A Time For Heroes

Title: A Time For Heroes

Author: Anisky

Disclaimer: Nothing from the Harry Potter universe is mine, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling and whatever publishers she uses.

Rating: R

Chapter 2: Real Life

"Hello again." Penelope stepped out of the fireplace gripping a paper bag.

"Hi, Penny," Hermione greeted her. It was an hour later almost to the second, and Hermione felt a surge of appreciation for the display of punctuality.

For goodness's sake, she berated herself, stop being so uptight. Why do you care if someone is on time for a night of drinking?

Ginny had very rarely been on time.

"What's all that?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the bag, which was much bigger than she had expected.

Penny grinned and set the bag down on the dining room table. "I didn't know what you wanted, so I decided to go with options," she said.

"Oh?"

The other woman pulled out a bottle of vodka, a bottle of whiskey, and a bottle of raspberry schnapps.

"The raspberry is great," Penny told her. "It's really strong, but goes down very, very easily. So if you're looking to get completely pissed but aren't used to hard liquor, this is ideal."

Hermione wondered if she was really so transparent that it was obvious she hadn't had much experience with alcohol.

That worry, that she was obviously such a square, was dashed rather violently with the next words to leave Penelope's mouth.

"And," she said, "I also brought this." She pulled out a small plastic baggy and waved it around.

Hermione stared. "Penny, that's not--?"

"Marijuana? Yes, it is," she said primly, putting it back into her robes. "You seemed so bummed, I figured you could really use it."

"But--" The last time Hermione had really known of Penelope, she had been a prefect. She had dated Percy. No matter what else could be said about Percy (that he was a pompous arsehole, for instance), he was one of the most law-abiding people Hermione knew of. She had not expected Penelope to have illegal drugs. "What--I don't--"

Penelope understood the startled expression and uncomfortable stuttering easily enough. "Don't tell me you've never tried it."

Hermione shook her head numbly. "No." She felt oddly embarrassed, though she had no idea why she would feel embarrassed about not having used drugs. She had never felt the inclination; she had never understood why so many people found making themselves slow and stupid fun.

Of course, that's what alcohol would do anyway, but then she had to admit that the idea of also smoking pot seemed redundant.

"Oh, come on now." Penelope looked a little sheepish, and her words were a bit defensive. "It is illegal to administer anything to an Unspeakable that tests truthfulness, body makeup or alignment. It's impossible that we would get caught, and you never try it once?"

"We get clearance because they trust us," she pointed out half-heartedly.

Penelope bit her lip. "And we aren't killing Muggles, torturing small animals, or doing anything at all to harm anyone, now are we?"

"I don't mind if you smoke it, but I'm not going to," Hermione said firmly.

The other woman nodded. "Of course," she said quickly. "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I know that Ron and Harry go out partying a fair bit--I'd just assumed you'd had some experience with that."

Hermione was not angry with Penny, but she did not like to think about Ron and Harry using drugs. She realized suddenly that despite her stolen childhood, she was still naïve about so much. It had never even occurred to her that her two best friends would use marijuana, but now that she really thought about it, she doubted that pot was the worst of what they used.

She wondered suddenly whether or not Ginny had ever used drugs.

"Oh!" Penelope said, her voice slightly too bright as she reached into the paper bag again. "I nearly forgot; I also brought a bottle of wine." She pulled out a Cabernet Sauvignon. "It's not really something to get drunk with, but I figured I'd get it just in case we decide we want it."

"Thank you, for all of this," Hermione said. "What do I owe you?"

Penelope waved her hands and scoffed. "Don't you dare worry about it. We've got the same job, remember?" she said. "I think we both know that neither of us are hurting for money."

That was true enough. Hurting for companionship, or loneliness, or from heartbreak, perhaps, but certainly not for gold.

Hermione realized suddenly that she had no idea what Penelope's story was. She was a very attractive woman, so why had she been alone at a café? Why had her night been so easily open? Hermione felt a flush of guilt as she realized that she had been so intent on her own problems that it had not even occurred to her that Penny might not have been free, why she even cared about Hermione's story. Was it simple curiosity, the same obsession that so many in the Wizarding World had with celebrities?

Hermione didn't think so, but she couldn't say why.

"Shall we get to it then?" Hermione opened up her cabinet to try to cover up her discomfort. She had no idea what the decorum was for this particular situation, or if there were any proper way to act at all. Surely there was a more elegant way of beginning their night of inebriation than simply saying 'Let's start now,' but for the life of her she did not know what.

She realized that she also did not have any shot glasses. She blushed, realizing how very childish she must seem. She wondered if Penelope would regret coming when she saw how inexperienced and unsure Hermione was in the arena of relaxing, of letting go.

She grabbed two small juice glasses, which were about three times the size of a shot glass. "Sorry," she said, turning around, "this is all I've got, I'm afraid."

"They'll do," Penny said lightly, accepting one of them and seeming much more at ease than Hermione was. "Shall we start with the raspberry schnapps? It really is delicious."

Hermione nodded, and Penny unscrewed the lid and filled each of them with what was probably a very generous amount of alcohol, but looked dwarfed by the juice glasses.

Hermione gripped hers and lifted it up. "To forgetting our problems for a night?" she asked.

"Sound like as good a toast as any," Penny agreed, clinking her glass against Hermione's. They both threw their heads back and drank the shots in one large gulp.

Penelope had been right, there was very little of the horrible burning Hermione remembered from the few times that she had taken shots before, yet the liquor still warmed her mouth and her stomach. The lingering raspberry flavor was very pleasant.

"Oh, that's nice!" she exclaimed.

"Another?"

"Yes, please."

They took another shot, and the second was as pleasant as the first. Hermione rolled her shoulders, sure that she was beginning to feel the effects now. The nervousness from earlier was gone, replaced with relaxation.

Hermione smiled, enjoying the sensation of not feeling constantly anxious about saying the right words and doing the right things. She remembered that she'd always gotten very happy, giddy, whenever she had alcohol. It was probably just worry over impropriety that prevented Hermione from indulging more often.

"What are you thinking?" Penelope asked.

"Just how nice it is to feel relaxed," Hermione said, "I don't feel like that often."

Penny nodded. "Do you want more of the schnapps, or something else?"

"Why don't we try something else?" Hermione suggested. "Whatever you like."

"Okay." Penny grabbed the vodka, and unscrewed the cap, pouring the drinks again. "We're probably going to need a chaser for this one. What have you got?"

"What works well?" Hermione asked.

"Anything that isn't alcoholic and has some taste, really."

Hermione opened up her refrigerator and browsed the contents. "Diet Coke?" she suggested.

"It'd work, but juice would be better, if you have it," Penelope responded, following Hermione to the refrigerator to search it for something appropriate. "The bubbles can be a bit too harsh to make it effective. There, the apple juice, let's use that."

Hermione grabbed it and took two more juice glasses out of the cupboard. "Why don't we go over to the coach?" she suggested. "It'll be a lot more comfortable."

Penelope took the vodka and her two juice glasses, while Hermione took the other two glasses and the apple juice. They placed them down on the coffee table and leaned over above it. Penny poured the vodka while Hermione poured the apple juice. They each grabbed the glasses with the clear liquid.

"What shall we toast to this time?" asked Penelope.

What indeed? Hermione considered for a moment. "To living fast, dying young, and leaving a beautiful corpse," she declared, mostly because right now it was really the antithesis of her own life and philosophy. The middle one had been a looming probability for a long time, but now even that excitement had passed.

Penelope looked surprised, but echoed, "living fast, dying young, leaving a beautiful corpse," right before she downed the shot, Hermione following her example quickly after.

This one did burn quite badly, and Hermione's eyes watered as she just barely managed to gulp everything down. She grabbed the apple juice and downed that as well. It did help, but she was still coughing.

"Oh!" Penny exclaimed suddenly, searching her way through her robes. "I nearly forgot. Here." She thrust a small vial filled with a murky dark green liquid into Hermione's hand.

"What is it?" she asked, feeling that she probably ought to know, but after three shots her mind was slightly muddled.

"Hangover potion, of course." Penny took out one for herself and took off the cap, drinking it down quickly and made a face at the taste. She poured more apple juice and drank that.

"Oh, no thank you," Hermione said softly, handing it back to the other woman.

"You've already taken one?"

Hermione shook her head and poured herself a generous shot, picking up the glass but not drinking it yet. "No, I don't take it."

Penelope stared openly. "Why ever not?"

Hermione shrugged, laughing a little as she answered. She knew that normally she would feel very silly, but with three shots under her belt, she found she didn't mind just chattering.

"I just feel guilty, I guess," she said breezily, "I feel like if I'm going to go crazy, indulge in wild, delirious debauchery--" she mockingly lifted the glass in her hand, still full, "--then I ought to suffer the consequences, yeah?"

"Hangovers aren't punishments for being bad, Hermione," Penny argued, "they're just biological reactions."

"How do you know it isn't punishment?" Hermione frowned at her glass as though it had offended her, and with a swift motion poured it all down her throat, coughing again and eyes tearing as she poured her chaser. When she could speak again, she continued seriously, though she had the strange feeling of not quite being able to keep up with her own thoughts as she spoke. "I just feel like, I should be punished, really. Feeling terrible the next day is a pretty fitting punishment for just throwing away my... my... responsibility. Just for pleasure. Fun."

"That's stupid." Penelope pushed the vial back into Hermione's hand. "Sorry, but it really, really is. Why the hell shouldn't you have fun? It's not something to be punished for. Happiness isn't a crime."

Hermione stared numbly at the green vial. "I was happy with Ginny," she said. "I'm being punished for that. I'm trying to escape that punishment now."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" cried Penny. "People break up. Feeling pain isn't punishment for having felt happy during a relationship. Happiness is a good thing. People are supposed to feel it."

Hermione was not feeling giddy or excited like she had before when she had been drunk. "Maybe other people, but not me," she argued stupidly, trying to give the vial back to Penny, who refused.

"Take it!"

"No!"

Penelope threw up her hands in defeat and poured herself more vodka. "You are being unreasonable."

"I'm drunk. I'm allowed to be unreasonable."

Penny looked her up and down. "Are you really drunk already?"

"I guess. Four shots should do it. Not drunk enough, though."

Smirk. "No, you definitely aren't." Shot. Apple juice. Penelope didn't cough afterwards.

"I'm usually a happy drunk," Hermione pouted, staring at the clear bottle sitting on the table. It looked just like water. "It isn't fair."

"Have you ever already been so down before?"

"No," Hermione admitted. She sighed deeply. The room was spinning slightly, not much, but enough that she did not feel quite as though she were sitting still. "So, I hope that I didn't intrude on any important plans this evening?"

Penny smiled a sad little half smile. "No," she said, "there was nothing."

"You never really told me where your life is now."

She shrugged. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know! There aren't really any questions to ask without having..." Hermione trailed off, feeling foolish as she thought of a few questions. "Do you have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend?"

"Nope, neither."

"Recently broken up?"

Penelope shook her head.

"Why not? What's the deal?" Hermione realized belatedly how terrible that sounded, but it was already out, and at least she had an excuse.

Penelope looked morose. "No deal, just haven't met anyone." She played with the empty vial of hangover potion halfheartedly.

"But you're so pretty!" Hermione defended. "You must have tons of options."

"Thanks," Penny said, "that's sweet."

"No, it's true," Hermione persisted, "you're so pretty, and friendly."

"You're drunk," Penelope said flatly.

Hermione frowned, feeling bad that she had made the other woman so upset, especially when she had just meant to give a compliment. An honest compliment, at that! "That doesn't mean it's not true!"

They were silent then, and Hermione cursed herself once again for messing everything up. She had no clue what was wrong, or what to do about it. Where was her well-publicized brilliance now?

Where was any of it now? Where was that vaunted Gryffindor bravery? She couldn't see any of it in herself. All she could see now was fear. Once the fate of the world was no longer at stake, she did not consider anything worth breaking the rules for. Not even to enjoy life.

She had known that Ginny hated it. She had known that Ginny wanted to be young, to get out and have fun, that she was feeling stifled. Yet Hermione had been too afraid, of getting caught, of losing control, of just letting go like a normal young person.

She had suspected that Ginny had been losing interest, had found her old crush on Harry creeping up again. Yet instead of facing the issue, of speaking to Ginny about it, she had hidden from it. She had ignored it, praying she was wrong, praying it would just go away. And they had all suffered for it. Harry and Ginny suffered for the guilt of their feelings while they tried to do the right thing by everybody. Hermione had suffered the months of constant fear, suspicion of her best friend, lying in bed next to Ginny, her stomach knotted up in anxiety. The denial.

If she had just faced everything when it had first come up, then maybe she wouldn't have been left with nothing now. Maybe she wouldn't be cut off from everyone she loved.

And it was all because she was such a coward.

She poured herself a fifth shot. A very generous fifth shot.

"You said, earlier, in the coffee shop, that there are few true heroes in this world," Hermione found herself saying after a long pause. She smirked sardonically and lifted the glass in a mock toast, then downed her shot, barely wincing at the burning this time. She picked up her apple juice and took a big gulp of that. "But they can look somewhere else. I'm no hero."

"You're wrong," Penelope told Hermione seriously, pouring herself some more vodka.

"Well, if I'm a hero," Hermione snorted, "then the rest of the world sure is pathetic." She considered a moment, then poured herself another shot as well. This was her sixth. She had never had this many drinks before, not in so short a time. She found she didn't care. "I'll drink to that."

Penny shrugged. "Hell, why not?" She clinked her glass against Hermione's, and they both tipped their heads back and downed the shots.

After the chaser, Hermione set her glass down and looked at it thoughtfully.

"What is it?" Penelope asked.

"I think," Hermione said slowly, "I think I'd like to try some of that pot, now."

"You sure?" Penelope asked before she pulled out the baggie and the rolling papers.

Hermione nodded. "Why not?" she said. "I'm alive."

It seemed like enough for the moment.

Penelope fumbled a bit with the baggie and papers--they had both had a lot by now--but to Hermione's surprise (though later she was not quite sure why she was surprised), instead of rolling it, she set them down and pointed her wand at them, proclaiming, "Coerceo siccus folia!" One of the papers sprang out and a stream of ground pot leaf emerged from the baggie, streaming into the paper, which neatly rolled itself up.

"Whoa," Hermione murmured, impressed despite herself.

Penelope looked up at her with a bewildered look. "You're alive?" she asked. "What did you mean by that?"

Hermione considered before she elaborated.

"I made it through the war. Anything now is..."

It was difficult just then, to explain what she meant, but she found she didn't care. Her thoughts were so whirled about that she couldn't quite grasp any of them, but it was nice, because her unhappiness was equally elusive, and so she could let it go. She just let herself speak and trusted that her meaning would come out.

"Anything new is a bonus. After all, I didn't spend my childhood fighting a monster just to be afraid to say boo in case other people will care."

"Good attitude!" Penny approved. She put the marijuana supplies back into her robes, leaving only the joint.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is!" Hermione said, suddenly confident. "I fought an evil overlord and I'm around to tell the story. Often. To many reporters. But anyway, after that, nothing should seem like a big deal! My girlfriend left me--okay, so it feels bad, but in the grand scheme, I'm alive, I'm healthy, and I have over a hundred years left to live, probably! In the Muggle world, I wouldn't live a hundred years from birth to death! I have so much time and the ability to see and do anything."

"Well, this is certainly a change of heart from earlier," Penny said with a drunken laugh, "I guess your happy drunk is finally coming out." She put the joint in her mouth and lit the end with a quick "Incendio!" She inhaled deeply, then passed it to Hermione, who tried to do the same but began coughing terribly.

"Don't we have magical ways to... do this?" she asked when she stopped coughing.

"Who'd do the research? I mean, they can't watch us in our spare time, but at work we answer to people. This is magically... magically... changed, though, so much less will give you much more feeling. And it's sure to work the first time."

"Oh," was all Hermione could think to say. Then, with a laugh at herself, she pulled out her wand and cast "Contego!" to her chest.

"What was that? You just cast protection on your lungs!" Penelope exclaimed, "that's clever."

Hermione grinned and waved for Penny to pass the joint. "Let it never be said that I can't function while drunk," she bubbled, though of course she had never been this drunk before so she was really just talking out of her arse. She inhaled the smoke deeply. It was rough, but the scent was surprisingly pleasing, and she could enjoy it now that her lungs were safe. "When will I feel it?"

She passed it back to Penelope.

"Pretty immediately, but you might be drunk enough that you just don't really notice. There'll be a difference, but... you may not notice, I guess."

"I can't believe I've never done this before," Hermione mused, "everyone around me has, yet I stay so straight, so boring."

Penny giggled. "So straight?"

Hermione dissolved into giggles as well. "You know what I mean. I feel like I've just been letting life pass me by. Speaking of passing..."

Penelope gave her the joint. "I don't think not using drugs is letting life pass you by," she said, "I'm not proud of smoking pot and drinking. I don't think it's a good thing. Not a bad thing either. But you were with someone you loved for what, two and a half years? If I weren't so alone I can see myself never smoking."

Hermione breathed out smoke, and giggled again, because she felt like a dragon, blowing smoke out of her mouth. "Yeah, but all of my friends went out, partied... I don't think they even thought of inviting me. Or maybe they did and I said no and I just forget now. Maybe if I'd been more fun and gone partying with Ginny she wouldn't have..." She trailed off and took another hit from the joint before passing it back to Penelope.

"Don't think like that," Penelope warned her, "you can't know. You were just being yourself."

"No, I was being scared," Hermione contradicted her, "I knew that Ginny didn't want me anymore, had a crush on Harry. Or thought I knew. I was too terrified to talk about it. They tried to do the right thing. They did the right thing. They loved each other. The right thing was to leave me."

"It's nothing wrong with you, Hermione, it just happens."

"I know. It's just... life. This is me experiencing life. In all its pain. Glory. Whatever. And you know what?"

"What?" Penelope took a last hit and passed it back to Hermione, though it was very short by now.

"It's better than being dead."

Maybe it was a mix of the alcohol and the marijuana, but that seemed terribly profound just then. And also terribly, terribly important. Suddenly everything that had happened seemed perfect, somehow. Not happy. But part of life, real life, that everybody was part of, something that happened to normal people. Real people.

She knew it would still feel like her own personal hell tomorrow, but for now the flawed perfection of existence felt so meaningful it made her want to cry.

"Yeah, it is," Penelope agreed quietly.

"I feel like I'm made of clay," Hermione giggled, "is that maybe the pot?"

"Yes, that's the pot," Penelope said dryly.

Hermione took a hit, then passed it back before it was too small to hold comfortably. Penelope quickly took some, then put out the light and stowed it in her robes, explaining that she didn't feel like dealing with the roach right then.

They just sat there, dazed and drunk and high, lost in thought, until Hermione ground out, barely able to contain her giggling: "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Oh, yes, I've never heard that before."

"Seriously, though."

"I was just thinking about taking things for granted."

"Oh?" Hermione shifted on the couch to get a better look at Penny, though right then everything looked so strange. She wondered if Penelope were really breathtakingly beautiful, or if it was just the drugs and alcohol.

"Yeah. I take privacy for granted, for instance. And you take people knowing who you are, being someone who matters, for granted. Not being invisible."

Hermione furrowed her forehead. "You matter. You're not invisible!"

"You barely remembered me when you saw me today," Penelope pointed out.

"But I did! And I liked you enough that even though I just wanted to be alone I liked talking to you and invited you over!"

"I'm sorry I bothered you."

"No!" Hermione cried. "Not at all! I wouldn't have invited you if I didn't want you over. It's much better for me, this way, not completely alone in this apartment. I'm glad you're here."

Penelope seemed to cheer up somewhat. "I'm glad I'm here, too."

"I can't imagine you being invisible," Hermione murmured, fingers reaching out seemingly without her permission and to gently stroke Penny's cheek, to make sure that the other woman was really there. "You're so beautiful."

Penny blushed, and Hermione pulled her hand back.

"You're not invisible to me."

"You've only known me for an evening."

A single evening. That's all it had been. It seemed so strange to Hermione. Then again, everything seemed strange right now. Something about the glasses, the bottles, the carpet, the sofa, the coffee table--yes, everything seemed strange, but it was in the sort of way that she saw everything through new eyes.

Something about Penelope's importance seemed more than just a drugged out delusion.

"And already you matter to me," Hermione said.

Penelope smiled, and Hermione told herself sternly that she was not going to kiss her. She was still brokenhearted, still in pain over Ginny's absence, over her inevitable rift with her best friends. This flat was filled with lingering memories of Ginny.

Hermione liked Penny, hoped she would be a friend, someone who she could talk about her research with. She refused to just turn her into a rebound.

She was determined not to.

Somehow, when Penelope's lips descended on her own (or maybe hers descended on Penelope's, it was impossible to tell, and her memories of the night were never clear afterward), it felt like they were in a small bubble outside of the real world, where everything was safe and perfect, in the way that life's tragedies felt perfect.

It just felt too much like an affirmation of life, to be kissing Penelope right now, and Hermione had precious few of those for a hero who had saved a world from destruction. She could not find it within herself to turn her back on such bittersweet meaning.