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- Joined
- Apr 6, 2020
In the aftermath of the war, after everyone had recovered from the shock and trauma of losing their loved ones, things had gone… almost back to normal. While Ron and Harry had chosen not to return to Hogwarts for their last year, Hermione had jumped at the chance, finishing at the top of the class and being recruited by the Ministry, working directly under new Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. After finishing her schooling, she'd visited Ron as he trained amongst the Chudley Cannons, his dream for as long as she'd known him, and they'd rekindled their relationship, evolving rapidly through a quick year of dating before he proposed. It hadn't been a romantic affair – in fact, it had been done rather publicly at one of his games, something that she'd reamed him out for hours for after the fact – and she'd felt rather pressured to say yes, especially with Harry, Ginny, and their other friends in the stands, along with thousands of screaming fans. While she had been used to being in the public eye – being complicit in Harry Potter's destruction of Voldemort had afforded her more fame than she'd known what to do with, and then came dating Ron – it had been overwhelming from the start.
And then, she'd found out about the unfaithfulness.
He couldn't help it, he'd tried to protest, how was he supposed to know how to turn women down when he'd spent his entire life trying to get them to notice him? No matter what excuse Ron had tried to throw at her, Hermione had been finished then and there, ready to walk out and never speak to him again when he'd had a rare moment of cohesion. "No one will take you seriously in your career if it comes out that we've split," he'd said. "It'll look like you used your fame to gain your position. If they don't fire you, they'll still talk. Do you really want that?" It had been a low blow, and she'd informed him so, but she'd agreed not to make the divorce public, if they filed for legal separation. Now, they lived in separate wings of a large, sprawling home, all one-level as opposed to the Burrow but with just as many rooms if not more. He spent his time in the east wing, she slept in the west. They rarely spoke, unless in public – where she played the doting wife to save face until she could gain ground in her own career. She'd see women coming and going and she'd not question it – hell, she'd caught Lavender Brown attempting to sneak out after a nighttime tryst and sarcastically offered her a cup of tea on the way out. In every way, she was upholding their image – but she couldn't deny that she spent more time picturing how she'd eventually make a grand gesture and leave. When that would be, she didn't know, but it kept her going through all the dishonesty.
It was easy enough to explain away them not arriving to games together – he had to arrive early to practice with the team, she'd say, and make some 'teasing' remark about how he spent more time on the game than with her, though the honesty behind it would go unrecognized by anyone but her. She knew how to work the crowd; it was her who did damage control for Harry after the war was over and he refused to speak to the public, instead retracting into his home life with Ginny, leaving Hermione to give the statements and shoo the media away. How Harry would react to his friend's infidelity, she didn't know – she met up with him and Ginny occasionally over tea or lunch, but their friendships weren't as strong as they'd been before things with she and Ron had gone downhill, though she kept her promise to Ron and didn't fill them in before he could. Still, she remained surrounded by the Weasleys – George, Ginny, Bill and Fleur, and even Percy came to support Ron during most of his games – and cheered for the team as they emerged on their brooms.
Then, the home team came out, and Hermione found her eyes focusing on an entirely different player altogether.
Draco Malfoy, professional Seeker. Who would have thought? Hermione hadn't paid too much attention to Quidditch during their schooling years, though she was often dragged to games by Ginny or Luna or even Harry or Ron when one of them wasn't playing, but from what she'd heard, Draco had practically paid his way into the Slytherin team. Still, it wasn't the most reliable of sources, she supposed, and whenever the game came up, she was twice as likely to begin to tune them out than she was to listen to them. However he had played in Hogwarts, though, was irrelevant, as it became evident quite soon that he was more than proficient on a broom, so much so that she found herself focusing on him rather than Ron and the other Cannons. In a shade of light mint green so contrasting to the dark, harsh colors she had previously seen him wear, he was a vision of grace and power as he breezed through the other team like it was nothing. When he reached a gloved hand towards the Snitch, she found herself holding her breath – something she was thankful for when his fist closed around it and the crowd around her, decked in hideous bright orange that she'd always refused to wear, erupted into boos and jeers.
She was thankful they were too wrapped up in their anger, or they would have seen her smirk to herself.
And then, she'd found out about the unfaithfulness.
He couldn't help it, he'd tried to protest, how was he supposed to know how to turn women down when he'd spent his entire life trying to get them to notice him? No matter what excuse Ron had tried to throw at her, Hermione had been finished then and there, ready to walk out and never speak to him again when he'd had a rare moment of cohesion. "No one will take you seriously in your career if it comes out that we've split," he'd said. "It'll look like you used your fame to gain your position. If they don't fire you, they'll still talk. Do you really want that?" It had been a low blow, and she'd informed him so, but she'd agreed not to make the divorce public, if they filed for legal separation. Now, they lived in separate wings of a large, sprawling home, all one-level as opposed to the Burrow but with just as many rooms if not more. He spent his time in the east wing, she slept in the west. They rarely spoke, unless in public – where she played the doting wife to save face until she could gain ground in her own career. She'd see women coming and going and she'd not question it – hell, she'd caught Lavender Brown attempting to sneak out after a nighttime tryst and sarcastically offered her a cup of tea on the way out. In every way, she was upholding their image – but she couldn't deny that she spent more time picturing how she'd eventually make a grand gesture and leave. When that would be, she didn't know, but it kept her going through all the dishonesty.
It was easy enough to explain away them not arriving to games together – he had to arrive early to practice with the team, she'd say, and make some 'teasing' remark about how he spent more time on the game than with her, though the honesty behind it would go unrecognized by anyone but her. She knew how to work the crowd; it was her who did damage control for Harry after the war was over and he refused to speak to the public, instead retracting into his home life with Ginny, leaving Hermione to give the statements and shoo the media away. How Harry would react to his friend's infidelity, she didn't know – she met up with him and Ginny occasionally over tea or lunch, but their friendships weren't as strong as they'd been before things with she and Ron had gone downhill, though she kept her promise to Ron and didn't fill them in before he could. Still, she remained surrounded by the Weasleys – George, Ginny, Bill and Fleur, and even Percy came to support Ron during most of his games – and cheered for the team as they emerged on their brooms.
Then, the home team came out, and Hermione found her eyes focusing on an entirely different player altogether.
Draco Malfoy, professional Seeker. Who would have thought? Hermione hadn't paid too much attention to Quidditch during their schooling years, though she was often dragged to games by Ginny or Luna or even Harry or Ron when one of them wasn't playing, but from what she'd heard, Draco had practically paid his way into the Slytherin team. Still, it wasn't the most reliable of sources, she supposed, and whenever the game came up, she was twice as likely to begin to tune them out than she was to listen to them. However he had played in Hogwarts, though, was irrelevant, as it became evident quite soon that he was more than proficient on a broom, so much so that she found herself focusing on him rather than Ron and the other Cannons. In a shade of light mint green so contrasting to the dark, harsh colors she had previously seen him wear, he was a vision of grace and power as he breezed through the other team like it was nothing. When he reached a gloved hand towards the Snitch, she found herself holding her breath – something she was thankful for when his fist closed around it and the crowd around her, decked in hideous bright orange that she'd always refused to wear, erupted into boos and jeers.
She was thankful they were too wrapped up in their anger, or they would have seen her smirk to herself.
-------------------------------------------
The celebration had almost been called off, but when Ron had attempted to convince her to stay in, she'd stood her ground. "If I had to sit in the stands and freeze my arse off to watch a game I don't even care about, you're at least going to allow me out to have a drink!" She'd insisted, and he'd reluctantly Apparated behind her. The couple almost looked mismatched walking into the club, with Ron in a plain white button-down and jeans – she'd tried to get him to dress nicely, but that boy was impossible when he wanted to be – and Hermione in a strappy black fit-and-flare dress with an open back and matching heels, but they were greeted by fellow players and their wives alike, Ron beelining to his teammates and Hermione heading to the bar. Bringing his favorite beer to him, she sipped on her cosmopolitan as she attempted to gently push Ron's leg from the seat next to him.
"There's open seats there, why don't you just sit with Lauren and Poppy, then?" he asked as he kept his leg in place.
Gritting her teeth, Hermione wanted to snap back, but instead she did a half-turn away from him, looking over her shoulder to speak. "Why don't I head to the dance floor instead?" she replied tersely, an eyebrow quirking in a challenge.
"Go on if you want," he replied with a wave of his hand, a dismissive move that would have been rude even if they hadn't practically hated one another, and Hermione's eyes narrowed in reply. Without another word, she strutted towards the dance floor. Though she remained on the outskirts for a moment, she was soon roped in with a few of the other Cannons' girlfriends and wives, beginning to let her body move to the music. With shot girls swarming, she began to pick up the pace, having a few fruity shots and another drink by the time a half hour had gone by.
