When Hermione Fights

From Sleazy Joints and Biting Dogs

From Sleazy Joints and Biting Dogs

I retreated into the alley. After the very successful conversation, the high Rita had given me was abating quickly. For the first time today I allowed myself something like heart-throbbing. I mean, what was I doing here or more precisely about to do? The last time had been a totally different affair. He had taken me by surprise with his desire to see a whore in me, but today I would be one for real, as I was going to him with my eyes wide open, after he had... well, yes... after he had summoned me. The uneasy feeling in my stomach surged after this realisation. Could I really do this, like I said earlier to Draco? Could I simply do a thing like that? Could I share the professors bed without emotional attachment? I took a couple deep breaths.

Yes, you can do anything, Hermione!

I still didn't feel comfortable with doing it, however it was nearly time, just on ten. In the meantime it had become dark, but I had become acquainted with the dark in a way that I welcomed it outright, always finding cover in its shadows. I tried to distract myself from my own nervousness. Swallow it, you have enough courage to do it, in and out, you can do it, and then taking the gold. That already left a nasty taste in my mouth, but I was determined to see it through.

I looked around, not a soul to be seen, and performed my identity spells. Afterwards I removed my scarf and transformed it back into my long, black frock coat. I pulled the hood low into my face, next appearing in Knockturn Alley with a silent plop.

Always again a cosy experience to be here, very encouraging, I thought sardonically. I was not the only hooded figure hurrying this night through the alley that felt familiar to me by now, striding quickly over the well-trodden and dirty cobbled stones, when I was able to spot the sign for the Beheaded Hangman in the moonlight. From the outside it reminded me of the Leaky Cauldron, with its run-down and shabby exterior.

Smoothly, I glided out of the shadows and towards the entrance. Don't think too much, Hermione, this can only go awry, just act, and yes, always think about a strong, stable wall! It would be fatal, if my mental defences would collapse, though I had everything under control, just a bit of a fluttering heart.

I knocked open the heavy wooden door and entered into the smoke filled room, which was illuminated by the shine of many lights. A pub with dining area was revealed to me, furnished with dark wood. A lot of shady figures were seated here, one more ugly and disfigured than the next. Some women were running around between the rows, their robes slightly ripped, serving drinks and food. It was pretty crowded, the noise level was not to be scoffed at. It seemed as if the return of him was good for business. I strode towards the bald and toothless innkeeper behind the counter and signed him that I had a question.

"A gentleman is waiting for me. Which room? And a firewhiskey," I demanded frankly. He tried to peek under my hood, unsuccessfully, and floated me the desired drink, grumpy about his failure.

"Yes, I know. Room 13, madam," he mumbled derisively through his missing teeth and motioned behind him. I nodded my thanks, put down some Sickles on the counter. I picked up the glass and gulped down a large amount of liquid courage before walking up the stairs, still nervous.

The dimly lit first floor was pretty dusty. Unbelievable if you considered what a simple Scourgify could accomplish, but it was what it was. Soon I would be faced with Snape and his demands. Sometimes my ideas were really not the best. When I stopped in front of the door with the brass plate stating '13,' I breathed in deeply multiple times, to dissipate my insecurity. Let me tell you, I did not succeed at all, but as the saying goes, go in and win. So I straightened my whole body and raised my hand to knock.