"Er...Hermione? What are you.."
"Don't ERRR me, you scamp!" she hissed. Harry kept his eyes glued to the tip of her wand, it shook slightly in her obvious rage.
"Point that away at least, you're gonna accidentally.."
"Oh, if I hex you it will SURELY be no accident, trust me on THAT!"
He had never seen her so pissed, and he had seen her angry with him at least a thousand times.
Harry gulped. "Put it away, Hermione. You're gonna get us in trouble."
"Trouble? TROUBLE?? You're the one out here guzzling liquor and casting spells on the muggles!"
"Shhhh! Lower your voice."
"Don't SHUSH me you little shit! And the way you were checking out the waitress's, I mean my...if it was really a waitress you would've been shagging her in the broom closet by now!"
Harry shifted angrily.
"What do YOU care? I thought you ran off with your favorite Death Eater already! Shouldn't you be out hiding with him and kissing his freckled willy?"
He saw her eyes flash at that, and braced himself for a curse.
She saw him draw up and smiled savagely.
"Oh you don't have to worry about ME casting spells illegally. Because I'm not a TOTAL fucking GIT!!"
Some of the bar patrons turned to them curiously.
Harry lowered his voice a bit.
"We'll if you didn't come here to blast me, then uh.. why are you here?"
Hermione looked around, lowering her wand a bit.
"I wanted to find you to make sure you didn't do anything stupid."
The real waitress walked up to them, not a stacked bimbo but a short plump woman with missing teeth and a graying ponytail.
"Whacannagetcha?"
"Uh..we don't.." Harry began.
"Vodka double." Hermione overruled, pulling out the chair across from him and plopping down in it.
"Vodka?" Harry asked, eyebrows high.
"Shut up." she said, stowing her wand away and crossing her arms.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Harry not wanting to look at her or say anything until she calmed down a bit. He knew from countless chidings how and when to tiptoe around her temper.
Her vodka arrived and she downed it like a pro, cracking the glass down on the table and requesting another before the waitress could turn away.
Harry waited until she walked back to the bar, then leaned in carefully.
"So.....uh.."
"So where's Ron?" she spat, arms still tight against her chest.
"Well I was gonna ask if you were gonna turn me in to the Ministry, but yeah. Where is that little ginger arsehole?"
Her nostrils flared a bit, and she leaned in closer.
"Figures you would worry about yourself first, but if you MUST know, he and I had a row and I left him back at the hotel."
"You guys got a HOTEL?"
"We'll it's not like we could go to his house or Hogwarts after he...after he.."
"Became a Death Eater." Harry said helpfully.
"Yeah, that." she said, only swallowing half of her second vodka and slumping sadly.
Harry rubbed his temple.
"I don't get it." he said.
"Of course you don't. You don't understand anything lately other than sticking your pud in anything warm."
He sat back sighing. He realized he was in that no man's land of a woman's complex emotional landscape, fraught with craters and land mines, where a step in any direction could bring outrage and tears, or worse. He searched for that elusive combination of words that could inch him closer to safety.
His face softened, and he just said it.
"I'm sorry."
He watched her face, praying those were the right words to defuse her dangerous mood.
The relief he felt when twin tears rolled down her cheeks quickly evaporated when the tears arrived at the top of a cryptic smile.
"Do you even know WHY you should be sorry?"
she asked.
UH OH, he thought.
"Er, for...hurting Ron?" he offered.
Her smile widened crazily, which meant NOPE.
"I'm sorry for....our screaming match at Hogwarts?"
NOPE. Jesus, what is it? Harry saw if he didn't arrive at the answer she wanted soon, he may be dueling with her in this shitty little pub.
"Hell, what is it, Hermione. I'm sorry for everything, okay? Is that good enough? Is it the other girls?"
The look on her face rang BINGO.
He started to speak but she shushed him with a jabbed finger.
"The other girls? The other GIRLS? Which one? Luna? Moaning fucking MYRTLE?"
"Hermione.."
"Which girl are you SORRY for Harry? Huh?!"
"Hermione.."
"No, shut up! Which...fucking...ONE?!"
The muggles were staring again. Harry felt dizzy from the heat of her glare, her big wet eyes boring through him like industrial drills.
He searched for the right words, failing. He sank into his chair and awaited her fury.
"Oh Harry." she sniffled. "What happened to you?"
"Hermione, I just..."
Too late.
In a flurry of robes she knocked her chair back and ran out into the rain.
A muggle tipped his beer at Harry in a gesture of understanding.
Women.
2
Harry ran out into the rain after her, but she was gone. He looked up and down the sidewalk, but only saw Muggles hunched against the downpour with their umbrellas slick and low.
He cursed himself, wanting to pick a direction and pursue her, but ultimately just standing there with his glasses fogged and rain dripping from his bangs.
Why should he care? She was just another slut trying to pin him down and control him, their very own boy puppet.
No, no. This was Hermione.
He had known her for the better part of a decade. They had fought together and bled together, saving each other's lives too many times to count. At one time, in his youth, he was sure that he had been...what? In LOVE with her?
He rubbed his scar, fighting the memories and the doubt. She was right.
What HAD happened to him?
He had to go after her, to show her he was still the Harry she had grown up with, had fought with, had laughed with over mixing potions that blew up in their faces. All of a sudden it seemed like the most important thing in the world.
But to pursue her meant to wade back into the territories of Magic, where he was a wanted man. Likely there was a posse of Aurors searching for him even in this very moment.
Fuck it.
He had bested Voldemort, he could best them.
He wanted his friend back.
