The Problem of Pain

Title: The Problem of Pain (1/2)

Author: moirasfate/ianthe_waiting

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling and Scholastic Books. This is a work of fanfiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story.

Pairing: Hermione/Percy

Rating: NC-17/MA

Summary: Years after the end of the War, Hermione Granger has had enough of Ronald Weasley. After breaking off her relationship, Hermione is faced with new emotions, partly from self-realization and partly from a new love interest named Percy Weasley.

Warnings: Not too much to warn readers about, part one is rather tame…part two: M/F, oral…

Genre: Romance, Drama, some attempts at humor.

Author’s Notes: This is my second Hermione/Percy fic…in two parts. The title is from a book by C.S. Lewis, as are the titles of the 2 parts. I love Lewis’s work…and if you like my managing of Lewis’s titles, read the DM/HG fic ‘Out of the Silent Planet.’



Part One

The Great Divorce



"'Nothing, not even what is lowest and most bestial, will not be raised again if it submits to death.'"
--The Great Divorce, C.S. Lewis



di-vorce [di-vawrs, -vohrs] – n.
1. The legal dissolution of a marriage.
2. A complete or radical severance of closely connected things.




She should have kept her internal diatribe from spilling over into spoken words, but then again, if she had not she knew she would never have been free from her relationship with Ronald Weasley.

They had fought again, and this time the rest of the Weasley family had noticed them. Hermione had been so embarrassed she bolted out the kitchen door of the Burrow and down the lane toward Ottery St. Catchpole as if a Dementor were on her heels. It was not until she could just see the uneven and patched roof of the Burrow above a copse of birch trees that she stopped and flopped down in angry tears on a grassy and shallow embankment at the side of the old muddy and disused two-tracked lane. It was almost sunset and the summer sun streamed through the birch trees in warm fiery tones. Hermione sat with her back to the sun and to the Burrow, and began muttering her grief in stilted and breathless words.

“He understands nothing!” she cried, holding her head in her hands.

Hermione was twenty-five, well educated, mature, and desperately unhappy with her life. She had tried to endure and change herself to fit into a life of contentment with the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with…but it was just not going to work.

She had grown into a woman, the War and time honing her into a witch that was worthy of respect in the Wizarding community. Hermione was a War hero, but that meant little to her after losing so many friends and loved ones. It had been sheer luck that Harry had lived to fulfill his prophecy, and it had been sheer caution that had saved the Weasley family from the worst. Even Percy Weasley had lived through the War, redeeming himself by fighting along side his family after Fenrir Greyback had injured Bill. Percy had been a silent ally providing information to the Order while working as junior to the Minister of Magic. No one had expected Percy to be so crafty, but it was appreciated all the same. Bill and Fleur survived the War to have twins soon after Voldemort was defeated. Charlie was dating a colleague from America. Fred and George were wealthy businessmen having opened two new branches of Weasley Wizarding Wheezes, one in Hogsmeade and one in Salem. Even Ginny was engaged to Harry, and all seemed like a happy ending for the Weasley family…

…except that Hermione knew she could no longer be the future Mrs. Ronald Bilius Weasley.

The fatalistic sentiments that had brought them together were no longer valid in their lives. After the danger of not living to see the next dawn had passed, Hermione found herself bound to a boy who did not seem to want to grow up. The War had been hard for everyone, and the so-called Golden Trio never had much of a normal teenage life, but six years had come and gone and still Ron was no more mature than the day he held onto her at Dumbledore’s funeral.

“Six years…six horrible years of trying to fit into his life the way that would make us both…comfortable,” Hermione muttered angrily, trying not to begin bawling her misery like a child. “And he tells me I nag him like his mum… Damnit Ron…you git!”

Hermione growled and pulled on her hair which was no longer the uncontrollable bush of brown bracken, but was now cut short so that she could tuck long wavy bangs behind her ears and feel a cool late summer evening breeze on the back of her neck. Ron hated her hair and Hermione relished his annoyance, which was what their relationship had broken down to…spats and arguments.

That evening it had been a spat over Ron planning Hermione’s weekend for her…a trip to Falmouth to watch a Falcon’s Quidditch game against Puddlemere, and then to his flat for a long lie in until she had to go back to Hogwarts to prepare for the fall term. Hermione’s employment was another matter of contention…she taught Potions as a interim instructor until she finished her thesis at University and could be hired fulltime. Ron did not seem to care that Hermione had a job that would give her lifetime security if she desired it, because it could mean a lifetime without him… Ron was currently unemployed having been injured three years before while playing for Puddlemere United as the first string Keeper. He was recuperating and trying to get back onto the team, but it seemed as if he were trying in vain, and Hermione did not have the heart to tell him that he might as well find a job at the Ministry. Ron had become complacent during his convalescence and it would take nothing short of a miracle to get him back in shape to even be the reserve Keeper, let alone first string.

All Hermione had said was: ‘No, I don’t think so, Ron,’ and the spat began.

Ron acted like a sulky toddler, and when Hermione pointed that fact out to her lover, the shouting began.

‘You could at least pretend to like Quidditch, Hermione, for my sake!’ he had said before she erupted…

In retort: ‘What do you do for my sake? You do not pretend to like anything I am interested in, do you, Ron? You hate Muggle films, you hate the theatre, the museum, the restaurants I want to try. You hate the way I dress, the way I fix my hair, the people I talk to and the fact that I want to work at Hogwarts away from you and not at the Ministry in London!’

Ron sulked, his face turning a horrible shade of fuchsia, and continued shouting.

‘What is so wrong with staying over at my flat, eh? Why couldn’t you move with Harry and I so we could all be together?’

Hermione remembered laughing. ‘And live in squalor with two men? No thank you, besides I’ve told you Ron, my parents would never approve of me living with you even if Harry lives with us!’ Hermione paused to take a breath. ‘I hate your flat. It is filthy, and your room smells like cigarette smoke…yes, I know you started smoking so don’t give me that look, Ronald Weasley, your skill with freshening charms is about as good as your god given charm with women!’

Ron sputtered and Hermione felt her ego swell, for once she had rendered Ron speechless.

‘You…you… You frigid bitch!’ Ron roared after finding his voice.

It was Hermione’s turn to feel the blood drain from her face. After six years of a rocky relationship, Ron had never called her anything worse than a ‘bookish snob.’ To hear Ron call her a ‘bitch’ was crossing a new line of disrespect. Hermione felt her eyes water. Ron had disrespected and disregarded her in so many other ways, but to hear him call her a ‘bitch’ was going too far…

‘Ronald Bilius Weasley! What did you just call Hermione?’ Mrs. Weasley cried, coming into the kitchen obviously to mention to the couple that they could be heard from the garden where the family had gathered for an outdoor supper.

Hermione did not notice Mrs. Weasley at first, her anger making her oblivious to her surroundings.

‘How dare you, Ronald…how dare you!’ Hermione muttered as she felt her fingernails cut into her palm. She was keeping herself from snatching her wand from the holster on her belt and hexing her boyfriend within an inch of his life. But in her anger, Hermione’s wandless ability was blowing up a wind around her body, and even in Ron’s anger he noticed he had overstepped his boundaries.

‘I…Hermione…baby…’ Ron attempted, his words futile and trite.

Hermione finally noticed Mrs. Weasley, and soon Mr. Weasley, just outside the door to the garden, and then glancing through the window into the garden, the whole family had turned and was peeking curiously through the window…and Hermione bolted.

“Stupid…stupid, Ron! Now the whole family knows!”

Hermione began pounding her forehead with her right fist as the tears began to fall.

“I was so stupid to think that you really loved me…if…if you cannot respect me, how can you love me?” Hermione asked aloud, her lips trembling as she sobbed. “I loved you more than you ever deserved, you stupid git!”

And Hermione sobbed, refusing to let Ron have the upper hand and make her appear as miserable as she was on the inside. She finally drew her denim-clad knees under her chin and began rocking upon the low embankment, the sun warm against her back.

“I have been so stupid…wishing and waiting for something that will never happen…”

“And what is that?” a voice asked from behind her, and Hermione turned…wand drawn…blasting a hole into the embankment where the voice had stood. Hermione jumped to her feet, her surprise forcing adrenaline to pump through her discombobulated brain. However as she jumped to her feet, her eyes fixing on the figure that had moved with practiced speed to avoid her Blasting Curse, she began to fall off the side of the embankment and backward into the muddy lane. The figure with flame colored hair moved again and Hermione, preparing her body for impact, was suddenly stopped and in a pair of familiar arms.

With a grunt, the Weasley male who had caught her, set her down upon the embankment again. Hermione opened her eyes, not realizing she had shut them, and found herself sitting just as she had upon the embankment before she had reacted so violently. Glancing to her right, Percy Weasley sighed, sitting down on the grass next to Hermione, leaning back so that his upper body rested on his elbows.

“So, what will never happen?” he asked casually as if Hermione had not tried to blast him through the birch trees at her back.

Instead of answering right away, Hermione blinked repeatedly at the sight of the man at her side.

“I…” she began, and then cleared her throat which was still tightened with unshed tears. “I won’t ever be happy with Ron.”

Percy said nothing, but stared at the muddy two-track lane at the base of the embankment oblivious to Hermione’s scrutiny. Hermione was stunned, of all the people to come and see that she had not actually run all the way into the village, it had been the one she had least expected. Percy was the paradigm of cool control, never appearing angry or disheveled, making it obvious that he had changed perhaps the most after the War, more than anyone Hermione knew. And as she studied Percy’s shaggy red hair, silver rimmed glasses, sloppy button down shirt hanging open over a white under shirt, ancient faded jeans and bare feet, Hermione wondered who Percy Weasley was now… She had taken so little notice of him, only relieved that he was once again part of his own family and not the dogged sycophant she remembered from her schooldays. Percy was nearing thirty and he was far more fit than Ron. Percy still worked for the Ministry, but not in the same capacity he had during the War, it seemed that political manipulation and corruption had turned his stomach and now he worked as an Interrogator for the Wizengamot, working his way up quickly to Chief Warlock. The fact that Percy Weasley had evolved from the Minister’s sycophant to Interrogator of the Wizengamot was a feat in itself, for Percy was the youngest Interrogator in Britain’s history.

“You won’t marry him then?” Percy asked, startling Hermione so that she blushed and turned away. Percy was a man to admire for his charisma, but still Hermione thought of Ron’s older brother as almost a perfect stranger.

“I don’t think so…but trying to tell him that…it would break his heart,” Hermione muttered, internally cursing herself for even caring if Ron felt pain at all. “I cannot live this way anymore…trying so hard to be content and nowhere near happy…” she trailed off in a whisper.

“Have you tried explaining how you feel to him?” Percy asked, his glasses flashing in the light of the setting sun, his green eyes obscured by the golden reflection.

Hermione sighed. “Many times. I have tried so hard to find a way to either make him understand or make him realize that I want out… I just want out…” she breathed her eyes watering.

“Tell him,” Percy said simply, so simply, in fact, that Hermione had half the mind to punch the seemingly carefree, barefoot man.

“I still want to be on friendly terms…we started out as friends after all, and besides, he lives with my other best friend. It would just make things awkward.”

Percy nodded and sat up, mimicking Hermione’s composure by tucking the torn knees of his jeans under his stubbly chin.

“And…I’m scared,” Hermione admitted as her lips began to tremble again.

“Scared? You?” Percy chuckled, and Hermione knew he was trying his best to lighten her mood.

Hermione laughed, but it came out more as a sob. “I don’t want to be alone, I guess…and I would like an excuse to break free…a clean break. It would be too cruel to tell him that I just wanted to be friends, and it would be a lie if I told him there was someone else…although that would be the perfect excuse,” she ended pathetically.

She wished there was someone else, someone she could respect at the very least. She wished she had someone who was responsible for his life and mature enough to realize that her life was due respect as well… Ron had been a wonderful lover up until he was injured, and despite trying to appeal to him to bring him out of his depression and disappointment Ron could not and later would not keep up with Hermione and her sexual needs.

“Just so you know, my baby brother is just that…a baby,” Percy commented in total seriousness. “He is immature, and I think everyone in the family would understand if you left him.”

Hermione’s mood did not lift with Percy’s words. She had not even thought about what the consequences could be when it came to the Weasley family whom she loved dearly. It was a certainty that Molly Weasley would be disappointed that Hermione was not going to marry into the family after all. The same could be said for Ginny who was Hermione’s closest female friend.

“If only it were only so easy…” Hermione muttered. Hermione fell silent, her mind distant. And then it struck her like rogue Bludger: she could find no better alternative than to go back and try again. It would be a waste to let it end…Ron…her life and normalcy. Besides, Hermione lamented, she had no one else…

Finally Hermione moved to stand upon the embankment, shoving her wand in its holder on her belt. She stood with her back to the sun and sighed. “I guess that is that… I’ll head back now, I think,” she announced, stretching her arms above her head so that her tank top rose over the slight swell of her belly and ribs.

“Go out with me, Hermione.”

Letting her arms fall to her sides, Hermione turned to Percy, brow furrowed.

“Pardon?”

Percy climbed to his bare feet and brushed off the back of his jeans. He stood almost a head taller than Hermione, but he was not quite as tall as Ron. Now that Hermione gazed upon Percy she could just see a pale smattering of freckles at his brow under the shaggy bangs that fell into his angular face. His glasses were again reflecting the sunset and Hermione could not see his eyes. It was disconcerting that she could not tell if his eyes were clear and serious or if, like Ron, his eyes were clouded with mirth. Surely she had heard Percy wrong…

“Go out with me then. Make me the excuse.”

Hermione balked. “Are you barking mad?”

Percy slipped his glassed down his nose and from his face, and for the first time Hermione could see just how verdant his eyes truly were…there was no mirth there, no jest, no joke…

“You can tell Ron you want to see other people, or if you want to make it a bit of a softer blow, tell him that you want some time apart…and then you could go out with me. Then, when the time comes you can tell Ron you had found someone else,” he explained, his voice deep and unobtrusive. While Ron’s voice grated on Hermione’s nerves, Percy’s had a soothing effect that made Hermione want to comply with whatever he said…but…

“That would be…” Hermione began, but quickly fell silent, thinking over Percy’s words. Then, “Why would I want to go out with you, Percy. We barely know each other.”

“If we spent some time together, I’m sure that little issue would change.”

Hermione quirked her lips into a half smile. The logic was somehow flawed…

“You want to know me…me, Hermione Granger, better?” she asked crossing her arms before her chest.

Percy grinned, and for a moment Hermione felt a shiver pass down her spine at the sight. Why had she not noticed that Percy, although Ron’s older brother, looked more and more like Bill as he grew older. Hermione had always had a crush on Bill when she would see him in the summers or at Order meetings, but after he was married to Fleur, Hermione abandoned her crush.

“Is it so incredible?”

Hermione smiled in return, “I guess not…but you know, Percy…if this is some ploy to get back at Ron for some past indiscretion, I would never…”

“It’s not anything like that, Hermione. Ron and I actually get along quite well these days.”

“Then why bother?”

Before answering, Percy stretched and slipped his glasses back on his nose.

“You need a change, and I have the time.”

Hermione frowned. “What do you mean?”

Percy smiled, and turned to face the lane, slowly he stepped down, his bare feet sticking in the damp sod of the track. Hermione gazed at the long fringe of scarlet hair that brushed the back of his shoulders. He turned slightly so that Hermione could only study his profile and the cool verdant look of one eye out of the side of Percy’s glasses.

“I do not have any trials to attend, and thankfully my case load has lessened as of late. I have time, and I would like to spend it making a new friend.”

It seemed like such a simple answer, but Hermione could only stare at Percy. His cool attitude made him seem almost emotionless, even dull, but Hermione could find no falsity in his face or his words.

“What about Penelope?” Hermione asked, and immediately wished she could shove her foot down her throat.

“She’s married with two girls…we haven’t been together for four years, Hermione,” Percy supplied as if reciting a fact out of a history book.

Hermione gnawed on her lower lip nervously. It was a proposal of which did not suit what she had assumed about Percy Weasley. Then again, she obviously knew nothing about the man who was turning to gaze at her with a worried expression on his handsome face.

“Is it such a horrible idea to you, Hermione?” he asked, his hair falling before his eyes.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, only to shut it again. It was not a horrible idea, per se, but it could prove disastrous if something more than an innocent acquaintance. But as Percy turned, reaching out his hand to Hermione, she wondered for a moment at Percy’s intentions. It was very possible that he had some ulterior motive, but Hermione frowned at her own thoughts. No, that was thinking of a time when it was prudent to question motives, wartime thoughts…

When she slipped her hand into his, sudden warmth spread through her body, pushing out all the horrible tremors of grief and anger that had shaken her soul only moments before. He led her to jump from the embankment and to land on the grassy space between the ruts of the lane, and to her relief, he did not release her hand. Percy’s hand was as large as Ron’s but not nearly as rough or warm, instead it was cool and strong, smooth and large enough to envelope her hand completely.

“It is not a bad idea, I just think…well…I don’t know what to think really,” Hermione answered as they began walking down the lane and back to the Burrow.

“Let me give you some food for thought, Hermione,” Percy began, not glancing at Hermione, but pulling her hand so that it rested upon his arm as they walked. The movement was a step away from intimate, but as they rounded the bend in the lane and the Burrow came into full view, Hermione could see Ron pacing just inside the kitchen door. “You have your own life, your own means of making your life…you have a career and stability, and you have a home. Ron cannot give you any of these things, and he in no way will facilitate your current choices and future decisions. I love my brother, but he is not the cleverest kneezle of the litter. You stay with him out of obligations you have made for yourself, you stay with him out of sentiment, and honestly, Hermione, that is not something that anyone wants or appreciates from a lover.”

Hermione stopped walking, her hand sliding from Percy’s arm. She stared at the grass before her and felt as if her brain was caving in on itself. If everything Percy had said had not been true, Hermione knew she would surely collapse on herself crying again. However, Percy had hit the mark dead on and Hermione wondered if she were as transparent as Percy had clearly described.

“That is only my observation, Hermione…I did not mean to hurt you.”

Finally, she glanced up at Percy, his bare feet sodden, his hands now shoved into the pockets of his jeans and a sheepish expression on his face. He did not meet her eyes and Hermione began chuckling, to the surprise of both herself and her companion.

“I…I must be so…” she laughed, trying her best not to start crying again.

Percy raised his eyes to her, but did not smile, instead he seemed concerned and this expression came as a surprise to Hermione. Her surprise doubled when she found herself once again in his arms, caught up in a tight embrace.

“No…” he whispered into her ear, his body bending all around her, forcing her to wrap her own arms around him, her hands twisting into the back of his shirt. “No…not at all… I only meant that you have so much, Hermione, do not sell yourself short over something so fleeting as comfort with a man who knows so little about you…”

The tears began to fall, and Hermione buried her face into Percy’s chest, her tears wetting his undershirt. She did not cry aloud, and she knew, in her heart of hearts that Percy Weasley was so correct in his observation. But what was to do now? What could she do but accept Percy’s comfort, company, and companionship?

Slowly, she pulled back, but did not leave the comfort of Percy’s arms. Instead she gazed up at him through damp and weary eyes. His eyes were warm behind the glass of his spectacles, and as his hand wiped away the tears on her cheeks, she shuddered. He held her face in his hand, surveying the faded freckles across her perfectly shaped nose, the tiny scars on her forehead from battles long forgotten, the amber warmth of her eyes, her pale eyebrows and the age worn crease between them, the tiny mole on the left side of her mouth and the shape of her lips… His thumb brushed her lips and Hermione sighed…
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

The spell was broken as suddenly Percy released Hermione, and turned to address the angry male voice from a distance away. Hermione stumbled slightly and blinked. She had almost lost herself to whatever spell had been unintentionally cast between Percy and herself. With a shudder and a sigh, Hermione watched as Ron began stalking toward her, his face that familiar and horrible shade of fuchsia. However, before Ron could snatch Hermione by the wrist and pull her away, like he had so many times before, her vision of her boyfriend was suddenly cut off as Percy moved to stand between her and the man she was soon to make a memory.

“Out of the way, Percy, you have no right…” Ron began muttering, bordering on a full yell.

“Ron, I think it would be best if you just turned right around and back into the house,” Percy said calmly, his hands again in the pockets of his jeans and his bare toes digging into the dirt of the worn lane.

“And I think it would best if you got out of my way, Percy, before I hex you!”

Hermione felt her anger returning as if she had never forgotten it in the first place. All of the annoyance and irritation she had felt only moments before came raging back, and before Percy could retort, Hermione stepped around the older Weasley and crossed her arms before her chest. She felt as if she were gazing down at Ron from a great height, and as he took a step toward her, she opened her mouth…

“If you take another step, Ronald Weasley, I will hex you.”

Ron froze, the tone of Hermione’s voice laced with sub vocal power and magic. Ron was no stranger to Hermione’s magical power, and he knew better than to force his hand…but…

“Go on then, Hermione, take up for the traitor…” Ron spat, pointing at Percy whom looked as shocked as Hermione at Ron’s words.

“What nonsense are you spouting now?” Hermione asked incredulously.

“He abandoned the family, taking up for Fudge when we could have used him as an ally… He sold us out, he even tried to make me betray Harry!”

Hermione slowly shut her eyes. The point was moot.

“Ronald…” she said softly, her eyes flashing as she opened them again. “If you come near me again, I will most likely hurt you. By Merlin, grow up! That was years ago, and we were children! I cannot stand you!” she ended with a roar.

Ron winced, but did not lower his hand from pointing at his brother who was wisely taking a few steps back from Hermione’s side. Once again the innate magic in her body was forming a maelstrom around her, picking up old leaves and dried sod.

“It is over! You hear me, over! Do not write, do not try to contact me, do not Floo to my apartments at Hogwarts, and do not blame your brother or me for your inadequacies! I will not marry you or continue to act as your keeper, because Ron, you are not fit to have anyone over the legal age!”

As if physically slapped, Ron stumbled back, the wind dying, and Hermione suddenly running again down the lane. Percy stood quietly at the wayside, watching as Hermione jogged away. With a glance to his stunned younger brother, Percy grinned.

“Mum is going to murder you, Ron, you realize that, don’t you?”

Ron blinked repeatedly, gaping and shaking as he lowered his pointing finger away from Percy. “What have I done, Perce? Did she just break it off with me, honestly?” Ron choked.

“I think so, little brother, not that I blame her. Now, go back to the kitchen and have Mum make you some tea. I’m sure you’re going to get an earful, and not just from Mum.”

Ron nodded, still gaping and blinking, but as Percy moved to jog down the lane after Hermione, he said: “You had nothing to do with this, did you, Perce?”

Percy paused in his jog, and turned. “Of course not, Ron. You did all of this on your own. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if Hermione will ever return to the Burrow and to this family after the damage you have done.”

And with that, Ron found himself alone in the lane, the sun having just set. The realization that he was suddenly unattached barely setting in. What concerned him more was that his siblings and parents would most likely take turns in making his life a living hell.

* * *


Hermione had crossed the Anti-Apparition ward that secured the Burrow, and stood in the lane just beyond. She could not decide whether to Apparate home to Hogwarts or to turn around and return to the Burrow. It was matter of concentration, and at that moment, Hermione was far too rattled to Apparate safely. And then there was the matter of Percy Weasley and the feeling of comfort/discomfort he had inspired.

“Hermione?”

She jumped at the sound of her name, but turned slowly. “Percy…” she whispered, trying not to cry aloud.

Passing through the invisible ward, Percy jogged to Hermione’s side, his face etched with concern. “Do you think it is wise to Apparate?”

Hermione chuckled sadly, “No, probably not.”

Percy smirked as Hermione sighed and pulled herself to stand straighter. Her eyes were shimmering in the failing light, but she continued to build herself up so that she did not seem so defeated.

“Shall we have you take the Floo to Hogsmeade?”

Hermione shook her head. “I just need to…to take a breath, relax. I can Apparate just outside the gate, and then I can go to my apartments have a breakdown there, I suppose.”

“Is there really a need for that?” Percy asked, edging closer.

“No, not really. I think I quit my relationship with Ron years ago; I just have to remember that. This relationship was over long before I wanted to admit it.”

Percy said nothing, but as Hermione turned toward him, he found her smiling, an honest smile that made his body seem to freeze and his heart to skip a beat.

“I had been thinking about what you said, Percy. And if the offer still stands, I would not mind going out sometime. It has been a long time since I have been ‘out’ that I just hope I don’t embarrass myself.”

“I doubt that, but think of it this way…I will be as inadequately prepared as you.”

Hermione blinked. “Is that so?”

Percy shrugged, “I said I have the time…now. I never had time before, so I too am at a disadvantage.”

Hermione smiled. “What should we do then? Go to dinner? Your choice since you suggested it in the first place.”

“Dinner in London, and then perhaps drinks at the Three Broomsticks?”

“When?”

“Next Friday?”

“Owl me the details? I have quite a bit of work to do before the new term…” Hermione trailed, suddenly feeling as if all of this were a bad idea.

“No pressure, Hermione. Just dinner and a drink afterwards…nothing fancy, if you prefer.”

Hermione nodded. “I trust your choice. Anything would better than a night of watching a bunch of Quidditch enthusiasts drink themselves to death,” she laughed.

Percy smirked. “I’ll owl you. Do you think you can Apparate home now?”

Hermione nodded and Percy sighed.

“I’ll be waiting for your owl then,” she said softly, and with that popped out of Percy’s sight.

Percy stood in the darkened lane, with his hands still shoved into the pockets of his jeans. It was a start, he thought to himself. Finally, she was free to pursue, but Percy knew he would have to deal with Ron’s clumsy handling of such a bright witch for some time. Hermione was in no way ‘damaged goods,’ but she needed a re-education on what it was to be courted properly by a man and not a boy.

For years, Percy had watched the slow decline of Ron and Hermione’s relationship and the vain attempts to make the relationship work. Actually the whole Weasley family had been watching, but had been far too polite to suggest that the relationship was built on nothing more than sentiment and desperation. The incompatibilities were so blaringly obvious that it seemed that Ron and Hermione had simply chosen to ignore them. But with today’s events, everyone, including Ron, knew that Hermione had tried to make the relationship work with Ron simply being complacent in the stability Hermione strove to maintain. Whether the two actually ‘loved’ each other was up for speculation.

Percy, however, had been enamored with Hermione ever since she accepted that he was something more than a simpering sycophant to the Ministry. That had been during the end of the War, and the impending defeat of the Dark Lord loomed over all of Britain. Percy had passed information to the remaining members of the Order that the Ministry was about to attack the vigilante Order by arresting the Aurors and Ministry Officials involved…which included Tonks, Shacklebolt, and even Arthur Weasley. The arrests were thwarted when a damaging internal dispute in the Ministry was leaked to the Daily Prophet, and the existence of the ‘War’ was forcibly made fact by a weary Rufus Scrimgeor. The War was then truly a war to the Wizarding community, and in the end, the Dark Lord was cornered not only by the Order, but by the Wizarding communities of Europe who had fought hard not to repeat a war like the one with Grindlewald fifty plus years before.

After the first leak, came others…news of spies of the Dark Lord working inside the Ministry, spies at Hogwarts, spies in other European Wizarding governments…and laundered money that funded the Dark Lord… It had been Hermione who had first accepted Percy’s work behind the scenes as a symbol of his loyalty to not only the Order, but to the Weasley family.

Even with his relationship with Penny fizzling out, Percy looked to the now adult Hermione Granger as a person to be admired. He had all but ignored her in the past, and Percy knew he had much work to do to repair the errors of his past. He knew he had been an insufferable perfectionist, a terribly charismatic git, and a pompous ass to his family and friends. Even with War being over for several years, Percy was still living with the sycophantic stigma while working his way upward through the Wizengamot.

Time had moved all things, aged and wizened all things, even Percy’s respect for Hermione Granger. And now she was free…

Ron had always been lauded for his gift of strategy, but Percy was a prodigy, and only he, and perhaps Hermione Granger, knew it.

* * *


Hermione wondered if she had somehow slipped into a dream as she sipped on a full flavored white wine, the subtle taste mixing well with the buttery trout she had just eaten. Percy was dabbing his lips with a cloth napkin and smiled as he placed the napkin on the table next to his nearly clean plate. Dinner at an upscale Muggle restaurant in London had been fabulous, affordable, and wonderful. The fact it was a Muggle restaurant did not go unnoticed to Hermione, as well as the familiarity Percy seemed to have with the proprietors.

Conversation had gone well, ranging from current events to the political climate in Wizarding Europe. They had just finished talking about how the War had changed the Ministry’s view of importation of foreign goods from countries thought to be sympathetic with Voldemort’s worthless cause of genocide and prejudice. Hermione was pleased to find that Percy had intelligent arguments that were very similar to her own sentiments about the War and its affects on society. The conversation even included the impact of the Muggle wars on the Wizarding community…

“Dessert?” Percy suggested as Hermione finished her glass of wine.

“Too full, I think. Dinner was wonderful, by the way.”

Percy smiled and Hermione shivered. He had dressed rather casually, in black slacks, a pair of worn boots, and a black button down shirt over a tight white undershirt. His hair was still slightly disheveled, but it made him appear very boyish, and very Muggle. This was no fancy restaurant, but one that many upper middle class Muggles frequented, and therefore very casual. Hermione felt comfortable in the long black skirt she had picked out and the slinky black top and light sandals on her feet. She had only brushed her hair back from her face and applied mascara, but the way that Percy gazed at her made her feel as if she were some fairy tale princess in some magical dress, glitter adorning her hair and face… But then again, Hermione knew she had indulged in perhaps too many glasses of wine.

The bill was soon settled, Hermione protesting that she pay half, and Percy politely refusing. Walking through the streets to a designated Apparition point, Hermione felt as if she were tumbling down a rabbit hole and into the most wonderful dream. With some sidelong Apparition, she soon found herself walking with Percy Weasley down the lane and into a balmy Hogsmeade. The moon was large in the sky, and as they walked in silence, Hermione could see the Black Lake shimmering in the distance and the lights of Hogwarts far off on the side of the loch.

When they finally were seated in a booth in the Three Broomsticks, Madame Rosemerta happily brought a pitcher of ale and two pint glasses, winking at Hermione as she went to tend to the few other customers.

Pints were emptied, and before Hermione fully understood the implications of the conversation, she was telling Percy Weasley that she had always felt like a deviant when it came to talking about anything sexual with Ron.

“It was like talking to a…a nun… He would blush and stammer as if he had never heard of anything so horrible as cunnilingus.”

Hermione suddenly balked, and Percy began laughing almost hysterically…

“You did cast a silencing charm around this booth, didn’t you, Percy?” Hermione asked in a hushed voice.

“Of course, my dear…” Percy chuckled, pouring the last of the pitcher equally into the pint glasses. “To preserve your sanctity…and the innocence of Rosemerta’s ears.”

Hermione giggled, taking up her pint and sipping.

“Ron had always been squicky when the Twins mentioned anything about their conquests and games. Even Ginny made Ron utterly ill when she mentioned that Harry had finally ‘taken her like a man,” Percy laughed, his voice deep and melodious.

“I did not want to hear that either, Percy…” Hermione muttered.

“But the point is, Ron has always called me a ‘prudish saint,’ so I suppose it just makes me feel a bit better about myself when you tell me it is really the other way around.”

Hermione blushed and sipped deeper on her pint of ale. “Well, it was always a task to get him interested in doing anything more than sleeping in the bedroom. But I don’t want to talk about him anymore…what were we talking about in the first place?”

She knew she was obscenely drunk…especially when she started ranting on what she would have liked Ron to do instead of sleeping. But the strange thing about it was, at least from Hermione’s perspective, Percy was listening aptly, agreeing here and there, and suddenly grasping her hand from across the table.

“…books can only provide so much, and believe me, I lose myself in books.”

“I believe you, Hermione.”

“But I want more than what I read in books. I have always wanted to put theory into practice. What it is like to make love to someone open to try anything, to actually get off with a touch or a glance or an embrace…”

The mood suddenly felt odd, and Hermione drew her hand out of Percy’s.

“I’m sorry, I’ll shut up now…” Hermione whispered.

Percy frowned and pushed empty glass away. “Nothing to be sorry for, Hermione. You are just speaking your mind on the matter and it is nothing to be ashamed of… You were in an unfulfilling relationship, it is natural to get these things aired out.”

Hermione snorted, “But I’m alluding to your brother, voicing my desires…and you are talking it as if…as if I were talking about something innocent and tame. Your stoicism seems so…so…”

Percy blinked. “You think I’m being too nice?”

“Yes…and I want to know why…”

“Because I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Why?” Hermione sighed.

“I want to know more about you.”

Hermione blinked and tried to smile. “What are you really playing at, Percy Weasley?”

Percy smirked and raised his hands in mock defeat, “I give up. I wanted to seduce you, woo you and do wicked things to you, Hermione Granger.”

She snorted with laughter before finishing off the last of her ale. And when she placed the empty, frothy glass on the table, she was still laughing.

“You don’t believe me?” Percy asked with a laughing smile.

“Not one bit…”

Percy winked as he began to move from the booth, canceling the silencing charm and moving to pay for the pitcher. Hermione was left alone, gazing at Percy’s back, and feeling very nauseous. She needed air.

With some feat of coordination and a bit of will, Hermione was suddenly outside. The cool highland air was a restorative and as she stumbled down the lane and toward the outskirts of Hogsmeade, leaving Percy Weasley to jog after her, she wondered if she had said too much.

She was walking towards Hogwarts and home. When Percy finally caught up to her, she was feeling a bit better and not stumbling nearly as badly as before.

“Everything fine?” Percy asked, catching Hermione’s hand before she tripped over her own feet.

“I needed air…and now I think I need something to take the edge off…like a Sobering Solution,” she muttered, her head beginning to clear only slightly.

Percy smirked. “Let’s walk for a bit, I know it helps me…”

And so they walked, around the edge of the lake, past the railway station and then towards the gates of Hogwarts. So little was said, but as Percy took her hand while they neared the school gates, she could not breathe for fear of realizing that the hand that held hers was some illusion.

They stopped before the open gates and Hermione felt Percy squeeze her hand slightly. As she turned to him, his verdant eyes bright even in the reflection of the moonlight in his glasses, she wondered if her wish to kiss him would be too ridiculous and if she were so drunk as to give into her more bestial desires to take this man into her bower and bed.

“Can I ask you out again?” he asked softly, stepping closer to her, his nearness overwhelming Hermione’s senses. He smelled of soap, a musky soap that made him seem all the more attractive.

“Of course. Perhaps I should not drink so much next time…” she whispered, suddenly feeling her cheeks burn with slight embarrassment.

She wished she could make up her mind…kiss him or simply walk away. It was too soon in some ways for her to want to insinuate any sort of relationship with anyone besides Ron, not to mention this someone being his older brother. However, Hermione could not deny that ever since that day at the Burrow it was not Ron who had consumed her thoughts for the past week, but Percy and the possibility that she could find something worthwhile with him…

“Did you enjoy dinner?” he asked, leaning toward her, his free hand swiping away a strand of hair from her eyes.

“It was wonderful, do you eat there often?” she asked, her voice trembling. The small talk was killing her…perhaps she should pull away…

Percy smirked, his fingertips tracing the line of her jaw and lifting her chin upwards so that he could just see her eyes in the moonlight. “Quite often. It isn’t far from my flat, and the lunch menu is quite impressive…” he said softly, satisfied that Hermione had finally pulled her hand out of his only to rest her hands against his chest as he leaned closer.

“You lived so close and you did not mention it?” she whispered, now able to feel Percy’s breath against her temple.

“It never came up. Would you like to see the place?”

Hermione almost laughed at the subtle invitation. As much as she would like to experiment with a very available Percy Weasley, a tiny voice was telling her that it was too soon…far too soon to let herself fall in love with anyone, let alone have the chance to sleep with them…

“Some other time, maybe?” Hermione asked meekly, wishing she could hide her eyes from the reaction she might receive to her refusal. But nothing happened…Percy did not explode, pout or even look surprised at her words. He was not like Ron, who seemed to always have to have his way about everything.

“Sure. Maybe next time?” Percy asked, wiping a strand of hair from Hermione’s face again, gazing down at her visage in the moonlight.

“That would be nice…” Hermione mumbled, her eyes locking onto his lips and the delightful smile. If she were to stand on the tips of her toes, Hermione knew she might be able to kiss him. If she were to move an inch closer, she could press her face into his warm shoulder.

Quickly, and perhaps clumsily, Hermione stepped backwards…she was drunk…she needed to go home…she needed to stop feeling as if she were going to explode and maul Percy Weasley with her under satisfied libido.

“I…I should probably go,” Hermione stuttered as Percy stepped toward her, concerned and frowning.

“It is late…” Percy whispered, his hands reaching forward to grasp what seemed to be an unsteady Hermione Granger.

Hermione shied away from Percy’s touch and turned to the gates, “I should get some rest, sleep off some of this alcohol… Owl me later on?” she asked briskly, forcing herself to move as quickly as she could away.

Percy did not follow, but his lips curled into a smirk. “Of course… Good night, Hermione…”

She did not turn, but threw a hand up in a gesture of parting. If she was not careful, she would trip over her skirt…if she were not careful, she knew that she might do something she would soon regret. Therefore, Hermione Granger walked with determination back to her apartments of the great castle of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, aching with loneliness and fear…fear that she was getting too far ahead of herself where Percy Weasley was concerned…fear that she would set herself up for further heart ache.