Disclaimer : Harry Potter - definitely not mine - considering how I've written TPP so far! Eponine and Les Miserables - Victor Hugo's and the lyrics for On My Own from the musical of the same name.
A/N. A much needed break for all of us. It's quite long so take your time and I apologize for typos. A lot about Hermione, her first meeting with Roy Hunt. The first part I intended not to reveal until later in the story but succumbed to 'pressure' and it caused me so much grief writing around it.
Chapter 13 - Eponine
Bella had just adjourned the Death Eater meeting and had asked one of her cloaked disciples to stay. She needed an update.
"How is my nephew doing?" she asked.
"Very well," the young man replied. "You were right; in her emotional state all she needed was slight nudge. She is falling for him and had Weasley not interfered tonight, things would have progressed even further. We can wean her down to once a week."
"Are you sure she doesn't suspect anything."
"The amount of Amortentia that I used combined with a tad of Beffudlement Draught is untraceable. Even if she suspected something she can't prove it. The effects are inconspicuous enough she won't even think what she's feeling is not real."
"Good," Bella answered, pleased, "Keep her on that enchanted potion of yours for two more days, at least until she leaves for Mexico. I have confidence that my nephew will do what he has to do."
"As you wish," came his reply as she Disapparated.
He scratched the back of his ear vigorously. He swore loudly. He hated phantom fleas.
And at least two more days of fruit smoothies. He should charge her hazard pay. After two months, Dennis Creevey was so looking forward to not having to make or take those bloody health drinks. If only Malfoy could hurry up and just have sex with her already to make the effects of his enchanted version of the love potion permanent.
XXXXXXXXXX
Ginny had slipped into bed and lay awake still thinking about Hermione's impending implosion. It was serendipity that the Order's needs came at the right time. Plan B was in motion and Ginny could only hope that she could put that part of her life back together. It was all up to Harry now.
The alternative continued to be unthinkable. She asked her to stay and be her friend if it happened; when it happened. Unthinkable. Unimaginable. It was a test of how true their friendship was.
I need you to be around and be my friend even if this becomes more than what it is right now.
What was she supposed to say?
If you do this, I won't be your friend anymore.
Forget the fact that I've known you almost all my life and consider you family.
Forget about all those years against Voldemort.
Forget about the year you spent consoling me after I insisted and was stupid enough to be someone's mistress.
Let me turn my back on you so you have no choice but to run to the one person you shouldn't be with.
For a brief moment during the meeting she noticed her tense up at the mention of potential Death Eater spies. They had talked about it in theory. Malfoy wasn't on Tonks' list and it was a good thing Hermione did not suggest the crazy idea to the group. That would have seriously undermined whatever trust the Order elders had left in her knowing that she was dating the ferret. Hermione might have not recognized it yet but there was already speculation about her inadvertently revealing Order secrets to Malfoy and her involvement in high level discussions was in jeopardy.
Hermione did not have to tell her about her epiphany, and yet, she did. She could have just done it behind her back, and yet, she didn't. It was a no-brainer. She knew it and Hermione knew it. Hermione needed someone to pull her back, to be her conscience, to remind her, because it didn't make total sense to her either.
I want you around. I need you around.
Ginny just didn't know for how long she could be there for her.
XXXXXXXX
After the initial disbelief and internal panic of what Ginny actually suggested, Hermione calmed down enough to tell everyone that despite her reservations about Harry coming back to London for the Order, she would do it. She would ask him, make a reasonable pitch and get an answer. Later, Ginny thanked her for 'taking one for the team'. Witch. And they had just talked about how she couldn't face him.
Now, staring blankly at her bedroom ceiling, she was trying to gather herself for the task. She did say she would do it and as Ginny aptly said in front of everyone, how fortuitous it was that she was on vacation so she had time to see him before her trip to Mexico. Hermione sat there thinking how fortuitous it was for Ginny she couldn't jinx her in front of the Order elders.
She visualized herself, coming up to Harry, talking to him, and asking him to come back to London for the Order. Heart throbbing and mind racing. She loved him and she always would.
Since Ron's death she had led him to believe that she was still angry about the Roy Hunt incident. It was better that way. The fact of the matter was, it was a relief when she found out that it was him that night in Toronto. That it was not some stranger.
That one night was somewhat perfect until they came back to face the reality of London; Ron, their upcoming wedding, conflicted about wanting more than that one night and hoping that he did too. What an awful thing to do to Ron.
Ron, her friend, her lover, her erstwhile fiancé. It was difficult to explain what Ron was to her without explaining what Harry was. If it wasn't for her they would all be in the UK, all alive, all well, all still talking to each other.
And it all started with a silly idea bounced around during firewhiskey fuelled girl talk about three months before she was to wed Ron. Their topic was her cold feet, which started the day after she accepted Ron's proposal and was progressively getting worse as their wedding day drew near.
Ginny did caution that the suggestion might not be for Hermione, considering she (Hermione) had not been with another man except for her fiancé. Ron and her had been together for about ten years and she had not passionately kissed anyone else since she was a teenager, if she could even remember what that was like.
The theory was that somewhere deep inside, Hermione was having second thoughts about marrying because she had never been with anyone else. Ginny opined that the curiosity of what else was out there had to be fed for the cold feet to go away. Hermione remembered that conversation they had over a year ago.
"I should do what?" Hermione was surprised.
They were swigging firewhiskey at a local bar.
"You heard me," Ginny replied, a bit tipsy she figured.
"A last fling? Your advice is to have a last fling?"
"Uh-huh."
Hermione could not believe it.
"Ginny, you do realize I am marrying your brother."
Ginny had an answer for everything.
"I'm actually helping him out. Better now than after the wedding. That would be adultery," in a way, what she said made some sense, or maybe that was the firewhiskey making her think so.
"Oh yeah, and if I do it before then at least it will only be infidelity. I'm sure Ron will recognize the subtle difference," this conversation was not helping.
Ginny suggested further, having way too much fun with her Hermione couldn't think she was really serious, "He doesn't have to know. He travels a lot; you travel a lot. Surely, you could have a little romp with one of your serious colleagues at one of those boring conferences you attend all the time."
"Let's throw in a good dose of lies with betrayal and forget about trust all together. That would be such a good way to start a marriage," Hermione answered back. "I have cold feet, I think that's normal. When I asked for advice I was hoping for something your Mum might have told you."
"Do you really think that if I listened to my Mum I'd still be unmarried right now?" Ginny quipped, causing them to laugh. "She thinks I'm still a virgin."
Two other girl friends joined them.
"What are we laughing about?" Luna asked.
"Flings. Last flings," Ginny replied. "Here's a question. If you wanted to have a last fling and you didn't know any of them, which of those guys would you rather have it with?"
Ginny directed their attention to the group of Gryffindor boys, Harry, Dean, Seamus, Colin, Dennis and Neville, who were playing wizard's pool and watching Ron's Quidditch game over the wireless magical network.
They fell silent, perusing their unsuspecting friends who were oblivious to their lustful imagination. One of them just made a difficult corner pocket shot and got the requisite applause from his mates. He turned to them and smiled. Her girl friends sighed.
"Definitely him."
"No doubt about it."
"Forget last. Make it many times over."
She didn't have to say anything as they chinked glasses and laughed.
Hermione thought nothing more of that and decided she would just ignore the impulse to back out. She was twenty-six and it was time to take the next step with Ron. She wanted what her Mum and Dad had, even discussed with Ron the possibility of leaving St. Mungo's which Ron immediately misconstrued as being a done deal. Sometimes Ron jumped to conclusions and only heard what he wanted to hear. Amazing because he had the knack to tune out a lot of what she said.
When they first started seeing each other intimately that first year he was with the Cannons, she decided that she would make an effort to pick her battles with him. Women are from Venus, Men from Mars but sometimes, Ron came from a yet unnamed planet outside the Milky Way. Arguing about every little thing was counter-productive.
And Ron made an effort too. Over time, as their careers became busier and they spent so much time away from each other, it became easier to tolerate the little things when they were. It did take a bit more effort when they spent more time together during his yearly breaks from the Cannons.
A month before the Day she got a call from her Dad. After thirty years, he and her Mum had separated. Her Mum had shacked up with their long-time friend, her Uncle Frank. To say that it surprised her would be an understatement. She had no idea her parents were miserable and her belief of what she wanted with Ron was shaken to the core.
Her parents went through a nasty divorce and they sure picked a good time to do it. It was all her Mum's fault. Her Mum tried to explain many times why, and she was so incensed at her for doing what she did, their relationship was never the same after.
I didn't know at that time but I always loved your Uncle Frank.
Your Dad and I were too busy with our own lives. We had different interests and we were like passing ships in the night.
I never realized how unhappy I was until Frank and I spent more time together.
Before we married, I had cold feet, too. I shouldn't have married your Dad.
That meant she felt they shouldn't have had her either.
Her Mum's sorry excuses for her betrayal brought to her attention a lot of similarities in her life that it troubled her. She was hearing this a few days before she was to marry Ron.
Yes, she had cold feet.
Yes, she only knew happy from what she had with Ron. She had nothing to compare it with.
Yes, they were too busy; Ron with Quidditch; her with St. Mungo's. The two months they spent each year as a couple in recent years bordered on travel companions and roommates who occasionally had sex.
And there was Harry.
It started out as a crush, a school girl harmless crush. So, sue her. She did have a crush on him while they attended Hogwarts. Really, which girl didn't? For her, it wasn't so much because of his looks but more so because of the easy kind of feeling she had around him. Of course she tried not to show it. They were friends and she did not want him to freak out and feel awkward.
He was never interested in her that way. Back then his romantic pursuits also always led him to someone else. Cho, his first kiss. Ginny, his first love. And the nameless, countless others after the Cannons took him away. All the time she was around and it was never her. Anvil-sized clue right there.
She would always be his pal, solid, dependable, behind him through thick or thin. After helping him through that difficult patch following his fall from Quidditch grace, he had alternately referred to her as his 'rock', his 'anchor'. She wasn't even an animate object to him.
She remembered her one night of weakness during their search for the Horcruxes when she was trying to help him revise for their NEWTs. He fell asleep from exhaustion on her bed, doing so in the middle of answering a question about wandless magic. She decided not to wake him and instead slipped in beside him, falling asleep as he instinctively cuddled closer and embraced her, his soft breath falling on her neck. She pretended to be asleep long after she woke up, indulging herself in the euphoric sensation that she knew would not last and thankful that after Ron forced reality with a wake-up call that was hard to ignore, Harry never brought it up.
But Hermione had always been pragmatic. There was no point holding a torch for someone who would never care about her the same way. That was just foolish and a total waste of time. So she left it at that; a crush, an admiration that she suppressed as she allowed herself to accept the love of another man. It was only right for her to love Ron back.
Hermione always thought that if he ever survived Voldemort's murderous intent, Harry and Ginny would get back together. The circumstances of their break up and the fact that they were such a blissful couple made it unthinkable that they wouldn't.
Harry survived. Voldemort was dead. Harry was supposed to get his girl back, the girl he broke up with because it wasn't safe for her to be around him, the girl who could make him happy. But the unthinkable did happen. Harry and Ginny didn't get back together because Ginny fell in love with someone else.
Though Harry never talked to her about Ginny, it was obvious that he was hurt when Ginny started dating again during their search for the remaining Horcruxes. Technically there was nothing wrong with her doing that. It was just a surprise that she did.
By the time Hermione got around to asking her about it, Ginny was in a serious relationship with a 7th year Ravenclaw boy, a transfer from New York. Ginny confessed to Hermione that her Harry Potter infatuation was over and that she was in love with Nicholas. Not much good came out of that.
And years after, when she asked them separately how they felt about giving it another go, both said they had talked about it and that there was nothing there anymore. What they had was a long time ago, things were different, and it was best for them to stay friends.
Over the years, Hermione would watch other women come and go into his life and occasionally, during challenging times with Ron, allow herself to wonder what it would be like to be in their shoes. She sometimes allowed the fantasy of her ideal that she knew Ron never could be.
It made a bit more sense now, why she kept on telling Ron she wasn't ready for years and why she wanted her acceptance back the second she gave it. It wasn't because of their careers as she had allowed him to believe.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she was hoping to be swept away by the man of her dreams even if for just one tryst, to find out what it was like. And as her parents divorced, Hermione did not want to waste thirty years of their lives, end up having a bitter daughter, before admitting that she wanted to be with someone else all along.
She was in panic that Harry was to her as her Uncle Frank was to her Mum, and that over time the bottled up school girl crush had aged and matured into something else. Learning from her mother's mistake, she wanted to know once and for all if Harry had any similar feelings for her. And if he did not, she wanted to at least have one intimate moment with the man she had loved all this time.
Looking back now, she really should have declined Ron's proposal and really should have broken up with him five years ago when the fire was gone and she had no desire to fan the flame again. She should have just called the wedding off the moment she started thinking about asking Harry to be her last fling.
She should have called off the wedding then, and not after the third time she cheated on Ron with Roy Hunt.
The Roy Hunt affair should have ended in Toronto.
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14 February 2006 - Along King Street, a few blocks west of University Avenue, Toronto
The Graffiti was a strategically located Muggle only restaurant in the heart of Toronto's Theatre District. Hermione was at the bar, lazily sipping her strawberry daiquiri, watching the place begin to empty as theatre goers finished dinner and made their way to one of the three theatres that were within a two block radius. She glanced at her watch; it was 7:20pm. He was five minutes late.
Hermione was anxious, not so much because he was tardy and they were going to be, but more so because of what she was about to ask him that night. It was absolutely ludicrous and as she waited for him it became clearer that this idea was a bad one.
She had been mulling over a plan to find out whether or not Harry had feelings for her since realizing that she loved him.
Option one was to ask him directly. That would lead to him asking her why she was asking and an admission to being in love with him. Freakish and embarrassing if he said 'no'.
Option two was to use magic. Legilimency or Veritaserum. Harry would be livid and he would know if she used those.
Option three was asking him to be her last fling. Even more freakish and embarrassing but it had one enticing element to it that option one didn't have.
The last option was not in serious contention until her conversation with Ron just before she left for Toronto. They were talking about the excuses her philandering mother had. The similarities were so glaring it did not escape Ron.
He asked her if she ever wondered what it would be like to have sex with someone else, too afraid to mention Harry at all. She answered truthfully and asked him the same thing. Ron confessed that all this time she was mistaken in believing that the first time they made love was his first time. She speculated out loud what else she was mistaken about. Then they had a row about her mother.
She was upset, possibly vindictive, armed with justification for something she knew was not right and she did not care what Ron would think if he found out. It was as if something in her snapped and she dared to dare fate.
Far from the pressures of family and friends, a few days before her wedding, after an unpleasant discussion with her fiancé, she was presented with an opportunity that she was considering seriously. The man she was in love with called her earlier that day to say that he was in Toronto.
She talked to herself, channelling Ginny to be the other voice.
Just ask him.
I asked him the hypothetical question. He thought it was a bad idea.
Yeah, if he was Ron it would be. You should have asked him the question directly. And maybe his first answer wasn't a joke.
He'll say 'no'.
It's only sex to him. He has it all the time with different women; one more won't make a difference to him.
I'm not his type. I never have been and never will be.
You don't know that for sure.
True.
And you have to know for sure or wonder for the rest of your life.
True.
Now, not thirty years later.
True.
Just stick to your last fling story so he doesn't freak out too much if he doesn't feel the same way about you.
It's only sex and only this once.
Right.
And we can't talk about it after Toronto.
Right.
But if he says 'no' it would be too embarrassing.
Not if you do it properly. Business-like. You're his best friend and he owes you. Call in favours if you have to.
Beg Harry for sex. Great image.
And don't tell him you love him.
Got it.
Unless he says it first.
Okay.
And he means it.
You can stop now.
Hermione was supposed to meet him tonight for a 'date'. A Valentine's Day date. He had called it that. She had a pair of theatre tickets to see Les Miserables and after that, dinner. A date with Harry Potter; she dreamed of that once upon a time as a teenager.
Their friendship had withstood a lot but still she was nervous about what she was about to ask him. She was waffling; swaying decisions so frequently she was making herself sick. Just what she needed; something else to have cold feet about!
Her phone started ringing and she answered. It was Harry.
"It's okay…really," she was trying to mask her disappointment, trying so hard to convince herself it was relief, "Yes. I'll go ahead…maybe when we get back home then. Call me…bye…and be careful."
Something at work came up, he said. He couldn't join her at all that night. She took it as a sign that it wasn't meant to be. That will put that crazy thought to rest once and for all. Thirty years.
Hermione downed the remainder of her strawberry daiquiri, looked at her watch and decided she had time for another one before sitting by herself in the theatre, quite prepared to bawl her eyes out when her favourite part of the musical came up.
I love him
But every day I'm lonely
All my life I've only been pretending
Without me, his world will go on turning
The world is full of happiness that I have never known…
The bartender gave her another drink.
I love him
I love him
I love him...
But only on my own...
She took a sip and continued humming the tune in her head. Just then, a tall man with slicked back black hair dressed in a grey business suit stood beside her.
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" she heard the man ask.
He had a strong, rich voice that was difficult to ignore. It had an almost hypnotic quality to it.
She looked up, smiled and shook her head, "No, it isn't."
Hermione did notice that there were a lot of empty barstools to choose from. She could feel his grey eyes on her and chuckled to herself, realizing what was happening. She had to thank Ginny for this awareness of the singles bar scene which she used to be able to tune out.
"Laughing by yourself like that, some people might think you've gone crazy," the man said to her. He looked to be in his thirties.
"I think I have, actually," she answered him, thinking about what she almost did, still laughing at herself.
"Statistically, it is said that psychiatrists and therapists double billable hours around this time of the year."
"Is that right?" Hermione couldn't fault him for trying but, no. "What do they do? Go to bars and hand out business cards to unaccompanied patrons?"
The man grew a bit red in the face, laughing somewhat forcibly. Just as she thought; it was a guy who took everything too seriously.
Before he could say any more, someone else started talking. There must be a big sign pointing at her saying 'ask me'.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt," came an apologetic voice.
As she turned to talk to the other man, her gaze met a most interesting set of deep blue eyes. Or were they green? He was probably about her age, medium built, with sandy hair, a chiselled face and a full mouth. And those blue green eyes. He was obviously a Brit too, the accent gave him away. He had said something to her but she wasn't paying attention. She couldn't while she was checking him out! The man oozed with a sensual Veela-like magnetism that was difficult to ignore. She asked him what he wanted to know.
"Did you see a woman, waiting around, about this tall, hair like yours, very pregnant, maybe a few minutes ago?" he was anxious, making huge motions with his arms, like playing charades. It was quite cute. He probably was late and was in a lot of trouble.
She shook her head, "Sorry."
Hermione took a sip of her drink as the man took out a phone and made a call. The way he moved and talked, he reminded her of someone.
"Hi, where are you?"
There was a pause. Hermione found herself eavesdropping and, she couldn't believe she was still checking him out. She was scanning her mental list of male friends to find a match. She was also intrigued what the story was; attractive panicky man looking for a pregnant woman in a bar…hmm…
"It's okay…really… rain check then…"
He got stood up and by a pregnant woman.
"…kiss the kids for me…"
Likely his wife.
"…bye, I love you too."
Definitely his wife.
He hung up and swore loudly, startling her. Well, nobody was perfect.
The man sat down a seat away from her and apologized, sheepishly explaining, "My sister. Her sitter called in sick and we were supposed to catch Les Mis. She loves the theatre and it was to be her first night off from the rascals in a month."
"I'm sorry to hear that," she replied as she politely smiled and carried on. He cares about his pregnant sister. Nice. She looked at her watch and started putting her coat and scarf on. "You're going to be late."
"I'm sorry," he didn't hear her.
"Les Mis, you're going to be late. The show starts at 8."
"Oh, I'm not going," he answered.
She smiled; men were so predictable.
"I guess you don't have to now that your sister's not coming."
He chuckled, an easy laugh, a real one, a familiar one, but who?
"No, it's not that. I like watching Les Mis."
Intrigued Hermione had to ask, "You do? Why?"
"What's not to like? The music is powerful; the conflicts are as real now as it was when Hugo wrote the book and I love watching women cry when Eponine sings that song."
He was teasing. It was obviously a joke, though she was quite impressed he knew Eponine. Knowing exactly which song he meant as he tried to sing part of the melody, she laughed with him and felt warm in the face. That was her favourite part of the musical, the one she was humming in her mind a moment ago. Something about the tragedy of unrequited love appealed to her.
He continued, "Anyway, my dear sister has the tickets, so unless I find an unofficial ticket sales person on the street and willingly allow myself to be robbed blind, I'll have to go to a sad movie to get my crying woman fix."
No. Don't even think about it.
"Well, it was nice talking to you," she said to him, with a lot more regret she was leaving than she was willing to admit.
"Have a good night."
Why did he have to be so charming?
Just before she turned away from him, he said to her, "Oh, and go Cannons!"
She didn't think she heard right, "You said something."
"Cannons," he pointed to her Chudley Cannon pin on her coat, something Harry gave her years ago when he first joined the team. Being in a Muggle public place, she had turned off the charm that usually made a cannon ball zoom around the wearer but he nonetheless recognized it. Was he a wizard?
"You really shouldn't be wearing that around here if you value your life," he continued. "I'm rooting for the underdog but Toronto will win the Cup this year. Of course Weasley's much better and thank goodness Potter's gone…"
"What's wrong with Potter?" her defensive nature rose to the challenge without a second thought.
He laughed a bit, amused by her reaction, but did not back down, "What do you mean 'what's wrong with Potter', your question should be what was right with him. Don't even get me started…no…you'll be late, you better go and here, take this. I was saving it for my sister but you might as well put it to good use."
She grinned as she saw what he put in her hand; a pocket pack of Kleenex tissues. A shiver went up her arm as their fingers touched. Harry. The man reminded her of Harry.
You're just worked up about going out with Harry.
No, don't impose.
Maybe he wants you to impose.
"Um," great way to start a conversation, "I'm sorry. I don't know your name."
"Roy."
"Roy, my fiancé couldn't come and I do have another ticket," she wanted him to know that she was getting married, "So if you need your crying woman fix, you're welcome to it."
Please say no.
"But what would your fiancé think?" he asked her.
"Oh, no, I didn't mean for you and me to go together," she recovered, "Though we'll be sitting beside each other, we're not really together. It's just such a shame to waste it."
Maybe it was just her imagination or was Roy taking some time to answer back.
"Okay, but only if you allow me to buy you dinner after. I mean, we won't really be together but if we happen to go into the same restaurant and share a table, maybe even engage in a conversation, what do you think?" he asked it so seriously her heart skipped a couple of beats.
"That sounds…okay."
"What's your name?"
"Jane."