Hermione, You Smoke?!!!

"Hermione! You smoke?!!!!"

You can really count the exclamation marks and the question marks on sentences like that, even when someone's only talking, not writing it down. For some reason, people just cannot get over the fact that yes, I do smoke. I've been smoking for two years now. And still, everytime someone sees me holding a lit cigarette, they have to ask me that question.

First it was Harry and Ron. Well, just Harry actually, since it took Ron a while to understand what a 'cigarette' was, and exactly why it was wrong for his girlfriend to 'smoke' it. But once he did understand, he was obsessed with making me stop. I don't know whether I'm proud of his ability to nag, or just jealous that he has surpassed me. Anyhow, I don't exactly like being told why I shouldn't 'kill myself' - especially when cancer is a very mild and rather treatable condition in the wizarding world. It's just all hypocrisy, really.

My two best friends are yet to get over the fact that I smoke. That I actually started smoking during the war, when I was on the run with the two of them. That they never realised that I smoked when I was on the run with them.

"Why didn't you tell us?????" And exactly how was I supposed to bring that up? Hey guys, do you think we should try destroying the Horcrux with a cigarette? I've got plenty of those... Oh yeah, I smoke, didn't you know?

"Was it because of the war??? Because you were under so much pressure???" Pressure? What pressure, Harry? Oh, you mean the war! I always thought you thought it was a holiday...

"It's not a good habit you know..." And slurping the last of your milkshake loudly in a crowded restaurant is, isn't it? [And yes, you can count the dots too...]

"It can kill you!!!!!" Not unless I set myself on fire with the lit end, and forget to use my wand to douse it out, you idiot!

I hate free moral advice from people - especially when they don't really know what they're talking about.

And I love, in equal measure, the giddy feeling I get when the tobacco enters my lungs and through whatever anatomic pipes are available inside my body, hit that sweet spot in my head directly. I'm not one for vices, really, but I do believe in trying everything out at least once. And by that rule, with some help from my Muggle friends, I've tried many types of alcohol and even some weed. But none of it has ever made me feel the way a cigarette does. Hell, chocolate pudding doesn't make me feel the way a cigarette does!

But why should people care about that? All they care is that poor, dear Hermione Granger, who was always top of her class, is now walking down the 'wrong' path. Oh, what worries she must have! Oh, how difficult her life must be! Oh, how sad her parents would be!

"Granger, you smoke." I snapped out of my reverie. It was Draco Malfoy, standing with a smirk on his face. We are both trainees at St Mungo's and for some reason, he was standing next to me on the lane near the hospital. And seeing the look on his face, I lost it. Not only was I getting free advice from the entire world, I was also getting it from a damned fool who had given himself over willingly to the Dark Lord!

"Granger..."

"Yes, I smoke! Do you have a problem with that? Why does everyone - EVERYONE - believe it's their job to tell me what I should or shouldn't do? Why do you care if I smoke? What business is it of yours? I'm training to be a HEALER for crying out loud! You'd think I'd know if it was not good for my health..."

He lifted his wand.

"Hey, you can't hex me for smoking! I -"

"Shut it Granger. Aguamenti."

And a jet of water poured out of his wand onto the side of my robes. I looked down at where the water had hit - at the area of cloth near my lit cigarette.

"Oh."

Draco Malfoy snorted. And I turned red.

It was, after all, possible for me to set myself on fire and forget to use my wand. Oh well...