time to head back to one of her worst memories. “Do you think we can get out of here for a while?”
Notes:
Chapter title is from Weezer’s “Undone” from their self-titled album (1994)
Hey, what's up?
Not much
Um, did you hear about the party?
Yeah
I think I'm gonna go, but um
My friends don't really wanna go, could I get a ride?If you want to destroy my sweater (whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa)
Hold this thread as I walk away (as I walk away)
Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked
Lying on the floor, lying on the floor, I've come undoneCW/TW- Mantras, Formulas, and Redirections- Obviously none of these things are inherently bad on their own nor on occasion, but they can be ever-present when one is in a harmful group, cult, or even a subtly abusive relationship. They can also be useful self-indoctrination tactics to combat cognitive dissonance if one wants to stay in said abusive situation. Survival and coping. Just a mindfulness note as these are all discussed in this chapter and progress as we go forward in the story.
Ilona (quidditch beater for HH) is named after a favorite olympian, Ms. Maher.
And if you want to connect, I’m over on IG @cmpumpkinwrites
Chapter 12: poison in everything you said
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
twelve: poison in everything you said
DARKNESS ABOUNDS:
Fading in slowly, a soft glow of mid-morning light streams through Malfoy’s large, industrial windows.
INT. MALFOY’S FLAT, BEDROOM- NOVEMBER 17, 2006
Remnants of breakfast in bed litter the nightstands. Hermione and Malfoy are sitting up on the bed, amidst a pinstripe down comforter and rumpled white sheets. He leans against the headboard, tea mug in hand, as she is sitting further down the bed, facing him, turned towards the headboard at an angle.
HERMIONE (holds a corner of the top sheet in both hands): I’ve been dying to know. What’s the thread-count?
MALFOY (fondly): What are you on about?
HERMIONE (narrows her eyes): 800? 1000? How bougie are your sheets?
MALFOY: I don’t keep track of such things. All I know is they are sea island sateen. Alis replaces them every couple of years. I can call her here to answer if you like. Al--
She moves to place her hand over his mouth. He catches her wrist, enjoying riling her up, eyes smiling.
HERMIONE: No! Don’t you dare bother her for that! It’s not important. Just so unbelievably you. (She pauses as he has just kissed the inside of the wrist he had grabbed, her eyes close briefly.) Of course you don’t even know the thread-count of your cloud-like bedding that gave me perhaps the best sleep of my life! Meanwhile, I am destined to a life of playing the game of trying to find the highest thread count I can afford on sale!
She playfully swats him with a decorative pillow, dislodging a few feathers when it contacts Malfoy’s chest. Something crosses his face that looks a bit like disappointment. He is quiet for a while and takes a few sips of coffee.
MALFOY: I can buy you sheets, Granger.
HERMIONE (blushes from embarrassment): No, no. I wasn’t fishing for a supplier! Just curious.
They sit in silence for a few more moments, Malfoy’s hand circles her calf, caressing it with his thumb. She starts to sort her dishes to clear everything away when he interrupts her.
MALFOY: Let me take you out. Dinner tonight.
HERMIONE (going still, softly): Like a date?
MALFOY: Of course not Granger.
HERMIONE (quirks her mouth at the call-back line): Still don’t want to date me then?
MALFOY: No. I don’t.
Hermione’s face falls, but he quickly adds:
MALFOY: For real this time. No disillusionments, no clandestine rendezvous- the real you out with the real me. In public.
HERMIONE: We’ve been out in public before.
MALFOY: Yes- muggle establishments where the likelihood of us being seen by those who know us are slim.
HERMIONE (anger rising a little): You just said you did not want to date me? Which is it?
MALFOY (looks at her like she is adorable): I don’t want to just date you, Granger. I believe we’re past all of that. And though I’m partial to the things we’ve been doing here the past month or two, I would like to be…more…with you.
HERMIONE (anger now replaced with hopeful incredulity): What? Am I to be your girlfriend then?
MALFOY (resolute): Why not?
HERMIONE: Well you didn’t ask m---
The conversation is interrupted by a silvery white horse galloping right up to Hermione’s side of the bed.
HORSE/GINNY: Hermione! Oh fuck…okay. Hi. I cannot get a hold of Mum, Harry was called off paternity leave for some auror special project bullshit. Padma is on a double shift. Please, can you help me?! Albie hasn’t slept and I cannot get him to latch. Andwouldyoulookatthat- ‘Mione, there is literal shit on my foot that I keep forgetting to clean off. You know I would never ask…I just need someone to help with James. It’s okay sweetheart. Mommy’s okay- she’s calling Auntie Mione for help… (The horse takes a long pause and seems to be finished, but speaks again with a watery voice) Even if you just have an hour or two, please come.
Malfoy looks at Hermione and nods.
HERMIONE: Looks like I need to go.
MALFOY (pouts a bit): Seems that way.
HERMIONE: Unless…
MALFOY: Unless what?
HERMIONE: Do you want to come with me?
MALFOY (face neutral now): Talk about going public…although I don’t know Red to be a gossip. Are you sure?
HERMIONE (unsure): I can also go alone to help and come back when--
MALFOY (interrupts): No, no. I’ll come along.
DARKNESS CONSUMES, THE SCENE FADES INTO ANOTHER:
EXT./INT. TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE ENTRY HALL- NOVEMBER 17, 2006, noon
Ginny, disheveled and holding a two-week-old infant, opens the door to Hermione, visibly relieved that she is here. Her eyes go wide when she notices Malfoy as well. She stares at him in mild shock.
MALFOY (nodding): Mother Red…
GINNY (whispers in shock): Malfasaurus…
HERMIONE (elbowing Malfoy in the ribs): Hope it’s okay I brought a…friend? (quickly adding for Ginny’s comfort) We were together when your patronus came. I knew he could get past the wards so…
GINNY (light-bulb going off in her head, remembering Malfoy is a Black and his face permanently dwells on wallpaper in a room in this home, but still clearly confused): Riiight.
MALFOY (putting his arm at the small of Hermione’s back): Sorry, Ginevra. Here to help.
GINNY (her wits more about her, screwing up her face): Ew. Malf-adapted! Never my given name from your lips. (shoulders shuddering, then opens the door wider and directs the next statement to Hermione) Thank you. Please, come in. (smiling slightly, gives Malfoy a nod inside)
They are greeted by James running up to hug Hermione’s leg.
JAMES: Auntie Mye-neeeeee! You heyah!!!!!
HERMIONE: Hello sweet boy! I am! What shall we do first?
GINNY (to Hermione): I haven’t even given him lunch yet. If you could make sure he eats and then read him a story or two before his afternoon nap? That would be utterly amazing. And will give me a good span of time to clean up. A midwife from St. Mungo’s is coming by in a bit to help with the feeding issue. I know I said it- but truly, thank you both for coming. (Says ‘both’ dubiously while nodding to Malfoy, a confused twinkle in her eye)
HERMIONE (to James): Who is ready for some jam sandwiches and crisps?!
JAMES (raises both arms in the air): Meeeeeee! (a thought hits him in strong force and his excitement is brief, switches to worry as he pulls Hermione’s pant leg so she comes down to his level) But not Aw-bie. He cwies too much and I don yike him yet. Dah say its okyay to not know if I yike him. I’m still decidin on him. (points to the baby in Ginny’s arms)
GINNY: No Albie stays with mama, James. Just you and Auntie Mione for lunch and story time! And maybe she can get her ‘Special Friend’ to tell you a story too?
JAMES (notices Malfoy who has been standing a ways off): Who ah you?
MALFOY (kneels low and goes to shake James’ hand): Draco Lucius Malfoy. (James cautiously reaches out and takes his hand, Malfoy moves both their hands up and down twice.) Your mother and father and I were in school together.
JAMES: I’m James. I’m dis many (holds up thumb, pointer, and ring fingers).
MALFOY (huffs a small laugh): Pleased to meet you. (Standing, then to Ginny) Look at that, Red. Somehow you and Potter managed to create an adorable spawn.
GINNY (uses her free hand to backhand Malfoy in the gut): Of course we did! Also, could you go and see if we have any jam. I think we may be out.
Malfoy heads to the kitchen to check. James wobbly runs along behind him. Malfoy notices and looks back to Ginny as if to ask for silent permission, with a ‘this ok?' look. Ginny nods encouragingly, stifling a giggle.
GINNY (whispering conspiratorially to Hermione when Malfoy is out of earshot): How did I not see this coming?!! Fucking Malfoy!?! (gently swats Hermione on the arm in shock)
HERMIONE (cringes a little): Please don’t judge me, Ginny.
GINNY (studies Hermione, nose wrinkling a little): How long has he been your friend ?
HERMIONE: Well, we got to know each other a bit in Paris, back in July when you and James had to quarantine.
GINNY (shocked): What!!? That was months ago!
HERMIONE: Well, I didn’t want to say anything precisely because of this reaction!
GINNY (brow furrowing): No, no. I’m not--- Well, it’s just that--
They are interrupted by a commotion coming from the direction of the kitchen. Sounds of Malfoy speaking frantically in French, James’ giggles, and someone else murmuring, along with shuffling boxes are heard.
Hermione and Ginny make a path through the home towards the back where the kitchen is. When they get there, they see Malfoy looking worried, James sitting at the table giggling more, a house elf in a mid-century-mod-style periwinkle dress blinking in and out, with new packages of food each time.
GINNY: What is going on?
MALFOY (looking guardedly towards both Hermione and Ginny): You were out of jam. I called Alis to bring some over from the manor. She looked in your, well…It appears she has decided to…restock your entire pantry. (directs next statement more sternly toward Alis, who is still going about re-sorting and putting away all the boxes of food she has popped over) I told her she was overstepping, but--
GINNY (happily): No, no- Malfoy, please don’t. Our cupboard has gotten quite bare. Mum was planning on sending over some things later this evening but I haven’t been able to reach her. I’ll let her know there is no need. (to Alis) Thank you. Truly. You are saving my week and I’m quite grateful. (wipes a tear from the corner of her eye) Ugh. Hormones!
Hermione and Malfoy share a concerned look.
ALIS (polite and unsure): Madame Potter, Alis has not helped with the babies in quite some time. (directs next statement towards Malfoy bitterly) Maybe not even the babies ever again! (again to Ginny, kinder) Alis loves babies and knows much and is good at it. If it pleases Madame Potter, Alis helps her today?
GINNY: Oh gods, yes. (looks to Malfoy) Is that…alright…with you?
Alis returns to her cleaning and re-stocking projects, runs a hot, soapy sink, lays out some snacks for James.
MALFOY: I don’t govern this elf. She does whatever the he-- (looks to James) -- She does whatever she pleases, whenever she pleases. Most of this is from her own reserve, either way- you are welcome to whatever she brings over from the manor as well. And if you don’t mind an opinionated but capable assistant, I’m sure she would love to lend a hand.
Alis gives Malfoy a ‘don't mess this up for me’ look, then looks back at Ginny with a sweet smile.
GINNY (to Hermione): Merlin, am I glad you brought your ‘friend’ over with you. (Hermione laughs, Ginny tearily smiles)
JAMES (mouth full of cheese and crackers, already laid out by Alis): I yike White Hair Mans friend! Her gots yummy food.
DARKNESS BLINKS, GIVING WAY TO A NEW SCENE:
INT. UPSTAIRS BEDROOM WING OF GRIMMAULD- NOVEMBER 17, 2006, 2:37 pm/ 14:37
Hermione walks out of one room and down the hall. She pauses in the open door of the primary suite. Ginny, looking much more refreshed, is in a rocking chair with Albus, who is much more settled having just finished nursing. She is burping him as Hermione leans on the door frame.
HERMIONE: Gin, where is that Sky Stories contraption? James is asking about it.
GINNY: ‘White Hair Mans’ stories not quite cutting it?
HERMIONE (good-naturedly rolls her eyes): Can you believe he told James the story of the time I punched him in third?
GINNY (stifles a laugh as to not wake a sleeping Albus): Savage! James will never look at Auntie ‘Mione the same way again. (looks up and to the left) Sky Stories…Oh, that’s right- George took it for some kind of investor meeting.
MALFOY (from down the hallway): I may know a little about that. (He walks into view of both Hermione and Ginny.) Blaise is the one gathering a group of investors. He is very excited about it all. (to Ginny) James is asleep. Charmed some paper dragons to fly around and keep him entertained, and he was out shortly after.
GINNY (grinning): Well what do you know, Malformed! Stories of violence and paper dragons. I should have you over more often!
Malfoy gives Hermione gentle rebuking side-eye, a slight lift on one side of his mouth. He doesn’t take his eyes off Hermione but his next statement is meant for Ginny.
MALFOY: Red, you alright here- just you and Alis for a while? Hermione and I were about to head out on a date (raises a challenging eyebrow, eyes still on Hermione). Le goûter at Buttercups, a stroll through a bookstore or two, then dinner at that new French bistro in Diagon.
HERMIONE (raises an eyebrow of her own): Was that a question? Am I to be consulted about my evening plans or am I just supposed to do as you say?
MALFOY (quietly to Hermione): The latter can also be arranged if you--
GINNY (interrupts as she has clearly heard him): Godrick on a cracker will you two get out of here?! Good gods, just looking at you both is going to get me pregnant again and clearly, I cannot handle a third at the moment. Leave! Go! I’m fine. Go about your plans…whatever you freaks get up to.
Hermione looks to Ginny pleading her to stop, but Ginny just throws her signature smirk back towards both of them and waves them off, calling for Alis to come and see if she can find where she put the clean nappies. Ginny gives one more mouthed “Go, I’m fine” and then...
EVERYTHING FADES TO BLACK
FADING IN
INT. BUTTERCUP’S BAKERY- NOVEMBER 17, 2006, 3:11 pm/ 15:11
Malfoy and Hermione are enjoying a pastry and an afternoon tea at a round wooden table tucked in the back of the bakery. A couple of customers file in and notice them, but mostly do not pay them much mind. Malfoy gets up to go towards the front, heading out of sight around the corner to Colette’s cashier area. Hermione is slowly eating her frangipane pastry, licks a crumb from her thumb, wistful, happy, smiling to herself.
A new customer comes in from the back door, near her table.
DISEMBODIED VOICE: Hermione!
Hermione freezes. Not quite placing nor believing who the voice belongs to, her body rigid.
RON (now standing in front of her): ‘Mione!
Hermione is still frozen and doesn’t know what to do. She sits there staring at him for a few moments. He looks scraggled, bearded, shaggy-haired. She finally gets up and he leans in for an awkward hug, stopping on his way in for the embrace, eventually going for the hug despite the fact that Hermione doesn’t look like she wants one.
HERMIONE (voice dry): Hello. Ron. (she finally relents and reaches one of her arms around to pat him on the back stiffly, hoping he will get the message that the hug is over)
Then Malfoy is there. His face is blank. No expression. He pauses once when he realizes who Hermione is hugging, then he speedily walks to their table and he retakes his seat. Hermione releases herself from the hug with Ron and sits back down across from Malfoy, her face pale.
RON (confused): Malfoy? What are you doing?
Neither Malfoy nor Hermione say anything for a while. Ron looks back and forth between the two of them several times before he pieces together that they are sitting at the same table on purpose. His face starts off as confused, then worried, then dumbfounded, then back to worried, then intense anger that quickly is shuttered off by a blank, impassive expression.
HERMIONE (robotic): Malfoy and I are…friends…now.
MALFOY (letting out a single huff, then smiling with absolutely zero humor): Is that what we’re calling it? (He doesn’t look at Ron, only Hermione, searing a hole through her with his gaze.)
HERMIONE (face still pale with shock and she looks back and forth between them, finally to Malfoy): Will you please give us a minute?
Malfoy’s expression clears, fake smile falls. He gives her a hard stare and nods once. Hermione gets up from the table and motions for Ron to follow her outside to the courtyard outside the rear of the bakery. Ron looks bewildered, but follows her outside.
EXT. COURTYARD GARDENS
RON: Sorry, ‘Mione. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, but I was looking for you.
HERMIONE: What? Why?
RON (grabs the back of his neck with both hands, nervous): I’ve been doing a lot of thinking…
HERMIONE (cuts him off, raising a hand, the sign for ‘stop’): Ron! Please…
RON: You were right.
Caught off guard, Hermione lowers her hand and he takes that as a signal to go on.
RON: About everything. I wasn’t a good boyfriend before. Hell, I don’t think I would have been a good enough boyfriend to anybody…Much less you! But I’ve spent a lot of time growing, and learning, and thinking. I want to make it right.
HERMIONE (overwhelmed): Make what…right?
RON: I needed direction, and a more of a plan. I’ve been working with George these past few weeks to help him with a new business venture. I think we can really make a go of it, and I have been saving up and… Well, I have a plan now. I finally feel like I have a direction to go in. And I know that all this time that I’ve been floating and flapping about, well you have been the one to suffer. You were the one to ground us both. And I’m so sorry for that ‘Mione. I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you. I’m sorry for the time I’ve wasted. And I’m sorry that you felt like we had to be apart. Because we did. You were right. But I don’t think we still have to be.
Hermione is just staring at him, jaw hanging open. One, because she hasn’t heard him apologize often and so multiple apologies in one sitting are a complete rarity. A ‘you were right’ is almost non-existent. Two, because she hasn’t seen him in months and their first encounter is him laying it all out there- like this! And three, because she was so excited to be out and about with Malfoy that she never even pictured nor considered what Ron would think or how he’d feel about it. And now that is all she can think about. Because for the longest time, this was her friend.
She can’t even begin to process all he has lain on the table.
RON: Alright. Look. I know I’ve shown up and unloaded a massive bomb that you probably weren’t expecting. I know you probably need some time to think. But I just wanted to see you. And say my peace. I’m sorry, Hermione. For all of it. I know you may not believe me, but I can show you. Whenever you’re ready.
HERMIONE (not able to process and slow to figure out what to say): I…I…I need to get back inside.
RON (something dawning in his expression): Oh yeah, right. Malfoy, huh? How did you two become chums?
Hermione, despite herself, laughs loudly at this- at the absurdity that he cannot even fathom that she is here on a date with Malfoy. She doesn’t know how to say goodbye, so she pats him on the shoulder a couple of times and heads back inside. Once she is in the bakery, she turns to make sure he is walking away. He waves and continues through the opposite side of the courtyard.
She turns to the table she had shared with Malfoy earlier.
He is gone.
FOREBODING DARKNESS ENSUES
FADE INTO:
INT. TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE- NOVEMBER 17, 2006, 4:02 pm/ 16:02
Ginny and Hermione are walking down the hall towards the parlor off the primary bedroom, passing a sleeping Albus in a bassinet on their way. Ginny quietly shuts the door off the parlor and casts a quick muffliato. She gestures for Hermione, who is in tears, to sit down on the settee.
GINNY: What happened? You were just here batting eyelashes at each other?
HERMIONE (crying openly, hurting): Ron showed up.
GINNY (gasps): No!
HERMIONE: Yes. And then Malfoy just…left.
GINNY (indignant): He left you! With Ron? Did he say anything?
HERMIONE: No. He just left. And I came here… (her face squeezes) What does this mean, Gin? Why would he do this?
GINNY (thinks for a while): I truly have no idea…What were things like before he left?
HERMIONE: I don’t know. It all happened so fast! Ron showed up, and he was surprised to see us together, sure, but I told him Malfoy and I were friends now. Then I took Ron out to the courtyard to try and get rid of him. He apologized several times and said I ‘was right’ a few times… Oh fucking gods … I think he wants to get back together, Ginny! I didn’t even have a chance for that to sink in earlier! (brings her hands to her face) What a mess!!
GINNY (grimly): Indeed.
Alis pops in then with a pink bakery box in her hand. It has a piece of parchment on top with a fancy wax seal.
ALIS (wide-eyed and downcast): Monsieur Malfoy was to give it to you earlier. Says to tell you he is sorry he left you. He expresses more words in this note. (hands Hermione the box and points to the note on top)
HERMIONE: Thank you, Alis.
Hermione opens the box and notices the baker's dozen palmiers- they are the kind that magically turn into cinnamon buns halfway through eating them. They always make her think of her father and she cries harder. She then tears open the note that reads:
“Granger,
I apologize as I was called away earlier and I left you without a goodbye. That was bad form; although, I did not want to interrupt. If you are having doubts, I don’t want to sway you either way. But know that I care for you, Granger. And that care extends to wanting you to be happy above all else. Take your time. I will accept any outcome you shall choose.
I was getting these for you earlier. You should still have them, whatever you decide.
-DLM"
Hermione hands the note over to Ginny, who reads it quickly and lets out an incredulous laugh. Ginny stares at both Hermione and Alis in disbelief.
GINNY: Does this git think you have a choice to make? From one bloody conversation?!
HERMIONE (thinks for a long time, several emotions pass over her face, and finally says, defeated): Maybe I jumped into this Malfoy thing too quickly. If our first time out in public as a couple was this tumultuous…perhaps it wasn’t meant to be…
Alis looks as though she is going to say something to refute that statement, but then stops herself, popping out of sight.
FADING IN AND OUT:
A CAROUSEL OF SCENES WITH HERMIONE AND GINNY
INT. TWELVE GRIMMAULD PLACE LIVING ROOM- NOVEMBER 19, evening
The two women are playing on the floor with James and some toys by the fire.
GINNY: Have you talked to him yet?
HERMIONE: No, not yet.
GINNY: Heard from Ron?
HERMIONE (eyes widening, brow furrowing): No. I cannot begin to deal with that right now…
EXT. MAGICAL SIDE OF LONDON ITALIAN GARDENS- NOVEMBER 24, mid-day
The two women are slowly strolling through the gardens, Ginny pushing Albus in the pram, James holding Hermione’s hand.
GINNY: Maybe you should just go over there and sort things out. This is starting to feel like more of a misunderstanding.
HERMIONE: Ginny, he left me and then lied about it. I know he says it was because he didn't want to ‘pressure me’ or ‘sway me’… but he still lied!
GINNY (head tilting back and forth, considering): I know, I know. But still…
HERMIONE (simmering): It was selfish, Gin. And isn’t that how he’s always been? What if that is just who he is deep down. Someone who wants what he wants when he wants it, and he hurts others when he doesn’t get his way.
JAMES (tugging on Hermione’s leg): Auntie Mye-nee, I wanna go to the big owange fishies!
HERMIONE (mustering up a smile): Alright….
INT. GRIMMAULD PLACE PARLOR- NOVEMBER 29, evening
The two women are sitting on two armchairs, turned towards each other. Tea mugs in hand.
GINNY (cautiously): Heard anything from Malfoy this week?
HERMIONE: No. He’s been pretty quiet. I’ve only spoken to him once since that day at the bakery. I wish I had more work, but I don’t even have that to keep me busy. I’m just trying to sort it all out, and the more I try, the more confused I become.
GINNY: How’s work going, by the way?
HERMIONE: Not a whole lot to do so far at Oxford. My Associate Professor duties really don’t begin until next semester. I’m just coordinating curricula and lab schedules right now...and trying to not burst into tears in front of any of my new colleagues.
GINNY: What about the Ministry stuff?
HERMIONE: Fine. I’m in-between projects at the moment. (something crosses her face) Hey what is the update with George and Wizards Wheezes?
GINNY: Not sure. It seems to have stalled out at the moment. George thinks Blaise is being a bit cagey. Harry assured him that these things do take a bit of back and forth to get settled.
HERMIONE: Hmmmm…
GINNY: You know who would know, though…
HERMIONE (flatly): I’m not going over there for a business update. If I did go it would be to discuss why he went all cold when things were so…different before… (she becomes lost in thought as Ginny studies her)
FADE TO BLACK.
It is raining. Hermione, a charmed umbrella over her head and running up to a door, stalls for a moment then knocks.
EXT./INT. MALFOY’S FLAT, LONDON- November 30, late evening
Malfoy opens the door to Hermione and looks incredibly relieved- for the very briefest of a second- then his look goes blank.
HERMIONE (nervous): I hope it was alright to stop by unannounced.
MALFOY (opens the door wider): Come in. (He goes to help her with her coat and levitates the umbrella to the corner by the door, spelling the water away.)
HERMIONE (getting situated, adjusts herself, checking to be sure her hair is dry): Thanks.
MALFOY: How have you been?
HERMIONE (disbelief crosses her face): Pretty miserable actually!
MALFOY (ruefully): I can identify with that sentiment.
HERMIONE: Then what are we doing?! What are you doing? Why have you been so…distant?
MALFOY: A necessary precaution.
HERMIONE: For what, Malfoy?
MALFOY: Why are you here Granger?
HERMIONE: I’m here because you turned on a dime and I’m tired of trying to figure out your motivations. I’m tired of trying to figure out why you went from marching around with your pompous ‘Malfoy saves the day’ attitude and all your…feeding me and helping me and all the (She aims an arm to the room where he keeps his equipment, where they first slept together, and she waves the arm in a circle.) And then…AND THEN! You go and act like you want more… You made me want more…
He looks at her mouth while she speaks, not in want but in mourning, as if he was saying goodbye to an old friend. Picking up on her last line, he looks her in the eye fully.
MALFOY (cautiously): You do? Want more. With me?
HERMIONE: I did. I thought I did. But I’m not so sure anymore.
His cautious openness shuts off. Her lip quivers, but she searches his face for a sign of something deeper. They look at each other in a stand still, neither willing to give ground. Hermione breaks first.
HERMIONE: Why did you shut me out?
MALFOY: I didn’t.
HERMIONE: What do you call the last two weeks then?
MALFOY: Giving you space. Freedom. Something I was told you didn’t receive from your previous…partner.
HERMIONE: You don’t know anything about my relationship with Ron. And while we’re at it…How…presumptuous! You think you know what is best for me? You think that just because you are (she waves her hand now in his general direction) good with the orgasms that you know what I need without even asking? You could have asked ME what I WANTED, Malfoy.
MALFOY: You’re right. I did not ask.
HERMIONE: You left me alone not even an hour into our first official date. You left me.
MALFOY: Herm—(clears his throat) I’m truly sorry for how that affected you. Although if I could go back and do it again differently, truthfully, I’m not sure I would. I'd still leave if given ten more chances. You clearly had something to work out, and you were clear. I was just a ‘friend’. (His stoic demeanor is giving way to rising anger now.) My stakes are clearly higher than yours. I had to leave lest I’d done something I’d regret.
HERMIONE (acrid smile through tears, words soft): And there it is.
MALFOY: What.
HERMIONE: You would leave me to save your own skin. You are the most important after all, right? You parade around pretending to care more about me- my hopes, my dreams, what would make me happy- but at the end of the day, you care more about yourself than anyone else.
MALFOY: Seems you have it sorted. You know my motivations then.
HERMIONE (no longer looking at him, closing her eyes and head tilted towards the ceiling): I was a fool…
A song that sounds like pixelated elevator music comes from Hermione’s coat pocket. She walks over and pulls a pink Motorola Razr phone from her coat. She flips it open, silently reads a message*, then closes her eyes letting out a long sigh. She then puts the phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She begins to go through the motions of putting her coat back on, her back to him when she stops. She turns about abruptly and coldly asks him a question.
HERMIONE: What happened with Blaise’s investment scheme? Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?
MALFOY (takes a few measured breaths to calm himself, then evenly): Turned out to be untenable.
HERMIONE: Did that have anything to do with your influence?
MALFOY: I advised him on it. Yes.
HERMIONE (the final nail on the coffin dropping, her voice hardened stone): Wasn’t enough to hurt just me then. You had to punish a few more people as well?
MALFOY (monotone): As the muggle saying goes…’if the shoe fits’.
He looks to her then. For just a moment his face is open, eyes blue-gray with all the kaleidoscope of greens, golds, and silvers. He looks the picture of anguish. Then almost as if he had never borne that expression, his face hardens, walls go up, eyes dull gray and expressionless.
She searches his face, wondering if she imagined his previous look of sadness. Then she grabs her umbrella and turns to leave…
BLEAK, ALL-ENCOMPASSING NOTHING
Raising their heads at the same time from the pensieve bowl, Hermione immediately looked to Ginny to gauge her reaction. But before she could ask a question, a wave of sadness, doubt, and grief brought her under as she released all the pent up emotions she’d stored up all evening. All week. Hell, all of the past few years.
Ginny sat, uneasy, as she cradled Hermione’s head in her lap and brushed away hair, keeping it from the path of tears.
*The Text:
RON:
'WWW Franchise Deal’s off. Blaise pulled out and is taking George’s ideas elsewhere. We no longer get a cut. Might want to ask your new ‘friend’ about his involvement. Sorry, Hermione.'
Notes:
How are we doing? Sorry for a rough one, friends!
Chapter Title is from Guster- "Either Way" (1994)
It was a toss-up as so many of these lines could have been a chapter 12 title!You were almost kind, you were almost true
Don't let me see that other side of you
You have learned in time that you must be cruel
I'll have to wait to get the best of youPoison in everything you said
Don't you, don't you
Wonder what difference does it make
Either way?You were almost kind, you were almost true
Why give away that other side of you?
Happens every time, so it must be true
Step on a kid, he'll grow up hating youPoison in everything you said
Don't you, don't you
Wonder what difference does it make
Either way?Were you ever kind, were you always cruel?
Who's ever seen that other side of you?
Happened every time, so it must be true
Where did you learn it's either him or you?
Chapter 13: he's a man, he's just a man
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
thirteen: he's a man, he's just a man
March 3, 2006
Hermione, lost in thought, drug a lone bean and mushroom back and forth, across her breakfast plate with her fork. She had been quite surprised to wake up to a full English sitting under a stasis charm, ready and waiting for her while Georgie of all people… of all elves?... buzzed about the Potter’s kitchen.
Ginny seemed equally surprised at the small elf’s presence. It was rather odd to wake to an immaculately dressed house elf with matching pearl earrings and necklace making what looked to be a feast, but Ginny seemed to get over the shock quickly when she saw James’ favorite breakfast of cinnamon toast, berries, and juice all laid out and made to his exact specifications (crust on, as he bought into his mother admonitions that eating it helps boys grow faster, and topped with a brûlée of cinnamon sugar, a dinosaur cut-out in the middle). Even Ginny rarely made this particular meal for him- only on special occasions.
Sitting back and watching the fulfillment of James’ ever growing breakfast demands, Ginny and Hermione kept throwing each other “what in the world” glances. A few other plates, under stasis, were set around the table, waiting to be claimed. It appeared… three? others would be joining them.
When they had gotten back from Hermione’s parent’s, the gathering had well died down and it seemed Harry had time to clean a little. They were so exhausted that they’d gone straight to sleep. So they hadn’t yet de-briefed from what they’d seen together in the pensieve.
Last night, Hermione had again decided to take the potion Harry had procured (stole) for her last time- when she tried remembering Madame Zelinsky’s divination reading. She wasn’t quite sure why she took it again. Why would she want to see that memory enhanced and more clearly than before?
As punishment, she figured.
If she had to re-live one of the most extreme seasons she’d ever lived through, when she rode that mountain-top feeling all the way down to the depths of that hopeless canyon, then she wanted to remember it all. She wanted it to be crystal clear. Maybe such clarity would show her that she should forget all this nonsense about dramatically altering her life in this fucked-up re-do time-warp.
But maybe she’d wanted someone else to watch it more clearly also. Had she wanted Ginny to pick up on something she might have missed? A second opinion? Did Ginny see something? Watching it back last night, and even now, she felt just as dumb and blind and naive as she did back then. Malfoy turned out to be the complete antithesis of the man she was getting to know that Fall. After all this time, she still felt that snowed-over kick-in-the-stomach feeling when she thought about it. About him. Or whenever, on the rare occasions through the years that she’d allowed herself to review those dark days of November 2006.
Still.
Eager to re-hash and discuss with Ginny, Hermione mindlessly charmed her bean-and-mushroom-shoed fork to figure skate through the remnants of tomato, anxiously waiting for an opening where Georgie wasn’t listening and occupied elsewhere.
“Morning, Georgina. Oh…this looks terrific!” Harry walked in and placed himself in front of the plate Georgina had guided him towards. He did not seem at all surprised to see Theo’s house elf in his home at half eight on a Friday morning. He just shoved some sausage into his mouth and nodded along to James’ soft, off-key rendition of Rocket Man.
“Darling. What the fu----.” Ginny stopped herself, then decided against it and covered her son’s ears, yell-whispering, “What the fuck, Harry?!” She nodded towards Georgie, whose back was turned, busy buffing a juice glass with a towel.
“Oh! Right. Yes. That.” He stalled as he finished chewing his last bite. “Georgina. This sausage is divine. Where did you get it?”
“Ah, Monsieur Theo is owner of ferme en Bretagne. Petits cochons, Alis says. But happy pigs, Georgie says. Near Guémené. We get most andouille varieties from la ferme.” Georgie stated this matter-of-factly while she continued to man her cooking stations.
“Well it is wonderful. You have truly spoiled us this morning, thank you.”
Ginny gave her husband a dead-eyed stare. “Why are you acting all weird and avoid-y? Harry James Potter, you remember that I know you quite well?” She leaned closer to her husband and whispered, “What is happening in my kitchen? Not that I’m complaining, but why is she- OHPE!” Ginny yelped, spooked by something past Harry, in the doorway to the kitchen.
“Morning,” a deep voice said.
Hermione’s bean-and-mushroom-shoed skating fork jerked and dove clean off her plate onto the floor. As she went to pick it up with a shaky hand, someone else beat her to it.
And there he was.
Mussed up pale hair, aroma of aftershave, unfairly wearing the clothes he had on the night before. Somehow, his charcoal cashmere jumper looked even more stylish after he’d slept in it all night. Did he sleep in it? Maybe he…Hermione swiftly employed a mental railroad switch to divert that train of thought elsewhere.
Malfoy, bent down in front of her, retrieving the fork.
She blurted out, “You slept here?”
“Yes. Potter was nice enough to lend his office to Theo and the sleeping porch to myself.” He shifted his eyes up from the fork on the floor and directly to hers then.
And his eyes this morning! She may or may not have caught a hitch in her throat as she spotted those flecks of emerald and amber for the first time in years.
Not gray and dull this morning, but a kaleidoscope of color and life.
“Thank you Potter for letting Theo and I stay the night. We’ll be out of your hair soon. Hope breakfast this morning wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.” Malfoy’s words were directed towards Harry, but he kept glancing at her with a small wrinkle in his brow. Was he concerned? Bemused? Worried?
Hermione gathered herself, and schooled her emotions as best she could, asking Harry, “You let them spend the night? Here?” Her face showed clear evidence of fresh betrayal. She could feel hurt lining her expression. So maybe her emotions did not get a proper education after all.
Harry let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes. They were both pissed. Could barely floo or apparate so I suggested sleeping it off here.”
“Oh.”
“Why is Georgina here too, then?” Ginny asked Harry, but was keeping a curious eye on Malfoy.
“Because I love breakfast and I’m a fussy little bit----” Theo entered the kitchen and stopped himself when he noticed James sitting beside Ginny. “Hello small human. And how are you this fine morning?”
“I’m three.” James replied and slowly unfurled his fore finger, ring finger, and thumb, holding them out towards Theo.
Hermione, back in her seat now, on the bench, cater-cornered to Malfoy who sat at the head of the long kitchen table, Theo on her right. The three Potters sitting on the bench, across from her and Theo. Her eyes snapped to Malfoy's when James held up three fingers to Theo. Malfoy did not return her gaze.
“Well, what a wonderful coincidence, Sir James! I am also, THREE sheets to the wind, probably still, myself!” Theo held up three fingers. He and James exchanged smiles, neither exactly getting what the other was amused about.
Hermione’s eyes were still searching for some kind of recognition that Malfoy remembered what she remembered. But how could he? He gave her a look like she might need some kind of help or intervention so she quickly glanced back to her plate, then paused, remembering the dishware was not the culprit of this disastrous breakfast.
Harry was.
She glanced up to find the saboteur studying her carefully, with a “get it together” look. But Hermione had no plans to gather it all together. Not at all. No. The audacity! “I’m a bit shocked, Harry.”
“About…what, ‘Mione?” Harry nervously glanced at their breakfast guests.
“Well if you told me back at Hogwarts that one day we’d all be sitting here like this, with both your son and a man you once maimed having a chummy, happy kumbaya breakfast I would---”
“Granger?” Theo cut her off.
She looked at him in the midst of her confused frustration with Harry. “What, Theo?”
“Would you mind joining us when we head out?” Theo looked at her with his hopeful puppy-eyed smile.
“Us?” She looked to Malfoy, back to Theo, and back to Malfoy. He was staring a hole through his boiled egg, nostrils flared. He didn’t seem much like he should want her to join him if he was a part of the “us” Theo was implying. “Why?”
“Oh, that might work out! We have that thing this morning, remember, Gin?” Harry reached a hand under the table to squeeze Ginny’s leg.
“What thing--” Ginny looked at Harry, confused then clear, and snapped to Hermione, “Right! Right. Yes, oh gods. I’m so sorry. I forgot we have this play date thing. Dreadful, really, but this house will be overrun with little tots and their parents in about an hour and fifteen.” She went on, but had the decency to look remorseful about it. “You don’t mind, do you, Hermione? I mean you don’t have to go with them.” Ginny nodded towards Theo and Malfoy. “But it is about to get wildly overwhelming around here.”
“And I still need to pick your brain about working for The Ministry. We have yet to get in a good chat. Don’t mind Grumpy Goose over there, he doesn’t have to hang around. He can go find some new cure to fund or a new quidditch coach to shag and leave us be.”
Hermione did not mean to flinch a little, but she might have.
Malfoy glared daggers at Theo. “Is that all I possess able to occupy my time?”
“You could soon possess an avian-delivered port key and end up anywhere to occupy your time. So who knows, really?” Theo bounced his eyebrows, goading.
“Fine.”
Theo and Malfoy both snapped their heads to Hermione when she spoke. They seemed to have forgotten that she had a decision to make with regards to joining them.
“Wonderful!” Theo exclaimed, finishing his breakfast.
“Grand,” Malfoy monotoned, getting up from the table.
“Ginny. Mind helping me find that thing before we leave?” Hermione gave Ginny a pointed look, nodding towards her room. Then she said to Theo, “I’ll be ready to head out in just a bit.”
A week ago, if someone told Hermione she would be wandering around muggle London with Theo and Malfoy, she would have laughed in their face. Well, laughed and then felt a tinge of hope, probably.
Maybe.
Before she left she’d made an exit plan with Ginny, who was to text her when she could come back to the cottage. She also promised to text with a fake emergency if needed, but Hermione didn’t think it would come to that. At present, she was mostly just… curious. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t wondered about Malfoy from time to time and now was an opportunity to learn more about him.
Outside of any romantic entanglements.
After 2006, laying eyes on him had been a rarity. Yes, there was that one time they had briefly passed each other like ships at the floo in Nott manor, and a couple of times when she had seen him from afar at The Ministry. But other than that, Malfoy sightings were quite minimal. Of course, she’d heard about him much more than she’d seen him. Despite herself, she clung to any morsel she could glean.
I saw Young Malfoy last week at the Garden Society Tea. Probably there at the bequest of his mother, poor dear. He looked quite healthy, so I’m not sure why he is still without a family of his own. Narcissa has to deal with such a wanton, a vagabond! Her only son! No heir, no offspring. What a shame… (This from two gossiping witches in line in front of Hermione at Peridot Tea Emporium, May, 2008)
Yeah, I heard he’s into some do-gooder shite these days. Got an owl the other day for some fundraiser- Muggle support nonsense. No way in bloody hell am I going to that. I know! Can you even believe the name ‘Malfoy' is associated with such a thing! (This overheard on a Ministry elevator- a conversation between two wizards Hermione had never bothered learning the names of but who worked in Magical Maintenance, December, 2011)
Of course, I could owl Drakey. Who knows where he is these days; although, I’d imagine I shall see him at Blaise and Luther's engagement dinner ...Maybe then I can-- Oh! Sorry, dear. I know you don’t care for it when I bring him up, but he would be helpful…Forget I said anything. We’ll figure something else out. (Theo trying to convince her to expand her galantamine research project and get additional funding, a few months ago)
However much she was curious about Malfoy over the years, she could not decide if she thought spending time with this particular Malfoy was humorous, nerve-wracking, hopeful or depressing. He was still Malfoy, but not. He did not know her. He did not know the things she disclosed about her family and childhood memories. He didn’t know what she liked, what made her come alive. He didn’t even know what she admired and valued about him once upon a time. He was completely oblivious to the real her.
That was something, at least, she could remedy.
If she decided to. If she wanted to.
As they wandered through and past Elizabeth Street, making small talk, she noticed they were nearing Harrods. She had chosen her Knightsbridge home with Ron partially because of its proximity to fond memories of shopping with her mother all around Belgravia, especially Harrods.
The famous department store was less than a ten minute walk from where she and Ron now lived. Well, where they lived in 2013. Right now it was still the lovely empty-nesters who resided there- the couple that had sold them the house for just under asking, even though they had better offers, because she and Ron had reminded them of their younger selves.
Not that she ventured into Harrods much these days, even though they were a stones throw away. Hermione could only handle being near, adjacent to her memories…not reliving them, inside of them.
Most days, that hurt too much.
So mostly, she avoided Harrods altogether. She and Ron would take alternate routes when walking home from the nearby apparation points. Whenever she felt nostalgic for her muggle days and took the tube seventeen minutes home from 12 Grimmauld, she would still take back streets, spending ten minutes longer on the walk home from the Knightsbridge station, as opposed to the direct route.
Ron never fully understood her department-store related reluctance, but to his credit he never pushed her on it either. Perhaps, he was relieved she didn’t favor shopping there due to most items being considerably over their weekly budget.
On a similar note, Ron often became squirrelly when Hermione brought up her parents. He would actively listen, and sure, he’d also give her comfort when she cried. But he would also follow his physical consolations with his version of a silver-lining. Presumably, to cheer her up. “At least we have Mum, Dad, and all the in-laws and the siblings. Lots of family for our kids someday- more than enough on my side.” Or, “Your mum and dad would be proud of you. You did what you needed to do, Hermione. They would have wanted all of you to be safe more than anything.”
It wasn’t that what he said wasn’t true, exactly. It was more that his platitudes just flat out didn’t matter to her. Sure, she had more than enough in-laws to make up for not having any family of her own. But she would have traded a hundred Weasley family dinners and a thousand Burrows to have just a day where her parents knew her again.
And she knew that they might have been proud of her. In theory. But she also knew Jean and Harold Granger better than anyone. They would have wanted to stay with her until the end if they’d been given the choice. They would have chosen togetherness over safety.
More than anything.
Theo’s voice jolted Hermione out of her guilt haze. “Granger, care to join us?”
She found herself already standing in front of a window display. A life-like mannequin in a red velvet suit and sparkling Jimmy Choos was sitting, man(nequin)-spreading near a bunch of haphazardly strewn about, albeit high-end, children’s items. A strange juxtaposition of high fashion and soft plushies. It seemed they were already at the place where Hermione didn’t go anymore.
They had arrived at Harrods.
“I’ll pop in for a minute, but then I’ll have to be on my way.” Malfoy said this to Theo, but Hermione knew it was mainly for her benefit. He hadn’t said much on their meandering way here other than to ask her what she wanted from a bakery they stopped at, and one or two interjecting questions when she and Theo were discussing the politics of working your way to a good position at The Ministry. Theo was thinking of applying to be an Unspeakable, but there wasn’t really a clear path to such a position. She knew how he eventually did get that exact job and gave him some pointers. She even went so far as to tell him to apply for another position after he got tired of his Unspeakable duties. She knew he’d get that position as well because that is what led him to working with her.
However, Malfoy’s offer to leave her and Theo alone to peruse Harrods in comfort did not help her move her feet forward at all. “I’m not sure…I can go in…” Hermione didn’t know what else to say. Her limbs did not seem to be working.
“Are you alright?” Theo asked.
“I haven’t been here in years, not since 200---It’s been a very long time.” Thankfully, she caught herself before revealing she had not been inside since 2009.
“Yeah, I’m not exactly sure what all the fuss is about. There’s probably dozens more just like this one.” Theo shrugged, trying to make her feel better about her immobility.
“Actually, this is the only one of its kind. It started over a hundred and fifty years ago as a place that sold tea, produce, food. A very nice grocery store. In 1880-something it completely burned down- all four stories- right before Christmas. They simply moved across the street and filled all the orders and it was rebuilt bigger and better than before! But never another location.
“Did you know the first escalator ever to exist in London was built here in 1898. You know those muggle inventions that take you from one floor to the next- like a moving staircase?”
“Granger, we know what an escalator is. I think” Malfoy said dubiously. “But just to be safe we should check it out.”
“Its actually a magical place inside, and full of high end luxury items that you both would be into if you weren’t magical. Well, even still. There’s a statue of Princess Di that many come to take photos with. This place is incredibly touristy and it has a little of everything. You can buy puppies, or soap, or high thread-count sheets. Omnia Omnibus Ubique. Which isn’t really true, but my mother and I thought it was something to aspire to anyways. A nice sentiment. We used to shop here often. We’d usually make a whole day of it.”
“Forgive me, but my Latin is a little rusty- what does that mean?” Theo asked.
Malfoy interrupted her, answering, “All things, for all people, everywhere.”
“Ah. Right. Well not all things for all people so much as it is expensive things for some people, but I see what they were trying for. Now, Granger, did you say puppies?!” Theo was quite excited at this prospect.
“I’m not sure about the ethics of the animals for sale here as they used to sell elephants and tigers, many endangered species up until the seventies, but ye---” Hermione looked around and they were fifteen feet inside the doors, in between the Menswear and Jewelry sections. For some reason, she looked at Malfoy then. His face was neutral. He seemed to be patiently waiting for her to finish her little speech, but his eyes were on her mouth. That did something to her insides that she was not comfortable acknowledging so she turned to Theo, nudging him. “You got me inside!”
“Ah. Yes. It seems we did. Now lead the way, Granger. I must hold a fluffy pup.”
Malfoy did, in fact, ‘ pop in’ with them, but he did not seem to be in any hurry at all to ‘ be on his way’.
This could be due to the fact that both he and Hermione were rather enjoying watching Theo presently being attacked by half a dozen tiny Shih Tzu and Spaniels.
“You came here with your mother?”
Hermine pulled her eyes away from Theo and the dogs. “Yes. I did. We used to come here a lot together. Before.”
“I was sorry to hear about what happened. No one should have to go through something like that. When I was speaking of sacrifices last night… I…I forgot myself…and I apologize Granger.”
“I’ll alert The Daily Prophet so they can properly document the occasion. You apologizing to me.” The first thing that popped into her mind was the only other time she remembered him saying anything resembling an apology. Which it wasn’t. It was an “I’m sorry that affected you” sort of non-apology. All she had wanted him to do in that last conversation they had together was apologize for shutting down, icing her out. She had just wanted him to fold and admit to being a fool. But he didn’t. He doubled down. And so when she spoke to him next her tone was lined with a bit of acidity, “Wonders never cease!”
“Truly. What you went through with your family was horrendous.”
Oh. He was talking about her parents. That’s right.
“How did you find out?”
“A hunch during the war that was later confirmed. Only you could have bested Greyback. And I overheard a couple of Obliviators discussing it at a meeting a couple years back.”
He wasn’t lying last time then. Same story.
“Thank you. It has been…difficult.” That word didn’t really scratch the surface, but sometimes words couldn’t convey the depths of pain and grief she felt when she let herself. Language had limits.
“I’m sure it has been more than difficult.” Malfoy gave her a sympathetic nod and then started to say something to Theo, who stopped him with a raised hand, digging in his pocket for something while trying to avoid getting herded by an adorable, minuscule Australian Shepherd.
Theo looked at his Blackberry and got up, dusting himself off. “Hate to do this to you both, but I have to head out! Emergency Investors meeting- Blaise.” He held up his Blackberry as an explanation and nodded to Malfoy. “Granger, will you be alright with this one by yourself?”
“Oh, actually I think I’ll head out as well. But thank you, Theo, for helping me rediscover this place. It’s been pretty great.”
Theo looked a bit worried, but shrugged it off then hugged and kissed them both goodbye.
Hermione started to walk towards the exit when she felt a jolt through her overcoat in between her shoulder blades. Malfoy had stilled her.
“Granger, would you mind staying a little longer? Help me with something?” Malfoy’s face when he asked her this, to his credit, seemed contrite, open but not quite vulnerable.
“An apology and asking for help. Never-ceasing wonders, indeed!”
“I need to pick something up for Pansy and Daph’s housewarming. They are moving into a place together in Covent Garden. Giving it a go outside the prying eyes of Wizarding London for a while. This is a big step, and I wanted to show my support. You mentioned quality sheets here?”
”You want my help picking out a gift for Pansy?”
“Yes. Your mother brought you here from a young age. The woman apparently had discriminatory taste she passed down to you. Do you not have opinions on what would and would not be an acceptable house-warming present?”
”Can’t Helga help you with this?”
Malfoy snickered, but quickly replaced that expression with a furrowed brow. “No. No, I don’t much think she should want to help me with anything now.”
”What do you mean, now.”
”We parted ways last night. It wasn’t really serious in the first place so we’re still on good terms. But I doubt she’d want to waste her time with this as she is going to be busy scouting the next league-cup-winning team. Lots of research and scouting to do. Little time for her to help her one-night-stand with his errands.” Malfoy’s lips twitched.
“Ah. So it really wasn’t that serious.” Hermione tried very hard to not notice the flood of relief. And failed. She also wondered why he cut the relationship short. When she met him that June, he had been on and off with Coach Helga Strompt for months. And they definitely had not parted on ‘good terms’. Maybe this was one of their “off” times.
Realizing she was running out of excuses, she tried one last defense. “Weren’t you going to ‘be on your way’? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“My plans for the day have changed.”
”Hmmmm.”
Malfoy shrugged, saying, “If you don’t wish to join me, just point me in the direction of the bedding.”
She sighed. “Alright, then. I guess I have nothing better to do for a couple of hours.”
“These would be my choice, yes.” Hermione said affirmatively, confidently.
“What about the hand-stamped set? Those were at least a little…special. These are simply…plain.” Malfoy pouted a bit as he weighed what to do.
“No wonder. You’ve never even bought a set of your own sheets before!” Hermione held her choice up to him. “These are a thousand thread-count. The hand-stamped set is four hundred. My choice is a higher quality fabric. Trust me. Pansy and Daphne will want the Richmond set. Luxury over novelty.”
“Well. Maybe you do know what you’re talking about, Granger. Wait. How do you know I never buy my own bedding?”
Hermione had to stop slipping up like this! “I didn’t. Just assumed you had a house elf to take care of such things is all.” At least she was quick on her feet.
“Yes. You are correct.” Malfoy grumbled, “Alis gets our sheets from some place she won’t disclose. I originally asked her for some advice, but she was very cagey with revealing her sources. Some house elf network nonsense, I’m sure.”
“Merlin!” Hermione was only half listening to him as she was engrossed in checking the prices of the sheet sets. She gasped, “Malfoy, these are £ 220!”
“And?” He seemed puzzled at her outrage. “Is that too cheap?”
She looked at him incredulously, then realized who he was and laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing. And no- not too cheap. I forget we come from different worlds.”
He seemed saddened by this. More so than she thought he should be. “Right. Different worlds aside, do you still approve of the Richmond set?”
“Yes. It will make a lovely housewarming gift.”
As they went through the checkout process, Hermione busied herself with her mobile. Checking to see if Ginny had given her the all-clear to come back. No such luck.
She decided she might stop by The Department of Mysteries and see if there is an Unspeakable who can help identify some of the markings on the mysterious artifact that had time traveled with her. As she was making plans for the rest of the day and lists of things to ask, she realized Malfoy was speaking.
“...It’s no trouble. The least I could do to thank you for your help.” Malfoy looked as if he’d just asked her a question.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Buttercups? A pastry for your troubles this morning?”
Hermione’s stomach traitorously grumbled. It was past mid-day now and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, having turned down his offer at the bakery earlier.
“Or how about I take you to lunch?” Malfoy asked knowingly.
Hermione couldn’t help herself and, just like she had done many times before with a quirk of her lips, she asked him dubiously, “Like a date?”
“Of course not, Granger.”
She searched his face then. It hurt her to do so. He did not get the inside joke. How could he not remember answering her same question many times in the same exact way. With fondness, and zero offense. Which still- all these years later- was incredibly confusing.
And why was he always wanting to feed her?
He looked back at her with a slight crease in his forehead, concerned, but also with one eyebrow arching a bit higher than the other and a tilt to his lips, challenging. And despite all the years, she still could not resist rising to his dares.
“Sure. Why not, then. Take me to lunch, Malfoy.”
This was not at all what Hermione expected when she agreed to Malfoy’s last-minute lunch invitation.
They were sitting in a contemporary green-house atrium-like dining room with saltillo-tiled floors, having a very fancy (and probably very expensive) three-course lunch. Hermione was pretty sure this restaurant had a Michelin star or two, but wasn’t sure when it was awarded so she didn’t bring it up.
“Is something wrong?” Malfoy was watching her as they sporadically exchanged small talk throughout the meal. She kept glancing around at the ambiance, the view, the lights. Mostly though, she was delighted by the food. It had been quite a long time since she had a meal this refined, this delicious.
“No. Everything’s…superb, actually.” Hermione took another bite of her scallop, running it through the citrus beurre blanc sauce. She closed her eyes in satisfaction, then opened them and held back a squeal. She eyed Malfoy’s side of the table as the waiter had just placed the Baba au Rhum in front of him.
Her lust for his desert must have been obvious because he asked with a knowing chuckle, “Would you care for a bite?”
She nodded eagerly and expected him to pass the dish to her, but instead he crafted the perfect bite of bread-like cake topped with the fluffiest vanilla bean whipped cream and aged rum syrup, all onto his fork. Then he lifted it to her lips. She did not hesitate as she opened and took the offering, slowly pulling it off the fork and watching him while she did.
He did not seem much affected by this, nor by her licking her lips clean afterwards. However, his eyes stayed on her mouth for longer than she expected. She may have imagined it, but his next words also seemed a tinge gravelly, “Have you been here before?”
“No, actually. And it has been a long time since I’ve had a meal like this.” She nodded to his plate, “But that desert is one of my favorites. I had it with my parents once at a restaurant in Monaco.”
“So The Grangers taught their progeny good taste when it comes to home furnishings and culinary treats, then.” He gave her a small smile, waving his hand for her to go on.
“My mother had excellent taste, yes. We were not at all like what you Sacred Twenty-Eight were taught about muggles. Jean Granger is what some would call a ‘trust-fund child’. Although you could be called the same by a muggle. And her inheritance was nothing like yours, but substantial.
“Our home was lovely, well-designed, yes, but always cozy, warm. Mum and dad truly splurged whenever we went on holiday. They would plan these lavish trips to Paris, Rome, Greece, The Maldives. Dad would be in charge of the dining itinerary, but from a very young age, they would let me plan the outings based on my interests. Dad used to joke with Mum that I would have made an incredible Travel Consultant if I ever decided ‘to give up on all the science and witchcraft’.
“I had no such plans as I always knew I wanted to be in medicine or academic research of some type one day. So I made sure to keep up my muggle studies. I passed my GCSE’s when I was sixteen, which I took just in case. But there was this one time I seriously considered something like traveling around and writing for Lonely Planet. I---” Hermione seemed to catch herself, “Apologies. I do this thing where I can go on and on…”
“What? Telling endearing stories of your childhood?” Malfoy asked, confused.
“No! No. That I don’t do much at all. I meant I sometimes go on these long rants before I catch myself.” Hermione shrugged, trying to not become too self-conscious about it.
“I didn’t mind it, Granger.” Malfoy’s face showed no insincerity. “You were telling me about something with a bunch of letters. G- C- E- S- something?”
“Yes. I kept up my muggle studies via correspondence courses so that I had options in both worlds. Especially since, for a while, there was a chance I would have to leave one or the other behind.”
“Ah. I see.”
“But also because I love them both. I get to--” She stopped trying to figure out how to rephrase, as her instatement as a Dualist hadn’t yet come to be. “Someday, I would like to work for both The Ministry of Magic and for a muggle academic institution.”
“Of course you would want more responsibilities and headaches. Not much has changed since school then.” He said this good-naturedly so she let it pass.
“I will defend my dissertation at the end of this year, and I’m hoping they offer me a position as an associate professor.” She wasn’t hoping. The faculty at Oxford had, indeed, offered her a position less than a week after she successfully defended her research on brain glucose levels and how they predict atrophy in those at risk for dementia.
“So you will be a professor at a muggle university. AND you want to have duties at the Ministry?” He asked her like he was sure she was going to refute him.
“Yes. I think both careers can be mutually beneficial. There is historical evidence of The Ministry offering positions to those who work in both worlds. I want a position like that. It would be like being an Unspeakable, but more…” She struggled to find the proper way to explain it.
“Over-achieving? More…certain to bring on headaches?”
“I can handle the headaches it will bring.” She says this with a secretive smile and filled with the clarity and confidence of truly having lived and embodied this truth for years.
“I’m sure you will.” Malfoy did not seem to be mocking her. “As only a Granger could.”
This reminds her of two other Grangers, and her smile gives way to sadness.
“What is it?”
“Nothing. How about a subject change?” She did not want to cry here in the middle of this Michelin-starred restaurant.
“Tell me more about traveling. And did you seriously consider consulting for Lonely Planet?”
She let out a surprised laugh at this. “I was never quite to that level, of course. But I did love researching a new place, finding hidden gems, checking places off the list.”
“I bet your parents loved those holidays together.” Malfoy said fondly.
This statement made Hermione incredibly homesick. For her parents, for her life before the war, for the comfort she felt at being someone’s daughter and being known. Oddly, it did not make her homesick for her current life. That she felt far removed from presently.
“What about you? Where did you holiday with your parents?”
“Mother, Father and I would often visit our home in France- Normandy, or the chateau in Florence. On rarer occasions we would visit our family estate in Oslo. But we did not take trips. They were not holidays, per say. We would go to a home away from The Manor and do the same activities, be near the same types of people, eat the same foods made by the same staff of elves. I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you to know that my parents did not branch out much.”
“Awww. Poor, pitiful, spoiled trust-fund wizard.”
Malfoy huffed out a laugh. “Yes, well. I did eventually travel on my own. Saw the world. Bought Theo along on occasion. As you’ve heard.”
Hermione laughed, remembering how Theo was 'brought along'. “I still cannot believe you sent him port keys via owl. Diabolical.”
“Yes, well. I was lonely.” He said this with a deep sorrow, and it took her back a bit. Sometimes she forgot that he missed out on so much love, care, community, and safety during his childhood. It made her grateful for the eighteen years she did have with her parents. She had her parents’ love and support for the formative years.
That was something, at least.
“I’m sorry," Hermione blurted out.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just am.” She really didn’t know why, but she knew that despite how much he’d hurt her in the past, he deserved love and care. That much was true enough for anybody.
Malfoy raised a hand to signal the check from their water. He looked to be weighing something in his mind. Then he asked, “Are you still planning on stopping by The Ministry later?”
“Yes, why?”
“Mind if I walk with you? I have a meeting.”
Hermione searched his face for some kind of reason as to why he kept wanting to spend time with her. And at the same time, she did not mind the nearness. Not really. She knew this Malfoy had not yet hurt her- even though he would.
But the fact that he hadn’t yet must have been what made her reply, “Alright.”
Notes:
A note on Harrods, of which I have only been to once, but learned far too much about for this one chapter!
The window displays- the closest pictures I could find were form 2000, 2001, and 2007. A couple were from 2006, but November- a few vignettes based on Casino Royale. So I made it an amalgam of all of them. For “accuracy”. But if you google Harrods stock photos 2006- some of the things described in this chapter can be found- so many stuffed animals in early 2000s windows!Harrods really did sell pets until 2014- It was called Harrods Pet Kingdom. Crazy endangered animals were sold there until the 1970s- who knew!?
Alis and Georgina speak French/ English, since they are elves I’ve made a hybrid of elf-speak and Frenglish?
Petits cochons= small piggies
ferme en Bretagne= a farm in the region of Brittany (the sticky-outy part of NW France, near Normandy).Finance Bro Corner:
Pansy and Daphney's Gift Sheets (see link below): Adjusting for inflation- these would be about $380 in 2006. And adjusting for the exchange rate at the time, they would have been around £ 220. The exchange rate being about .58. But in today's currency- about $610, £ 445.
And that concludes finance bro corner for today :)https://www.harrods.com/en-us/p/harrods-of-london-richmond-emperor-flat-sheet-355cm-x-295cm-000000000007570842
This is where I think Pansy & Daphne’s Covent Garden place is. They are near London's fashion district and a lot of the arts, as I feel like they both would be. https://www.plumguide.com/homes/67344/markets-velvet
CHAPTER TITLE is from Jesus Christ Super Star, How Can I Love Him? (Mary Magdalene)
Originally sung by Yvonne Elliman in 1970, Phillipa Soo in 2025. I had the PRIVILEGE of seeing JCS last weekend at The Hollywood Bowl. Yvonne Elliman and Andrew Lloyd Weber (original composer) were both in the crowd. Craziness. Josh Gad/ Olaf (to my children) was Harrod. I’m not sure how we happened to hear about it/attend/found affordable seats, but I’m so glad we got to go! Overheard a few kids saying, "Yay we got to see Elphaba, Eliza, and Olaf sing together!"
They weren’t wrong.[MARY MAGDALENE]
I don't know how to love him
What to do, how to move him
I've been changed, yes really changed
In these past few days
When I've seen myself
I seem like someone elseI don't know how to take this
I don't see why he moves me
He's a man
He's just a man
And I've had so many
Men before
In very many waysHe's just one more
Should I bring him down
Should I scream and shout
Should I speak of love
Let my feelings out?
I never thought I'd come to this
What's it all about?Don't you think it's rather funny
I should be in this position?
I'm the one
Who's always been
So calm so cool
No lover's fool
Running every show
He scares me soAlso- choosing this song was a nod to an enjoyable encounter in Hollywood- not comparing Draco to JC or anything....just wanted to make that clear ;)
Chapter 14: like a crack in the wall, starting small, and grow in time
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
fourteen: like a crack in the wall, starting small, and grow in time
March 4, 2006
Carefully maneuvering her steps through a cluttered living room at an hour far too early to make sense of anything, Hermione made her way to the kitchen. She narrowly avoided setting off a squeaky, rubber giraffe, which was further evidence that there truly was a rather rowdy parents and toddlers get-together yesterday. Georgie must not have stuck around for the playdate then as the Potter Home and its living spaces at present would assuredly not be up to her standards.
“Morning, ‘Mione,” Harry called over his shoulder as he fried up an egg. He seemed quite chipper this morning, humming to himself.
“Morning, Harry,” she mumbled groggily.
“Get in late last night?” Harry asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. Meant to indicate something, but Hermione was too tired to figure out what as she had gotten in late and hardly slept since.
Thus, why she was up at this ungodly hour, the sun barely cresting the horizon.
Yesterday, she’d gone to the Ministry with hopes of finding answers. On the walk there with Malfoy, they had kept to sporadic surface-level conversations and then went their separate ways in the lobby. He’d awkwardly given her shoulder a friendly squeeze when they parted; she’d returned it with a befuddled sort of nod, all while she tried to forget that, minutes before, his eyes had been heavy on her lips, watching as he’d fed her his rum baba.
He had fed her.
She’d then scurried away towards the elevators to find her Unspeakable friend. Claude McElroy had been her man back in 2004 and 2005. They’d worked on a massive project cataloging dark artifacts that had potential for memory manipulations. His vast knowledge of artifacts, due mostly to his family’s connection to Eastern European underground activities, had made him a great asset for the ministry in Hermione’s opinion. Sometimes coming from a family with less than above-board dealings had its advantages… for an Unspeakable.
To her surprise, Claude was already in Harry’s office, studying her mysterious trinket when she’d stopped by to check on it. Apparently her man in the Ministry was Harry’s man as well. Having already been well-acquainted with Hermione, he’d easily disclosed his current theories on the runes and information he’d gathered on the object thus far.
Hermione had recognized only one of the three mysterious new runes on her trinket, which was still held under multiple protections in Harry’s office in the DMLE.
Othala.
Although it looked slightly embellished, it still resembled a fish swimming up towards the sky. She remembered it meant reconnection with family, or heritage, or something about ancestral land?
Hermione never gave studying runes much thought and happily left the interpretation and classification of them to others, like Claude. With so many developments in and the evolution of modern language, why should she try to interpret what ancient civilizations meant? It seemed an unfruitful endeavor, fraught with large margins for error. Communicating with present-day language and misunderstandings was hard enough without adding in runes too. No thank you.
Of course, she knew that runes were sometimes useful for spell work. More useful than divination. Still, interpreting within a very small data set was not her favorite, and yet these particular runes forced her hand when they showed up on an inanimate object that traveled with her through space and time.
She had to figure them out somehow.
Claude had confirmed her theory on the one particular rune she recognized, Othala. “Yes, maybe it could mean a hope for reunion- with a loved one or family member,” he’d said. “The more interesting tidbit, though, is what these other two runes, when paired with that last rune, Othala, might mean. There are also these strange filigree markings which makes it a bit harder to narrow down the exact source of the futhark. At this point I can only say that the markings are very, very old.” Claude had seemed overly excited at his discovery.
Hermione, however, was not at all. She’d looked at her former colleague blankly.
After giving her a brief (not-so-welcome) lesson in alphabetical runes, futharks and their parent languages, and also potential offspring languages, which Hermione could not have regurgitated back to him if her life depended on it, Claude had pressed forward. He’d pointed out that the first rune is one whose most basic meaning is “gift”- related to the Gebo rune, but not quite (due to a slight extra marking)- telling her it could mean harmony, balance, partnership, or possibly some type of coupling. “But the third one. It really IS a mystery. It almost looks like a combination of chaos and something that means cycle…”
“Do you think that means…Cycles would indicate… time…” She’d trailed off, not wanting to finish her thoughts and unsure of what Claude already knew.
“Hermione…If I may be so bold. May I ask how something like this got into your possession?” Claude had looked at her openly and without suspicion. “And yes, I believe you are correct. The third rune could indicate time disruption…or… a breaking of a cycle…” Something must have dawned on him as he spoke because he’d looked at Hermione with renewed curiosity.
“To answer your question, Claude, I found it a long time ago. But recently it has…caused a ridiculous disruption and I’m having Harry investigate it.”
“I see.”
“If we are correct about the time, or cycle, then together all three could mean something about ‘a disruption bringing a gift of chaos’?” Hermione had replied wearily.
“At the most basic levels, yes. Possibly. Could also mean breaking a cycle for the sake of reconnecting to something...But there could be dozens of interpretations.”
“Grand,” Hermione dead panned.
“I believe more is needed to determine the origin of the furth--, the original runic language. Is it Germanic? Norse? That could help us determine if the embellished markings on the artifact impact the interpretation.” Claude had promised to keep digging around in some old family heirloom texts.
Hermione, not really feeling like she had gotten very far in figuring things out, had decided to give it a rest and come back to it later. She’d thanked Claude for all his thoughts and help, and then she’d asked after his twin sons who were in their first year at Durmstrang.
She’d known that they’d loved it, as he’d told her many stories about their first-year adventures, but she’d felt it was polite to engage him anyway. Sometime in 2007, Claude had ended up leaving London to be closer to his family, joining Prague’s Ministerstvo Kouzel, so it had been a while since she’d seen him. It had been nice to see his speckled, laugh-lined face and hear his unusual chuckle again.
But after she’d left The Ministry lobby, she didn’t want to go home to The Potters’ Cottage.
She’d been full of restless energy, partly due to the living seven years in the past of it all, but also partly due to how Malfoy's pupils had dilated when she’d placed her hand on his arm during their walk earlier. How could she feel so deliciously thrilled and then gut-wrenchingly guilt-ridden all in the span of five minutes?
Over and over and over again for the entire past week.
Even though she traveled back into a younger body, she felt that time-traveling had aged her by decades.
She needed to be alone.
So she’d flooed to her Oxford lab, thinking a walk around her post-graduate research project might inspire something within her. It did not.
Hermione had decided to walk around muggle London and even took the tube to stop by Harrods again. She’d wandered through the ornaments section, remembering Christmases where she and her mother would pick out a new one every year. Going slower and taking in the slow night crowd, she had marveled at the ease of her body walking through the store for the second time that day, a store that had caused her so much fear and stagnation in recent years.
Then, she’d visited her dad’s favorite Italian spot in the West End for a cannoli and a glass of port. Hermione and her parents had gone there for her father’s 50th birthday dinner. The staff had made a big to-do and sang to him in Italian. Her father had gotten up and danced with the elderly mother of the owner and she’d shared a fond conspiratorial smile with her mum. Last night, she had sat, tearing up while sitting there eating her cannoli and remembering their family's last big outing. That was two months prior to her erasing herself from them.
Finally, she’d ended up back at The Potters- somehow- just after midnight. She hadn’t remembered much about her route or any stops she’d made along her way- a brief stop in a corner store, a walk through Queen Mary’s Gardens. She had been lost in thought about what the week had brought her, what she would do once she made her way back to her own time. The correct time.
Restless energies not abated, she’d spent a few hours trying to sleep and fitfully, mildly succeeding, but then she’d roused, deciding to journal all of her current thoughts. This sparked a whole other rabbit trail for her to follow as she’d found and re-read her own personal journals. She had forgotten she’d always carried them with her in her beaded bag for occasions when an idea for her research struck.
Sprinkled amidst ideas for synthesis experiments, were also her thoughts and feelings from seven years ago. Some were ruminations on her friendships, or the state of the wizarding world, or regrets and grief processing over her parents, but more than half the entries were about Ronald Weasley.
At first, she felt that reading the entries about Ron was like reading the thoughts of someone else entirely. It almost felt like an invasion. She hardly knew that girl anymore and had lived lifetimes since. Her marriage had evolved so much over seven years as well. But at the same time, she felt like she wanted to reconnect with that Hermione- the one who spoke her mind freely yet still seemed hopeful for her future.
It had been a long time since she journaled with such honesty.
November 11, 2005:
He still hasn’t bought me a birthday present. I know he said he was saving up for something nicer than he could afford back in September, but it has been almost two months! Am I being selfish? Ginny says I’m not, but sometimes I feel like a wrathful cow.
I’m so tired of feeling this way.
But what if it's… you know what. What if the ‘something nicer’ is a ring. There. I said it. I wrote it. I don’t know if I’m ready yet. And yet, we’ve been doing this dance for years. Shouldn’t I be? Is it time we settled?
Some days I think I’m ready, and some days I simply don’t know if I’ll ever be. Having lunch with Gin tomorrow and I am going to share my thoughts…
I won’t make a rash choice just because everyone expects something of me.
Godrick did that one hit her hard. She’d been doing what was expected of her, trying to keep the peace for years. When had she stopped? When had she forgotten how to choose herself? When had she slipped into this person she was lately?
August 16, 2005:
Today is going to be quite exciting! I’ve been making so much headway in my research that our PI has given us a three day weekend to celebrate. Ron said he would plan something special. He also gave me a stern warning to not try and figure it out this time, but you know me…
If my suspicions are correct, he has a portkey scheduled for somewhere tropical. Eeeek! Gah, I needed this!
August 16, 2005:
I suppose I did this to myself. Got my hopes up. I know I’ve been up and down lately, but I’ve been working so hard, burning the candle at both ends. He understood all of that, right? I know I put a lot on him, but am I truly putting ‘too much pressure on this relationship’? That is what he said tonight. Some nonsense about how ever since we had that talk about my parents, he thinks that I might need to go back to the mind healer. That I put too much on him to heal old wounds. My wounds.
Whatever the fuck that means. I will be reporting back to my actual mind healer about it, which is why I keep these bloody journals in the first godsforsaken place. How does he not even remember that I have been seeing a mind healer regularly for the past year? Ugh!
I suppose I don’t discuss healing sessions with him hardly ever. Primarily because whenever I bring up my parents, somehow his trying to ‘help’ just ends up making me feel worse.
Maybe next time we row I will suggest he go see one…Maybe that isn’t a half bad idea. We might need to see one together.
The surprise was a night out at a tropical themed restaurant. Caribbean food. It was fine. Everything was lovely and…fine.
She’d remembered that August day as the day the thought first wormed its way into her head that she and Ron might need a permanent break. Of course, it took her months to pull the trigger on that. She was always slow to make important decisions, but eventually would make the right one after she gathered all of her data. But she used to trust herself more when it came to decision making in general. Another loss. Another possession she used to have that she now somehow did not. But maybe she still did. Maybe it was just deeply suppressed and buried?
June 25, 2005:
Ron has sent me a surprise every day this week. When I enter the lab each morning there is breakfast- my favorite pastries with my latest tea obsession au lait. Some days, he even had lunch delivered to the lab. He said he has been ‘taking a page from my book’ and writing down little things I say I like as I mention them. Says he is keeping a ‘book of ‘Mione’ and one of the top things is how much food gets me through hard times.
It's probably not so much the food that gets me through, per say, but the feeding . I miss being fed, being taken care of.
People think that Ron loves to eat, and its true. But ever since my parents…
I appreciate it when someone forces me to remember the foundations of Maslow’s pyramid. I know needs must be built in succession, but to me my work feels like a physiological need. But one that trumps all the rest. Like food and sleep. When someone helps me with those more basic needs, I can thrive all the more with what I love to do.
Not sure if Ron knows all of this, but he isn’t usually this attentive. It has been nice.
I know he is trying to help me get through this particular nasty phase of my research- not to mention that I’ve been keeping late hours on my project with McElroy at MM.
I suppose sometimes I take Ron for granted, but the past week or two, I’ve been rather thankful to have him by my side.
And like that, on and on it went- back and forth, the good and the bad, for a whole year before their 2006 break-up.
She’d recalled that the mind healer she was seeing at the time, Healer Ritchelle, had encouraged her to do free association journaling throughout the weeks between their sessions. Something about her mind being quite full and burdened.
She’d been advised to let it all out. “Brain dump”, as they say.
To her surprise, she’d found that this habit fit quite well into her schedule as she’d already kept a journal for writing down her thoughts on her work- both her academic research and improving wizarding society. So why not do the same with her thoughts and feelings?
This habit helped Hermione get quite good at thinking about her feelings and writing them down.
Processing her feelings, though, truly experiencing them, letting them flow through her somatically, coming out on the other side baptized by the renewal of her mind- making a new connection or letting go of something that burdened her- that kind of mastication and digestion of her thoughts, feelings, and beliefs about herself was a whole other ball of wax.
This was an area she still had to work with her mind healer on. (The one she and Ron were seeing as a couple, but she was solo lately for most sessions.)
Except for last night when she’d read through her old journals in that fluffy, cozy guest bed.
All she could do as she’d lain there, reading and not sleeping, was feel through and process.
She’d cried, raged, grieved, reddened with shame in embarrassment at her younger self and then at her jealousy of that same younger self, and then she’d cried some more. She couldn’t believe that she had been so naive, but also, she had so much compassion and empathy for twenty-six-year-old Hermione.
She missed being able to be so hopeful- it had been a long time since she felt like she could muster up the amount of glass-half-full optimism that her younger self had. She also wanted to shake her younger self. How could she not have seen the patterns in her longest relationship?
She’d grieved and would continue to do so because she could see them so clearly now.
In the wee hours of the morning, Hermione had reflected on herself as a young woman- someone who had just begun to feel safe enough after the war and chaos of her youth to start to grieve her most heinous act. She’d remembered that during that fragile time of the early 2000s, she, a scared twenty-something, had just wanted her friends to be copasetic. She was so afraid of change back then, of anything that rocked her very precarious boat. And she hadn’t wanted to make any drastic moves to alter the dynamics of her friend group, her new family.
Because she had destroyed the old one.
She’d finally lain there, in that fluffy guest bed, after hours of crying and bloody feeling deep into her bones, and she’d remembered herself, who she used to be. And while she didn’t want to go back to being that person, she wanted to honor her and how she wouldn’t be the woman she is today without her.
She wanted to take all the positivity and honesty of twenty-something Hermione with her into her future. Eyes wide open, but this time with the knowledge and wisdom of all her years and firm in the hard decisions she had to make.
No more holding back in fear of what she might lose.
No more beating herself up, feeling like she didn't deserve happiness because of what she had done and what she'd lost.
No more pushing herself down to make sure she didn’t lose anything more.
She only had this one wild and crazy life, and though she’d made a mess of it at times, she’d also spent so much time wasted on not really living at all, holding so much back in trepidation of the future.
Maybe someday she would even learn how to forgive herself.
But even if she wasn't able to, she would still learn how to live again.
She’d finally fallen asleep around half three in the morning and awoke a short time later. So now, here in the kitchen with Harry, she couldn’t be bothered much for conversing.
“Alright there?” Harry asked.
“Hmmm? Oh yes. Didn’t sleep much… or well,” she mumbled.
“Ah. I know what to do then.” Harry proceeded to leave her alone as he set about fixing a few things. He knew that he should never approach a Hermione who has had little sleep. He should let her approach him, similar to befriending a stray. Tea with milk, no sugar, also helped- and treats! Really, the stray approach all around. He’d learned this the hard way a couple of times during seventh year when they camped alone those months.
Hermione, now with her head cradled in her arms on the kitchen table, smelled the palmiers before she saw them. She fumbled for the warm mug of tea that was also deposited in front of her, sloshing it a bit, before grasping it and bringing it to her lips.
“Tea and milk, no sugar. The pastries came under stasis, left on the porch this morning. Via elf, I’d assume. Looks like they were freshly baked. Hope you don’t mind, but I…uh…already had a couple,” he looked sheepishly sorry about it, but not too sorry. Buttercup's (Colette’s) palmiers were a weakness for Harry, just like they were for Harold Granger. “Oh! And this note was on top.”
Since I’d already offered these yesterday, I thought I’d make good on it. Enjoy - DLM
Hermione was delighted, but then also hit with the flash of the memory of the last time he sent her a pink Buttercup’s box with a note. The time he’d left her completely alone.
…I was getting these for you earlier. You should still have them, whatever you decide. -DLM
Different Malfoys, Hermione. Two different Malfoys. One unmarred, yet to hurt her. Same man. One, though, still without sin…
She needed more tea. Perhaps she might venture into coffee this morning. She knew Ginny kept some around here somewhere.
“Mione?”
Hermione realized Harry might have been talking to her ever since she peered deep into the box of palmiers, salivating and looking for answers. “What? Sorry. I spaced.”
“I was filling you in on our day. Seeing what you were planning. I heard McElroy met with you on what he had on the artifact so far…” Harry tilted his head in concern, “Are you all--Erm. That is a weird question. I know nothing about all of this is quite alright. But are you okay? All things considered?”
Hermione took a few moments to figure out how to answer him. Instead of answering his question, she declared something that surprised even herself. “I’m going to stay at my parents’ place.”
“Oh. Oh. Alright, if that’s what you want.”
Hermione wandered the back garden, where she and her mother used to plant tomatoes and strawberries each summer. Their measly garden never yielded much more than a plateful of each, but they planted them every year in hopes of a better harvest.
Jean loved trying out new methods for home gardening. She was an experimenter, a tinkerer who loved making improvements and learning new skills. She tinkered with the Granger home, constantly moving, rearranging, redecorating on occasion. Each time she did so, it truly did feel like she’d made an improvement.
Hermione had determined at a young age that she was like her mother in this way. Where Jean would continually experiment around the home and with their business (little tests and tweaks for practice improvements), Hermione would experiment with, well, everything. Hermione wasn’t sure she would have survived Hogwarts if her mother hadn’t modeled and instilled in her a value that there is always something else that can be done, something more that can be learned.
As she knelt next to some old, discarded mesh they’d used to keep the birds away, she was surprised by a loud musical number. It nearly knocked her over the shock of it.
Why was that obnoxious Vengaboys song playing at a deafening volume over the home speaker system? If it was this loud out here, then it was positively awful--
Wait.
She remembered that was the song she had charmed to play on the stereo when the wards were tripped, choosing it for its ridiculous beat to be sure to wake her up in the night, if needed.
She waved her wand to turn off We Like to Party. During those first few years of nights alone after the war, she put in some rather heavy security measures on the place. But she made sure to account for postmen and deliveries. Only magical beings could…
Someone was here. Someone with magic running through them.
She apparated to her front door, wand at the ready, and swung it open wide.
“Oh dear! Granger, you look radiantly feral.” An excited Theo. “Do tell, what were you planning to do to me!? What spell did you have at the ready?”
She didn’t have a chance to answer him before noticing the other wizard, hands in his pockets, piercing eyes, platinum blonde hair, and standing just behind Theo.
Malfoy was here.
Notes:
This chapter took a very different turn from what I had originally set out to accomplish. Fun fact about me- I used to be a trauma therapist. EMDR, the whole thing. It has been almost a decade since I’ve been licensed so I’m very much out of that world, but this chapter got me back into some theories and therapy thoughts.
Chapter 14's Title is from a very feelings-processing song about time and how things change, but also not. About how we need each other to process the things bottled up over time. I don't know if Hermione would have come to all of these conclusions in her life unless thrown into a different time and experience. Perhaps she would have, but probably not as quickly.Older Chests, Damien rice (O)- 2001
Older chests reveal themselves
Like a crack in a wall
Starting small
And grow in timeAnd we all seem to need the help
Of someone else to mend that shelf
Of too many books
Read me your favorite linePapa went to other lands
And he found someone who understands
The ticking
The Western Man's need to cryHe came back the other day, yeah you know
Some things in life may change
And some things
They stay the same[Chorus]
Like time, there's always time
On my mind
So pass me by, I'll be fine
Just give me timeI promise to not have too many waxing therapeutic chapters in this fic, but this one felt like it needed some exploration of her grief, trauma, patterns, etc.
Also, I have seen the memes about #dramione as a coping mechanism and while I would always recommend a good therapist for just about anything- I can say AS a former therapist that it has been quite beneficial for me whenever I need to cope with the chaos that is this world and/or life in general. The memes are (former) #therapistapproved ;)
Thank you for letting me soap-box here and a huge thank you to everyone who is reading so far! Comment or follow me over on IG (I’m there sporadically) @cmpumpkinwrites if you want to connect <3
Chapter 15: kick through continents
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
fifteen: kick through continents
March 4, 2006, early evening
Hermione couldn’t believe the scene playing out before her. In the kitchen of her childhood, Theo and Malfoy were chopping, sautéing, and fussing about. Well, Malfoy was doing most of the work of it, Theo doing most of the fussing about.
No one magical, other than herself, had ever been inside these sacred walls. As she sat there with a glass of wine in hand, she couldn’t help but smile slightly at how, out of all of her friends and acquaintances, these two made the cut for the first to see her childhood home.
She still didn’t know why they were here, though, and asked, “Not that I’m complaining about the free meal and entertainment, but what brings you both to my home?”
“Ah. Yes. Simplest explanation: a terrible breakup and a ‘thank you’ gone wrong.” Theo stated matter-of-factly, ticking off two fingers.
This did very little to assuage her curiosity, and she amusedly asked, “Sorry, what?”
“I’ve just been let go by a long-time love, my dear sweet Granger.” Theo was in prime form this evening, distraught with a side of dramatics.
“Theo, I didn't know. I’m so sorry.” Hermione patted him on the arm. She didn’t pay much attention to the fact that he didn't seem that put out. She knew that he wore his laisse faire attitude like a coat of armor, hiding the most tender, soft-hearted, teddy bear parts of him.
“They dated for three weeks.” Malfoy, exasperatedly interjected.
“But he was a Frenchman, Drakey!”
“He was from Canada,” Malfoy monotoned.
“Still, he spoke French to me. Francais! Do you know what that does to a man? Granger, have you ever had a beau who spoke it? A whispered ‘mon chouchou’ in your ear?”
She was grateful Malfoy’s back was to her, chopping peppers, because she couldn’t help but look his way. “Yes. Once.”
“We know it wasn’t Weasley. Or knobhead Krum. Do tell, Granger. Who was it?”
“That’s a story for another time, I’m afraid.” Malfoy met her eyes then. Was he curious about her love life? She couldn’t help her snicker as the answer would undoubtedly surprise him.
Well, Theodore, it was actually your friend here. Yes, you there- the one chopping vegetables.
“Speaking of Weasel-y Weasleys, that is the other part of why we are here.”
“Theo. I’m still not sure how the first part- your…breakup plays into you being here? Not to sound insensitive, but what does that have to do with anything?” She was quite confused. Then his most recent words hit her, and she whispered, “Other Weasleys?”
“First, you see---” Theo started.
“If I may interject and save us some time,” Malfoy held a hand towards Theo, who waved him on to continue. “Theo’s current beau did break things off, yes. In his distraught state he asked me for a favor, and I owed him one. Since Georgiana and the rest of our house elves have the first weekend of every month off- per their most recent negotiations, the ‘favor’ was to help him cook a Thank You dinner for you and the Potters. Something about being entertained by the Potterling and wanting to be around people who are lively and not, and I quote: ‘downers when I’m already down’. And by ‘help him’ he meant ‘do everything’ as you have seen the evidence of.” He waved his arms, highlighting the distance Theo was from all the cooking and prepping.
“Why didn’t you stay and cook for Harry and Gin, then?”
Theo spoke up, “When we arrived, bags of produce in tow, we were surprised to find there were others - one of them being Ron. Sorry," Theo cringed. "Ginevra told us where you were and said you might enjoy some company. I think she also might have been trying to rush us off as Ronald did not seem… stable.”
“Hope we aren’t intruding. We can leave if you’d prefer to be alone,” Malfoy, sincere, held her eyes for a few moments. She let him.
“I see…” Hermione was both angry that Ron had shown up to Harry and Ginny’s again, and also afraid of having to face him again while she was stuck in this time warp. She was thankful for her decision to come here, to be tucked away at her old home. Also, what strange circumstances this day had brought! When in Rome, she thought. Or, more aptly, when in 2006. She composed herself and after a moment decided to just go with it. “What’s on the menu?”
At this point, Hermione wouldn’t be surprised to see a full-on circus parade waltzing through the dining room. What an odd site- the three of them all around the dining room table. Malfoy, at the end, sitting where her father had usually been, Theo where her mum had preferred to be, and her in her usual spot. Wine glasses full, and the fine Seaport Grey porcelain plates all laid out.
Theo did a bit of work in the end, setting the table in that posh way that only muggles who’d attended finishing school or wizards who grew up with pureblood traditions would.
“Very lovely porcelain set, Granger," Theo commented.
“Funny story that. These are actually a replacement. We used to have a beautiful vintage heirloom Noritake set that my parents received on their wedding day. Sadly, that entire set was destroyed when I was six.” Hermione went on sheepishly, “Because my magic came in.”
“Fucking Merlin, Granger!” Theo, glancing back at the china cabinet, slow-clapped and let out a low whistle. “Six! I was ten. It--” His face fell, and his tone shifted darker, “I don’t tell that story to new friends.”
Hermione’s heart swelled because she knew the story well. It involved a burst of anger directed towards his father. Nott Sr. taking out his anger on his staff and Theo, fed up with having to see that, sent a rush of air so strong it knocked his father across the room. The 'discipline' session Theo had received afterwards was inhumane. “I’m sorry, Theo. Whatever it was, you didn’t deserve it.” She had to say something, knowing the truth of it.
“I was seven. Just sent a paper dragon to the ceiling and back; although, Mother was quite proud.” He smirked trying to lighten the mood. “Then I tried showing Theo for weeks after, and he refused to believe me. Teased me mercilessly. Couldn’t do it again until I was nine.”
"Well, we can't all be winners," Hermione, smiling, realized she unintentionally reacted the same way she had the first time she'd heard that story.
“You’d think the ministry would have more protocols in place to help parents learn how to cope with premature bursts of magical power like that. Salazar, Granger, your poor parents!”
“Yes, well, that is something I plan to remedy once I have more influence within The Wizengamot. You are absolutely correct, Theo.” Hermione’s stomach growled. She realized she'd been talking and not yet eating. Noticing that her tablemates had already been eating for a while, she took a bite of her salmon. It was heavenly. “Where did you learn to cook like this, Malfoy?”
“I once spent a year on and off traveling about Japan."
"Oh? I bet that was...enlightening." What was she playing at? It would never be said that Hermione Granger was known for keeping her cool. She was also a terrible liar. Apparently, that transferred to lies of omission- of what one knew when one knew quite a bit.
"Yes, it was. There was a lovely witch in Osaka who taught me how to cook the muggle way. I found the ritual of it soothing and much prefer it to magical methods. When I have the time.”
Hermione took a moment to smell the miso-glazed salmon, shishito itame, vegetables and fragrant rice. It smelled divine, but she was stalling, having picked up on the way he described the ‘lovely witch’ in Osaka. She knew what else he had told her he had learned in that very city. A skillset she’d been the beneficiary of many times. She tried to let it go, but she couldn’t. The question left her lips, “What else did you learn while in Japan?” There. That was subtle enough. Wasn’t it?
No, it wasn’t. Not judging by Malfoy’s eyes. They were lit up with so much promise, mischief, and… fire. Thankfully they weren’t directed at her as he was burning a hole through the table.
Theo chimed in then, feigning innocence as he asked, “Yes. Do tell, Drakey. What else?”
Malfoy cleared his throat. “Also, a story for another time, I'm afraid.” He looked at her then, and if she wasn’t mistaken, there was still heat there.
She could feel warmth emanating from her own gaze, no matter how much she tried to cool it.
Their stare-off was cut short by a chime at the doorbell.
She went to the door as she heard Theo call out, “Why didn’t that insufferable circus party music go off?”
She called back, “It’s only triggered by magical beings. Must be the post--” She stood with the door open and stared at the package at her feet. “Why would I have something sent here and not to my flat?”
“You don’t live here, Granger?” Theo was beside her now, wand in hand, at the ready, but he lowered it when he realized there was no threat.
“No, I live in a flat on the other side of town. But I haven’t been back there since…” Years. “Since I broke things off with Ron.” She hadn’t gone back since she arrived in 2006, not wanting to run into Ron as he was able to get in via floo, past the wards, with a key- he had access to it all even though he never officially lived there.
Was that why she felt more comfortable at Harry and Ginny’s?
Knowing Ron couldn’t just floo in as the cottage rental only allowed for outbound flooing. The Landlord didn’t want to run into anyone drunk-flooing into a new tenant's home, forgetting they no longer lived there. Apparently, that was something that had happened before, and explained the peculiar emboldened clause in Harry and Ginny's lease.
Come to think of it, she’d never added Ron to the wards at her parents’ home either- not that it was ever needed. He’d never been, and she’d never invited him. Strange to think if he’d ever come over before she sold it, he would have set off the alarm just like Malfoy and Theo had.
“What in the world could this be?” She asked no one in particular, picking up the medium-sized box and bringing it in.
“You don’t remember? You couldn’t have ordered it that long ago?” Theo asked.
“Huh,” Hermione tried not to laugh. A very long time ago. “Right….”
She opened the package to find a decent sized rucksack and other items, like one might use for a hiking trip. “Ah, yes. I’d forgotten all about my Camino de Santiago plans…” She realized she must have planned to go solo before she'd broken things off with Ron. She’d forgotten that detail. She also must have known she would be staying here instead of her flat also. (She had).
The hiking trip across Spain wasn’t something she ended up doing that year as Malfoy took up a fair amount of her summer free time. She’d already changed her mind before he came into the picture due to Ginny’s risky pregnancy. She hadn’t felt it was a good summer for a month away, anyhow.
"I hiked through there a year or so ago," Malfoy interrupted her thoughts.
"Of course you did," Theo rolled his eyes good-naturedly at his friend.
"How far did you go?" Hermione was curious. She knew he was well-traveled, but this was intriguing to her. It wasn't a particularly posh travel itinerary item as it was full of unwashed traipsing hippies. Hermione had planned to hike it partially as penance- it was known to be quite grueling- and partially as her Eat, Pray, Love moment. (She'd just read the book by Elizabeth Gilbert right before she broke up with Ron. It wasn't the impetus for her decision to do so, but it didn't hurt her resolve all the same.)
"Chose to do it the French Way, started in the Pyrenees. So..." Malfoy tilted his head, thinking a moment, then responded, "A little less than 800 kilometers."
"The whole way!?" This did not compute for Hermione. "Did you use any magical means of transportation?"
"No. Walked from start to finish," Malfoy declared, but he was picking up on her disbelief in his abilities. "You don't think I'd have the stamina?"
"Stamina, sure." She said this a little too sure, knowing his physique well at one point in time. She quickly added, "But the patience for it, I'm not so sure. How long did it take you?"
He seemed to be enjoying this back and forth. Unable to help himself, eyes bright, he went on, "Don't worry, Granger. I went slow. Spreading...it...out. Surprised myself with how long I made it...last."
Good Godrick.
"Do I need to leave?" Theo called from the dining room. They both jumped a little and looked toward the next room. Apparently, they'd been alone in their repartee and weren't even aware of it.
As they walked back to finish their meal, Malfoy added with far less inuendo, "It took me four months."
"Oh." That was all she could muster at the moment. She took a drink of her wine. "Where did you stop along the way?"
"A few of the smaller towns, a whole month in Pamplona, Logroño. That little town has the most breathtaking church I've ever seen. Very old. The best wine I’ve ever tasted was at this little, tiny nothing spot, a small family vineyard. Admired it so much, I became an investor. They now supply a few muggle establishments around London."
"Did you run with the bulls?"
"No, definitely not." He smirked, "You know I don't get on too well with any beast. Why should I attempt to run away from an angry heard of them. Pass."
"Thank fuck you didn't portkey me there!" Theo asked Hermione, "I've seen the pictures- what are muggles thinking with that?"
"Some wizards too. Ron and Harry actually went just after eighth to celebrate being alive or some nonsense."
It settled thickly on the room that she'd brought up Ron.
“If I’m honest, Granger, the two of you never made much sense to me.” This from Theo.
Odd. He’d never told her that in the recent years she'd known him. He’d always seemed supportive of her relationship with Ron, but maybe he was just being a good friend.
“Some say that opposites attract. Unlikely pairings can be beneficial.” She paused to look at Draco, who was looking down at his plate, gathering his last bite. “But I’m beginning to wonder if you can be too opposite. Or maybe opposites do attract, but compatibility and trust are what matter in the end." She sighed, "I don’t know anymore, really. It has been a very long week.”
“Yes, I’d imagine. We shall clean up and get out of your hair then.”
She watched them work as a team to clear out everything, tidy up, occasionally sharing a laugh, the secretive kind that comes from years of comfortability. She didn't feel the need to chip in and help like she usually would. She just sat back, enjoying another glass of wine, and watched.
As they all gathered around the porch and said their goodbyes, Malfoy leaned in to have a quiet word. “As we accidentally tested, you do have impeccable security measures in place here. But if you need anything…at all…you know how to find us.” He leaned in and hugged her a few moments and kissed her quickly, congenially on the right cheek when he backed away.
Hermione waved goodbye and closed the door to the two of them and stood there for a very long time thinking about all the memories being briefly held by him stirred within her.
It wasn’t until she walked up the stairs to bed that she realized she’d been holding, caressing that soft spot on her right cheek ever since they’d left.
Notes:
I mention that Hermione read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and that was the impetus for her desire to hike the Camino de Santiago. However, originally, I had intended to use Cheryl Strayed's Wild because it was a better fit...and in my opinion, a better memoir. Sadly, I realized that while Ms. Strayed hiked the Pacific Crest Trail in 1995, she didn't write her memoir until 2012. I must be accurate to the time period! (self-imposed regulations are my specialty) So Eat, Pray, Love won out. It would have come out two weeks before she broke up with Ron in 2006.
Chapter title is a line from Roam by The B-52s (1989). A nod to all the roaming/ travel talk going on because they're definitely not ready for the real talk...yet ;)
they_are_adorable on Chapter 11 Sun 27 Jul 2025 05:51AM UTC
Last Edited Sun 27 Jul 2025 05:54AM UTC
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