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WAR HEROINE’S FALL FROM GRACE: HERMIONE GRANGER, SAVIOR OR SOT?
Hermione Granger, an Unspeakable known for her role in defeating You-Know-Who and for her scandalous love triangle with war heroes Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, has gone from defending the rights of Muggleborns to defending her right to get well and truly sloshed.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Miss Granger’s downward spiral, which began with her divorce from Ronald Weasley three months ago, has reached a new low. An eye witness spotted Miss Granger inebriated in a Cairo bar, where she has ostensibly been traveling “on Ministry business.” Our witness, a patriotic British citizen on holiday, claims she saw Granger “screaming to all who could hear about what a liar and cheat her ex-husband is, and how nobody at the Ministry can do their damn jobs.”
“I’m not surprised, given how she’s been cavorting about since the divorce,” said our witness, “but using the Ministry’s dime to support her licentious—and slanderous—behavior is despicable.”
Well, if this is what official Department of Mysteries business looks like, this reporter thinks Miss Granger should have to answer to the taxpayers whose hard-earned Galleons are funding her “work-related” excursions.
Hermione set the newspaper down on the bar, rubbing her palm into her forehead.
“Another gillywater tonic, ma’am?” the bartender asked. The Egyptian wizarding pub was nearly empty, save for Hermione, an elderly couple, and a burly man she suspected was a reporter. It still felt like too many people.
“Oh, why not? The whole country thinks I’m a drunk anyway. Might as well live up to the reputation.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Hermione whipped around at the familiar voice. A muscular, red-haired man strode toward her, grinning. Dressed in a button-down shirt and a dust-covered leather jacket, Hermione thought he looked a bit like a ginger Indiana Jones.
“Bill?” she said. “Bill Weasley, is that you?”
“The one and only.” He winked, sitting beside her at the bar. “I’ll have a firewhiskey, please, neat,” he said, and the bartender busied himself with their drinks.
“I didn’t realize you were in Egypt again." She hadn’t seen Bill in at least five years. That was right before his divorce...and she had to admit, time had been good to him. The scars across his face wrinkled as he smiled.
“I know. I was in England for years. But then Fleur and I ended things, and Victoire started at Hogwarts... It seemed like a good time for a change."
“I can’t blame you,” said Hermione. “It always surprised me you stayed in Britain at a desk job for so long. I’d certainly jump at the chance to leave the country right now.”
Bill took his glass from the bartender, sliding Hermione’s to her. “The press will die down eventually.”
“I just don’t understand how I always end up the degenerate in these articles. Ron’s the one who cheated on me, though I agreed not to publicize it out of some kind of misguided loyalty...ugh, who knows?”
“It’s because you’re a good person, Hermione. Maybe too good sometimes.” Bill paused. “So, did you really call the Head of Magical Transportation a ‘power-hungry, incompetent troll with stinksap for brains’?”
Hermione grimaced. “That depends. Am I on the record?”
Bill laughed.
Hermione sighed, looking at her distorted reflection in her glass. “I admit I lacked discretion that night, but you’d think it wouldn't be so easy to convince people I’m an uncontrollable, angry, loose-moraled...floozy.”
“Floozy?”
She blushed. “I may have heard that word from your mother.”
“That does sound like mum,” Bill chuckled, “though she should know better than to think that about you.” He raised his glass. “A toast.”
“To what? My ruined reputation?”
“To the freedom to do whatever the fuck you want,” he said. “No one is perfect, Hermione. My advice: live your life, do what you think is right, and let the press have their day. It’s incredibly freeing, believe me.”
“Well, I guess you would know. I always thought the Prophet was really unfair to you...after…”
“It was a nightmare,” Bill agreed. “But, now I’m back to curse breaking and traveling the world. I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.”
“That’s all I really want,” she said. “To feel like I’m doing something useful, making a difference. I feel like I put so much on hold with Ron, trying to figure out how to balance my career and his, putting up with his petty jealousy…”
“You'll do it,” said Bill. “I always admired your drive, you know. You’re so passionate about everything you do.” He paused, meeting her eyes. “It’s sexy.”
“Funny,” Hermione said. “I’ve always thought the same thing about you.”
She cleared her throat, and they both looked away.
“All right, a toast,” she said, raising her glass. “To doing good rather than being perfect.”
“To not caring what other people think."
“To doing what I want for a change, to not compromising for someone else.”
Bill clinked his glass against hers. “I’ll drink to that.”
“Speaking of doing what we want,” Hermione started. “I’m almost done with my official work here, but I was thinking of taking a long weekend to do some sightseeing and...decompress.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I happen to be an excellent tour guide.” Bill winked, reaching up to move a strand of hair from her face. “Very hands on.”
Hermione shivered.
Click.
They turned, seeing the poorly disguised reporter standing and holding a camera.
Bill rolled his eyes. “Want me to confront him? They’re all relentless.”
Hermione shook her head. “No, let him do what he wants. It’s not every day I get offered a tour of Cairo from someone who’s basically the wizarding Indiana Jones.”
Bill snorted. “Never heard that one before,” he said, but smiled. “The real-life version isn’t quite as glamorous. Are you disappointed I haven’t brought my whip with me?”
Hermione laughed, laying her hand on his. “Now, that would certainly make the front page.”
“In that case…”