Chapter three - Trois
Harry awoke the next morning feeling incredibly guilty and nearly sick to his stomach.
I can't believe I just let her go out with that Marc bloke, Harry thought. I didn't even get to meet him before they took off.
He threw the covers off of himself and headed off to the loo where he splashed some warm water onto his face and looked at himself in the mirror. He sighed deeply, clenching his fists, resisting the urge to hit something, anything.
Stop fooling yourself, Potter, he thought. Oh, bugger it all. You're bloody jealous. He slumped to the floor and placed his head in his hands. Why does it have to be so fucking hard? Why can't I just let her live her own life? Why can't I just let her go and get over her? Shite.
Just then there was a knock at the bathroom door. He struggled to get up, nearly slipping on the slick floor. "Yeah?" he said aloud as he opened the door to a patiently waiting Luna.
"I was just wondering if I could use the loo," she said lightly.
"Oh, sure," Harry said as he stepped out of her way.
Harry walked slowly down the stairs and to the kitchen where Ron was sitting at the round kitchen table, reading the Daily Prophet and sipping at a steaming cup of tea.
"Morning, mate," Ron said.
"Morning," Harry responded, rummaging in the fridge before taking out the pumpkin juice and pouring himself a glass.
"How was your night?" Ron asked, setting the paper down and working on his plate of toast.
Harry shrugged. "I stayed in. Went to bed early."
Ron nodded. "Me and Luna had dinner at that new restaurant in Diagon Alley."
"Good?" Harry asked.
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a few moments before Harry got anxious and asked the question he had been aching to ask since he had woken up that morning.
"So, uh, is Hermione up yet?" Harry asked casually.
Ron chuckled. "I wouldn't know. I don't think she came home last night."
"What?!" Harry exclaimed.
Ron simply stared at him, completely taken aback. "I…uh…" Ron stammered, not sure what to say.
"You just let her stay at that Marc guy's house, with him, alone?" Harry challenged.
"Well, Hermione is a big girl, I'm sure she can take care of herself."
"She doesn't even know him, and you just let her shag him?"
"You're making this out as if it's my fault. I didn't let her do anything," Ron responded, now becoming angry himself.
"What if she's somewhere hurt, or lost?"
"She's a bleeding witch, Harry! She'll be fine! That Marc bloke is a muggle anyways. There isn't much he could have gotten away with before Hermione hexed him into next week."
"But…" Harry started.
"Oh, shut it already," Ron interrupted. "If Hermione wants to start a romance of her own then it's none of your business. If she wants to shag him after their first date, then by all means, it's her bloody choice. It's her life, Harry. Step off a bit, would ya? Merlin."
Harry stood in the middle of the kitchen, stunned beyond words. Ron was right, and he was being a right git about the whole thing. Harry sighed as he sat down across the table from Ron. They stared at each other a moment, not knowing what else there was to say about the matter. Ron folded up his paper and folded his hands in front of him, frowning slightly.
"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked. "Ever since Hermione met Marc you've been acting really wonky. You've been cold towards Hermione and you've been really touchy about the whole 'her dating' thing."
"I just…I…" Harry stuttered, trying to come up with a valid excuse. He looked at Ron hopelessly, realization overtaking his face. "I really don't know."
"Harry," Ron said seriously, "do you realize what this looks like, you being all weird now that Hermione is dating again?"
"I know, I know," Harry said, irritated. "Christ, I'm an idiot," he continued, resting his forehead in his palm.
Ron shook his head, standing and taking his empty plate and setting it in the sink. "I don't know what to tell you anymore, Harry. If you don't know what you want, then I don't know what I can do to help you."
"What do you mean? You think I don't know what I want?" Harry challenged, lifting his head and looking intently at Ron.
"Oh, come on, mate. Don't keep fooling yourself. You're torn between Cho and Hermione. Isn't it obvious?"
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. "I proposed to Cho. I'm marrying her!" he shouted.
"But you're bloody nutters about Hermione!" Ron blurted out, throwing his arms up into the air, surrendering his prior reservations about how he was going to approach the subject.
Harry's mouth hung open, completely awestruck by Ron's exclamation. "And don't you dare act surprised," Ron said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've been dancing circles around this whole problem for years. You love her, she loves you, just admit it already and put the rest of us out of our bloody misery."
Ron walked off, not looking back and not really caring what Harry's reaction to all of this was. He was tired of watching the two of them together, denying the feelings they had for each other, avoiding the undeniable truth that the sexual tension between them was absolutely screaming to be dealt with. He saw the subtle exchanges between them, he heard the way Harry would speak to Hermione, his words soft and caring, completely different than the annoyed and frustrated tone that he usually took with Cho.
And who can blame him? Ron thought. Cho's all fur coat and no knickers. All superficial, absolutely no substance.
Harry stared at the wall in front of him, completely confused. Ron's right for once, he thought, absolutely dumb struck.
But what if he's wrong? I mean, I love Cho, right? He didn't know what to do. The only thing he could do was to go and see her, try and clear everything up. He walked to his room, threw on dark jeans and a plain fitted white tee shirt, slipped his trainers on, and hurried out the door, hoping to catch her and take her out for an early lunch so that they could talk. He could only hope that this all turned out for the best.
What the hell happened last night? Hermione thought with a groan as she sat on a cold, tiled bathroom floor, clutching her head and praying for death. Her hair was hanging in her face and she was wearing only her black knickers and a white tank top, the only things she could quickly locate from the floor they had been carelessly tossed onto.
She moaned quietly as she leaned against the wall behind her, knees drawn to her chest as she fought with herself as to how to handle this. She peaked back into the bedroom, and seeing no one, grabbed her purse from the floor and found the hang over potion that she had placed into her bag for emergencies. She downed it quickly, shaking her head and sighing as she dropped her purse back onto the floor, completely lost. She heard a door close nearby and she panicked, wondering what she should do. She rushed back to the bathroom and shut the door quietly, pressing her back against it and shutting her eyes tightly. A sudden rapping at the door shocked her and caused her to jump away from the door.
"You in there, Hermione?" she heard from the other side of the door.
"Um, yeah," she said weakly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "I'll be out in a second."
"Okay," came the reply as Marc backed away from the loo and left the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. She let out the breath she had been holding slowly, pacing around the small bathroom, waiting for the hang over potion to kick in so that she could remember what had happened the night before.
"Ah," she muttered, clutching her hair as a slightly familiar pain shot through the front of her head, letting her know that the potion had done its job. A sudden rush of air seemed to hit her directly in the chest as memories from the night before began to bombard her.
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked as Marc drove her through a part of London that she didn't recognize. "I thought we were going to the fair."
"Well, I had a better idea," Marc replied turning down a long, dark alley. "There's this place that a friend of mine just opened up. I thought that we could go there, maybe have a few drinks."
"Oh, well that sounds fine I guess," Hermione replied, looking down at her clothes and frowning. "I'm not really dressed for a fancy place though."
"Don't worry about it," Marc reassured her. "I'm sure no one will care. And I wouldn't even consider it fancy. It's fine, you'll fit right in."
Hermione smiled nervously, fiddling with her newly manicured nails as Marc turned into a somewhat crowded parking lot and parked the car. He opened the door for her and led her to the back door of a completely brick building, towering over her head at an intimidating height. It was dark inside, the only light coming from hazy red lights strung above their heads in thin rows. Marc said hello to a few people and introduced her to a few of them on their way to the bar. They sat down, Marc immediately ordering them a round of drinks.
They made idle conversation, the alcohol flowing as more and more of Marc's friends decided to join them. Hermione was not a typically heavy drinker. She tried to consider herself slightly classier than the people who drank themselves into an unconscious stupor. Not that she didn't drink. She had been known to go out and have a good time with friends and had even found herself slightly tipsy a time or two. This was different though.
At one point during the evening, as Hermione stared into a glass of dark liquid that one of Marc's friends had insisted she try, she felt the sudden urge to turn and run for her life. She realized too late into the evening that she didn't want to be with Marc. He was a nice enough guy, but he wasn't Harry, and that's what killed her about the entire situation. She had figured that she could go out with another guy, no problem, and not have to worry about Harry in the back of her mind. It hadn't been about making Harry jealous or proving something to Ron, that wasn't even it in the slightest. It had been about proving to herself that she could have feelings for Harry but still maintain a healthy relationship with someone else; and she had failed miserably. Here she sat, drinking herself into a hole, and all she could think about was what Harry would say when she showed up at home, a complete wreck and drunk off her arse.
She downed the mystery drink and called for another, way past logical thought at this point. It wasn't Marc's fault. She had to keep telling herself that. He really didn't mean any harm to her, and it wasn't his fault that she was in the process of doing something that she would eventually regret. Through her somewhat glazed over state of vision she could see him lazily smiling at her. He had his arm around her, grasping her waist through her jumper.
The night flew by with numerous drinks and a few feeble attempts by her to dance, all of which were miserable failures on her part. Before she knew what was happening she had her back against the door to Marc's flat and was being kissed feverishly with complete and reckless abandon. All thoughts of Harry were gone from her mind, the alcohol causing her to simply go with the flow, a much more careless side of her taking over. As they entered his flat clothes were discarded quickly and a type of animalistic instinct overtook Hermione as she did the one thing that she had never envisioned herself doing: she shagged someone while she was completely smashed.
She shuddered as the more embarrassing, intimate moments from last night began to flow through her mind. She shook herself slightly, opening the bathroom door after she had had a moment to compose herself. She found her jeans folded neatly on the now made bed. Her jumper was next to it, her jacket hanging on the back of a nearby chair. She dressed quickly, throwing her hair back into the ponytail it had been in at the beginning of the previous night. With her jacket thrown over her arm and her purse slung over her shoulder she slowly made her way out of the bedroom and down the corridor into what she remembered to be the kitchen. She cringed as she looked upon the small wooden table in the center of the room, remembering what they had done on that table upon entering the flat the night before.
"Morning," she heard, looking to her side at a very miserable looking Marc who was in the process of making coffee. He smiled weakly at her as she remained cemented to the place where she was standing.
"Morning," she replied, watching as he poured himself a cup of dark coffee and then turned back to her.
"Coffee?" he asked. She shook her head, smiling at him. He retrieved his cup and turned around, leaning on the counter behind him.
They stood in complete silence for a moment, neither of them wanting to breach the subject of last night.
Marc cleared his throat and finally spoke. "I just want to let you know that I didn't plan for what happened last night to…happen. I mean, I really like you and I wouldn't want you to feel disrespected or anything. It just happened, ya know?"
Hermione looked at him, sadness in her eyes. He really was a sweet guy, but once again, he just wasn't Harry. And if she was going to have to spend the rest of her life hooking up with guys that "just weren't Harry", then so be it. But she wasn't going to string him along in her hopelessly complicated and distressing life.
"I appreciate you saying that," she started, wanting to break it easily to him that he just wasn't for her. "I don't normally do things like that. That's actually the first time that something like that has happened." He frowned at that, looking as if he was going to apologize, but she stopped him. "I'm glad that you're such a caring person, and that you're able to handle something like this the way you are, but I really have to be honest with you." He nodded his head, still frowning. "I just can't do this," she sighed, looking down at her shoes.
"It's ok. I understand," he said, taking a few steps towards her. "You're a really great girl, Hermione," he said, smiling at her. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
She smiled at him. "Thank you." She hugged him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you for being so understanding."
He chuckled. "Well, since I did sleep with you, I figure I could pay you a little respect in return." She drew away from him and gave him one last peck on the other cheek before turning and walking towards the door.
"Oh, and Hermione?" Marc said, walking to the entranceway.
"Yeah?" she replied, turning back around and looking at him expectantly.
"Make sure you let the bloke that catches you know how lucky he is."
Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "Thanks," she chuckled. "I will."
He waved at her as she shut the door behind her, looking up and down the corridor, seeing that it was empty, and apparating back home - back to Harry.
Harry found himself standing stock still in front of the door to Cho's flat just staring at it, not making any movement to knock or enter. He took a deep breath, shrugged his shoulders back, and unlocked the door with his key. He opened the door slowly, peaking his head into the entryway and looking around, seeing it deserted and walking further into the flat. He entered and walked around, calling out Cho's name once and receiving no answer. As he walked down the corridor that led to her bedroom he heard the shower running and figured he would wait for her to get done so that they could get something to eat.
On his way down the corridor a photograph on the wall caught his eye. It was a photograph that had been taken the night that Cho and Harry had announced their engagement to their friends and family. They were all seated in the living room of Cho's flat, all smiling and projecting the illusion of one big, happy family. Cho was seated on the large couch with her sister next to her and her mother and father on either side of them. Harry stood directly behind Cho, but what really caught his eye was the woman standing to his immediate right in the photograph - Hermione. They were standing close to each other, their shoulders touching. In the picture, Cho would look to her mother and father before tilting her head to the side and smiling at Harry. As soon as Cho looked away to smile at her sister, Hermione chanced a glance at Harry and their eyes met, even if for only a moment, and they both smiled the most genuine, bright smiles in the entire picture. If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have figured that he and Hermione were the ones who had just gotten engaged in the picture.
Harry's hand was only stiffly resting on Cho's shoulder, and as soon as Hermione looked at him, it was removed. Ron and Luna were standing to the right of Hermione and they both turned and looked at her and Harry, smiling knowingly. It caused Harry to stop and catch his breath for a moment, not wanting to accept what he was seeing laid out right before his very eyes.
As he was looking at the photograph he heard the shower shut off. Harry turned around and leaned against the wall next to him, patiently waiting for her. The door opened and Harry smiled, taking a step towards the loo, and then stopping, confused.
"Who are you?" he asked loudly as a tall bloke with blonde hair and tanned skin exited the bathroom, standing in the corridor wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and dripping water onto the hardwood floor.
"What?" the man challenged.
"I said, who the bloody hell are you?" Harry asked again, raising his voice even more.
Just then the door behind Harry opened quickly and Cho entered the corridor, hair in a complete mess and her face more flushed than Harry had ever seen it. She was wrapped in her plain white bed sheets, making the scene before Harry look all the more incriminating and compromising.
"Harry…" she whispered, sighing and darting her eyes all over the place, looking extremely nervous.
"Don't you dare even try and make excuses," he said, turning on her, pointing his finger at her and clenching his jaw, refraining from completely letting loose on her. "I…I trusted you," he stammered, disappointment and sorrow etched on his face. "Why?" he asked, at a complete loss.
She looked at him, at an absolute loss for words. Her mouth hung open slightly as she searched for the right words. "I'd like to know what's going on, too," the man behind him interjected. Harry turned around and stared at him, daring him to say something else.
The other man shook his head. "I'm out of here," he muttered, walking to the bedroom and retrieving his clothes.
"Wait, Jon," Cho started, turning to try and stop him.
"You're telling him to wait? Are you shitting me?" Harry asked.
"Harry…" she said, turning back to him.
"No, no," Harry interrupted her, "if this is what you want then fine by me. Merlin, have I been an idiot," he said, planting his hands firmly on his waist and beginning to pace.
"I didn't mean for this to happen, Harry. I met Jon last month at my sister's birthday party. You were in Ireland for a game, and well, things got a little out of hand and…"
"Oh, will you give it up?" Harry said, becoming increasingly annoyed. "You know what? This would have never worked, you and me. I don't know why I was trying to fool myself into thinking that we could actually last. What the hell was I thinking?"
"Please, Harry, don't do this," Cho pleaded, walking up to him and placing a hand on his chest. He shrugged her hand away and took a few more steps down the corridor and towards the front door. Jon was still standing in Cho's bedroom door, wearing only his boxers and a pair of beige cargo shorts, the shorts unbuttoned, unzipped, and hanging loosely from his slim hips.
"Don't do this? Are you serious?" he asked her, stunned. "Don't try and tell me that you still want to be with me. And even if you did, it wouldn't matter. I'm done, Cho. Done."
And with one final disgusted look in her direction Harry turned his back to her, leaving her standing there, confused and frustrated. Before Harry knew what was happening he was opening the door, but Cho was shoving him out of it, her fists beating at his back.
"I gave you everything!" she screamed at him as he turned back to her, stunned. "Do you know how much I had to sacrifice to be with you? While my girlfriends were out partying I was going to balls and dances, being a good girl, your model girlfriend. And what did I get in return?"
"My love!" he yelled back at her, nearly spitting. "My love," he said breathlessly, pausing between the words, panting.
"Yeah, well, it's not like I asked for it," she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and trying to defend herself.
"Merlin, do you even hear yourself when you speak?" he asked her, approaching her. "You are such an ignorant little…" he began, but stopped himself before he said anything else, fuming.
"How dare you!" she shrieked, struggling with the ring on her left hand. "Take your bloody ring, take your bloody love, and get the hell away from me!"
"Gladly," he muttered, his deep baritone voice harsh and dry from the effort it took to not cry. She threw the ring at his chest and turned back into her flat, slamming the door behind her.
Hermione crept back into the house, hoping that no one would hear her. It was still early in the day, so there was a fairly good chance that everyone was out and about. She closed the front door quietly and then rushed to her bedroom. As soon as she entered her room she rushed to the calendar on the wall above her desk to double check that she had taken her contraception potion for that week, just to be safe. She let out a sigh of relief as she saw the large red X over the day that she had consumed it. She hurried to the restroom and took a long, hot shower, washing herself of the previous night.
As she dressed and readied herself for the day she couldn't help but wonder what type of confrontation she was going to have to have with Harry about this. But then again, she wasn't sure what he had done last night, and he may have very well spent it with Cho, so he may not have come home either. And even though it killed her, she prayed to whatever God that would listen that Harry had gone to Cho's.
As Hermione put on a pair of navy spandex shorts and a plain gray t-shirt and prepared for a jog in the park a few blocks from their house, she began to wonder why she was so frightened of Harry's reaction to her sleeping with Marc.
It's my life, isn't it? she thought. I can shag whomever I please, right?
Even though all of these assumptions seemed plausible to her, Hermione was having a very hard time convincing herself that Harry would see it the same way. She had known that going out with Marc wouldn't help her to get over Harry. In fact, it had really only made her feel guilty and disappointed in herself. She had wracked her brain over the subject all morning in the shower.
Was I trying to make Harry jealous? she had asked herself. No. That's not it. Why would I want to make him jealous? There's no reason to even try when he's with Cho. She's everything that he could want and more. Why would he want me?
She put her headphones in, turned her music on, and jogged out into the oddly warm autumn sun. Jogging always helped her to clear her head, and right now, it needed a lot of clearing. She thought about what would happen once Harry and Cho were married and Ron and Luna had their baby. No doubt Ron and Luna would be looking to move out soon, wanting a place of their own to raise the baby. And there Hermione would be, stuck with Cho and Harry, living their perfect life as she sat in the corner and happily played the third wheel, just like she always did. There was no question that she would eventually need to look for a flat of her own. Her wages at St. Mungo's were easily enough to pay for the rent on a flat, and with the extra money she made playing her violin, she would have no issue. She would, however, be alone, very alone.
If she did move out she knew that she would see less and less of Ron and Harry over the years and it would eventually lead to all of them falling out of contact, then meeting up years later with tons of kids and enough stories to talk for days. That wasn't what Hermione wanted though. She didn't want to leave her friends, the love of her life, and the place she had called a home ever since the end of the war. It didn't seem fair to her. She was the one that had been with Harry and Ron through everything. She should get first priority, right? Hermione, the best friend? Hello?
Hermione could feel herself slowly but surely fading into the background of this family. She didn't like the feeling. It was cold and empty. It was like she knew that the train wreck was coming, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. It hurt, knowing that she was being replaced. Well, not replaced, but pushed to the side for something better, something more worth while. She could feel her heart breaking in her chest.
The rhythmic pounding noise that her sneaker-clad feet made on the ground lulled her into a state of tranquility and she barely noticed the time as she ran through the grassy park, the breeze blowing her hair every which way. It wasn't until she noticed the sun setting that she figured it was time to head back home. She entered the house, hearing the sounds of Luna cooking in the kitchen. She rushed through the living room and ran up the stairs and down the corridor until she got to her bedroom and shut the door behind her. Hermione was walking slowly away from the door, beginning to undress when she heard a light rapping at her door. Before she could even get to it to open it she heard hushed tones talking to her through the door.
"You're going to have to face all of us eventually, Hermione," Ron's voice whispered from the other side of the door.
"I know," she sighed, leaning against the door.
"Just be prepared for Harry to make something of it at dinner. You know him as well as I do and he's not going to let it go without making a big deal out of it."
Hermione chuckled. "I know. Thanks for the heads up."
"Any time."
Hermione showered quickly and dressed in a denim skirt that hung low on her hips and a plain long sleeved white shirt. Her hair was dried, left curly, and tied up in a loose ponytail. She made her way downstairs slowly, not knowing what to expect when she got there. To her relief she only found Luna in the kitchen, supervising a pot that her wand was currently hard at work stirring the contents of.
"What's for dinner?" Hermione asked, sitting down at one of the stools at the island dividing the kitchen and dining room.
Luna jumped slightly. "Oh, Hermione, you scared me," she said, laughing.
"Sorry," she said.
"It's nothing special. Just a pasta dish with some fresh vegetables from the garden."
"Sounds like comfort food, which is something I could really use right about now," Hermione said, sighing thankfully.
"So, where were you last night, missy?" Luna asked curiously, snickering under her breath.
"You don't want to know," Hermione said, cringing from the memories.
"Was he really that bad?"
"Not from what I can remember, and even so, he was a really nice guy, but…"
"But he's not Harry," Luna finished for her.
"Luna," she hissed, looking around worriedly. "Don't just say that out loud. He could hear you!"
"Oh, don't worry. He left for Cho's around noon and hasn't been back since."
"But he was home last night, right?" Hermione asked, concerned.
"Oh, yes. Ron and I went out to eat and he said that he just wanted to stay in. Something about being tired and getting to bed early."
"Oh, no. He's gonna let me have it, isn't he?"
Luna chuckled. "Probably, but you never know. He might be in a good mood,
Luna said, turning and winking at her.
"Oh, gross! I really don't want to think about Harry's afternoon escapades with Cho in that stuffy, satiny bedroom of hers."
"Someone's jealous," Luna cooed quietly.
"Oh, hush up," Hermione said with a smile, getting up to start setting the table.
Hermione, Ron and Luna all sat around the dining room table, patiently waiting for Harry who had phoned and said he was two minutes away from his apparation point and for them not to wait for him. But of course, they had. They heard a distinctive 'pop' echo from the entryway and Harry appeared, stone faced and looking completely devoid of any type of emotion; well, except for maybe anger. He sat down heavily and Luna began to dish out the food. They all ate in silence, sensing the tension. Luna whispered something to Ron and he shrugged, continuing on with his meal. As Luna and Hermione cleared the table, Ron and Harry went and sat in the living room, talking in hushed tones.
As soon as Hermione and Luna had set the dishes to wash themselves Luna went to join the boys while Hermione headed up to the study, hoping to find a trashy romance novel amongst the shelves and shelves of books in there. As she was reaching for a book on the top shelf, standing on her tiptoes and obviously struggling, another hand reached up from behind her and took down the book she had been trying to get. Harry handed the book to her and she turned to face him, keeping her head down to avoid making eye contact with him.
"Hermione…" he began, trying to reach out and touch her shoulder.
She took a step away from him. "I really don't want to talk about this, Harry. I'm entirely not in the mood," she snapped, finally looking up to meet his gaze.
"But, just wait a second…"
"No, no, no. No waiting. I'm just…I'm tired, Harry; and I can't do this anymore," she said, hopeless and annoyed. She brushed past him quickly and walked back to her room, a tear running down her cheek.
Hermione slammed her bedroom door shut and slumped against the back of it heavily, letting herself slide down to the floor where she pulled her knees to her chest and rocked herself gently back and forth, letting silent tears fall as she thought of how happy Luna and Ron were and how happy Harry and Cho were going to be. That exact position was how Harry found her the next morning as he flew to her window on his Firebolt and easily forced himself inside.