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Hermione Granger needs a drink. She steps out of the courtroom and sighs, exhausted after a long trial that happens to be the last one of the day, and she has also ended up losing. It’s the type of case that no one pays attention to, as no one had died and the operation had been caught early on. The previous week, she had been successful in securing a guilty verdict from the Wizengamot for a wizard accused of trafficking illegal potions. This week’s trial was to determine the guilt of the owner of the apothecary that the wizard was moving his potions through. She put up a strong argument and was able to quash some of the points the defence counsel brought up, but in the end, it wasn’t quite enough, and the Wizengamot deemed him not guilty.
“Mr Oleander no longer visits his apothecary as frequently as he once did when it was just starting out,” the defence counsel, Adrian Pucey, had said in his closing argument. “He spends his days in Bath, only visiting for inventory days and holidays. How would he know about the shop’s day-to-day activities?” And Hermione believes that was what had decided it for the Wizengamot.
She is slightly disappointed, but she knows that feeling will always be present after losing a case, and in reality, she isn’t very upset at all. She and Adrian often met on opposite sides of the courtroom, and they never let a win from the other bog down their acquaintanceship.
“I don’t know how you do that,” Ron says as he and Harry catch up to Hermione outside the doors. “I’d never be friends with the bad side.”
“That’s what you Aurors don’t understand, Ron,” Hermione replies, exasperated. “I keep telling you. There is no ‘bad’ side in law. You just think that because Aurors work on the side of the prosecution, and the defence works for the defendant.”
“But that’s our whole job!” Ron protests. “Catching the bad guys.”
“And sometimes you’re wrong,” Hermione retorts. “That’s what the trial is for. I can’t fault the defence for arguing for their client, that’s their whole job.”
“Do you have any plans for tonight?” Harry interrupts. “I think there are a few of us going to the Leaky, but I know you like to have your me-time after a trial, Hermione. Ron, you’ll be there, though, right?”
Ron nods. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ve been looking forward to a good butterbeer and chips all day.”
“You know me so well, Harry,” Hermione says fondly. “Have fun at the Leaky, though, boys. Tell everyone ‘hello’ from me.”
The trio splits up in the Atrium. Hermione grabs some Floo powder from the sack hanging nearby. “24 Garden Close,” she states as Harry and Ron call out their respective addresses as well, and she steps through the green flames into her flat.
~
Brushing off the soot and stray Floo powder that always ends up on her robes, Hermione drops her things on her dining table before heading off to change clothes. If she’s going to go out, it certainly isn’t going to be in her work robes.
She takes her time unwinding, changing from her formal court wear to a far more comfortable pair of Muggle jeans and a knit jumper. Pulling out a carton of leftover fried rice, she charms it warm and eats it while paging through the latest edition of Transfiguration Today. She supposes she could just open a bottle of wine at home; it would certainly be less effort. However, she thinks being around people would do her good and prevent her from ruminating on the trial too much, and by not going to the Leaky Cauldron, she wouldn’t feel obligated to interact with anyone besides the barman.
By the time Hermione scoops the last grains of rice from the bottom of the container, it’s nearing eight o’clock. She Vanishes the carton, cleans the table, and tosses the magazine into its designated basket before pulling on her shoes and coat to head out.
~
The Yew and Vine is somewhat of a dive, situated on Horizont Alley, close to where the street intersects with Knockturn Alley. It’s typically only populated by regulars and not even very many, at that, but it’s run by a half-blood couple who regularly play Muggle music, and Hermione knows she would never run into her friends there. And besides that, they also serve the best chips she’s ever had.
As soon as she steps through the doorway, Hermione makes a beeline for her preferred spot at the end of the bar. “The usual, dear?” the barwoman asks as Hermione takes her regular seat, setting down the glass she’s polishing.
“Yes, please, Marjorie. Thank you.” Marjorie bustles off to get Hermione’s chips and cider, and Hermione scans the rest of the pub while she waits. There is an older couple she often sees playing wizard’s chess in one corner, and a trio of wizards laughing jovially in a booth in the other. A younger witch and wizard sit at a table in the middle, sharing a pile of chips and engaging in animated conversation.
“Here you are, dear,” Marjorie says as she pushes a plastic basket in front of Hermione, startling the younger witch out of her thoughts. “Oh! That was quick. Thank you.” Hermione lifts her glass of cider and takes a healthy sip before tucking into her chips. She people-watches for a while, imagining stories for everyone in the room instead of thinking about next week’s trials. She’s just draining the last of her glass when someone approaches her from the side.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” says a familiar voice. Hermione turns. “Adrian Pucey. I think I’m more surprised to see you here than you are to see me. This isn’t exactly the most well-known place,” she says, eyebrows raised.
“Small world, isn’t it? I was at the Leaky earlier,” Adrian replies, “but it got too busy. I thought you would’ve been with your friends?” His voice tilts up in a question. “I saw a good number of them there tonight.”
“I know. Harry always invites me every time they go, but after a trial, I like to have some alone time.”
Adrian starts. “Oh, my apologies. I can leave you to yourself, then.” He turns to go, but Hermione reaches out towards him.
“No, no, stay, please,” she says hurriedly. “I only mean that I prefer not to… How do I word this? If I were with my friends, I would feel more obligated to participate in a lot of conversation, and they would inevitably ask me about the trial, which I try not to talk about too much so soon after. But you’re fine.”
“Are you sure? I’m happy to leave you to yourself.”
“Have a seat.” Hermione pats the counter space next to her. “Marjorie? Another cider, please.” She gestures to Adrian. “And his first drink is on me.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I’m feeling generous today,” Hermione offers. “Why not just go with it?”
“Oh, all right.” Adrian laughs. “Ogden’s for me, please,” he says to the barwoman.
“How did you find this place?” she asks curiously, motioning vaguely at the room. “As I said, it’s not the most well-known pub.”
Adrian accepts the glass Marjorie hands to him. “I stumbled across it a few months ago,” he says. “I was out with a couple of friends and just happened to walk past. They were having some sort of sale, so we popped in. I’m the only one who’s come back. It’s nice after work, sometimes, to relax like this. By yourself, but also not at the same time.”
“Exactly,” Hermione says. “You get it. Alone in a room full of people, you might say.” She holds her glass out toward her courtroom rival. “Cheers to another trial under the belt.”
“Cheers,” Adrian repeats, and he clinks his own glass against it.
They chat for what seems like ages, talking about their respective friends and what everyone has been up to since the end of the war. Adrian knows about Harry and Ron, of course, seeing them often in the courtroom when they need to testify. Instead, Hermione talks about Luna Lovegood and her travels; Neville Longbottom and his greenhouses at Hogwarts; and Ginny Weasley and her matches with the Holyhead Harpies. In return, Adrian talks about Marcus Flint, who does security for the Appleby Arrows; Cassius Warrington, a chaser for the Tutshill Tornadoes; and Terence Higgs, a broom designer for Nimbus. They talk about their recent reads, the most recent Charms Weekly articles, and the new policies the Wizengamot is considering. They even discuss the results of the recent Quidditch match between the Harpies and the Cannons, a match Hermione had attended with Harry and Ron.
They exchange stories and laughs until suddenly two hours have gone by, and Hermione is beginning to feel the inklings of sleep creeping up on her.
She yawns. “Excuse me.” She casts a Tempus, doing a double-take when she realises it’s nearing eleven. “I can’t believe it’s this late already.”
Adrian looks at his watch. “I had a good time,” he says. “Thank you for the drink.” “You’re the defence counsel for the Fenwood trial on Tuesday?” Hermione asks, counting out her sickles and knuts. “I am,” he confirms, sliding off the stool. “I should get going. But it was nice to see you outside the Ministry.” He pauses. “Same time next week?”
Hermione smiles.