Chapter 2
~~ HERMIONE ~~ GRANGER ~~
“I want the toaster!”
Hermione blinked slowly, processing the words. They were odd, bizarre really considering neither one of them needed a toaster, not with, you know, their magic and all. It was also not what she had expected him to say. In fact, it was probably the last possible thing she ever expected to hear from him when she stepped out of the fireplace the next morning.
I want the toaster… Not, where were you? How was your night? Can we talk about this? Does this mean we’re over? What did I do wrong? Can I fix it? Or literally anything else one often says in a break-up— or was it post break-up now? She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t actually said the words, though if he was laying claim to the toaster surely that meant he knew they were over. Especially since it was her toaster he was demanding.
What a preposterous thing, having a wizard asking a witch for her toaster…
Kevin had clearly not left her flat in her absence. A quick look around told Hermione that he had finished packing her things, then at some point between the time she left and now, he thought better of it and started unpacking her things. Which meant her flat was currently in a strange sort of disarray. It looked like, well, she wasn’t sure what it looked like but it was a mess. She examined the mess for a moment, realizing he had also brought back up the items that had previously been put in the moving truck and vaguely wondered if it was too late to renew her lease.
“You want the toaster.” It wasn’t exactly a question, it was more like she was trying to words out on her tongue. They seemed strange.
“Yes.” He snapped, and Hermione glanced at him.
“Is that all, just the toaster?” He technically had bought her couch after complaining her old one hurt his back. It hadn’t exactly been a fight, Kevin and her did not fight, but it had been a topic of conversation for a few weeks. He had wanted her to get a new couch, she believed hers was just fine and had made the sound argument that if they would just fuck in the bed they wouldn’t fall asleep on the couch afterwards and his back wouldn’t hurt in the morning. His rebuttal had been along the lines of the “mood” striking when she was reading on the couch. Why he couldn’t offer the small walk to the bedroom, or why he never scooped her up and carried her the few steps it took to reach her bed, was beyond her.
So her sex life had consisted of couch sex, which was agreeable most of the time if not just a tad boring, for the past several months. Honestly, she had no qualms over giving him the couch. In fact, she delighted in the idea of him carrying it down the stairs, then back up the stairs, just to have to take it back down the stairs since he thought it was appropriate to bring all her things back inside.
“And the couch.”
Aw, there, that made more sense. The Universe was aligning again. “Of course.” She nodded, bending down to put some of her books back into the box they clearly had come out of.
“Wh-what? Just like that?”
She didn’t look up at him, continuing her task and offering a small shrug.
“Fine, then I want the coffeemaker too.”
Hermione gave him another shrug. “Okay.” It was broken anyways and she preferred tea. The coffeemaker had been a gift from Anthony who had noticed she had been one coffee pot shy of a perfect breakfast on one of the mornings he had stayed post coitus. He hadn’t stayed often, their relationship had been hot, heavy, and quick (much like their shags) and hardly ever resulted in cuddling or conversation afterwards.
Perhaps she should have been more worried about how easily she ended her relationships with people, having ended her tryst with Anthony after he found his release before she had found hers for the fifth time in a row. She wasn’t a complicated lover, she was caring, generous, and rather good at it. Her partners, unfortunately, didn’t often live up to her standards. Kevin, though oftentimes a boring lover, was very attentive and assured her at least one orgasm. Not that any of that mattered now.
The fact she had so easily ended things with him spoke volumes to her state of mind. The decision had felt freeing, which was odd because she hadn’t exactly felt cumbersome before, yet she could almost physically feel the weight lifted. Which was surely something she would unpack later at the Leaky with her friends and a few cold drinks.
She moved to another box, put its contents back into the box before taping it up when she finally heard the first reasonable and sane thing Kevin had said since she arrived. “Why?”
“Why am I giving you the toaster?”
“Why aren’t you even fighting this?”
“I don’t exactly have the energy to fight for a toaster, Kevin.”
“That’s not what I mean!” He snaps, which had to have been the first time she had ever heard him raise his voice at her. Later, when she tells her friends about this interaction, Harry would worry when she confesses to the fact it turned her on a bit. It was why her and Ron had been so good together. Sexually at least.
Damn she was in need of a good shag. A hot, sweaty, dangerous kind of shag. Maybe she could find someone who fits the bill later, at the Leaky. For now, however, she owed Kevin an answer. She just wasn’t exactly sure how to answer him.
“I don’t know if I have an answer for you, Kevin.” At least not one that wouldn’t crush him.
“Is there somebody else?”
“Nope.” She taped up another box and scooted it out of her way.
“You don’t love me, is that it?”
Was that it? She had cared for him, she knew that much. He provided her comfort, conversation, care, and made her feel less alone. Yet… did she love him? Probably not in the same way he loved her, though she wasn’t sure she ever loved anyone in the sort of placating way he loved her. It was rather annoying really.
When you love someone like that, it’s not healthy. He had put her up on a pedestal, which she had enjoyed… until she didn’t. There was a sort of disrespect in the form of idealizing someone you put on a pedestal as if they were the perfect person, treating them like a piece of fine china and not as an equal. Someone who worships you like that is not truly seeing you but is seeing their fantasy of you. In a way, there isn’t much difference between a person who talks down to you and one who elevates you to a ridiculous level. The illusion, the fantasy, never lasts and when the pedestal falls, the china breaks.
It’s also incredibly easy to look down on the person who put you up on that pedestal. Maybe that was why she couldn’t love him the same. He had put too much distance between them, had raised her up so high all she could see was the distance and the flaws in the structure he had put her on.
“Is it because of what I said about Malfoy?”
Yes… and no… But she didn’t give him either of those answers. “Would it help you if I say I’m too narcissistic to commit to another human being in a long-term way?” it was probably true… and it was better than telling him she didn’t love him as deeply as he loved her.
Kevin sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, yeah that would help.”
Hermione nodded, scooting another box out of her way. “Great.” She stood and dusted off the non-existent dust from her jeans. “Then Kevin, it’s not you, it’s me. I can not give you what you want, or what you deserve, and I’m too emotionally stunted to change my mind.”
He let out a sort of snort-sounding laugh and roughly shoved his hands into his pockets. “You’re a shit liar Hermione, but thank you.
“Wait,” Ron yelled over the roar of noise “he wanted your toaster?” The Leaky Cauldron was alive with the typical chaos of laughter, clinking glasses, the occasional burst of magic, and poorly sung drunken pub songs. All things it was known for this late on a Friday.
“Yep.” Hermione popped the P, then took another swig of her beer. Feeling freshly liberated, she found solace in the company of her rowdy friends. The atmosphere around them was electric and left the air buzzing with magic and mirth as she recanted the story from earlier.
Seated at the crowded table, Ron and Seamus flanking her, their faces already flushed from the alcohol. There were far too many people inside, making the temperature rise to an almost uncomfortable level for such a cold day. “It was so odd, I mean, the first thing he said when I stepped out of the fireplace was ‘I want the toaster!”
The table erupted into laughter with Ron slapping his thigh as Seamus banged his tankard on the table, causing some of the liquid to splash out. Luna, who sat across from them, tipped her head. She had asked a question, but Hermione couldn’t hear it. There was a sudden uproar at the end of the table where George and Lee Jordan sat huddled together and sporting wicked grins. Surreptitiously they tested some new products on a cluster of unsuspecting patrons nearby which resulted in sporadic bursts of color clouds, peculiar sounds, and the overwhelming smell of flatulence.
Boys…
“Blimey, what is he gonna do with a toaster? Toast his sorrows away?” Ron guffawed.
“I think it has more to do with butter than it does toast Ron.” Ginny laughs. She’s not drinking tonight, on the account of being pregnant, again, but her spirits are up and she’s finding great pleasure in the story. Or more accurately she’s finding great pleasure in making Harry blush.
“What are you on about?”
With a sly grin, and a wink to Hermione, Ginny added “Oh you know, toasting and buttering Hermione’s biscuits.”
Harry winced and shot Ginny a warning look, but it only fueled the laughter around the table. It didn’t help when Hermione added “I wish he would butter my biscuits, pore bloke couldn’t figure the logistics of it.”
“He couldn’t figure it out, or he couldn’t finger it out?” Ginny wiggled her brows and the table erupted. Ron and Seamus both spit out a significant portion of the drinks they just swallowed, coughing and sputtering. Luna had thrown her head back in pure hysterics and Lee was leaning across the table offering up his fingers, should Hermione need their assistance. It earned him a slap on the back of his head from George.
“Ginny!” Harry scolded in a whisper, that was very much so not a whisper.
“Oh come off it Harry, we’re all adults here.”
“Adults or not, I don’t need to hear about Hermione’s biscuits being buttered, with or without fingers!” He grumbled. “She’s like a sister, and it’s just weird.”
“Harry,” Hermione smiled at him, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “men might have discovered fire, but women discovered how to play with it.” To drive home her point, because he was probably a little drunk and a bit thick when it came to things like this, she wiggled her fingers at him and marveled in his deep flush.
“Yer bum’s oot the windae.” Seamus slurred.
“Her bum did what?” Ginny laughed, spitting a bit of her drink out.
“Yer bum’s oot the windae.” Seamus repeated with a smug look, like that cleared things up.
“It means he thinks I’m exaggerating.” Hermione turned to Seamus, giving him what she hoped was a seductive look— it was hard to tell, she was a tad pissed— She let her eyes roam over him before flicking up to meet his. Placing a hand on his arm and leaning in she whispered “Would you like to find out?” She felt his breath pitch as she dragged her teeth across his ear.
“Fuck Hermione.” He shuddered. “I’d be honored, lass.”
“HERMIONE!” Harry glared at her. “I have to work with him, you know!” her eyes flicked over to his and she shrugged.
“So?”
“So! I don’t want to spend all bloody week hearing about this.” He hissed, his eyes darting over to Ron, who had been shifting uncomfortably in his seat, for a split second before returning to her.
“Sorry Seamus, it appears Harry’s too delicate for this to continue.”
“Aw! Harry, ya wee bawbag!” Hermione did not need to translate that one, though Luna had taken it upon herself to laugh and say “Scrotum” very loudly.
The pub stayed busy and chaotic for another hour or so before things finally started to calm. The laughter wasn’t as loud, the loud boasting chanting and singing had died to a drunken hum instead. Seamus had moved a way a bit from Hermione, after having to manage the bulge in his pants a few times. Ron was no longer tense and was slightly humming what she believed to be the Chudley Cannons fight song.
Did they have a fight song? She couldn’t remember… He was humming something about them either way.
Lee had left with some blonde which allowed Luna to slide in next to George as she asked him about all his new inventions. Harry was on his fifth beer, was much more relaxed if not a bit more flushed in the face, his wife’s head resting on his shoulder. Neville had come and gone already, which was a pity as Hermione was hoping to ask him for a new house plant. Hers had gone missing, probably Kevin's doing, but she had not had the chance to talk to him about it. At some point, someone had ordered a basket of rolls which seemed to be relatively untouched in the center of their table. It was a general rule not to order food from the Leaky for one of several reasons of which ruining one's buzz was amongst them, but the main reason was simply because the Leaky Cauldron had horrid food. So if they had followed their unspoken agreement, no one would have ordered them and it was of high probability that they were from George and would probably turn Hermione's hair green if she were to try them.
A calculated risk she was not willing to take at the moment. Not now that things had quieted down so.
Typically Hermione enjoyed the softer ambiance, as it was easier to think and contemplate. Right now, however, she didn’t want to think. She didn’t want to wonder what had happened, how things had gone wrong, why another relationship failed. She didn’t want to think about what Kevin had said, or why it had clenched her heart so. She should have known that the stillness was bad, that it only brought trouble. She should have sought out that shag she wanted.
Instead she stayed, swinging her feet slightly under the table, and trying to enjoy her buzz while distracting her overactive mind from wandering to her failed relationship by thinking about the rolls of bread in front of her. She was doing swimmingly, really, until Ron had to open his mouth.
“T’was a bit harsh” hiccup “don’t ya thinks?” hiccup.
Hermione blinked at him. “What was?”
“Kevin.” He hiccupped again and she wasn’t sure if he said his name as a question or a statement. “Bloke made one mistake and yous go and dumping him.” Hiccup. “Thought hes good for ya.” another hiccup. “M’kes me thinks, who’s ever gonna ‘e enough for ya?”
Ginny, who Hermione had thought had fallen asleep, opened her eyes and glared at her brother, giving him a hissed warning, which consisted of just his name. He ignored it though, like he usually did. “We’ve alls say bad things ‘bout the ferret.”
She knew that both Ron and George were only still there because they were avoiding the Burrow, or more specifically they were avoiding Molly. She had been quite determined to have George meet a witch and settle down and had been nagging Ron for the same thing since the war ended. At first, she had nagged him to settle down with Hermione, then when the broke up, she had nagged him to find someone new. When he had become acquainted with Padma, the nagging had stopped some.
Once it was clear Padma was going to be sticking around for a while, which according to Molly took about six months to decide, the nagging started again. Last year, when Ron proposed to Padma, Hermione suspected he had done it for the sole purpose of getting his mother off his back— not realizing it opened him up for more nagging just of a different type.
She was pretty sure he loved Padma, but she wondered if he loved her enough to irrevocably prioritize her as his absolute. It wasn’t her place to ask about such things. It was, however, in her place to ask “What would you have me do, Ron? Stand there and correct him? Pick a fight over it?”
At least, even in his drunken state, Ron had the good sense to look a tad sheepish as he added “Nevers stopped ya from cor-” hiccup “correcting us.” He was right, it hadn’t.
“Yes well, that’s because you guys are worth correcting.”
“Awe, Granger!” George put a hand over his heart and batted his lashes at her. “I do believe you just confessed your love for us.”
“Of course I love you, you giant prat.” She grabbed of of the stale rolls from the table, and tossed it at him. He caught it in his mouth, taking a big bite out of it, winked at her, then promptly spit the stale bread out, muttering something about how disgusting it was. She was pretty sure she heard the words “trying to poison me?” but she wasn’t sure. Guess the rolls weren't from George... Hermione grimaced at the thought. Poor George.
“Yes, yes, we all know George is lovable, but Hermione, are you saying Kevin wasn’t worth it?”
Hermione blinked at Ginny for a long moment before answering. She could have lied, could have come up with a different reason, or blamed it again on his harsh and stupid words, but she was one too many beers past making good decisions. “No, I suppose he wasn’t.” The table fell silent. “I hadn’t realized it until he said that, however.” Harry reached across the table, his hand encompassing her own in an attempt to offer whatever comfort he could. She didn’t exactly need comfort though, not for that.
She should be sad, heart broken even, after ending the relationship. She wasn’t. She just felt detached, like the past year hadn’t happened and she hadn’t wasted a year of her life on a closeted bigot. She might have been concerned about her emotional response, or lack thereof, but she couldn’t be bothered with it at the moment. It might have been the beer… It probably was the beer…
“Love,” she sighed, “love to me is like experiencing temporary madness. It bubbles and boils, the pressure building until it erupts like a volcano, and when it does you have a decision to make. You either have to run away from the danger, or allow yourself to burn in its wake. Either way, you need to look at those around you and decide if your roots are so entwined together that it would be inconceivable to ever part from them.” She turned to Harry with a soft smile. “Do you not burn for Ginny?”
He nods. “I do, every day.”
“And would you not burn the world down if she was in trouble?”
“Without a doubt.”
“My relationship with Kevin wasn’t like that.”
“Hermione, we’ve all seen how he looks at you, that boy burns for you.”
“Yes, but I did not burn for him, Ginny.” Hermione runs a hand through her hair. She had started the day out with her curls somewhat tempered, it appears, however, that they became unruly again at some point throughout the day.
“Did you ever burn for me, when we were together?” Ron’s voice is soft, so soft she almost missed it, and his words were surprisingly clear, like the conversation had suddenly sobered him up.
“Of course I did.” Hermione replied with a soft smile.
A strange emotion crossed his face, confusion perhaps. Maybe a little pain and regret. “Then why didn’t we work out?”
He might have sounded sober, but it was clear he was not. He loved Padma, Hermione was sure of it, and had it not been for the topic at hand and alcohol that turned his brain to mush, he would not ask such a question. She was sure of it. “Because, Ron, you didn’t burn for me, not in the same way I did for you.”
“But I would have burned the world down for you, Hermione, I still would.”
“It’s not quite the same thing Ron.” Something fell onto her hand with a splat. It took her a moment to realize it was a tear, it took her even longer to comprehend they were hers. She wiped at them quickly before grabbing Ron’s hand. “I know you love me, I never questioned that, but answer me this, and answer honestly please. If we were all at the Burrow, right now, all of us along with everyone you love and suddenly it caught fire. The flames are enchanted and too strong, and our wands aren’t working. We are all trapped in there, none of us able to make it out without help from someone else. This is all hypothetical of course, but would you choose to save me first?
Ron looked ashamed and turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze. It was a difficult question, she knew this, and if she was honest with herself she didn’t need to hear his answer. She already knew it. He would not have, and that was okay really. She wasn’t sure who his first would be, but she knew it would not have been her. “Ron, I didn’t ask you that question to insult you or hurt you. I just wanted you to understand. Though you loved me, I was never your first and I don’t hate you for that, I could never hate you for that, but that’s what I want. Don’t I deserve to have that?”
She wiped away another one of her tears and looked around the table. “Merlin, I’m not much fun after six beers apparently.” She forced a laugh. “Harry, dear, can you remind me to stop at five in the future?”
“I reckon you should stop at 3. That’s when you were flirting with me.” Seamus laughed. Just like that the tension was gone and other than a few sniffles from Ron, no one would have known he had just been a sobbing mess.
The door to the pub opened, bringing some cool air that tickled Hermione’s neck. She was so hot, and drunk, that playing in the snow was something she was suddenly entertaining. Or maybe a walk around the block to cool off a bit. Of course, all thoughts cooling off died the instant she saw Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini standing at the door.
Dressed in their impossibly perfect clothes, which she was sure cost a hefty fortune, the two stood with the door propped open allowing the winter breeze to waft in. They both looked exhausted, and they probably were. Between work, long winter hours, and the demand on their friendship to Draco Malfoy at a time like this, she was sure they were absolutely knackered. Though a pub, the Leaky was also the best floo station outside of the Ministry, which was closed currently. Which basically meant anyone coming or going for longer distance than apparition would allow, used the Leaky to get there.
She vaguely wondered if they had come from Malfoy Manor, of if that was where they were going. If perhaps he was with them, standing out in the cold still. It would make sense, for the three of them to show up so late in the evening when most everyone else had already gone home. But then the boys shuffled forward and the third member of their party stepped into the pub, letting the door rattle closed behind him.
“Oi! Dean!” Seamus yelled the second he spotted him, waving him over. Hermione had almost forgotten, she was blaming that on the alcohol, that Dean and Theo worked together in the Department of Mysteries. To the best of her knowledge, the boys were friendly enough that Theo had been invited out to a few of their game nights, or pub crawls. Blaise was a surprising addition though.
Much like Malfoy, Hermione hadn’t seen much of him since they all graduated. He kept out of the papers, ran his own restaurant, and… that’s it. That’s all she knew about him. Well, that and he was tall, dark, and handsome, but everyone knew that. Even a blind person could probably surmise how unbelievably attractive Blaise Zabini was.
“Don’t you lot look glum.” The three shuffled over to them. “Did you drink them out of house Finnegan?” Theo’s timber voice seemed as though it boomed around Hermione. Merlin, she was sloshed. Surely his voice hadn’t actually boomed around her.
“Nah, we were just talking about how Hermione should be cut off at three drinks cause that’s when she a flirty wee thing.” Theo hitches a brow at Seamus’s words, then makes a show at leaning over to look at Hermione. Not that he needed to lean, he was still standing and had a clear view of her. He held a question in his eyes, one that asked her if that was true.
“Oh yes," She nodded at him with a smile "but I’m a much better shag at four.” She had no idea why she said it, probably because she was currently six beers in and one blessed sober potion shy of any sense. It was also funny to hear Harry hiss her name again and watch as his cheeks turned red. Ron, thankfully, had his head rested on the table and was peacefully snoring. She wasn’t sure when that happened or how he would handle this conversation after their much more intense one just moments ago if he had been awake still. Small miracles she supposed.
"Oh?" Theo smiled. It was a sort of dazzling smile that made girls swoon, knickers become wet, and drunk girls to giggle. Which Hermione did. "And how many drinks have you had now?"
"Six. Which apparently makes me a tad depressing and overly reflective."
"I don't know about that, little lion, you seem to be quite fun right now."
"Thank you!" Hermione gave a sharp nod. "And! I would like to point out I am not slurring my words and talking in full sentences, thank you." The table laughed, even Blaise seemed to be biting back a smile.
"Damn out luck, could have given a bloke one hell of an ego boost to be hit on by the Golden Girl. How did it feel Finnegan? Was it brilliant?"
"Fuck ya it was. She did this thing with my ear."
Harry groaned again and the table laughed.
“Hey wait!” Hermione jumped up, swayed a bit, and thanked Seamus for reaching out to stable her. “Theo, do you work with Harry?”
Clearly puzzled, both by her question and her outburst, he glanced at Harry. “Not exactly. But I see him just about every day.” That was too bad, Theo had improved quite a bit with age. He was taller than she remembered, but not too tall that she would have to strain to look at him or kiss him. And lord did she want to kiss him.
Harry hissed out another warning, which she ignored. “Dean, are you seeing anyone?” The next obvious choice would have been Blaise as he didn't work at the Ministry and would have less chance to stumble upon Harry, but she didn't know him well enough to proposition him second. Besides, Dean was an attractive fella. He had deep, meaningful eyes she had often found herself drawn to but had never admitted to anyone other than Ginny.
“Not at the moment, why?”
“Hermione, for fucks sake.”
“Oh hush Harry.” Hermione waved him off, which his wife found hilarious as she was cackling with Luna as the two of them made some type of bet with George. “Harry won’t let me shag Seamus because they work together.” She said with a shrug, as if that cleared everything up.
“Cock blocker, he is.” Seamus mumbles, Hermione laughs, batting her eyelashes at Dean who had a hit of pink on his cheeks. She wondered if it was from the cold or this conversation.
“Do you see Harry at work often?” That was all it took for him to catch on, or perhaps that’s all it took for Hermione to realize he caught on. One moment he was standing there, all cute and quiet with his tented pink cheeks, and the next he was laughing and holding a hand out for her, assuring her he hardly ever saw Harry at work and would make it a point to avoid him for the next few days. Which was good enough for her.
"Wait, just like that and I'm shoved out of the running?" Theo's voice was indignant. "Potter, you are a cock blocker!"
There was another round of laughter, another grumble from Harry as she rattled on something about Hermione being like a sister and none of their present company was good enough for her (Hermione only vaguely listened) and a small taunt from Dean that had Theo threatening to wipe the smug look off his face.
Hermione giggled again, stepping closer to Dean, who wrapped an arm around her. “If we do this, and bloody hell I want to do this, I do not want you to be gentle. Put me on a fucking pedestal and I’ll curse your buttock off faster than you can say the word wank.” It pleased her greatly that Dean was amused with her antics and his promises to never put her on a pedestal gave her hope for a good, guilt free, fuck. "Can you do that for me? Or should I ask Blaise?" Somewhere in the background she saw Blaise raise a brow, but her focus was on Dean at the moment.
"Oh absolutely I can."
"Fantastic." She twisted her hand in his tie and pulled him down so their lips could meet in a searing kiss. She paid no attention to the grumbling of Harry, the laughter of George, the disappointment from Seamus and Theo respectfully, or the coin tossed to George by both Ginny and Luna.