Dignity and a Plum

carondelet

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 19/05/2005
Last Updated: 19/05/2005
Status: completed

[completed; post-Hogwarts; request fic for simonsays] She was not expecting it. How could she? It was not something that would have crossed her mind. After all, it had been one year, three months, two weeks, five days, and six hours.

Chapters

1. Dignity and a Plum

1. Dignity and a Plum

Rating: PG-13 for adult subject matter.

Title: Dignity and a Plum

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, settings, and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling as published by, including and not limited, to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The use of these characters and settings is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement is intended or should be inferred. Additionally, locations in and around the United Kingdom are used as a basis for "historical reality" or in a purely fictitious manner.

Spoiler Alert: Books 1-5.

Summary: She was not expecting it. How could she? It was not something that would have crossed her mind. After all, it had been one year, three months, two weeks, five days, and six hours.

Pairings: Harry/Hermione (absolutely inferred)

Author's Notes: This came about as a request by chezsimon at LiveJournal / simonsays here at Porkey. He had requested a “post-Hogwarts Hermione and Cho encounter--clash of wits between two intelligent women”. And this is what happened. (Also, I used my bits from a conversation I had with Ash – now that she’s mentioned it, I feel free to credit the conversation as well. Heh)

Yes, this is H/Hr. It’s unconventional, but it is. Trust me. Trust Simon on this. Or, you could just read further and find out…

________________________________________

DIGNITY AND A PLUM

[] OR, LESSONS IN SOCIAL INTERDISCOURSE

________________________________________

It had been...one year, three months, two weeks, five days, and six hours from the last time.

Not that she was keeping track.

It was interesting, the things that came to mind when one was confronted with an uncomfortable reality.

She was not expecting it. How could she? It was not something that would have crossed her mind. After all, it had been one year, three months, two weeks, five days, and six hours.

When Hermione Granger rounded the corner in Flourish and Blotts', when she came round the brand-new Muggle Psychology stack and saw Cho Chang, she immediately calculated the last time that she had seen her.

Hermione was a bright young woman. Arithmancy had been one of her favourite subjects while at Hogwarts so she was unafraid of numbers. Her mind was able to nimbly roll back time and space in order to precisely summon up the last time the two of them had been face to face.

The moment was easily recalled. It had not gone particularly well.

So, it was with some surprise that Hermione received Cho’s presence. Something in her, something that was still naïve had held that she would never have to see Cho ever again.

Hermione blinked at the familiar face. “Erm...hello,” she said simply.

Cho registered surprise on her features as well. She took a moment’s pause and then said, “Hello.”

There was another pause. And then –

“How are you?” Hermione could have kicked herself. The old stand-by. Brilliant. How positively elegant that was...

“I’m fine,” Cho replied, expressionless.

“That’s good.” Ah, yet another striking response. Such sparkling repartee. Cho must be ever so impressed...

Another pause.

Cho was carrying a set of books in one arm. She shifted position to set the edge of the bottom-most book on her hip.

Hermione had no such luxury afforded to her; she was left to fold her arms across her chest in order to occupy her restless hands.

Both women had assumed defensive postures, Hermione realised with some humour.

“We need to talk.”

Hermione had not intended it, but the disbelief and disquiet were evident on her features. “We do?”

“Yes.” Cho shifted her weight and regarded Hermione seriously. “We need to end this.”

Hermione eyed the other woman cautiously. This was not something she had anticipated in all of the times that she had run the scenario through her mind immediately after their confrontation over him, Cho broaching the subject. “Yes, we do need to end this.”

Cho nodded and flicked a glance at the counter. “I’ll first need to pay for these. Afterwards, perhaps we could go to the Leaky Cauldron for something to drink?”

Hermione almost laughed at that. “You think we’ll need something to drink?”

Something in Hermione’s innocently put question made the Ravenclaw’s lips curve upwards into a wry smile. Cho gently shook her head and responded, “No, I think that you will.” And with that, Cho walked to the counter to purchase the reading material cradled in her arms. “Meet you there, then?” she breezily added over her shoulder.

Hermione could hear the smile in the other woman’s voice. She was left to stare after Cho, slightly gobsmacked by the statement and mentally kicking herself again for not having a witty comeback prepared. Hermione could almost swear that, as her former schoolmate walked away, that Cho had something in the tempo, something that practically reeked of success in her stride.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione stood at the Muggle Psychology stacks, gazing at the rows of books, idly running a finger along the spine of a random tome.

She didn’t really see the titles. The words had become a blur. Letters and publisher’s imprints and blocks of colour had swirled in her vision into some sort of psychedelic alphabet soup.

Ordinarily, that would have made her laugh. But not at that moment. Not when she had to prepare herself.

Cho wasn’t a dull woman; after all, she was a Ravenclaw. She had made high marks on her N.E.W.T.s and had been offered a mid-level position within the Ministry of Magic upon graduation. Cho was possessed of a certain intellect.

Hermione was not experienced enough in dealing with Cho, however, to determine exactly how smart Cho was.

She had written the other woman off as being emotionally manipulative and smart enough to be psychologically calculating. Then again, what teenaged girl wasn’t? Cho was obviously book smart; she had been adept in her classes. She displayed moderate skill in the meetings of Dumbledore’s Army. Nothing that particularly impressed Hermione.

But then, there was little about Cho that had impressed Hermione.

The last meeting between them had not gone well at all. Hermione needed a moment to gather her thoughts. Seeing Cho after one year, three months, two weeks, five days, six hours, and seventeen minutes, especially after how swimmingly their last encounter had gone, threw Hermione for a bit of a loop.

As loathe as Hermione was to speak with Cho, there were matters between them that needed settling. Hermione needed to speak the other woman. She needed to make certain things very clear. Crystal clear.

Hermione was a Gryffindor. She was the brightest witch of her age. She was co-founder of Dumbledore’s Army. She was a Healer in training. She had nothing to be worried about.

After all, it was only a talk and a drink. Nothing more, nothing less. She wasn’t going into battle. It wasn’t as though she was marching up to whatever bolthole that Voldemort had hidden himself in this month and was going to face the Dark Lord herself.

It was just a schoolmate. That was all.

Hermione took in a deep breath, girding herself with the familiar and comforting scents of pages, leather, age, and knowledge, and purposefully strode to the front doors of Flourish and Blotts’.

She was going to do this...thing.

She was going to win.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cho was already at the Leaky Cauldron, seated in the rear of the establishment in a snug. Her Flourish and Blotts’ purchases, neatly wrapped in brown butcher’s paper, were on the tabletop. She was sipping a clear liquid from what looked to be a shot glass.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at this. She never took Cho to be one who drank alcohol, never mind a hard liquor such as gin or vodka.

She took in a shallow breath and walked straight back to the snug, keeping her pace business-like. She hefted the book she had purchased in her desire to maintain appearances; she had taken longer than would have been necessary in Flourish and Blotts’ and therefore needed an excuse, a cover, as the Americans put it. She had chosen the title with some deliberation; in point of fact she had been rather surprised, almost taken aback, to see it in Flourish and Blotts’. It must have either been an oversight on the shop’s part or the staff simply did not realise the subject matter.

She had politely refused the offer to have the book wrapped. She wanted Cho to see it. She wanted to gauge her reaction.

She wanted to have a bit of sport.

As Hermione approached the snug, Cho paused and gave her a smile that was close to being friendly. Not to be outdone, Hermione returned the silent greeting in the same fashion.

She slid onto the bench opposite Cho and lightly set her unwrapped book onto the table top beside her. From the side of her eye, she observed the Ravenclaw read the cover. Dark Eros: The Imagination of Sadism by Thomas Moore.

Yes, that’s right, let’s have you ponder on that for a moment, shall we?

Hermione caught the attention of a waiter. She saw the recognition flash in his eyes, but he didn’t make mention of knowing who she was. “Yes, miss, what may I get for you?”

“I’d like a glass of water, please.” Hermione cast a glance down at Cho's now empty shot glass.

“I’d like another glass of ume-shu, please,” she said, giving Hermione a rather smug look.

The young man nodded at the both of them and took a step back. “I'll be just a moment.”

Once he left, Hermione afforded herself the indulgence of levelling a defiant stare at Cho, being certain to show understanding in her eyes. It hadn’t been gin or vodka; Cho had chosen a shot glass to put that assumption in her mind. “Japanese plum wine is it?” she asked Cho lightly.

“Indeed. By a wonderful coincidence, the Leaky Cauldron received a shipment of green ume plums and shochu. This is home made, as it were. It’s rather good. It’s also good for one’s health.” Cho placed emphasis on the word “health”. Hermione took this to be a subtle dig at her chosen profession as a Healer.

But Hermione was not to be outdone. “Yes, I know, the ume plum contains calcium and potassium in significant quantities.”

They stared at one another for a moment. The point went to neither of them, though Cho had the advantage at the onset.

As they continued to regard one another with increasing disdain, the waiter returned and deposited their drinks on the table. He wordlessly retreated.

Once the waiter had moved out of earshot, Cho shifted in her seat. “He deserves better.”

Hermione smirked at that. She knew to whom Cho referred to. It always came down to him. She gently raised her glass of water. “Everyone does, really,” she said in return, tipping her glass in Cho’s direction.

Cho titled her head at an angle. “Most don't know any better.”

“Is that so?”

“It is indeed. Most are ignorant or have been misled.” Cho stressed the last word in her statement and tossed her head in Hermione’s direction.

Here we go, then. Let’s get right into it.

“Misled? Really? And how’s that again, Cho?”

“Well, Hermione, most people tend to think that mindless rutting will fill the void, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

The only reaction Hermione permitted for Cho’s use of the antiquated vulgarity was another smirk. “Your pun is pardoned. Rather Victorian of you, isn’t it? Do you really think that’s what Harry thinks, that it’s what Harry feels? A need for a mindless distraction to fill a vacancy in his heart?”

At that, Cho smirked. “Is it not true that sometimes people mistake loneliness for desire?”

Hermione laughed at that, though her laugh was devoid of mirth. “Some do make that mistake. Those that do are those who are the most desperate to connect with someone. Anyone. Just to forget their isolation.” Hermione levelled a telling look at Cho. “To forget their pain and misery, to forget their loss.”

She felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and regret at the other woman’s pain.

Cho took a sip of her plum wine and coolly retorted, “And some use sex as a weapon, sex as a tool, sex as a means to an end. Sex as a thing and not as an intimacy.”

“Quite the statement, though I acknowledge that some do. But for others it is an intimate act, the most intimate.”

“So, you are saying that sex isn’t sex? That's a bit...childlike, isn’t it?”

“No, not when the sex act truly is making love. Sex on its own, without love, without regard, without emotional depth, is a violation, especially on the part of the woman. A man doesn’t have to invest much emotionally and therefore can view the act as nothing more than sexual intercourse. For a woman, it’s a total offering. She is letting the man in, literally, figuratively, and emotionally. She is making that connection not only with her body, but with her heart and her mind as well.”

Cho was quiet for a moment. Hermione maintained a neutral aspect as she waited for Cho to formulate her response. It was thorny business at best, discussing Harry and their feelings for him. Harry...the one that Cho had lost and the one that Hermione had gained. The last meeting had been much more forthright and brutal. Now the two women were engaged in an unusual metaphoric argument over who had claim to the bona fide and not merely professed intensity of emotion for Harry Potter, his former girlfriend Cho Chang or his current girlfriend Hermione Granger.

Hermione wasn’t certain which of the two she preferred, the candid ruthlessness of the argument of the past or the weird verbal ballet of the present.

“You are proposing, then, that love is always present for the woman when she takes a man into her bed?” Though the question was coyly put, there was a glimmer of sincerity in Cho’s eyes.

“I am saying that for most women, I would imagine that there is an emotional component to having sex with a man. Some women are able to compartmentalise their feelings, segregate them in such a way as to have no emotional attachment to the man or to the act itself. I would also imagine that most men do not associate emotion with the sex act; I daresay that only a slight handful of men do feel an emotional connection with the women they bed.”

Cho arched an eyebrow at the turn of phrase. It was Hermione’s turn to be somewhat forward.

She took a long sip of her ume-shu, looking all the while down at the table’s mottled surface. Hermione allowed her fingers to trace idle patterns in the condensation that had formed on her water glass. She was of a mind to change the nature of their spoken waltz into something much more direct, but Hermione was curious to see where such dancing would lead.

Cho set the glass down, placed her elbows on the table, and leaned forward, holding her face in her hands. “Are you able to compartmentalise your feelings?” There was a hint of a smile playing about her lips, but her eyes were nothing but deadly earnest.

Finally.

“No, I am not,” Hermione answered truthfully, not so much as blinking.

“You were able to segregate your feelings of friendship for Harry from your romantic inclinations toward him.”

“That is different and I think you know that, Cho.”

“Is it really so different? Simply because the biological component is missing does not lessen the impact of your emotions. You loved him well before he ever realised your feelings or his feelings for you. It was made plain during the Triwizard Tournament.”

“What does that matter now? Regardless of how or when I realised my true feelings for Harry, it never interfered with your relationship, at least not in the manner in which you seem to have imagined it.”

“Imagined it, you say? I did not imagine his preference for you. I did not imagine him constantly speaking of you, thinking of you, worrying about you. And I am certain that Viktor in no way imagined the same when it came to your fixation upon Harry.”

“Do not draw Viktor into this. That is a rather cheap tactic, one that I thought you had abandoned the last time we had this conversation.”

“Much in the same way I thought you had abandoned my feelings about Cedric in our previous conversation on this topic?”

“I never once made mention of him.”

“If not in name, then you know in your heart you most definitely invoked his memory in spirit.” A corner of Cho’s mouth twitched. “Yes, I was lonely, yes, I was hurting, and yes, Harry was there for me. Physically, if nothing else. His mind, his heart was always with you. Always. When you mention loneliness, when you mention emptiness, you say his name. When you mention those things, you mean to say Cedric’s name.”

Hermione sat back against the padding of the snug and swallowed hard. “And when you mention filling a void, you mean to say Harry’s name. He eased your suffering. You used him. He was your last connection to Cedric. He was the only thing that you could see that would help you get past the pain and the longing.”

“I cared about him.”

“Because of Cedric. Not because he was Harry, but because he was the last person to be with Cedric. You cared about Cedric, and not about Harry.”

“And you’ve only ever cared about Harry. You used Viktor because you couldn’t be with Harry. Because I was in the way.”

Hermione sighed in resignation. “Yes.”

“So, we’re both guilty.”

“Yes.”

“Though neither of us wishes to see ourselves in this light, we are both capable of being the kind of woman who is able to set aside all emotional considerations in order to be with someone, merely for the sake of not being alone.”

“I don’t believe it to be that simple. We made substitutions, yes, we used two innocent boys, yes, but there was emotion involved. There was nothing but emotion. We transposed our feelings for other boys, unavailable boys, in order to accept the lie.”

“Which was?”

“That we cared about the boys we were actually with.”

Cho laughed at that. She held the shot glass in her hand and regarded it. “Where does that leave us, then?” She swirled the finger’s worth of plum wine round and round.

“I suppose closer to an understanding than we were over a year ago.”

“I suppose so.” Cho stopped swirling the liquid and downed the remainder in a swift motion, surprising Hermione. Cho reached into her purse and placed a couple of galleons on the table. “With that, Miss Granger, I suggest we call it a day.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she regarded the older woman with some confusion. “What…I…?”

“Yes, I know.” Cho slid out from the snug, taking her parcel with her. “There is only so much excoriation one’s soul may take in the course of a day, let alone in the course of a year. So, until next year, then…?”

“That’s…that’s it? You’re leaving?”

“I am.”

Hermione grabbed her book and followed Cho to the entrance. “Just like that?” she hissed.

Cho turned and gave her a most winsome smile. “Just. Like. That,” she replied, snapping her fingers to punctuate her statement.

“You really mean to pick up this conversation a year from today?”

“Actually, I mean to continue this conversation one year, three months, two weeks, five days, and seven hours from today’s date.” She turned and stepped through the heavy oak doors and into the outdoors.

Hermione stood in the doorway and stared at Cho. “Why?”

The other woman turned and gave Hermione a look that was remorse beset with melancholy. “Because, Miss Granger…I loved him in my fashion. I will always care for him. This is my way of looking after him.”

“Making certain that my intention is true?” Hermione nearly laughed but managed to restrain herself.

Cho shook her head and smiled. “No, making certain that you remain honest to your intentions.” With that, Cho turned on one heel and began walking away. “Next year, Hermione...”

Hermione stepped out onto the steps leading into the Leaky Cauldron to watch Cho. She watched her disappear into the swirl of wizards and witches traversing Diagon Alley. She stood on the front steps for sometime, her book clasped to her chest as she stared out into the mass of people chatting, strolling, exploring, conducting business in the Alley.

She wasn’t certain she understood the Ravenclaw. She wasn’t certain the Ravenclaw understood herself.

The woman was much more complicated than she had appeared in their time at Hogwarts’ together. Though the initial conversation had been brutal to the point of being savage, the just concluded conversation was abstract to the point of being impressionist. In a most idiosyncratic way, the subject of their attraction to and their feelings for Harry had been handled with a certain degree of dignity and aplomb.

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the voices ebb and swell. Making certain that you remain honest to your intentions. Perhaps the next we meet, I might be able to learn exactly what your intentions are, Cho.

With a forceful sigh, Hermione stepped onto the cobblestones of Diagon Alley and headed toward Flourish and Blotts’. If she were to wait another one year, three months, two weeks, five days, and six hours, she would be in need of some reading material. It was rather a long time to wait. Perhaps I should visit some booksellers in Muggle London as well...

∞