Indescribable Taste

Chapter 6: Blinding Lights

Hermione pressed the wrinkles from her khaki colored slacks and hung them next to the purple dress. She set the iron on its backside and took a bite of her chocolate chip cookie, watching the tiny black and white TV that her parent's had given her before she moved out. A Goofy special was on the Disney Channel and the silly dog-like character was demonstrating how to ride a bicycle. Hermione took the dress down from the hanger and draped it over her arm lovingly then turning back to the TV before she had to get dressed, taking the final bite of her cookie. She laughed surprisingly when Goofy lost control of his bike and went parading off a cliff and hiccupped a piece of her snack all over the silky dress.

"No!" she yelped, swiping at the material, her elbow knocking the blazing iron onto the carpeted floor. Thick, black smoke rose up from the bottom of the hot device after a few seconds. Hermione instantly dropped the expensive gown, stepping all over it as she ripped the cord out of the wall. She tossed the steaming iron in the sink and ran water over it, even more hot steam filling the tiny apartment.

Hermione imagined even Goofy wouldn't have been that stupid.

She laughed in spite of herself, covering one side of her face with her hand and shut off the water. The black mark on the carpet could've easily remedied with a Reparo spell, but Hermione stopped herself from picking up her wand from the off green kitchen counter and sprayed Resolve on the black indention instead. That was the least of her worries.

Her party gown had been trampled on and the stitch had been torn in a few places, not to mention the wide streak of chocolate down the front. This, more then anything, stirred the feeling to pick up her wand but as her long fingers hovered over it like a UFO about to abduct a innocent victim, she could only pick it up and toss it across the cramped space. It smacked the cabinet and bounced back, hitting her square in the face.

Tears sprung up in her brown eyes, threatening to drip onto her cheek and down her quivering jaw. Hermione rubbed at her nose, but it only made the water in her eyes pour down the side of her face. It hadn't been the wand that had hurt so and that alone, perhaps, had been the reason for her hysterical reaction.

She punched the faded lime green cabinet so hard it flew back open. She kicked over the flower patterned ironing board with a howl. The smiling pictures of her friends and family were surely smashed as she tossed them by the handfuls from her small table and they shattered against the bare white wall on the opposite end of the living room.

The Goofy cartoon credits were rolling loudly and Hermione pushed the television off of the table as well, but it continued to sing, forcing the red eyed girl to rip open her dresser chest the was no more then fifteen inches wide. She threw her wrinkled clothes on top of the singing television to muffle its happy tune. Her sobs had become desperate gasps for air when she ran out of clothing to throw and she flung herself against the wall in between her dresser and small bed.

Crookshanks lay on the top of the bed, sprawled out lazily among the pillows, his long ginger flecks of cat hair snowing off of his twitching tail, watching the crying woman with tired, uninterested eyes. He hadn't been startled by her outburst obviously. He slowly swiped at her, grazing the strands of frizzy curl that hung over her eyes.

Looking at her cat with glassy irises, she lost the crazy feeling that had so spurred her a few minutes ago. Crookshanks looked back at her with disapproval.

"Pathetic, you say?" she asked her oversized feline. He blinked slowly, curling his paws under his chin. Hermione hung her head as if Crookshanks had insulted her. "Yeah, I know I am. Three years of living like a Muggle and you would think I'd get used to be a Muggle by now. I am, after all, such."

Crookshanks swiped at her again, hitting her cheek.

"STOP!" she shouted at him.

The large ginger cat scowled, as much as a cat could scowl, with its wrinkled face smashed together. He stood up, stretching, yawning, claws apart and walked off, making a nice thud on the hard floor; a trail of itchy cat hair followed him into the kitchen connected to the living room.

"Great," Hermione huffed. "Whenever the tough gets going you men have no problem leaving me, do you?" she quipped, cocking one eyebrow at the cat's backside. Crookshanks didn't turn around to look at her but instead slipped behind the light golden refrigerator, leaving Hermione to the muffled drone of the Disney Channel.

Hermione ran her hand over her face in the same motion as she had when she'd put the hot iron in the sink. The years had past, as slow as a turtles steps, and she had found herself less and less in tune with herself and much more like a weak little child--which seemed terribly backwards.

Hermione shook her head abysmally, pulling the dresser drawers out and setting a teal blouse in her lap, preparing to fold with a hefty sigh.

Something caught her eye though, as she tried to resume living her calm, normal life. Before placing the shirt in the drawer, she seen the shard of glass and paused like a rabbit sensing danger. Her pupils seemed to collapse into themselves but she managed to drop the blouse and reach for it. It had been stuck in the back for a reason, the blood around the edges flaking and the rest had been rubbed away, leaving a very pale pink in its place.

It fit perfectly in one palm as she wrapped her fingers tenderly around it. Her chest emptied of any feeling and it all seemed to tie a knot in her stomach. Her throat became filled with concrete and she couldn't find the vigor to swallow.

Even if she wouldn't have been antagonized by her current state in life and wasn't already upset she wouldn't have noticed that she had now began to squeeze her hand into a tight fist and the still sharp glass was sliding ever so slowly into her flesh. Blood finally burst from the sides of the glass but Hermione noticed nothing. She only lay on the cold floor, pressing her red stained hand against her bosom.

The glass memory that she held in her hand made her feel in a way that she had forgotten--or at least tried to forget. Her hallow chest filled with something incredibly warm to wash away the empty feeling. Red rushed to her pale face and a smile broke out across her once dreary expression. At this moment she didn't feel so abandoned--and the Darkwing Duck theme song didn't seem so damn annoying.

**

Hermione lopped the dress over her shoulder and hefted a small purse over the other. She had to literally push past a couple of chattering teenagers that made sounds of annoyance when she passed. It didn't much bother her as the day in Hogsmeade was exceptionally beautiful today. The snow was still fresh and untouched on the signs that hung in rows down the beautiful village and it glimmered in the sunshine like diamonds.

It was early and not many were bustling through the streets at this time, so Hermione walked past the tiny shops, seeing everything again for the first time in three years and the spectacle of it all brought back feelings of happiness. Two young Hogwarts students were in Honeydukes hesitantly eating their newly bought Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. The girl popped one in her mouth with a brave stance but instantly spit it out and exclaimed something, pushing the beans into the boys hand with a look of disgust.

"Hermione!" someone called to her. She whirled around and stood face to face with a grown up Seamus. His hair was cut nice and curled at the nape of his neck. He was dressed in nice robes and was also carrying a short, older woman on his arm, towering over her. Yes, he had definitely grown since she had seen him last, yet as much as he had changed, she still felt that fire of distrust spark in the pit of her stomach. She managed to wave, her fingers fluttering below her chin.

Seamus wrapped her in a huge hug, nearly suffocating her. The woman on his right curtseyed sweetly, and even kissed both of her cheeks. "So," she squeaked, sounding like a mouse--a very polite mouse, "you must be Hermione Granger. My son has told me so much about you." Mrs. Finnegan seemed to be looking Hermione over with a deep interest. "Yes, he almost always talks about you," she said, suddenly sounding far away, her smile fading from her face as she lost herself in her own thoughts.

Seamus's mother was a very small woman with eyes set too close to her small button nose. Her eyes were a startling hazel and had a gentle glow emanating from them.

"Mum," Seamus said with some concern, "why don't you go into the Three Broomsticks and I'll meet you there in an hour or so?" Mrs. Finnegan seemed to snap out of it and tore her eyes away from Hermione. She nodded and gave the bushy haired girl a pat on the hand before taking quick steps towards the bar.

Seamus sighed. "She hasn't been out in a while."

Hermione forced a smile. "She seems very nice."

"Yeah...she is great," he said, his smile even less convincing. "So, what's that?" he asked, pointed towards the black plastic hanging off of her arm.

"Tonight...that party with the Weasley's," she managed to say. She really just wanted to get away from him as soon as possible. The tangling in her stomach began to come back and she wanted nothing more then to slip her hand into her pocket and rub on the shard of glass to comfort her--but she merely hung onto her purse instead.

He either ignored her nervousness or just didn't see it but he shook his head excitedly. "I'm going too! I usually don't dress up but since George and Fred's joke shop was so successful in Diagon Alley and they're opening a new one in Hogsmeade, I don't see any reason why we shouldn't get a little dazzled," he said with a wink. "I came early to show mum around again. She hasn't been getting out much since dad left her so I thought a stroll around people her kind would help cheer her up."

"That's very kind of you, Seamus, but I must get going..."

"Going? Where are you going to? The party will be on in a few hours. Why don't you come to the deli with me and have a sandwich? We can catch up," he insisted.

She hesitated and gave him a don't-give-me-that-sympathy-speech look.

"Please?" He held out his arm. Gravity seemed to have full control of her limbs as she lifted her arm to ring it around his. It was almost as if one hundred pound weights were tied to both of her forearms.

There had been a few shops that had arrived after Hermione left Hogwarts and the deli had been one of them. It was a small cozy little shop with small round glass tables around in the middle and blue booths in the four corners. In the very center of the delicatessen was a hefty looking woman placing large slabs of ham into a display case. Hermione ordered a trio of ham, turkey and roast beef on rye and Seamus seemed to order everything on the menu.

"So," he began when they sat down, "everyone has been wondering why you disappeared. I heard you didn't get the job."

Hermione nearly dropped her sandwich. He had said it outright. "No," she said, wishing he hadn't brought it up. "I didn't get the job then...or the year after that...or this year."

"You have to have a lot of qualifications to be an Arithmacy teacher like..."

"Like all the qualifications I have!" Hermione interjected. What little appetite she had was now diminished. "If you must know, and I think you DO know, it's because of that incident with Lucius that I couldn't get that job!" The mention of him name made her body feel like it had been surged with electricity. "That's the story they gave me in my last interview. So, could we just drop it?"

Seamus looked neither taken back or surprised. He had been fully aware that it was a touchy subject. "So what do you do for a living then?" he asked, sipping his steaming coffee.

She said something into her hands.

"What?"

"I work part time at a grocery store. I'm going to a Muggle College to be a teacher. If I can't be what I really want to be then I'll have to settle for second best," she mumbled more clearly.

"Why not try to get on at the Ministry?"

Hermione tilted her head and gave him the dirtiest look she could muster.

Seamus's eyes lit up with recognition. "Ah, I get it."

The silence that followed that comment was ear splitting for both of them. She couldn't think of anything to say that could make up for the fact that no one can forget what happened in her seventh year--especially not Seamus, who had caught her along with that spoilt brat, Draco Malfoy.

At that moment, even with the sunlight ricocheting off the snow and sending blinding rays of light into the small deli, Hermione noticed a man looking through the window. She couldn't see his face from the shadows but the light bounced off of his white hair, making it shimmer with the snow. The shadowed figured paused there for only a few brief seconds then rushed off as quickly as he had came.

"Excuse me," Hermione said hastily, not taking her eyes off the window. Seamus said something after her but nothing mattered...not even when she felt the icy, sharp pain of the wind streak across her exposed cheeks. She could still see the man's mane of silvery shining hair flowing behind him and she wanted to call his name as she reached out towards him. But what if he wasn't Lucius...what if he were...Her hand touched his shoulder before she had time to think and he whirled around, a grin on his pointy face.

"Draco," she said slowly, her eyes wide. The name slid off her tongue like rough sandpaper. Her fingers instantaneously went to the glass in her jeans pocket.

"Granger, you look so surprised to see me. Who else would you be looking for that gives the impression of moi?" he purred, touching her cheek lovingly. She smacked it away and stepped back. Being away from him, the fear of him lay dormant. Hermione though it had went away but it was there the whole time, just sleeping. As he stood before her, gaining even more height and muscle then she had remembered, he was much more dominating. The fear seemed to explode and flowed throughout her veins, making them colder then the snow.

"Son, we must be leaving now. Leave the peasants to their errands," a voice said above both of them. It was HIS voice. Now looking between son and father, there were a number of differences. Draco still had much of his childish cuteness still lingering in his face. His eyes were a much brighter shade of blue, so much it almost over powered the gray.

Lucius, on the other hand, look far older, with lines creased in his forehead and a few under his eyes. His face was less full then his sons and instead of a powdery pale whiteness to his skin it was darker and ominous. His eyes were completely gray with no glint of life. Yet, in spite of it all, he still stood proud, his shoulders pulled back and his lips formed into a static glower.

"Lucius," Hermione said, feeling woozy. All of these emotions were running wild within her and it was nearly driving her mad.

"Draco, I said now!" Lucius snapped, ignoring the shivering Muggle in the white tee-shirt. He turned on a heel, his cap flailing in the wind as he rushed off.

Draco smirked at the dumbfounded Hermione and tucked his gloved hands into his pockets. "I haven't forgotten you, Granger." The soft thuds of his leisurely steps were soon muffled by the screaming howls of the wind.

The wind was picking up and it felt like little knives slicing at her skin, making it red. People scattered into shops to get out of the bad weather.

"Hermione, come on. Let's go back into the deli. You left your purse and your dress," Seamus said, wrapping his warm fur collared robes around her and walking her back into the meat shop. "You should start to get ready. The grand opening will begin soon."

**

As outstanding as it was, Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes at number forty-six Hogsmeade was almost twice as large as the one at number ninety-three Diagon Alley. The twins had become so successful; they had agreed to branch out. George was going to continue taking care of the shop in Diagon Alley and Fred was happily getting to serve the one in Hogsmeade.

Though, of course, they were both there for their grand opening. When everyone first stepped in, there were invisible trip wires that triggered confetti--and maggots, worms, and frog legs. Several different colored candles burst on and rainbows of neon colors arched over the ceiling. Jokes, gags, and books were stacked shelf to shelf and there wasn't a spot that wasn't filled with merchandise.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," George said, beginning his speech, his arms wide. He was standing on top of the purchase counter in the front of the store, dressed in pin striped robes, the very same as Fred, except Fred's were white with black stripes and George's were black with white stripes.

"Welcome to the bigger and better version of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes!" claimed Fred, stepping up on the counter, interrupting George and saying about all there needed to be said.

There were at least one hundred witches and wizards packed into the building and everyone was cheering loud enough to rock the entire village of Hogsmeade all the way up to Hogwarts when Hermione walked in. She hadn't had time to get her silky purple dress so instead she bought a plainer dress though it looked more like it was meant for a funeral. The top was black with and plunged deep but there was dark gray velvet sewed into the dress to cover her breasts. It was long sleeved but the wrists managed to flair out a bit. The skirt was longer then the original dress she had intending to wear and it was covered by gray sheers, making the black under it shimmer.

The entertainment was absolutely delightful. There was a band managing to fit in the very back of the shop. Their banner claimed the name Salem's Lot, though there was no one out on the instruments yet. Tables were wrapped clear around the joke shop, filled with desserts, meats, and several kinds of cheese. One table was reserved specifically for alcohol. Butter Beer and Fire Whiskey were the favorites of the evening but Hermione caught herself ordering several Bloody Mary's as the night went on.

Harry and Ginny, Ron and Lavender--they were all there, still the same as Hermione had remembered them. Harry had continued to call her and send her pictures over the years. He even sent an invitation to her for the wedding but Hermione didn't go. At that time, she couldn't bear to face her friends who, no doubt, hadn't forgotten about her sins. Ron hadn't sent her letters but called her once last year, only talking for a few minutes before Lavender told him to get off the phone. Their conversation had been nothing but nervous laughs and a lot of 'yeas' so Hermione was kind of relieved when he had been forced to hang up.

Seamus had accompanied her into the party and instantly searched the crowd for Harry and Ron. They were standing next to Ron's twin brothers, laughing heartily as Fred whispered something to Harry, pointing towards the table with the desserts. Ron and Lavender were already nearly on the floor with their chuckles.

Hermione's feet were made of lead as Seamus drew her closer to the happy couples. She was so happy she was in a dress for once. Her knees were knocking so badly and she couldn't control them.

"HERMIONE GRANGER!" exclaimed George Weasley, coming down from the counter. The chatter from everyone seemed to die down excessively, followed by the shuffling of robes and obvious coughs. George and Fred didn't seem to notice and pushed Seamus to the side, wrapping her into a bear hug at the same time. "We knew you would come!"

Harry and Ginny were instantly upon her with hugs as well and after that her nervousness was pushed out the door and somewhere into the cold nights wind.

Salem's Lot turned out to be a band that everyone was into. People were shouting out requests and the pale looking singer would collaborate with the band. It was the most fun Hermione had had in years. Ron was still rigid with her around, but Lavender was a little warmer at least. Ginny had Hermione out on the dance floor, cutting a rug and looking very foolish but some of the older men there were whistling playfully at them.

After a few dances, everyone began eating dessert and strangely enough everyone in the party began to grow red hair. "Wanna-Be-A-Weasley Wafer's! Only two sickles for a pack of six! You've seen them here for the first time, Ladies and Gentlemen!"

Hermione couldn't stop laughing. She had forgotten how much fun being out with her old friends could be.

Hermione slow danced with Seamus and Harry both during Salem's Lot's intermissions and everything felt like it had before--before Lucius. Something inside of her, the voice that was there even before Lucius. She could hear it. 'You never wanted everything like this. You know there's more for you then Miss goody-goody Hermione Granger. Why would you settle for second best?'

After numerous drinks and fast dances later, Hermione's hair was matted to her sweaty forehead and she had to get some air. Ginny had collapsed and was asleep in Harry's lap, while he ran his hand through her wine red hair lovingly, and caressing her freckled cheeks with his other hand.

The wind had stopped outside but it was snowing lightly instead. There were a few older Wizards sitting outside Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes smoking on a pipe. They waved but said nothing as she walked past them. She knew damned well it was a stupid idea to be hot and sweaty and be walking in zero degree weather, in a dress no less, but she had been suffocating in that shop. Her walk was a bit stumbled, yes, but she wasn't wasted to the point of double vision; she had sweat most of her alcohol out from dancing.

The streets of Hogsmeade were completely empty of people when Hermione finally decided to sit down on a bench. The street lights were out also. She pulled her indi-glow watch from her purse. 3:48! How did it get so late?

As if the time controlled her body's need for sleep, Hermione seemed to get terribly tired and wanted to go home right away. Her stomach bubbled with discomfort, but before she could head home she had to tell her friends goodbye. She wasn't going to be rude this time.

Hermione could hear the band winding down and she stuck her watch back into her purse, standing up and brushing the snow off her dress that had accumulated there for who knows how long. She was just now beginning to feel the soreness of the cold as the heat from dancing and booze cleared away.

But before she could zip up her purse someone's cold hand wrapped itself around her mouth and she was pulled back over the black iron bench, dropping her watch that was quickly swallowed by the falling snow.