She hadn’t expected starting to date would be this easy. And she hadn’t expected George and Fred being so dead-set against it. She had expected her two best friends to support her resolve to move on. She had expected them to support her decision to date Victor. Yet they hadn’t. They had claimed she wasn’t ready, that she needed more time; that he wasn’t right for her. She hadn’t listened. Disappointed and angry that her friends wouldn’t support her when she needed them she had lashed out “ telling them that she couldn’t sit around mourning Ron forever and that they needed to realise that she wasn’t Ron’s girlfriend anymore, that she needed to get out.
They still hadn’t liked it. But they had quieted down, letting her go without a fight. And they did stay away when they knew she was seeing Victor, and they had stopped suggesting activities for the weekends. It did mean that she saw them less, and for that she told herself that she was happy. For the less she saw them the easier it was to pretend that the feelings she had for them were only platonic. That those feelings had nothing to do with romance. And so she continued to date Victor. He was a very nice man after all, and there was really no reason to date anyone else. And when she felt she missed always having them around, she reminded herself that it wasn’t normal to be that dependant on her friends, and that she really should be reasonable about it all.
Reason. That was what tonight was all about. Reason told her that she needed to move on, that she needed to commit wholeheartedly. She couldn’t expect Victor to wait forever after all. And he had already waited for months, patiently, never pressing her into anything she couldn’t handle. He really was a wonderful man. So why didn’t she feel more than she did? Well after tonight she was sure she was going to.
Yet she frowned when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t like what she saw. But then again she hadn’t liked what she saw when she tried on the other six robes that Ginny had helped her get the last time they went out.
She hadn’t told Ginny what it was about. Only that it was four months since she and Victor had gone on their first date. And Ginny had been more than happy to help. Yet nothing she had picked out worked. Several of the robes were cut far too low, most of them were all in the wrong colours and the ones she had on now had far too many buttons. All of them was far too…well she didn’t know what they were, but they were far too something, of that she was certain.
Hermione sighed. She knew it wasn’t really about the robes. It was about the piece of paper lying in front of her. Her list of pros and cons. The pros all sensible and logical “ it will bring you closer together, it will help you move on, he is a kind, honest, intelligent man, he loves you, he’s stable, you’ve been dating for four months… The cons consisting only of three words - Ron, George, Fred. Completely illogical. With a frustrated groan she crumpled the paper and threw it in the bin.
Damn it! She couldn’t let them run her life. She wouldn’t. The pros were reasonable, sane “ and she had decided to push any doubt she felt as far back in her mind as possible. She was twenty going on twenty-one and had still never…well that was going to change tonight.
Hiking up her courage she rose. It didn’t matter that the robes had too many buttons, she would wear them anyway. Grabbing her cloak she left the flat and Disapparated.
Victor was polite and nice as always. The restaurant lovely as usual. But by the time the dessert came in Hermione was so deeply submerged in her own thoughts that her conversations completely consisted of short syllables and grunts. She didn’t notice that Victor looked at her funnily, that he seemed worried about her, nor did she really care. Her thoughts were to busy trying to convince herself that what she was going to do was right. That it was the logical thing to do. And so when Victor called her name for the third time she was surprised to realise that he raised his voice, and she was surprised when he asked her what was wrong and when he told her she was acting strange.
She didn’t know how she managed to come up with a good excuse when her mind was still concentrated on the running argument in her head, with her heart telling her to slow down, telling her that she didn’t love him. She would. She had decided she would and that was the logical thing to do, and she always did was what logical.
“Herm-owny,” Victor said, his English so much better than it once had been, but still giving him problems when it came to her name. “I have been thinking, could I call you something else, something shorter?” he asked. “I was thinking, Mya or Mia, if that would be alright?” Hermione couldn’t help scowling.
“Call me anything of the kind and I’ll hex you,” she answered a bit snappier than she had intended. She had wanted it to sound like a joke “ the look on Victors face told her it hadn’t. “My parents named me Hermione “ that is the only name anyone will ever call me,” she added a bit softer. Victor nodded.
“I just thought since…well Harry calls Ginny, Gin, so I…”
“I happen to find that ridiculous,” Hermione interrupted. “Gin is a beverage not a nickname, and besides Ginny is her nickname “ isn’t that short enough? It just makes him seem lazy to me,” she said firmly. Victor nodded again, not able to completely hide his disappointment. Wishing she would feel a bit bad for being so harsh, Hermione told herself it didn’t matter. He would get used to her name, and after tonight he really wouldn’t have any reason to be disappointed.
If she had been quiet during dinner she was even quieter on their way home, and by the time they reached her flat Hermione couldn’t bring herself to invite him in. Standing outside the building, Victor leaning in to kiss her she just knew that her flat just wouldn’t due.
“Can we go to your place?” she asked suddenly making Victor look at her with surprise before he nodded, still looking confused. He wasn’t less surprised when he realised just what Hermione had in mind.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked her sitting next to her on the sofa. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for,” he added. If anything could convince Hermione that what she was about to do was right that was it. She leaned in and kissed him, moving her hand around his neck pulling him closer to her.
Following her lead Victor kissed her back, slipping his hands around her waist closing the distance between their bodies. His kisses were soft, tender, nothing like the Ron’s inexperienced, a bit too wet attempts at kissing when they were still at Hogwarts. They were serious, calm, thought through, and nothing like the playful, fun kisses that she imagined Fred would render, or the emotional, passionate ones she thought George would give.
No! She would not think like that. She wouldn’t allow herself. She was kissing the man she was supposed to be making love to. A man that loved her dearly. So why was thinking of Fred and George? It wasn’t right.
It wasn’t right that while Victor was kissing her she couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel to be kissed by someone else. It wasn’t right that she was imagining how Fred would bite and nibble her lower lip or how George would kiss her so hard her lips would be tender and swollen as a result. It wasn’t right that as Victor started to unbutton the buttons on her robes she imagined it being Fred doing it. And it wasn’t right that when Victor let his hand slide lower to caress her she pretended it was George’s hands instead.
This wasn’t right! It was wrong. This was wrong! And suddenly she couldn’t breathe, and she certainly couldn’t go through with this any longer, and she couldn’t go on pretending that her feelings for Fred and George were just friendship. Just like she couldn’t go on pretending that she would fall in love with Victor when her heart kept telling her that she wouldn’t no matter how deserving he was.
Panicking she pushed him off her, stumbling up from the sofa, thinking of nothing but getting away from there, away from him, from herself. She needed to get out of there, to get air, to breathe.
She didn’t feel Victor grabbing her or hear him pleading with her to stay and talk things through, to tell him what he had done wrong. She didn’t feel her robes ripping when she pulled out of his grip, and she wasn’t aware about grabbing her cloak on the way out. The only thing she was aware of was that she needed her two best friends to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be alright. That she would get over this. That her heart would mend again.
But then how much breaking could a heart take before it broke permanently? And how could she tell them that her heart was breaking because of them? How did you tell your best friends that you were in love “ not with one of them but the both of them? What would keep them from becoming angry and throwing her out.
But then they wouldn’t turn her away. They might not understand, but they would try, wouldn’t they? And she really couldn’t go home, because Victor was sure to show up there, or floo her at least. And she really didn’t want to talk to him now. And maybe she didn’t need to tell them the truth, maybe she could tell them only part of it?
Either way she needed to decide now, because she could hear Victor coming down the stairs, following her down. And she knew he was stubborn and that he would want an explanation, and that he would be understanding and patient and suddenly she couldn’t take the thought and she knew where she would go. It was the only place she could go. And so she Disapparated before Victor reached the door, before he reached her.