Chapter Text
Kiss from a rose
Part 1
Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey
Ooh, the more I get of you, strange it feels, yeah
Now that your rose is in bloom
A light hits the gloom on the grey
(Seal, Kiss from a rose)
By Merlin's beard
Hermione couldn't remember Ron ever being so difficult when they were still married. Stubborn, yes. Sometimes a little slow on the uptake and perhaps a little old-fashioned in his views, but she would never have thought him so stubborn. After all, it was just a harmless date, and Rose was already fifteen. Just because the boy was a Muggle, he refused to give their daughter permission to accompany him to his high school prom. And he himself had a Muggle ex-wife, could you believe it?
Rose had been so looking forward to spending the weekend with Hugo at Ron's place in Scotland, where he had been living since their divorce five years ago. After all, the children could only see both parents during the holidays, and it was the first visit to their father since they had come home from Hogwarts six days ago for the Easter holidays. Just yesterday, the two siblings had climbed into the same fireplace in the living room of their apartment, full of anticipation, from which Rose had returned home completely distraught today. Crying, the girl had pushed past her mother and immediately disappeared into her room. It took Hermione a lot of patience and persuasion to find out what had happened.
As soon as she learned the reason for Rose's grief, Hermione immediately flooed ex-husband, but since Ron refused to discuss the matter with her via the fireplace, she ended up flooing to Scotland herself, where she realized she would have to talk herself hoarse to convince Ron that Rose's boyfriend was a good boy even if he wasn't a wizard. The two had met last year in a shopping mall. They hit it off immediately and spent almost the entire rest of the summer vacation together, so that in the end there were big tears when Rose had to go back to Hogwarts. Since the boy was a Muggle and therefore couldn't send her owl mail to school, he had taken his letters to her mother, and Hermione had made sure that the two stayed in touch. Nevertheless, she hadn't expected the teenage crush to last over the distance. But now Michael had invited her daughter to the prom, and since the prom happened to fall on a weekend that Rose had planned to spend with her father, she had told him about her boyfriend and asked for his permission.
Unfortunately, Ron had not reacted as Rose and her mother had hoped.
At least Hermione had been successful in the end, even if it had been a tough battle. First she had tried reason, then pleas, and when that didn't work, they had both become quite loud. In the end, she had even threatened to leave the children at Hogwarts over Christmas if he didn't give in. That would have been a hard blow for both of them, but if that's what he wanted, she would have accepted the consequences. That finally made him give in, albeit not without conditions. In the end, she had to promise him that, first, she would talk to Rose urgently about the dangers of hormone-driven teenagers, second, she would tell the boy that her father would make his testicles shrink if he went after their daughter, and third, that Hermione would drive the two teenagers to the prom and pick them up again. Ron would probably have preferred to do the latter himself, but despite the Weasleys' fascination with Muggle cars, she was still the only one in the family who had a driver's license. At least she had been able to dissuade him from getting Rose a kind of magical chastity belt beforehand.
Now Hermione was tired and had a terrible headache, so she decided to take a short walk and apparate later instead of using Ron's fireplace directly. Despite the argument between his sister and his father, Hugo still wanted to stay with Ron, and Hermione didn't even try to persuade him to change his mind. Perhaps it was good for the two of them to have some time to themselves, then Hermione could spend the rest of the weekend caring for Rose in peace.
The air in the small mountain village was clear as Hermione left the house, and millions of stars sparkled above her. It was a warm spring evening by Scottish standards, so Hermione wasn't cold in her linen dress. In fact, she enjoyed the peace and quiet as she walked down the street. Although her apartment was quite far from central London, it was never as quiet as it was here. Back when she was still married to Ron, they had often dreamed of settling down in a place like this, but in the end, everything had turned out differently.
Hermine shook her head wearily. There was no point in dwelling on all the tears shed, the harsh words and reproaches they had hurled at each other during the last months of their marriage. When they were finally both ready to openly consider divorce, it had been almost like a relief. Still, she had no regrets. After all, she owed her two wonderful children to this marriage. But she wouldn't want to turn back time for anything in the world. She loved her life as it was now. Her job at Flourish and Blotts, the small apartment she would continue to pay off for another five years until it was finally hers, and the girls' nights out with Ginny and Luna. Even if there were days when she wished she had a man by her side again.
But you couldn't have everything.
After walking for a good half hour, Hermione pulled out her wand. It was time to return from her dreams to reality and apparate home. But when she thought of the address and cast the spell, nothing happened. Hermione frowned in annoyance. No, not again. Just last week, Hermione had been stranded in London after going to the theater and had to take a Muggle taxi to get home. A few weeks ago, the Ministry had informed witches and wizards that they were experimenting with spells that would make it possible to locate wanted wizards when they apparated. To do this, it was necessary to temporarily impose apparition restrictions on certain parts of the country during off-peak times. In fact, they had even announced when and where this would take place in the letter that was lying somewhere in Hermione's apartment. Apparently, this part of Scotland was affected tonight of all nights.
Wonderful.
For a moment, Hermione toyed with the idea of going back to Ron's house and asking to use his fireplace, but after the dispute of the last few hours, she had no desire to see her ex-husband again so soon. However, a Muggle taxi or bus was not an option this time. They were too far out in the countryside for that. Even if she called a taxi using a Muggle phone, the trip back to the city would be outrageously expensive and take forever. She didn't own a broomstick, and even if she could have transformed one, it had been many years since she had last flown. So there was only one option left. Even though she could imagine more pleasant ways to travel.
With a sigh, Hermione raised her hand with her wand in the air.
It took only a few seconds, then she heard a loud bang and the Knight Bus appeared out of nowhere and came to a screeching halt in front of her.
The door opened and a conductor with flaxen hair and a purple uniform jumped out. “Welcome to the Knight Bus, the emergency transport for stranded witches and wizards. Just hold out your wand hand, get in, and we'll take you wherever you want to go. My name is Melvin Potts, and I'm your conductor tonight.”
“Hermione Weasley,” Hermione introduced herself briefly. “And I'd like to go to Dagenham, London, 14 Rowdowns Road.”
“All right,” Melvin nodded. “Plain seat or comfort plus?” It had been years since Hermione had last traveled on the Knight Bus, but she had read about the changes since the bus was purchased by a private company in various newspaper articles. The rickety metal beds that slid back and forth every time the bus braked were now a thing of the past. Instead, there were now comfortable soft armchairs in the lower section that could withstand even the bus driver's reckless driving style, and firmly bolted beds on the upper deck, separated by curtains to create the illusion of privacy.
“Comfort plus, please.” Especially when you were no stranger to the wizarding world, it could be quite exhausting to be stared at from all sides, so Hermione would welcome sitting alone, even though she doubted she would be able to sleep after today's events.
“That'll be seventeen Sickles,” Potts informed her.
Wow, the prices had really skyrocketed. Nevertheless, Hermione would treat herself to this luxury. She usually lived quite frugally. Thank Merlin she had had the presence of mind to grab her purse before flooing to Ron, otherwise she would have had quite a problem now.
“Here you go.” Hermione meticulously counted the coins in her hand before handing them to the conductor. Melvin immediately put the money in his pocket, then looked around searchingly. “Don't you have any luggage?”
“No,” Hermione replied truthfully. The conductor shrugged. “All the better. Now get in, we have to keep going.” Obediently, she climbed into the bus behind him. It took Hermione a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light inside, as there were no lights on in the bus. Instead, candles in holders attached to each seat illuminated the scene. About half of the armchairs were occupied. Hermines' gaze slid alertly over the faces of the witches and wizards of various ages who were dozing or reading in the upholstered seats, while Melvin guided her through the rows to a staircase leading upstairs. Thank Merlin, she didn't recognize any of them, and thanks to the twilight, no one seemed to recognize her either as she passed them and climbed the stairs.
Just like downstairs, candles were the only source of light here. Purple curtains separated small compartments from the hallway, making it impossible to see what lay behind them. Therefore, Hermione couldn't tell how many of the beds up here were occupied. In any case, she wouldn't be alone, as loud snoring from further ahead revealed. Melvin seemed to know exactly which compartments were occupied, because he walked purposefully toward one and pulled back the curtain.
“This one is yours,” he said to Hermione with a gesture toward the interior. “Would you like a nightcap? Hot chocolate or something stronger?”
Hermine was tempted to politely decline, but given her dispute with Ron, she could actually use something to calm her nerves. “I'll have a sweet French red wine, if you have one.”
“Of course. Coming right up.” With these words, Melvin turned and walked back to the stairs, giving Hermione time to look around her quarters for the night. Not that there was much to see. The compartment wasn't large. To be precise, it ended almost directly at both ends of the bed, but it had a window with purple curtains that would have allowed a view of the nighttime landscape if the bus hadn't jerked forward and sped off at that moment, so that she could see nothing more than a whirlpool of dark shadows. Thank Merlin she had at least managed to hold on in time.
Sighing, Hermione let herself fall onto the bed. Although it had a simple metal frame, it was surprisingly comfortable, and the starched white sheets smelled wonderfully fresh and clean. Maybe she would get some sleep after all, the witch admitted to herself as she slipped out of her shoes, but just as she lifted her feet onto the mattress, Melvin returned with her wine. “Thank you very much,” said Hermione as she took the goblet.
“You're welcome, and now have a good night,” replied the conductor, then slipped out of the compartment and drew the curtain, leaving Hermione in velvety semi-darkness. Sighing, she leaned back. She thought of Rose. Hopefully, the girl had gone to sleep by now and wasn't worrying. Hermione had told her that she was going to Ron's place, but she hadn't expected to be gone all night. Well, if Merlin willed it, she would be back before Rose woke up in the morning.
Come to think of it, she could hardly remember the last time she had been out for the night. It was probably before her wedding. Now she spent most of her evenings on the couch with a good book and went to bed early, especially when she had to work the next day. You're getting old, Hermione, she scolded herself. Old and boring. But she was only in her mid-thirties. Too young to live only for her children and her job – especially since said children spent most of the year at Hogwarts. With these thoughts in mind, she sipped her wine, which was sweet and full-bodied on her tongue. Not bad at all, she thought, and if she drank enough of it, maybe it would help her think better thoughts.
She stretched her limbs with relish. The compartments were really a nice thing. Although she knew she wasn't alone on the floor, she still felt like she was by herself. It was just a pity that she had nothing to keep her occupied. So all she could do was let her gaze wander over the shadows rushing by and listen to the sounds outside her compartment.
The snoring from further ahead was the most distinctive sound, but there were other noises not far away. The rustling of fabric, heavy breathing followed repeatedly by suppressed moans. Oh, someone was obviously trying to find relief. Hermione felt the heat rising to her cheeks. She was no longer a teenager, but eavesdropping on someone masturbating still didn't seem right to her. But no matter how hard she tried to block out the sounds, she couldn't ignore them. In fact, she even caught herself being affected by the sounds of pleasure. How the suppressed gasps made her nipples hard and sent her juices flowing.
By Merlin's beard. It wasn't as if Hermione didn't touch herself from time to time. After all, she had been single for five years. Usually put in the mood by a little wine and a dime novel from the supermarket. But she always did this in her bedroom when her children were at Hogwarts. Doing it in such a public place as the Knight Bus seemed almost forbidden to her. Nevertheless, she couldn't resist sliding her hand into her panties. She was surprised at how wet she had already become from listening.
Just as she was about to take another sip of wine to ease her conscience, the bus took the curve at such a sharp angle that it almost lay on its side. The snorer further ahead fell silent for a moment, the curtain fell to one side, just like all the other curtains on the upper deck, and Hermione had a clear view of the compartment opposite, from which the noises had come.
She almost spat out her wine in shock when she saw who was sitting on the bed.
Lucius Malfoy, dressed in a crumpled white shirt that hung untidily from his elegant black trousers. His long, white-blond hair was loose, one hand rested on his crotch and in the other he held a glass that was constantly smoking. Firewhiskey. Unmistakable.
His gaze met hers almost simultaneously, and his eyes widened when he recognized her, then the bus returned to its normal position and the curtain slammed shut again. A second later, the snoring resumed, but Hermione no longer heard it. Her hand flew out of her underwear as if she had burned herself.