Chapter 16 - The Purple Concoction
14 February 2006 - Some restaurant, knew earlier but not sure where now, somewhere in Toronto.
Window cleaner…poet…designated hitter
Hermione felt very hot as she looked across the table over to Roy. The poem had softened up her insides and ignited a small flame within her but talking about baseball doused kerosene into the blaze. It was an out of body experience, hearing her flirt with such reckless abandon and now this feeling that she could only describe as being consumed by wildfire. Uncontrollable, rapidly spreading wildfire.
Wildfire. It felt so hot it reminded her of very warm, un-air conditioned summers in her childhood days when the only solution was that one had to undress almost completely. She looked around. It was a good thing she still had control of that part of her brain.
It definitely did not help that she continued to think and want to think that Roy was just like Harry. When she learned Baseball 101 years ago, her highly competent and well versed teacher had wisely provided the class with concrete examples of position players. Harry was the DH and was her personal mental representation for a lot of the plays she had to learn. Images of him in the well designed body hugging Yankee pinstripes, no doubt, helped her retain most of the information after all these years. She couldn't use Ron because, as much as she didn't want to admit it, even then he was definitely a starting pitcher.
Ron never watched the game so she never did get to apply her knowledge of baseball talk on a man until now. That version of the squeeze play was way better than how it was explained to her. Her thoughts lingered on Harry and the squeeze play when a sudden realization made her break out into a chuckle. The other day when she inadvertently walked in on him and his girlfriend, he was definitely on his way to home plate and got thrown out sliding! Her teacher would be so proud that she came up with the one on her own!
"What's so funny?" Roy asked, curious.
She really should just enjoy his company tonight and let Harry go. There would be plenty of time to wallow about her unmatched emotions toward her friend after; like the rest of her life. Ouch. That's new.
"Talking about baseball just brought back some memories," she said honestly, her almost immediate response a bit troubling to her that she was now so open to this man she just met a couple of hours ago, feeling like she had known him all her life and that she could tell him everything about her, even with more honesty than what she could ever tell Ron, Ginny or Harry.
And yes, she was definitely going to let him score a run once he got on base. Perhaps even walk him intentionally so he couldn't hit that homerun he seemed to want so badly. At least not at his first at bat. Then she would let him score as many runs as he wanted to…well, as many runs as he physically could! She was grinning. She should really stop thinking about baseball! Hermione now understood what Ginny went through.
"I've been meaning to ask you. How do you know so much about baseball? Your fiancé?"
She shook her head, "He has no interest in Muggle sports. I picked up most of what I know from girl talk."
Roy furrowed his eyebrows, "Girl talk?"
"I have a friend who used to date a guy from New York and sat through one Yankee game too many. Let's just say that to keep her entertained, she studied the game and gleaned from it more than she should have. I had to learn the sport to know what she was talking about," she replied, smiling, remembering those days.
For a period of time, Ginny couldn't help but talk about sex in baseball terms. It was literally like tuning in to a sports radio station and listening to a blow by blow account of the game clueless, not ever having seen one played. Ginny was driving her insane. She had to do something and asked Ginny to teach Baseball 101 to her and to anyone who wanted to understand what she (Ginny) meant about corked bats, throwing change-ups and why speed at the bases wasn't necessarily a good thing.
"And you've watched games?"
"A few Yankee game highlights on video," she replied, "Quite frankly, I find the actual game lacking in the excitement that Quidditch has."
"I agree," Roy answered back, with a glint in his eye, "We should talk Quidditch some time. But not just right now. Any more sports talk and we may have to stop and end the night due to an unexpected rain shower."
His face reddened as they laughed. That would indeed have been most unfortunate. It felt good hearing that he too was having trouble with the intense heat that their flirtation was causing. It felt good knowing that he found her desirable. His eyes smouldered with want. It was imminent. They would leave soon, walk to her hotel room to undress and help each with their temperature issues. More kerosene…wildfire…hell…for what she was about to do …911…
She smiled and calmly excused herself. Ladies washroom or emergency fire exit?
Hermione found an alcove with a row of pay phones just off the women's washroom and made a call from her cell. She needed the fire department.
"Hello…" answered a groggy woman's voice on the other end.
It would be about half past three a.m. her time. She wouldn't mind. This was an emergency.
"Hey, it's me. I need a fireman."
"Wait a sec," Ginny whispered.
She waited and listened for her to come back on line. Crash!...Ow!... Meow…Blag!... Meowrr!... Sorry…Crash!
"Hi," Ginny finally said in a normal voice.
"I guess you're not at home tonight," Hermione deduced from her apparent lack of familiarity with her surroundings.
"I thought I was until I realized I didn't have a cat," Ginny replied, Hermione not sure if she should ask what she meant by that, "What's the fire?"
"I'm with a man."
"Well, it's about time," Ginny answered back, "How was it?"
Before she could stop herself she said, "We haven't done anything yet. Just warm-ups. It's his first at bat."
She decided to treat Roy's straight to second base bunt pre-game to simplify things.
Ginny became excited. What she just said and how she said it did not escape her.
"First at bat? I'm so glad you finally got to talk baseball. That's wonderful!"
Hermione noticed she was talking unusually fast, like on a caffeine high, "That's beside the point. I'm getting married. I'm not supposed to be doing this. I'm not supposed to be talking baseball."
"Wait," Ginny interrupted, "It's his first at bat. You don't call time out for that! The first pitch hasn't been thrown yet. The game hasn't even started. Who else is going to be in this huddle?"
Grrr! She shouldn't have mentioned baseball.
"Are you listening to me? I want out of the game."
"You didn't have to call me for that," Ginny replied, and that was just so true, "Why? Is he centerfield ugly?"
"No," Hermione said with a bit more regret in her voice about what she had to do, "On the contrary. He's hot corner stuff. He recites poems."
"First base or third base hot?"
"Third, and he's a DH."
"You're telling me that you've spent the night warming up with a baseball talking, pinch-hitting, third baseman-looking DH, who's now in the batter's box and you're calling time because you want to be taken out of the game?!"
"Well, yes."
"Are you crazy?!"
"Ginny, I'm getting married. I want to pitch; I want him all over my bases. All night I really thought I could, but now that it's game time I can't do this, not to your brother. I called because I need a reality check. Just be a good fireman and put out the fire."
Ginny fell silent for a moment.
"Where are you?" she finally asked.
"A restaurant, a few blocks from my hotel."
"Fine," Ginny finally said, "Do me a favour. See if he's still in the box."
"What?"
"Just do as I say," Ginny insisted and there was no time to argue.
Hermione peered from the alcove and saw that Roy was on his phone.
"Still there," she reported.
"Wave to him and show him you're on the phone just so he knows you haven't left the ball park."
"What?"
"Just wave," Ginny was growing impatient.
She did. Roy acknowledged. He was still on the phone, too. Ginny was starting to annoy her.
"Now that you've managed to make me look like an idiot in front of my date, what else do you want me to do?"
"What do you care if you look like an idiot? You want yourself taken out of the game," Ginny had a point. "Now, listen to me and listen closely. Are you sure you want a reality check?"
"Yes," she needed someone to tell her that it was not a good idea.
"I will say this to you only once and all I ask is that you don't tell anyone that I did," this was unusual for Ginny, "Promise me, because I've already been told that this isn't any of my business."
Hermione had a foreboding feeling about what she was about to say, that it wouldn't be what she wanted to hear.
"I promise."
"Ron's my bother and I love him. You're as close to a sister as I'll ever have and I would love for us to be officially related," Ginny said, "But you shouldn't marry Ron."
"Just because you don't…"
"This isn't about me," Ginny cut her off. "You shouldn't marry him because you don't love him, at least not that way anymore."
Hermione was silent. She heard what she said, she understood what she said. She had to ask her.
"What makes you think that?"
"Because if you loved him that way you would have married him sooner. If you loved him that way you wouldn't have the cold feet that has been bothering you since you got engaged. If you loved him that way you would have submitted your resignation from St. Mungo's when you told him you would and it shouldn't still be sitting in the bottom drawer of your office desk. And if you loved him that way you wouldn't have had to call me tonight for a reality check."
Ginny was right. She did not love Ron that way anymore. She knew the moment she realized she loved Harry after talking with her cheating mother. It wasn't quite true until she heard it from someone else.
After a while, Hermione spoke.
"Since when have you known?"
"Just now," Ginny said frankly, "I've wondered since you told me about your cold feet and that's why I suggested the last fling, knowing you would not consider it seriously if you really did love him."
"I failed the test."
"It wasn't a test to fail or pass. You found out the truth and that's a good thing," Ginny said to her, "Now, what you do with the truth is entirely up to you. Since when have you known?"
Hermione couldn't tell her the truth about Harry, not yet.
"Since my Mum told me her sorry excuses for leaving my Dad," she told the truth, not the entire one, but the truth, "Thanks. I have to go."
"I want highlight reels and box scores if you decide to play, okay?" she could hear her friend smile.
"Just my luck. I called to talk to a fireman and I end up speaking with an arsonist."
Ginny laughed as they said goodbye.
She took a moment to compose herself and just as she was about to rejoin Roy, she decided to call in another person into the huddle. This hesitation with Roy wasn't totally about Ron.
His phone was ringing.
"Hi," Harry answered knowing from caller ID that it was her.
His voice still sounded really bad. She really should check on him maybe tomorrow.
"Hi. Still at work?" she asked.
"Unfortunately," he replied and then asked, "Where are you?"
Somewhere between despair and self destruction. "A restaurant."
"Is the food any good?"
I'm not really here for the food. "It's not bad."
"What's the matter?"
I love you and you don't love me back. "I'm with someone. A man who wants to have sex with me."
There was a pause pregnant with meaning. She looked over to their table. Good, Roy was still on the phone. He waved at her; she motioned back and slid into the alcove.
Finally, Harry said something.
"Is this about what we talked about the other day?"
Yes and no. "It's no longer a hypothetical question, Harry."
"I can't tell you what to do but the hypothetical answer stands."
"How would you feel if I went ahead and did this?"
"Ron would be crushed. It would hurt him like he has never felt before."
"Not Ron, Harry. You. I want to know how you would feel."
"What I feel doesn't matter."
It does. "Please. I just need to know." I just need to know if you love me that way.
A gnawing pain had been building up in her chest and her eyes were already welling up with tears in anticipation of what she knew would come.
"I'd be disappointed."
There it was. In black and white. As plain as it could ever be.
Not crushed. Not hurt. Not one pinch of pain. Just disappointed.
She thanked him and said goodbye as she could no longer contain the twisting and throbbing pain that erupted from within, sobbing almost uncontrollably as she found her way into the ladies' room and into an empty stall, burying her face in her hands and just letting it all out.
Hermione was crushed like never before. She was hurting like hell and the pain was excruciating. It was as if her beating heart was put slowly through a meat grinder and that somehow it came out the other end, bruised and battered but mercilessly intact and still beating. And all she could think of to console herself was that finding out the truth now was a good thing.
Harry did not love her as her Uncle Frank loved her Mum and she wouldn't have to wonder about it for thirty years.
XXXXXXXXXX
Just outside in the dining section, Harry was staring at his phone, trying to figure out exactly what that conversation he just had with Hermione was about.
Why would she tell me about Roy?
Did she want me to stop her?
Why would she ask what I felt?
He caught a glimpse of her as she went into the ladies room. He could only think that despite the openness and her uninhibited coquettish behaviour, Hermione was now having second thoughts about sleeping with Roy and needed someone to confirm that she shouldn't. She probably did call him so he could dissuade her from going ahead. Telling him that it was no longer hypothetical would make him answer more truthfully. And asking him how he felt about it was to find out if she would lose his friendship.
What did he say? I'd be disappointed.
He had to call her back. Assure her that whatever her decision was he would remain her friend. Her phone was ringing. Then it stopped. He tried again and it was now not in service.
Harry pondered whether he should go and find out if she was okay. A panic suddenly washed over him. Floyd. He had a bad feeling that their earlier unpleasant interactions would make Floyd want to exact some form of revenge. He did try to lure Hermione before Roy could make a move. Floyd would likely try again. What if Floyd followed them to the restaurant and in desperation abducted her?
He was about to stand up to go to the ladies room when he saw her come out. There was relief that came as quickly as the dread did. She was smiling. Good. She was fine.
XXXXXXXXXX
A few moments earlier, in the ladies room, Hermione had just managed to finally get herself together and was using magic to remove the telltale signs of an emotional breakdown. She heard her phone ring. Just seeing his name on the caller ID was enough to set off tears again. No, she couldn't talk to him. Not for a couple of days maybe. She turned her phone off.
She looked at herself in the mirror, magically retouching her make-up, having just decided what to do for the rest of the night.
You'll be fine.
You'll be fine.
She took a deep breath in, exhaled and practiced a few smiles. Good.
You're fine.
XXXXXXXXXX
8 February 2007
Somewhere in the Britain, the Potion Master was busy. A light purple concoction was stewing in his large cauldron, and had been since he completed it yesterday morning when the final essential ingredient became available.
It was an age old relatively obscure underground potion recipe that he was diluting to a tenth of its usual strength. The ingredients were hard to come by, more so because for the first time, it was being mass produced. He tested it on a few human live subjects to ensure that it worked and that it was safe for use. It was.
Filling phials in his spare time since, he had already sent two shipments to Toronto and Floyd would get the first one within the next few hours. Creevey had better get him more phials quickly because he was running out.
An involuntary yawn escaped him. The clock read three a.m.
The Potion Master went to his stocks and from the cupboard took one of several bottled similar but darker coloured potions. He uncorked the phial and took his bedtime dose, deciding to turn in. Waving his wand, he cleaned up, making all the rubbish disappear, including the now empty carcass of Ragnok the Goblin.