Chapter Text
The winter chill had eaten into Hermione’s bones by the time she finally made her way through the busy streets, up the stairs and into her little apartment. As she removed her scarf and coat, she thanked her lucky stars that she’d remembered to turn the heating on. Still, a little bit of magic never went astray. With a quick wand movement, she had a roaring fire burning merrily in the sitting room fireplace.
Settling herself in her armchair, she toed off her boots and stretched them out on a little footstool. A series of ‘accio’s’ had her favourite woollen patchwork blanket draped across her legs and her current book in her hand. Meanwhile, Crookshanks arrived to settle himself on her lap. This was quickly turning into a perfect winter's evening.
Unfortunately she’d only managed to read about half a chapter when a voice interrupted her peace and quiet.
“Coming through, Hermione,” Ginny’s merry voice echoed through the room. The flames burned green and then Ginny stepped out onto the living room rug.
“You’re not ready!” She sounded half exasperated, half resigned.
“Ready for what?” Hermione responded rather warily. Ginny was renowned for half-baked wild night out plans.
“For our Mulled Wine night!” came the quick response, “Now hurry up and get changed! We still have an hour before we need to be there but I want to grab a drink first.”
Oh no! Hermione realised that she had totally forgotten she had agreed to go to this event with Ginny. Honestly, she thought Ginny had forgotten as well. They had gone to the opening evening of a lovely little wine bar in Diagon Alley a few weeks back. The owner had recommended a Châteauneuf-du-Pape that was out of this world.
On reflection, they’d probably had a few glasses too many as they both became a bit maudlin. Hermione remembered Ginny going on at length about how she was fed up of being single and needed a nice fella to bring to all the Christmas parties with her and into her bed afterwards!
Hermione, in the spirit of sharing, found herself admitting that she sometimes found the long dark evenings rather lonely. And perhaps it would be nice to have someone to exchange presents with at Christmas and kiss at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Really, those moments were just so awkward when you didn’t have someone to share them with. While Hermione was quite happy being single most of the time, there was something about the Yuletide period that made her just a little bit lonesome.
She remembered the wine bar owner - Henry, or was it Henri? She had a recollection that he was French. He had joined them for a glass of wine at the end of the evening and suggested they come to a little ‘soirée’ he was planning.
“Oh Ginny, I’d forgotten. Are you sure you want to go? Is there anyone else to go with you?” she finally responded to her friend.
“Hermione!” There was a wheedling tone in Ginny’s voice. “There will be plenty more evenings to sit in front of the fire. Come on! What have you got to lose?”
Her friend's pleading tone and puppy-dog eyes had their desired effect. Twenty minutes later Hermione was dressed in a simple little black dress, woollen tights and black suede ankle boots.
With her glossy curls tamed and loosely braided back from her face, and a little bit of makeup on, Hermione was ready to go.
Ginny looked her up and down speculatively as she arrived back into the sitting room.
“Hmm, very nice Hermione, but you need a little bit of colour.” Ginny was already leading her back into her bedroom.
After a quick root through her wardrobe and a perusal of her jewellery box, Ginny had cinched a wide gold belt around her waist, convinced her to swap the dark tights for a sheer pair and handed her some gold strappy stilettos. This was followed by a quick application of gold glittery eyeliner and a little steel grey shadow blended onto her outer eyelids.
“There now, that’s a little bit more festive!” Ginny smiled as she stepped back to look at the overall ensemble.
Hermione glanced in the mirror and had to agree that Ginny had an eye for this stuff. She looked pretty decent, if she said so herself. Although she would still rather be spending her evening reading beside the fire.
“I’ll need a cushioning charm and a warming charm,” she half grumbled to herself.
“Well then it's a good thing you’re a witch” was the quick retort. “Think of the poor muggles who have to suffer the pain and the cold to look this good!”
Hermione rolled her eyes, while internally acknowledging it was a fair point. It was just another reason why she loved magic.
A short floo trip and they materialised in a little antechamber of the wine bar.
“Ah, velcome back ladies.”
The owner ushered them in and seated them at a little table beside a stove.
“I am zo lucky to have such beautiful ladies here to help me launch my ‘Mulled Wine Mingle’ this evening”. His strong French accent added a lovely richness and character to the vowels as he spoke. Nevertheless, Hermione felt her eyebrows furrow as he bustled away.
“What exactly have you got me into?” she hissed across the table at Ginny.
“Don’t you remember?” Her friend raised an eyebrow at her. “This was your idea! Henri told us about it the last time. You told him if the wine was good, then you’d be here, and before you left you put our names down.”
Oh Lord, she did remember the sign up sheet. “I didn’t realise there was a dating element! I thought it was a wine tasting evening!!” Hermione groaned.
Ginny laughed out loud. “Well he did play down that angle but I definitely remember him mentioning ‘eligible bachelors’. I’m surprised you didn’t!” she winked.
Hermione felt her stomach fall through the floor. “So what exactly does this evening entail?”
“I’m not sure myself, but let’s ask.” Ginny nodded towards Henri, walking towards them with a carefully balanced tray.
As he deposited the tall glasses of mulled wine, festively finished with a sliver of clove-studded orange and a cinnamon stick. Hermione smiled her thanks at the middle-aged owner and tentatively repeated her question.
“Ah don’t worry, my dear Hermione.” Henri reassured her as he left a little plate of canapés on the table as well. “This is not a ‘Blind Date’ as you English like to say. It is just an evening to enjoy some good wine and chat to some new people. I am so glad that you came back to my little establishment. I am honoured.”
Hermione pasted on a smile as he detailed the food items on the plate - she caught something about brie & gruyère - as inwardly she came to the nerve-wracking conclusion that there was no way she could escape this ‘Mingle’ scenario.
She felt nerves building in her stomach as her fingers fidgeted in her lap.
As the place started filling up, Hermione found herself relaxing slightly, possibly helped by two glasses of the delicious mulled wine. There was Christmas jazz playing in the background and Ginny was swaying gently to the music while digging into the food.
“Here Hermione,” she offered her a little tartlet. “These are divine!” Hermione had to admit the buttery pastry with a caramelised onion filling was one of the most delicious things she’d tasted all year.
As the evening went on, she had a lovely chat with Robert Watson, the new assistant manager at Flourish and Blotts. They’d become quite friendly during Hermione’s regular visits to the shop.
Next, she stumbled through an awkward ten minutes with a nervous accountant who kept firing questions at her. It made her feel like she was in a particularly stressful job interview. A quick trip to the loo allowed her to beat a hasty retreat.
When she re-emerged, she tried to find Ginny but her friend was deep in conversation with a tall dark handsome somebody across the room. She caught her friend's eye and a subtle shake of Ginny’s head indicated she didn’t want to be disturbed.
Hermione reluctantly propped herself by the bar and made some small talk with Henri. As he went to serve another customer, she snagged a canapé from a platter nearby. This was a little Gruyère cheesy puff and oh my goodness it was melt-in-the-mouth. Her little moan of pleasure caused the man beside her to turn around and smirk. “That good eh?”
Hermione blushed. “Yeah, they’re wonderful, have you tried them?” She couldn’t help noticing his muscled shoulders and large biceps as his skin-tight shirt rippled when he flexed in response.
“Oh no, I’m following a strict regimen. I don’t eat wheat or dairy, I only get my macros from animal proteins, you know I really believe my body is a temple,” he lectured.
Hermione could feel her eyes glaze over as Mike (he dropped his name midway through the monologue) droned on about his gym regime and his crossfit classes, his five am morning exercises and his meal plans. There was no doubt that he was physically very attractive, but Hermione was bored to tears. She looked around the room wide-eyed, wondering how she could extricate herself. Her breath caught when she saw Fred Weasley making his way towards the bar.
“Oh, excuse me, Mike, I must just say hello to a friend of mine.” Hermione made her escape towards the oncoming Weasley.
“Hi Fred, fancy meeting you here!” She smiled up at him as she went on tip-toe to kiss his cheek, catching a whiff of neroli and citrus from his aftershave. Hermione felt a thrill of something zap through her midsection as she unconsciously inhaled a little deeper.
“Hermione, what a surprise. I thought you’d be at home with a good book.” He smirked down at her. “I’m assuming Ginny is around here somewhere if you’ve been dragged on a night out?”
She felt her smile fade. Of course, Fred never saw her as anything more than his younger sister's bookworm friend.
“Yes, she’s around here somewhere.” Hermione craned her neck trying to locate Ginny, but gave up as the crowd was just too much. She looked back at Fred. “Try not to cramp her style, you know she won’t appreciate it!”
He laughed. “Oh don’t worry, I realised a LONG time ago that our Ginny doesn’t need my input. I think it took a couple of bat-bogey hexes but I’m well aware she’s able to look after herself, as are you of course.”
He tipped his glass in salute. “The brightest witch of our age and all that.” She blushed and looked away.
“You know I hate that title, Fred,” she scolded.
“Well, what about the ‘Golden Girl?’” he teased. “That definitely seems more appropriate given your attire. Does your mother know you’re out dressed like this?” This was delivered in a perfect Molly Weasley impersonation. She knew he was only joking around, but Hermione couldn’t help her face falling as he continued on looking her up and down. “I bet your Dad would never forget the sight of his little girl in that number!”
Hermione’s eyes filled with tears and she turned away so he wouldn’t see, pretending to be looking around the wine bar. Fred couldn’t know what a sore spot this was. He knew her parents were in Australia, but outside of Ginny, Harry and Ron, nobody knew about the irreversible Obliviation she’d done during the war.
She took a deep breath and swallowed her emotions while pasting a wide smile on her face. “What brings you here?” she asked. It sounded forced but he didn’t seem to have noticed anything amiss.
“Well, I always like to support a new business owner on the street.” Fred looked around, scanning the crowd. “And I thought it might be a good chance to meet new people and maybe chat up some beautiful ladies.”
He looked down at her and smirked, “You know I’m something of a hot date!”
Hermione felt any last vestiges of good humour evaporate as she nodded along. “Oh yeah, of course, well then, I better let you get to it.” Her voice was stilted but she couldn’t help it. She knew Fred was popular with the ladies but she really didn’t need it rubbed in her face.
All she wanted right now was the ground to swallow her up. Seeing as it showed no sign of doing that, she needed to get out of here immediately.
She found herself talking without really knowing what she was saying. “So nice to see you anyway, Fred. Hope you have a lovely evening. It’s a lovely place here. Will you tell Ginny I’ve headed home? Thanks. Goodnight.”
He looked confused. “You’re going?”
“Oh yeah, you know me, I have to be up early tomorrow, nose to the grindstone and all that.”
It wasn’t true. She actually had a day off in lieu tomorrow, which she was dreading. A whole day stretching out like a yawning abyss.
But Fred didn’t know that. She started to back away through the crowd.
He called after her. “Are you okay to get home?”
“There’s a floo connection here.” She waved and turned, making her way directly to it without looking left or right. Within five minutes she was back in her cosy apartment with her floo firmly locked. She quickly changed into her cosy pyjamas and slippers and nestled herself in the armchair with Crooks on her lap.
As she stroked the cat she couldn't help the tears falling silently down her face. She missed her parents so much. Yes she had the Weasleys and Harry, and she knew she was so lucky to have good friends, but nothing could replace her parents. Hermione felt so alone in the world, and it was all her own fault. The guilt that always laid so heavy on her shoulders was suffocating her right now.
What would people think of her if they knew what sort of person she really was? They certainly wouldn’t call her the ‘Golden Girl’. She thought of Fred again. He’d only been joking but he’d hit such a raw nerve. If her mother saw her, she wouldn’t say anything, because she wouldn’t recognise her. And her father had forgotten her - well, had absolutely no memory of her - which amounted to the same thing.
Hermione had harboured a secret crush on the gregarious older twin since fifth year but she knew he only saw her as an honourary little sister. And if he knew the truth about her, he would probably hate her. Merlin knows she hated herself.
Refusing to wallow, Hermione stood up abruptly, depositing Crooks on the footstool, and paced the apartment a few times before heading to the kitchen for a large glass of ice water. Determined to pull herself out of her funk, Hermione decided to check her emails.
As she categorised them, filing them appropriately into folders and sorting through the junk, a new email arrived. “Get away from it all on our Luxury Break - Fly Solo or enjoy a Couples’ break - We cater for everyone and All are welcome!”
Hermione paused for a moment before opening it. Getting away from it all did sound heavenly.
As she scanned the images, a picture of a beautiful stone country house perched atop sloping gardens and overlooking a deep blue lake caught her eye. It looked like something out of a Jane Austen novel, so picturesque and quiet.
Clicking the link, she discovered that the luxurious country house prided itself on comfort and relaxation with cosy armchairs beside open log fires, a beautiful library with what looked like an extensive collection, and a discreet outdoor swimming pool overlooking the stunning lake below.
Hermione felt her heart pang with longing as she looked at this idyllic retreat.
A little pop-up appeared on the screen: Special offers for the single witch or wizard.
Well, she had come this far, what did it hurt to look? Hermione scanned the offers and at the end of the page found a Last Minute Break showing a heavily discounted rate if she left on Saturday, the day after tomorrow.
Hermione bit her lip, worried about what she should do. It had only been a fortnight ago that her boss had tried to persuade her to take some of her annual leave (apparently she had a huge amount of days backed up).
Yes, she was on top of her paperwork, and there was very little to do in the run up to Christmas, but she had initially shot down his suggestion. The thought of empty days with nothing to do had seemed miserable to Hermione. However, that was before she saw this enchanted place.
Maybe she could enquire about taking a few days anyway? It wouldn’t hurt to ask, surely? On an impulse, she hit the ‘reserve’ button, filled in her details and got a message informing her that the booking team would be in contact with her the following day.
She also fired off an email to Mr Robards (her manager) with a CC to Human Resources, enquiring if she could take the following week off.
Hermione giggled to herself. She was definitely a little bit tipsy - not drunk - but just enough to lower her inhibitions and make an impulse decision.
“Carpe Diem!” she said out loud and then promptly laughed at herself.
It was the first time in ages that she’d actually wanted to do something for herself and by herself. Maybe this was just what the doctor ordered.
Hermione nodded to herself. Yes. She was going to do something just for her for a change and she was going to like it - she hoped - as she shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep.