Chapter Text
Hermione looked at her screen, mouth dry. She kept reading the text message aloud in her head:
Unknown number: Hey. sorry to text u like this. i got ur nmbr from a friend.
The words weren’t what surprised her, or their impressive lack of grammar. Phones auto-correct text themselves. It’s like he was TRYING to sound stupid or cool.
Truthfully, none of that was surprising. What was surprising was the name attached at the end of the text.
Unknown number: u wanna meet up sometime? -Alvaro
Alvaro. Her eyes widened. A senior boy. One she may or may not have harbored a secret crush on for years. She saved his number to her phone quickly.
“Hermione, my dear, I can’t teach you to drive today. I'm sorry. We need to pick up your sister,” her mom said from the front of the car.
That’s fine. She had a whole year before her driving test.
Hermione moved to the passenger seat, and closed the car door gently. Her mom hated it when she slammed the door.
“Ok, yeah. Sure. That’s fine, mom,” she said, eyes fixed on her screen.
Hermione: Hey! I’m down to hang! When were you thinking?
Alvaro: bet. after Snape’s class then? i can show u the football locker rooms… 😗
Hermione: Snape’s class? Like, meet you there?
Alvaro: ???? Y? we share that class???
Hermione’s heart stopped.
Fuck. Not again.
Hermione: I’m not Bellatrix. This is her younger sister, Hermione.
Alvaro: shit!! give her my # then????😬
Hermione rolled her eyes, and then changed his contact name from “Alvaro” to “Ella’s Alvaro.”
It ’s easier that way. Easier to remember which guys were only talking to her to get to her older sister. After she saved the new name, her phone’s screen was left on the list of contacts. The letter “E” was huge. Filled to the brim. Her finger couldn’t swipe up through all the names of boys she saved under “Ella’s.” It would take multiple swipes. And each name had their own story.
“Ella’s Ron,” also known as the boy who Hermione used to tutor. The one that always insisted it be at her house. Oh, what a treat to find him in her sister’s room, pants down, when he supposedly “had to use the bathroom.”
“Ella’s Theo,” forever memorialized as the cigarette guy. He’d buy Ella cigarettes, and if she was absent, which was often, he’d hand Hermione a pack to slip to her sister. Camel Menthol.
“Spirits are the shit. Can’t believe she fucks with Menthol,” he told her once. Sometimes, Theo would buy Hermione a vending machine soda, just to get on her good side. Hoping to get a good word in from the younger sister.
Idiot.
No one was good enough for Ella in Hermione’s mind.
Her sister was the most beautiful girl in the world. Her idol. The person she wanted to be when she turned eighteen.
If you saw them side by side, you’d never think that the Black sisters were related.
Tan, with flecks of gold in her brown eyes, and a body that was unbearably average in every way, fifteen year old Hermione was just that – average. Average, awkward teen.
She took after her fathers side. You know, the man who somehow managed to marry Druella Black. Richest family in the city. Druella could have married anyone, but she chose love. She chose a Granger.
Hermione took after that side. The Granger.
But her older sister? She was a Black. Through and through. From silky hair to manicured toenails. Right down to the bone.
People used to call her “Bella Hadid” as a joke. She was tall. Model tall. Signed a contract with Abercrombie at fourteen to show off their clothes kind of tall.
Pimples? Ella never heard of them. And yet, Hermione was covered in them at fourteen. Took her a whole year to laser them off.
The only thing they had in common was their curly hair. So of course, Bella straightened hers. Not the kind you do with an iron everyday. No, she did the expensive, permanent treatment. The kind that probably caused cancer and burned her scalp to hell. All to avoid having anything in common with her sister. Cost Ella a whole three months of allowance.
The sisters were never close, but not for Hermione’s lack of trying.
“They played parallel to each other,” her mother said.
What it really meant was that Ella did everything independently, away from the sister that followed her like a shadow.
Her mother’s voice rang through the air. “We’re here.”
They arrived at the police station. Her sister sat at the steps, the family lawyer lecturing her about what to say. “Don’t confirm anything,” she can lip-read from his mouth.
It was Ella’s second DUI.
Hermione mouthed the acronym against her lips.
D.U.I. – Driving under the influence.
Hermione exited the car, gingerly pressing the door shut.
“Ella! Are you ok?” she asked her sister, approaching her cautiously. Worry clouded her thoughts. The car was impounded at the police lot, but Hermione saw the photos sent from the lawyer. Everything was bent out of shape. Alignment ruined. No longer drivable under state law.
“Fuck off, stop calling me that shit. It’s Bella. Be-lla. When will that get through your thick skull?” Her sister flipped her off. Middle finger raised to the air with an annoyed face.
Hermione felt stupid.
“S-sorry sis, Be -Bella,” she stammered.
“Bellatrix, darling! What have they done to you?” Their mother wailed in the parking lot, embracing her eldest daughter tightly.
“Ugh, Druella! Enough!” Her sister groaned at her mom.
Only Ella, uh she meant Bella, could possibly address their mom by her first name.
Hermione would get smacked right in the face. Right in the Granger face.
“What’s dad cooking anyways? This hangover is killing me,” Bella grimaced.
“Oh, he’s at a book club right now. You know how stay at home husbands get bored and join different clubs. Today book club, tomorrow golf!” Their mother joked. “So I had the cook prepare us something.”
“The cook is on call but the driver isn’t?” Bella asked, hands at her hips, annoyed.
“I was supposed to teach Hermione how to drive today, before we got the call from the lawyer.”
“Whatever. Guess I’ll just deal with your jerky driving,” Bella rolled her eyes. She slammed the door shut.
Their mother didn’t say a thing.
Hermione now sat at the back of the car, near her sister, hoping to spend time with her.
“Hey…uh…Bella,” Hermione asked gingerly.
“What?” Her sister rolled her eyes.
“Alvaro texted me. He wanted me to pass on his number,” Hermione had her phone at the ready, waiting to pass on the information to her big sis.
“Put that shit away,” her sister seethed through clenched teeth. Then, she lowered her voice.
“I’ve been seeing someone. Someone older. Not a boy; a man. He’s going to meet with Druella and Howard tomorrow,” Bella said, casually calling their parents by their first names.
Hermione was shocked.
Not by the fact that her freshly eighteen year old sister was seeing an older man. Ella –shit, she meant Bella – Bella saw older men regularly.
But not once, ever, has she introduced a man to their parents.
Tomorrow suddenly felt important.