The Best Thing I Never Had

Some Bad News

What goes around comes back around, baby.

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What could Ron possibly want to talk about now? Hermione thought to herself as she drove through the downpour in downtown London to meet Ron at their favorite restaurant. They'd been together for years and they go out on dates, but lately they only went out on special occasions due to their busy schedules. Hermione was an editor at a Muggle magazine and Ron was a coach for minor league Quidditch.

She parked her car outside the restaurant, put on her coat and dashed through the rain. Once she got inside, the concierge took her coat and led her to their table where Ron was already waiting.

"Hey, hon," Hermione greeted, kissing her boyfriend on the cheek. Ron returned the gesture only half-heartedly.

"So, how are you?" Ron asked, clearly desperate to begin a conversation.

Hermione scoffed at his ridiculous question. "Well, the editor-in-chief told me we got great feedback from my article in last month's issue. How are the kids?"

"Okay . . ." he trailed off. He didn't like the way the conversation was turning. Finally, he sighed. "Look, Hermione, I'm going to cut to the chase."

"Do we have a problem?" Hermione asked, her smile slowly fading.

"I can't . . . be with you anymore," Ron said, plain and simple.

Hermione froze. "W-what?" she replied, her voice shaking.

"It's just that . . ." he trailed off again. "I can't stand it. We've been together for four years—"

"Five," Hermione corrected, her anger slowly building up.

"—and you still won't agree to live together. I hardly catch you home anymore. All you ever talk about is your Muggle magazine and your Muggle job. And then..."

Hermione stopped listening. She tried ignoring Ron's rant and took deep breaths until his voice was in the background. Here he sat in front of her, the man she loved. The man she thought loved her. Her surroundings grew quiet and she realized that Ron had stopped speaking. He was now breathing heavily.

"Are you done?" she asked coldly. "Finally said everything you wanted?"

Ron nodded, calming down a bit.

"Good," Hermione said with a humorless smile. She stood up and then left.

Hermione found it hard to cry, drive and see through the rain all at the same time. She parked at the nearest space she could make out in the storm and found herself leaving her car to enter the pub.

The place was pretty much like the Hog's Head, except much cleaner. The lighting was dim, but enough. There were several mahogany tables and chairs spread evenly, but haphazardly. There were also several stools all around the bar. Hermione made herself comfortable on one while waiting for a bartender to attend to her.

"Can I interest you in a cocktail, miss?" a bartender finally asked.

"I'm not very much interested in fancy drinks tonight, thanks," she replied. "What's the strongest thing you have?"

The bartender looked at her questioningly. Hermione countered him by raising her eyebrow.

"We have 110-proof scotch whiskey."

"I'll have a glass."

But of course she didn't have just one glass. She downed one after the other and when the bartender finally told her they were all out, she settled for Guinness. She was on her third glass of beer when a man sat on the stool beside hers.

"I'll have whatever she had," the man said, after studying Hermione carefully. The bartender returned with a glass of regular scotch and informed him that Hermione had in fact downed their entire stock only tonight.

Hermione was barely conscious now, but she continued to drink.

"For a girl, you sure have hard guts," the man remarked, then sipped his scotch.

"Pardon?" Hermione asked, her voice sickly sweet.

"Most men would pass out or turn their stomachs inside out having had what you did."

"Men are sissies," she replied, still in the sweet voice that was very uncharacteristic of her.

"What brings you here?"

"Well, my boyfriend broke up with me. He told me that I was boring, that I didn't care about him at all . . . it just sucks you know? How stupid was he, really? He—he thought all girl were idiots? Well, how about fucking no! We girls should run this world!" She said all of this without letting anyone interrupt her and then finished the last of the beer in her glass.

"Are you done?" the man asked.

Hermione hiccupped a positive response before passing out completely.

"Will that be all Mr. Malfoy?" the bartender asked the man as he sipped the last of his scotch.

"Yes," Draco Malfoy replied, setting down his glass. He handed over his credit card. "Charge hers as well. I don't think she'll be waking up soon enough to be able to pay."

The bartender nodded. While waiting for his card and receipt, he lifted the sleeping form of Hermione Granger.

"Your card, sir," the bartender said.

"Put it here," Draco replied cocking his head toward his jacket pocket. The bartender stuck it in and Draco took his leave, carrying the floppy (and drunk) Hermione Granger with him.

Straining, he took out his wand and Transfigured the inside of his already magically-modified Mercedes. He laid Hermione down on the bed that was supposed to be the passenger's seat. Finally, he cast an Anti-Motion Charm on the bed. He walked over to the driver's seat and raised the black-tinted windows before driving away.

Draco silently thanked Merlin as the elevator doors finally opened to his penthouse apartment.

This girl's one deep sleeper, he thought to himself.

And a pretty one too, a voice said at the back of his mind. Hermione was definitely drunk-looking, but still she was beautiful. Her make-up was all over her face, her nose was red and her eyes were dark underneath, but still she looked breathtaking. Draco pushed the thought away.

"Alohomora," he said. The door of the second bedroom opened and the dimmed lights slowly flickered to life. Draco laid her down on the king-sized bed, careful not to wake her up. He took off her shoes and put her purse on the bedside table. Hermione turned and flinched a little, but didn't wake up. Draco covered her body with a blanket, retrieved her car keys from her purse and closed the door, letting her fall back into a deep slumber.

As for him, he had to go back. He'd forgotten something at the pub.