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Blurred Lines by Resa_Aureus
Chapter 2 : WARNING: Don't Break Hermione Granger's Heart...can prove to be dangerous
 
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 Two weeks later I was offered the job. I had more than the needed requirements, and as my new boss said, “How could we not hire the brightest witch of our age?” When people said things like that, I usually blushed with pride and thanked them profusely. But today I had to force on a smile, thanked him politely, and thought about how I would now have to endure working in the same building as Draco Malfoy.

            I wasn’t so worried about his usual cynicism and harassment, but his undeniable charm. It killed me to admit, but Draco could charm the knickers off a girl in matter of minutes. Unfortunately, I was no exception. I always counted myself smart enough to never look too deeply in the Slytherin Prince’s silver moon eyes or have my gaze linger longer than necessary on his perfect mouth.

            And now that I knew what he was like in bed, the urge to stare would be unbearable.

            Confession time…I’d stopped being drunk before we started our second round in that bed. Yes…we went more than once. Four times, actually. Even the thought of it made my cheeks burn and heat pool in the very pit of my stomach. After the initial drunken sex, I was fully aware of what I was doing the next three times. I felt like I was under the influence of more than just faded effects of firewhiskey. It was adrenaline, need…attraction.

            It would be stupid to deny that Draco was incredibly handsome. Voted to be sexiest wizard of the year, Malfoy’s body was a sculpted masterpiece, all firm, lean muscle, strong shoulders, platinum hair and immeasurably deep eyes. Scars patterned his skin along with that ghastly mark on his forearm, but those things, strangely enough, just added to the appeal.

            The draw of the dark side, I supposed. The Slytherin sex god has struck again, I thought sourly to myself.

            As I left the DRCMC, I went hunting for Harry’s floor, needing a familiar face and someone to tell the good news. Finding the Auror offices, I walked right in and smiled at all of the familiar faces. Slipping into Harry’s office, I found his looking very intently at a file in front of him.

            “Good afternoon, Mister Auror,” I said brightly, sitting down across from him.

            “Oh! ‘Mione, hey, what are you up to?” he asked with that broad smile and glittering green eyes of his.

            “You are looking at the newest addition to the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Beings Division,” I announced rather proudly.

            “Congratulations!” Harry stood and came around his desk to envelope me in a tight hug. “We should celebrate! Luna has been dying to have dinner with you and Ron lately, we should all go out! Anywhere you’d like, my treat.”

            “Oh, Harry, you’re too sweet,” I said, giving his hand a tight squeeze. “But…I don’t know. Ron and I have been arguing a lot lately…” The nonstop fighting was beginning to wear us both out.

            “He has been strange,” Harry agreed, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Did I tell you he came into work two hours late today and called out on an important work day last week?”

            I felt my left eyebrow rise. “Are you serious?”

            “Unfortunately, I am. Our boss nearly hexed him into oblivion. I don’t know what’s happening with him, but…”

            An owl swooped into the room, a piece of parchment tied to its leg.

            “Just a moment, ‘Mione,” Harry said apologetically as he untied the paper and fed the owl a treat. The owl purred in appreciating before taking off again.

            Reading the paper, Harry’s frown grew deeper and deeper.

            “Is everything alright, Harry?” I asked, concerned.

            “I don’t think so. Your boyfriend is at it again.” He handed her the note.

Harry,

            Would you mind covering for me for the rest of the day? Something came up with Hermione and I need to get home. If I can, I’ll come back in towards the end of the day, but it doesn’t look likely, mate. I’ll see ya tomorrow.

-Ron

            Fury began climbing inside me. I felt my cheeks get hot and I wanted to break something.

            “Nothing,” I assured Harry through clenched teeth, “‘came up with Hermione’.”

            Harry looked kind of sad.

            “I’ll get to the bottom on this, Har,” I promised, standing up, fists clenched at my sides. “And maybe I’ll be coming to dinner tonight, but more than likely, I’ll be alone.”

 

            Less than an hour later I was throwing the largest, most breakable objects I could find at my now-ex-boyfriend Ronald Weasely – who was only wearing boxers, seeing as I caught him in the middle of trying to “kick a field goal” between one of his colleague’s legs. The nude, black-haired woman who’d been so terrified of my sudden appearance readily apparated, leaving me with my scumbag of a “true love”.

            “I have half a mind to kill you, Ronald Billius Weasely!”

            “Jeez, ‘Mione, I –”

            “DON’T YOU DARE ‘’MIONE’ ME, YOU USELESS, CHEATING, VILE BASTARD!” I pitched a vase at his head with a flick of my wand and a shouted, “Alarte Ascendare!”

            Void of a wand, all Ron could do was duck.

            “Flipendo!” I cried, sending Ron backwards into a wall. If he wanted to cheat without getting blasted with every spell in my repertoire, he should have dated a muggle. After the bang of his back and the drywall, he slid down and crashed to the floor and groaned. Good! I hoped he felt as much hurt as I did. I marched over to him and summoned every last piece of patience I had. “Now,” I seethed, “get out.”

            “But –”

            Brandishing my wand again and aiming it at his throat, Ronald swallowed his words and I used my free hand to point at the door.

            “I will floo your things to The Burrow. But if I have to see your bloody face for a single moment longer, I can’t promise I won’t use an Unforgivable on you,” I hissed and immediately Ron scampered out, doing quite a good imitation of his old pet Scabbers.

            The moment the door of our – my – flat flew shut, I collapsed right there on what moment’s ago was our bedroom floor, but now was solely mine and I soaked my carpet with lonely, heartbroken tears.

            Emotionally spent and despondent, I fell asleep there, curled up in a ball.

 

            I was being shaken lightly awake Merlin only knows how much later by a redhead and my first instinct was Strangle the son-of-a-bitch! But then I remembered that were thousands of other gingers in the world and the majority of them were Weasleys, but not necessarily He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Yes, I was ranking Ronald up there with my dislike for Voldemort. The last thing I wanted was him popping up just because I said his name.

            “Hermione! Honey, wake up!”

            The voice and image sharpened and became familiar as I shook the sleepiness off of me.

            “Ginny,” I mumbled, sitting up and rubbing at my crusty eyes. “What are you doing here?”

            “Ron came home looking a wretched mess and with the disposition of someone stupefied. What happened?” she asked, sounding intrigued and horrified.

            With a deep breath, I considered just lying. But while Ginny was Ron’s little sister, she was also one of my dearest and closest friends. She would hate me if I lied.

            “I caught Ron cheating on me,” I grumbled, trying to sort the tangles in my hair with my fingers.

            Ginny gasped with terror. “That…that…weasel! I’ll kill him!”

            With a small, forced grin, I said, “I think my pelting objects at him and throwing him into my wall is good enough.”

            “No, ‘Mione, it most certainly is not enough!” She wrenched me into a tight hug and stroked my hair affectionately. “The lousy git will realize what a mistake he’s made. He lost an amazingly perfect girl and he’ll regret it. I hope it festers and consumes his rotten heart.”

            Hugging her back, I said, “Remind me to never anger you, Gin.”

            “You never could, dear. This kind of hate and disdain is preserved expressly for men. Don’t worry,” Ginny added with a chuckle. “There’s always lesbianism. I’ve been considering it for ages now. It does seem like the cure-all.”

            We both laughed and smiled at one another. “What would Neville say if he heard you talking like that?” I teased, standing up off the ground

            “Oh, please,” she snorted delicately. “Like all men, he’d probably accept it as long as he could watch.”

            Good ol’ Ginny, always able to coax a laugh or three even in my saddest of moments.

            I remembered my dinner with Luna and Harry and decided that Ronald Weasely would not ruin my night. “Gin, how do you feel about going to dinner?”

            With a pretty giggle she taunted, “Why, Hermione Granger, are you asking me out on a date?”

            I laughed and explained, “I got a job at the DRCMC and Harry wanted to celebrate and…you know who…and I were supposed to go, but seeing as I don’t want to see his freckled mug for the next millennia, would you mind coming with?”

            “I’d be absolutely delighted!” Ginny said, planting a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll just apparate home and meet you back here in an hour…actually, make that two hours. I still have to give my no-good brother a piece of my mind.” And in a minute, she was gone.

            I decided to start with a shower after owling Harry and went to my wardrobe for a simple black dress and grabbed panties from my set of drawers, but I gave pause with what I found under the pants. An unopened, brand new box of feminine products. I opened up my little schedule book to see if I needed to pack any into my handbag, just in case.

            Then my carefully organized schedule made no sense.

            Impossible, I told myself. I mark everything down with great caution and precision. There was no way I’d make a mistake. I didn’t make mistake with my schedule.

            My time of the month was undeniably, unavoidably, late.

            The math in my head took about a half-second to complete, but a full fifteen minutes to recalculate until I was convinced.

            Having a two-hour window, I apparated to St. Mungo’s. 


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