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May. 9th, 2006 04:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonflower_roseTitle: Quills (Part Three)
Pairing: HG/PP (with secondary HP/DM)
Genre/Rating: At this point, I'm not too sure. Part One and Two are PG13 at the very most. Part Three maybe soft R for sexual references. However, in upcoming parts, there will feature femmeslash and an office supplies kink. So far it is entirely plot.
Warnings: Can't think of any, aside from femmeslash.
Length: 3, 700 (ish) words
Beta: None – this is written FOR my lovely and patient beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
smaragdine.
Disclaimer: Please see my disclaimer here.
Summary: Hermione has always admired the fine attribute of organisation. She's never admired it quite this much before, though...
Click here for Part One, and here for Part Two
Hermione sat in Meeting Room 3, Draco’s report back in her hands, still not concentrating on the information. She was beginning to despair of ever getting the damned thing read.
Harry had been pleased at her unexpected arrival. She tried not to giggle at his expense, as he hobbled around with the aide of his muggle crutches.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you. All I want this morning is a bacon and mushroom toasted sandwich, and I can’t manage it while balancing on these godforsaken sticks of death!” He gestured angrily at his crutches, which were leaning defiantly up against the chair beside the one he had fallen gratefully into upon Hermione’s arrival.
“Harry, stop being such a bloody drama queen. For years you hung off a broom three hundred feet in the air, whilst speeding around at dangerous velocities chasing a flying ping pong ball. And you never complained it was hard then, did you? Surely you can manage a simple set of crutches.”
Harry pouted sulkily.
“This is different.”
“And how, exactly?”
He scowled.
“Don’t wanna.”
Hermione clipped him over the ear on her way to the bread box.
“Daft, you are. Now tell me where Draco keeps the mushrooms, and I’ll make you your bloody sandwich.”
Harry was in much better spirits after mowing through his sandwich.
“So what brings you here this morning?”
Hermione smirked at him with amusement.
“Oh, now you care why I came. After you’ve stuffed your face. Typical.”
He poked out his tongue.
“Fine, don’t tell me.”
Hermione looked at her own plate, a few bites of sandwich and stray pieces of mushroom decorating the china.
“Draco dropped by this morning on his way out to breakfast with Pansy. It seemed like a nice idea, and since I knew you wouldn’t be busy, I thought I’d visit.”
Harry grinned at her.
“Aren’t the two of them hilarious together? Pans always manages to bring the ponce out in Draco. He has so much fun with her. I think he misses her quite a bit.” Harry took a sip of his tea, swirling it around in his cup. “You haven’t spent much time with her until now, but she’s a very different character than the one we knew in school. It’s probably redundant to say, but the war changed everyone. I never would have imagined tolerating Pansy, let alone actually liking her. Then again, if you’d asked me at the end of sixth whether I thought I might like to shag Draco Malfoy, I probably would have fled screaming in the opposite direction.” He laughed. “It’s funny, life. It’s like when you’re a kid, and you hate sprouts, and can never imagine a day when you might choose to eat them voluntarily. Then, you grow up, and not only do you eat sprouts simply because you know they’re good for you, you actually come to enjoy them. Life is like sprouts. There. It’s the new philosophic metaphor. I expect it’ll be in common usage by the end of the month.”
Hermione couldn’t help laughing at him, and Harry grinned back. But part of her brain was taking stock of what he’d said. About changing. Sometimes a person might do, or want to do something they never would have thought of before.
“Harry, how’d you know you were gay?”
She hadn’t meant to blurt that out quite so abruptly. Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It was a long time since Harry had come out, and it never occurred to her to ask him before. He frowned thoughtfully,
“I had a wet dream about Terry Boot over the summer between sixth and seventh years.”
Hermione burst out laughing, and Harry joined in.
“One dream about Terry Boot?”
He grinned and shook his head.
“Not exactly. It was more like, it was one dream I properly remembered. It turned me on more than any other kind of sex dream I could remember having – I remember waking up and thinking I’d wet the bed, there was so much come everywhere!” Hermione covered her face and giggled harder. “I remember thinking how weird it was, and trying not to think about how good it was, and not being able to help thinking about it. The more I thought about it, the more familiar it seemed. Like maybe it wasn’t the first time I’d had a dream about a bloke. The next week I had the same dream. I was freaking out a little. I got up to have a shower in the morning and tried really hard to wank to thoughts of Ginny, but it was hard to finish.” He bit his lip and flushed a little. “Am I freaking you out?”
Hermione shook her head and took a big sip of her tea with a grin.
“Not at all. I asked, didn’t I?”
“I suppose you did. Well, anyway. I had dreams about boys more often. I started wanking while thinking about boys. No one particular, just boy bodies. Then we saw Draco at Grimmauld Place. Still a git, but a git on our side. You remember McGonagall asking me to try and make friends with him, win him over and stuff? He didn’t want a bar of it. I started to get irritated beyond belief with him. We had a huge row one night in the library and I huffed off. I came back down at midnight because I’d left something there, can’t remember what it was now. And there sat Draco, in the exact same spot, looking like he’d been crying since I left. I sat down beside him, offered him a hanky, which was amazing in itself because I never usually carry a hanky…he said something nasty, and I just felt sorry for him. Instead of arguing back, I just patted him on the back. The next thing I knew I was holding him, and he was absolutely howling. He cried until he fell asleep on me, and we just stayed like that all night. He was really embarrassed in the morning. Told me to quit being such a nancy, and stomped off. When I saw him later on, he would go bright red when we made eye contact, and refused to speak to me. I didn’t mind, I mean, fair enough, you know? I would have been a bit embarrassed if it’d been me. But sometimes, I could feel him looking at me. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination. I caught him at it one day – he was looking at my arse! He didn’t even know I’d seen. That was when I started to dream of Draco in particular. I liked him, and I was pretty sure he liked me too.” Harry smirked. “I was bloody right about that!”
The years seemed to melt away, and she could remember that summer at Grimmauld Place like it was yesterday. A grim anticipation in the air, and yet they were still normal teenagers, flirting and playing pranks and gossiping and fighting with each other.
“Sounds like it was right around that time that you told me and Ron you thought you were gay.”
Harry was looking at the teapot on the stove as if he were considering summoning it to himself by magic, and wisely thought better of it.
“It was. Can I have some more tea?”
She took his cup and refilled it for him, a splash of milk and just a little sugar. He smiled at her again and she suddenly missed Ron very much. It was so long since they’d been the Golden Trio. But things change, she reminded herself. No use crying over spilt milk.
Harry looked ready to keep talking.
“Do you remember the look on Ron’s face the first time I kissed Draco?”
Hermione snorted.
“Do you remember the look on Draco’s face the first time you kissed Draco?”
“I thought I was going to be permanently blind in my right eye.”
“I think he was hoping you would be. Why did he punch you, anyway? Was it just embarrassment? We all know he had feelings for you, especially when you look at it in retrospect. You’d think he’d have been thrilled.”
Harry stared out the kitchen window into their little garden, with a thoughtful smile on his face.
“A kiss is very meaningful to Draco. He thought I wasn’t serious. Draco doesn’t kiss someone like that unless he really means it. He just had no idea I meant it too.”
Hermione felt like there was something she was missing, but didn’t press Harry to explain. He’d do that if and when he felt like it.
“So,” he continued, snapping out of it. “The rest is history. Actually, I don’t think you asked me about falling in love with Draco, but it was all kind of tied up with realising I was gay. Why the sudden interest? Is little Miss Granger starting to rethink her heterosexual lifestyle?”
Hermione choked on her tea, shoving the cup back onto the saucer quickly and grabbing a napkin to cover her mouth. Harry looked at her with interest and put down his own tea.
“Don’t tell me I’m on the ball for once!”
She glared at him, coughing hard and blushing violently. Of course not! It was just a bloody question. One did not spontaneously, at the age of twenty-six, become a lesbian. No matter how lovely the woman at the focus of her attention may be.
“That’s preposterous Harry, really. I was merely curious, and I would have thought you’d have noticed that about me after fifteen years of friendship!”
Harry just looked at her, unconvinced, before picking up his tea again.
“If you say so, Hermione.”
She conjured up a glass of water and took a deep gulp.
“I do say so.”
A silence, not quite awkward, stretched out between them. Finally –
“And Pansy,” she ventured. “Is she…?”
Harry’s eyes pierced her, and she fought down another blush. It seemed to be a regular occurrence, of late.
“Is she gay?” Hermione nodded. “Why do you ask?”
“Curiosity,” she bit out. “That’s all.”
Harry pulled her plate across to his side of the table and picked at the remains of her sandwich nonchalantly.
“Yes. She is.”
Without attempting to analyse why her heart was suddenly beating that bit faster, Hermione refilled her cup of tea and promptly changed to subject to the state of Harry’s gardenia bushes.
*
Hermione sat in her office, slightly stunned, and trying to work out exactly what had just happened during the nine-thirty meeting.
“Alice!”
The long-suffering girl popped her head around the door almost immediately.
“Come in please, and sit down.” Alice froze, and Hermione hastened to add “You aren’t in trouble, Alice, nor are you about to get the sack. I just need your help organising a few things.”
Alice sat down gingerly on the chair opposite Hermione, plucking a quill seemingly from nowhere and retrieving a small notepad from her pocket. Hermione took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose before beginning.
“Alice, the senior aide to Junior Minister Smaragdina will be staying on for several months. Miss Pansy Parkinson. She will be coordinating the project we have just signed the contract for with the AMR. As you know, we are short on office space just at the moment, so Miss Parkinson will be sharing…mine. I’ll need you and Marie to arrange for the room to be slightly enlarged, and for appropriate furniture to be transfigured. Make sure the desk has plenty of drawers, and ample leg room, as Miss Parkinson is rather tall. A comfortable chair also, that’s important. Maybe something in leather? Miss Parkinson will need full security clearance for our department, and you’ll need to arrange an owl to be at her exclusive service. Actually, make that two owls. She’ll need stationery, all the usual bits and bobs – ink pots, quills, parchment, a seal and the burgundy wax, you know the kind that Hogwarts School always uses for their letters? You’d best get Pergamena brand parchment, in the cream, unlined.”
“Will Miss Parkinson require a Quicknotes Quill?”
Hermione chewed her lip absently.
“I think she prefers to write by hand, but get one anyway, in case she does require it. Oh! And she’ll need a translation spell, the Swiss use German, Italian and French, and although I’m sure she can read and write all three, it will take much less time if she doesn’t have to transcribe everything for our records. Wait. She’ll probably have her own spells, how thoughtless of me. Scratch that last – well. Perhaps get the spells anyway. Just in case.”
Alice was looking up at her curiously as she took down Hermione’s instructions. She was aware that she was babbling, and was vaguely embarrassed for it, but honestly, this whole thing had set her off balance. Pansy Parkinson, to stay in London for up to six months in order to coordinate the skill assessment project. To stay not just in London, but quite literally in Hermione’s lap – right in her very own office. Her discussion with Harry that morning played in a repeating loop in her mind.
“Is little Miss Granger starting to rethink her heterosexual lifestyle?”
“That’s preposterous Harry, really. I was merely curious.”
“If you say so, Hermione.”
I do say so, she repeated to herself firmly. This is all just about being excited to have a new kid in the playground. It’s been just Harry and Draco to keep me entertained for quite some time, and I haven’t really had a chance to make a new friend for ages, not since…god, not since Viktor back at Hogwarts. It was always me, Harry, Ron and Ginny, and later just me, Harry and Draco. It’s just excitement over something new. That’s all. Pansy is a very interesting girl. I’m just looking forward to getting to know her.
“Miss Granger? What’s she like?”
“Oh. Well, she’s very tall, and slender. Very well dressed. She has blonde hair. A very attractive woman, to look at.”
Alice cleared her throat.
“Um, I – I suppose I really meant, what’s her personality like? Is she as scary and intimidating as the Junior Minister?”
Good lord.
With only a slight blush, Hermione answered.
“Not at all Alice. Miss Parkinson is perfectly…delightful.”
*
I think, Hermione frowned, as she tucked her legs underneath herself on the couch, that I drink entirely too much tea. Honestly. This has to be the sixteenth cup today. Perhaps I should try coffee, or juice or something.
The fire smouldered quietly in her sitting room hearth, where Hermione was sitting curled up on her favourite chintz sofa. Books were piled in front of the chair, several scrolls of parchment and a case of Muggle-style ballpoint pens. A fat text sat in her lap, and more at her feet: BECOMING GAY : The Journey to Self-Acceptance by Richard A. Md Isay MD; Coming Out of Shame : Transforming Gay and Lesbian Lives by Gershen Kaufman; Outing Yourself: How to Come Out as Lesbian or Gay to Your Family, Friends, and Coworkers by Michelangelo Signorile; Queer Blues: The Lesbian and Gay Guide to Overcoming Depression by Kimeron N. Hardin; Now That I'm Out What Do I Do? by Brian McNaught. Hermione was doing what Hermione did best during a moment of confusion or crisis – homework. Was she just being paranoid, or was there more to this sudden fixation on Pansy Parkinson than she was willing to admit? The answer was hopefully in one of these self help books she had picked up on the way home from work that night.
She was lost in her research when the fireplace suddenly blazed bright, and Draco’s detached head appeared in the middle of the flames. Scrambling to grab the afghan hanging over the back of the couch, she tossed it on top of the self help books – wouldn’t do to have anybody knowing about this just at the moment. She wasn’t even sure there was any ‘this’ to know about.
“Draco!”
“Hermione. Sorry to call so late.”
She shook her head and smiled.
“No problem, my fireplace is always open for you and Harry. What can I do for you?”
Draco beamed.
“I just wanted to say how pleased I am that Pansy’ll be staying for a while! I can’t wait. You’re going to love having her, I just know it. I really hope we can make it a regular thing to have lunch together, the three of us that is. Harry too, when he’s back on the job. And we just have to go out on the weekends. We haven’t been out in such a long time, not to a club anyway. Harry and I always get too drunk and do something obscene, and you get stuck there trying to sort it all out,” he laughed, and Hermione couldn’t suppress a grin of her own. It was all true. “Now with Pansy, we can make a foursome! And if you like, you and Pansy can get up to something obscene yourselves, and not worry about Harry and I.”
Hermione spluttered.
“What – what do you mean, Pansy and I can get up to something obscene? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Draco smirked at her cheekily.
“Oh, please. I saw you check out her legs this morning in the office. You were having a good old look!” Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Draco cut her off smugly. “Not to mention, Pansy asked me over breakfast if you liked women – apparently, our dear Junior Minister said something the other night after your barrel of wine about Pansy getting to know you a little bit better. Pansy swore Paula all but told her to ask you out on a date. Now where on earth would the Junior Minister from Switzerland get the idea that Hermione Granger was interested in the female form – specifically, Pansy’s? I do wonder.”
Hermione was doing an excellent impersonation of a fish out of water, her mouth opening and closing silently.
“And,” Draco continued, “there’s the matter of the conversation you and Harry had this morning. How did you know you were gay, and is Pansy a lesbian? All points to the bleeding obvious if you ask me.”
“Harry – he – that shit! That was a private conversation-”
“No it wasn’t!” Draco laughed, interrupting her.
“-and I told him it was just curiosity! That’s all!”
Draco looked at her seriously.
“You’re a terrible liar, Hermione. When you aren’t telling the truth, you wring your hands, like you’re doing now. Just like you did when you told Ron you were happy that he was back with Lavender, and when you told him you were pleased to hear they were getting married. I remember you almost twisting your fingers right off when you told everyone how happy you were for them when they were expecting their first. I know you, Hermione,” he said softly. “And it’s alright.”
Hermione wasn’t sure what to say. She looked down at her hands, which were indeed wringing each other enthusiastically in her lap, and she made a concerted effort to stop.
“That transparent, am I?”
Draco smiled.
“Only to your very good friends. And – well. I’d recognise the spine of Now That I'm Out What Do I Do? anywhere. You weren’t quite thorough enough with that afghan, although I’ll give you ten house points for quick thinking.”
Hermione looked behind her and groaned.
“Bollocks.”
Draco laughed. She sighed miserably and flopped back against the sofa.
“You said it’s alright. Well, it’s not alright. Nothing’s alright.”
“Why do you think that?”
She shoved a hand into her hair and tugged at a snarl.
“I feel like everything is coming apart. Like I’ve been living a lie or something. I thought I liked men – I did like men. I loved Ron, and I loved…you know, having sex with him. Was all that just because I wanted to have a family? Have I been lying to myself for all these years? Is that why I never found anyone after Ron, because I’m a great blooming repressed lesbian?”
Draco snorted.
“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing wrong with finding you suddenly have a liking for the same sex. It doesn’t mean you’re a lesbian now, or that you have to go and renounce your heterosexuality. You just like a woman. Pansy. It happens to lots of people. Pansy could make almost anyone fancy her.”
“But I loved Ron, I really believed I did. I don’t love Pansy, I just…can’t stop looking at her all the time.”
“Do you think Harry didn’t love Ginny when he was with her?”
Hermione blinked. Did Harry love Ginny?
“No, I – well yes, I know he loved her. Just differently to how he loves you.”
“And he’s as gay as a day by the seaside, now. Isn’t he?”
She nodded. Point taken. She looked at Draco’s floating, detached head nodding silently in her fireplace, and remembered that Draco Malfoy was a pretty clever bloke.
“So…am I a lesbian, Draco?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe you just happen to like a girl, and it’s a once of oddity. Maybe you’re bisexual. Maybe you actually don’t like Pansy at all and simply admire her looks – and you’re just really horny.”
She made a face at him. “Alright smartarse. That’s enough of the clever remarks.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not the end of the world, Hermione. It’s just life.”
She smiled.
“Life is like sprouts.”
“Yes,” Draco said disdainfully. “So I’ve heard. Honestly, where does he come up with this stuff? He’s like a sprout – green and leafy in the head.”
When she managed to stop giggling, she gave Draco another smile.
“Thanks Draco.”
“Welcome. Don’t stress about this anymore. You think too much as it is anyway. Just enjoy work, and sprouts – I mean, life. I’ll drop by at lunchtime tomorrow to take you lovely ladies out. By the way, have you had a chance to finish reviewing that report?”
Hermione groaned. “Not quite. I promise it’ll be done by close of business tomorrow.”
“Alright. See you then.”
“Goodnight.”
Click here for the listing of self help books mentioned in this chapter.
Miss S...I think a 'Life is like Sprouts' icon is in order, do you concur? ;)
Pairing: HG/PP (with secondary HP/DM)
Genre/Rating: At this point, I'm not too sure. Part One and Two are PG13 at the very most. Part Three maybe soft R for sexual references. However, in upcoming parts, there will feature femmeslash and an office supplies kink. So far it is entirely plot.
Warnings: Can't think of any, aside from femmeslash.
Length: 3, 700 (ish) words
Beta: None – this is written FOR my lovely and patient beta,
smaragdine. Disclaimer: Please see my disclaimer here.
Summary: Hermione has always admired the fine attribute of organisation. She's never admired it quite this much before, though...
Click here for Part One, and here for Part Two
Hermione sat in Meeting Room 3, Draco’s report back in her hands, still not concentrating on the information. She was beginning to despair of ever getting the damned thing read.
Harry had been pleased at her unexpected arrival. She tried not to giggle at his expense, as he hobbled around with the aide of his muggle crutches.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you. All I want this morning is a bacon and mushroom toasted sandwich, and I can’t manage it while balancing on these godforsaken sticks of death!” He gestured angrily at his crutches, which were leaning defiantly up against the chair beside the one he had fallen gratefully into upon Hermione’s arrival.
“Harry, stop being such a bloody drama queen. For years you hung off a broom three hundred feet in the air, whilst speeding around at dangerous velocities chasing a flying ping pong ball. And you never complained it was hard then, did you? Surely you can manage a simple set of crutches.”
Harry pouted sulkily.
“This is different.”
“And how, exactly?”
He scowled.
“Don’t wanna.”
Hermione clipped him over the ear on her way to the bread box.
“Daft, you are. Now tell me where Draco keeps the mushrooms, and I’ll make you your bloody sandwich.”
Harry was in much better spirits after mowing through his sandwich.
“So what brings you here this morning?”
Hermione smirked at him with amusement.
“Oh, now you care why I came. After you’ve stuffed your face. Typical.”
He poked out his tongue.
“Fine, don’t tell me.”
Hermione looked at her own plate, a few bites of sandwich and stray pieces of mushroom decorating the china.
“Draco dropped by this morning on his way out to breakfast with Pansy. It seemed like a nice idea, and since I knew you wouldn’t be busy, I thought I’d visit.”
Harry grinned at her.
“Aren’t the two of them hilarious together? Pans always manages to bring the ponce out in Draco. He has so much fun with her. I think he misses her quite a bit.” Harry took a sip of his tea, swirling it around in his cup. “You haven’t spent much time with her until now, but she’s a very different character than the one we knew in school. It’s probably redundant to say, but the war changed everyone. I never would have imagined tolerating Pansy, let alone actually liking her. Then again, if you’d asked me at the end of sixth whether I thought I might like to shag Draco Malfoy, I probably would have fled screaming in the opposite direction.” He laughed. “It’s funny, life. It’s like when you’re a kid, and you hate sprouts, and can never imagine a day when you might choose to eat them voluntarily. Then, you grow up, and not only do you eat sprouts simply because you know they’re good for you, you actually come to enjoy them. Life is like sprouts. There. It’s the new philosophic metaphor. I expect it’ll be in common usage by the end of the month.”
Hermione couldn’t help laughing at him, and Harry grinned back. But part of her brain was taking stock of what he’d said. About changing. Sometimes a person might do, or want to do something they never would have thought of before.
“Harry, how’d you know you were gay?”
She hadn’t meant to blurt that out quite so abruptly. Harry’s eyebrows rose in surprise. It was a long time since Harry had come out, and it never occurred to her to ask him before. He frowned thoughtfully,
“I had a wet dream about Terry Boot over the summer between sixth and seventh years.”
Hermione burst out laughing, and Harry joined in.
“One dream about Terry Boot?”
He grinned and shook his head.
“Not exactly. It was more like, it was one dream I properly remembered. It turned me on more than any other kind of sex dream I could remember having – I remember waking up and thinking I’d wet the bed, there was so much come everywhere!” Hermione covered her face and giggled harder. “I remember thinking how weird it was, and trying not to think about how good it was, and not being able to help thinking about it. The more I thought about it, the more familiar it seemed. Like maybe it wasn’t the first time I’d had a dream about a bloke. The next week I had the same dream. I was freaking out a little. I got up to have a shower in the morning and tried really hard to wank to thoughts of Ginny, but it was hard to finish.” He bit his lip and flushed a little. “Am I freaking you out?”
Hermione shook her head and took a big sip of her tea with a grin.
“Not at all. I asked, didn’t I?”
“I suppose you did. Well, anyway. I had dreams about boys more often. I started wanking while thinking about boys. No one particular, just boy bodies. Then we saw Draco at Grimmauld Place. Still a git, but a git on our side. You remember McGonagall asking me to try and make friends with him, win him over and stuff? He didn’t want a bar of it. I started to get irritated beyond belief with him. We had a huge row one night in the library and I huffed off. I came back down at midnight because I’d left something there, can’t remember what it was now. And there sat Draco, in the exact same spot, looking like he’d been crying since I left. I sat down beside him, offered him a hanky, which was amazing in itself because I never usually carry a hanky…he said something nasty, and I just felt sorry for him. Instead of arguing back, I just patted him on the back. The next thing I knew I was holding him, and he was absolutely howling. He cried until he fell asleep on me, and we just stayed like that all night. He was really embarrassed in the morning. Told me to quit being such a nancy, and stomped off. When I saw him later on, he would go bright red when we made eye contact, and refused to speak to me. I didn’t mind, I mean, fair enough, you know? I would have been a bit embarrassed if it’d been me. But sometimes, I could feel him looking at me. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination. I caught him at it one day – he was looking at my arse! He didn’t even know I’d seen. That was when I started to dream of Draco in particular. I liked him, and I was pretty sure he liked me too.” Harry smirked. “I was bloody right about that!”
The years seemed to melt away, and she could remember that summer at Grimmauld Place like it was yesterday. A grim anticipation in the air, and yet they were still normal teenagers, flirting and playing pranks and gossiping and fighting with each other.
“Sounds like it was right around that time that you told me and Ron you thought you were gay.”
Harry was looking at the teapot on the stove as if he were considering summoning it to himself by magic, and wisely thought better of it.
“It was. Can I have some more tea?”
She took his cup and refilled it for him, a splash of milk and just a little sugar. He smiled at her again and she suddenly missed Ron very much. It was so long since they’d been the Golden Trio. But things change, she reminded herself. No use crying over spilt milk.
Harry looked ready to keep talking.
“Do you remember the look on Ron’s face the first time I kissed Draco?”
Hermione snorted.
“Do you remember the look on Draco’s face the first time you kissed Draco?”
“I thought I was going to be permanently blind in my right eye.”
“I think he was hoping you would be. Why did he punch you, anyway? Was it just embarrassment? We all know he had feelings for you, especially when you look at it in retrospect. You’d think he’d have been thrilled.”
Harry stared out the kitchen window into their little garden, with a thoughtful smile on his face.
“A kiss is very meaningful to Draco. He thought I wasn’t serious. Draco doesn’t kiss someone like that unless he really means it. He just had no idea I meant it too.”
Hermione felt like there was something she was missing, but didn’t press Harry to explain. He’d do that if and when he felt like it.
“So,” he continued, snapping out of it. “The rest is history. Actually, I don’t think you asked me about falling in love with Draco, but it was all kind of tied up with realising I was gay. Why the sudden interest? Is little Miss Granger starting to rethink her heterosexual lifestyle?”
Hermione choked on her tea, shoving the cup back onto the saucer quickly and grabbing a napkin to cover her mouth. Harry looked at her with interest and put down his own tea.
“Don’t tell me I’m on the ball for once!”
She glared at him, coughing hard and blushing violently. Of course not! It was just a bloody question. One did not spontaneously, at the age of twenty-six, become a lesbian. No matter how lovely the woman at the focus of her attention may be.
“That’s preposterous Harry, really. I was merely curious, and I would have thought you’d have noticed that about me after fifteen years of friendship!”
Harry just looked at her, unconvinced, before picking up his tea again.
“If you say so, Hermione.”
She conjured up a glass of water and took a deep gulp.
“I do say so.”
A silence, not quite awkward, stretched out between them. Finally –
“And Pansy,” she ventured. “Is she…?”
Harry’s eyes pierced her, and she fought down another blush. It seemed to be a regular occurrence, of late.
“Is she gay?” Hermione nodded. “Why do you ask?”
“Curiosity,” she bit out. “That’s all.”
Harry pulled her plate across to his side of the table and picked at the remains of her sandwich nonchalantly.
“Yes. She is.”
Without attempting to analyse why her heart was suddenly beating that bit faster, Hermione refilled her cup of tea and promptly changed to subject to the state of Harry’s gardenia bushes.
Hermione sat in her office, slightly stunned, and trying to work out exactly what had just happened during the nine-thirty meeting.
“Alice!”
The long-suffering girl popped her head around the door almost immediately.
“Come in please, and sit down.” Alice froze, and Hermione hastened to add “You aren’t in trouble, Alice, nor are you about to get the sack. I just need your help organising a few things.”
Alice sat down gingerly on the chair opposite Hermione, plucking a quill seemingly from nowhere and retrieving a small notepad from her pocket. Hermione took a deep breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose before beginning.
“Alice, the senior aide to Junior Minister Smaragdina will be staying on for several months. Miss Pansy Parkinson. She will be coordinating the project we have just signed the contract for with the AMR. As you know, we are short on office space just at the moment, so Miss Parkinson will be sharing…mine. I’ll need you and Marie to arrange for the room to be slightly enlarged, and for appropriate furniture to be transfigured. Make sure the desk has plenty of drawers, and ample leg room, as Miss Parkinson is rather tall. A comfortable chair also, that’s important. Maybe something in leather? Miss Parkinson will need full security clearance for our department, and you’ll need to arrange an owl to be at her exclusive service. Actually, make that two owls. She’ll need stationery, all the usual bits and bobs – ink pots, quills, parchment, a seal and the burgundy wax, you know the kind that Hogwarts School always uses for their letters? You’d best get Pergamena brand parchment, in the cream, unlined.”
“Will Miss Parkinson require a Quicknotes Quill?”
Hermione chewed her lip absently.
“I think she prefers to write by hand, but get one anyway, in case she does require it. Oh! And she’ll need a translation spell, the Swiss use German, Italian and French, and although I’m sure she can read and write all three, it will take much less time if she doesn’t have to transcribe everything for our records. Wait. She’ll probably have her own spells, how thoughtless of me. Scratch that last – well. Perhaps get the spells anyway. Just in case.”
Alice was looking up at her curiously as she took down Hermione’s instructions. She was aware that she was babbling, and was vaguely embarrassed for it, but honestly, this whole thing had set her off balance. Pansy Parkinson, to stay in London for up to six months in order to coordinate the skill assessment project. To stay not just in London, but quite literally in Hermione’s lap – right in her very own office. Her discussion with Harry that morning played in a repeating loop in her mind.
“Is little Miss Granger starting to rethink her heterosexual lifestyle?”
“That’s preposterous Harry, really. I was merely curious.”
“If you say so, Hermione.”
I do say so, she repeated to herself firmly. This is all just about being excited to have a new kid in the playground. It’s been just Harry and Draco to keep me entertained for quite some time, and I haven’t really had a chance to make a new friend for ages, not since…god, not since Viktor back at Hogwarts. It was always me, Harry, Ron and Ginny, and later just me, Harry and Draco. It’s just excitement over something new. That’s all. Pansy is a very interesting girl. I’m just looking forward to getting to know her.
“Miss Granger? What’s she like?”
“Oh. Well, she’s very tall, and slender. Very well dressed. She has blonde hair. A very attractive woman, to look at.”
Alice cleared her throat.
“Um, I – I suppose I really meant, what’s her personality like? Is she as scary and intimidating as the Junior Minister?”
Good lord.
With only a slight blush, Hermione answered.
“Not at all Alice. Miss Parkinson is perfectly…delightful.”
I think, Hermione frowned, as she tucked her legs underneath herself on the couch, that I drink entirely too much tea. Honestly. This has to be the sixteenth cup today. Perhaps I should try coffee, or juice or something.
The fire smouldered quietly in her sitting room hearth, where Hermione was sitting curled up on her favourite chintz sofa. Books were piled in front of the chair, several scrolls of parchment and a case of Muggle-style ballpoint pens. A fat text sat in her lap, and more at her feet: BECOMING GAY : The Journey to Self-Acceptance by Richard A. Md Isay MD; Coming Out of Shame : Transforming Gay and Lesbian Lives by Gershen Kaufman; Outing Yourself: How to Come Out as Lesbian or Gay to Your Family, Friends, and Coworkers by Michelangelo Signorile; Queer Blues: The Lesbian and Gay Guide to Overcoming Depression by Kimeron N. Hardin; Now That I'm Out What Do I Do? by Brian McNaught. Hermione was doing what Hermione did best during a moment of confusion or crisis – homework. Was she just being paranoid, or was there more to this sudden fixation on Pansy Parkinson than she was willing to admit? The answer was hopefully in one of these self help books she had picked up on the way home from work that night.
She was lost in her research when the fireplace suddenly blazed bright, and Draco’s detached head appeared in the middle of the flames. Scrambling to grab the afghan hanging over the back of the couch, she tossed it on top of the self help books – wouldn’t do to have anybody knowing about this just at the moment. She wasn’t even sure there was any ‘this’ to know about.
“Draco!”
“Hermione. Sorry to call so late.”
She shook her head and smiled.
“No problem, my fireplace is always open for you and Harry. What can I do for you?”
Draco beamed.
“I just wanted to say how pleased I am that Pansy’ll be staying for a while! I can’t wait. You’re going to love having her, I just know it. I really hope we can make it a regular thing to have lunch together, the three of us that is. Harry too, when he’s back on the job. And we just have to go out on the weekends. We haven’t been out in such a long time, not to a club anyway. Harry and I always get too drunk and do something obscene, and you get stuck there trying to sort it all out,” he laughed, and Hermione couldn’t suppress a grin of her own. It was all true. “Now with Pansy, we can make a foursome! And if you like, you and Pansy can get up to something obscene yourselves, and not worry about Harry and I.”
Hermione spluttered.
“What – what do you mean, Pansy and I can get up to something obscene? I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Draco smirked at her cheekily.
“Oh, please. I saw you check out her legs this morning in the office. You were having a good old look!” Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Draco cut her off smugly. “Not to mention, Pansy asked me over breakfast if you liked women – apparently, our dear Junior Minister said something the other night after your barrel of wine about Pansy getting to know you a little bit better. Pansy swore Paula all but told her to ask you out on a date. Now where on earth would the Junior Minister from Switzerland get the idea that Hermione Granger was interested in the female form – specifically, Pansy’s? I do wonder.”
Hermione was doing an excellent impersonation of a fish out of water, her mouth opening and closing silently.
“And,” Draco continued, “there’s the matter of the conversation you and Harry had this morning. How did you know you were gay, and is Pansy a lesbian? All points to the bleeding obvious if you ask me.”
“Harry – he – that shit! That was a private conversation-”
“No it wasn’t!” Draco laughed, interrupting her.
“-and I told him it was just curiosity! That’s all!”
Draco looked at her seriously.
“You’re a terrible liar, Hermione. When you aren’t telling the truth, you wring your hands, like you’re doing now. Just like you did when you told Ron you were happy that he was back with Lavender, and when you told him you were pleased to hear they were getting married. I remember you almost twisting your fingers right off when you told everyone how happy you were for them when they were expecting their first. I know you, Hermione,” he said softly. “And it’s alright.”
Hermione wasn’t sure what to say. She looked down at her hands, which were indeed wringing each other enthusiastically in her lap, and she made a concerted effort to stop.
“That transparent, am I?”
Draco smiled.
“Only to your very good friends. And – well. I’d recognise the spine of Now That I'm Out What Do I Do? anywhere. You weren’t quite thorough enough with that afghan, although I’ll give you ten house points for quick thinking.”
Hermione looked behind her and groaned.
“Bollocks.”
Draco laughed. She sighed miserably and flopped back against the sofa.
“You said it’s alright. Well, it’s not alright. Nothing’s alright.”
“Why do you think that?”
She shoved a hand into her hair and tugged at a snarl.
“I feel like everything is coming apart. Like I’ve been living a lie or something. I thought I liked men – I did like men. I loved Ron, and I loved…you know, having sex with him. Was all that just because I wanted to have a family? Have I been lying to myself for all these years? Is that why I never found anyone after Ron, because I’m a great blooming repressed lesbian?”
Draco snorted.
“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing wrong with finding you suddenly have a liking for the same sex. It doesn’t mean you’re a lesbian now, or that you have to go and renounce your heterosexuality. You just like a woman. Pansy. It happens to lots of people. Pansy could make almost anyone fancy her.”
“But I loved Ron, I really believed I did. I don’t love Pansy, I just…can’t stop looking at her all the time.”
“Do you think Harry didn’t love Ginny when he was with her?”
Hermione blinked. Did Harry love Ginny?
“No, I – well yes, I know he loved her. Just differently to how he loves you.”
“And he’s as gay as a day by the seaside, now. Isn’t he?”
She nodded. Point taken. She looked at Draco’s floating, detached head nodding silently in her fireplace, and remembered that Draco Malfoy was a pretty clever bloke.
“So…am I a lesbian, Draco?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe you just happen to like a girl, and it’s a once of oddity. Maybe you’re bisexual. Maybe you actually don’t like Pansy at all and simply admire her looks – and you’re just really horny.”
She made a face at him. “Alright smartarse. That’s enough of the clever remarks.”
“Whatever it is, it’s not the end of the world, Hermione. It’s just life.”
She smiled.
“Life is like sprouts.”
“Yes,” Draco said disdainfully. “So I’ve heard. Honestly, where does he come up with this stuff? He’s like a sprout – green and leafy in the head.”
When she managed to stop giggling, she gave Draco another smile.
“Thanks Draco.”
“Welcome. Don’t stress about this anymore. You think too much as it is anyway. Just enjoy work, and sprouts – I mean, life. I’ll drop by at lunchtime tomorrow to take you lovely ladies out. By the way, have you had a chance to finish reviewing that report?”
Hermione groaned. “Not quite. I promise it’ll be done by close of business tomorrow.”
“Alright. See you then.”
“Goodnight.”
Click here for the listing of self help books mentioned in this chapter.
Miss S...I think a 'Life is like Sprouts' icon is in order, do you concur? ;)
