Warnings: Alcoholism – lots of alcohol consumption. Adult situations including: sex, drugs, curse words and violence. You’ve been warned.
Authors Note: Since this is only the prologue – I’m introducing the main characters of the story. However, the later chapters will feature more of Harry & Hermione’s situation than anything else. This chapter is relatively light.
***
Prologue
When Harry found Hermione sprawled out on the bedroom floor of her flat in London, he had never knew about her underlying problems, as she was a rather secretive individual when it came to her more darker feelings. He hadn’t known of her “illness,” as the two would later come to call it – and he didn’t expect to step on the broken shards of a bottle of Odgen’s Old Fire Whiskey either on his entrance.
When he initially entered the flat, he immediately knew something was wrong because the place was in a state of disarray: scattered clothing about the front room, uneaten Chinese food on the kitchen counter and work documents randomly placed on the floor and furniture. As he walked through the hallway, he glanced in every room for Hermione, a horrid feeling of worry panging in his chest.
He wasn’t sure if someone had broke in and robbed the place, or if she was even there, if she was even okay…
Her bedroom door was shut. He gulped. He was scared, scared for her. Holding out a hand reluctantly, the bravery that was always such an attribute of Harry erupted, and he pushed the door open.
The scene before him was a bit of a shocker, and reasonably so. Hermione was lying naked in the middle of the room, a sheet covered over the lower half of her body, and she was positioned on her side. An arm partially covered her breasts and her frizzy hair framed her pale face. Her lips were parted and drool was rolling down her cheek. Near an outstretched palm lay another bottle of Odgen’s Old Fire Whiskey, and the contents seemed to be dried up of; some of the liquid stained the cream colored carpet.
Sweeping his cloak to the side he knelt down beside her, running an index finger lightly over her cheek, his breath shuddering. The cheek was still warm – she was only passed out. Sighing in relief, he pulled the sheet up and over her chest placing one hand on her arm shoulder and shaking her gently.
“Hermione,” he whispered, “Wake up Hermione.”
He pulled away his hand as her eyelids fluttered, and what were once warm brown eyes – now only cold shadows of them – stared up at him.
Hermione looked confused, and she sat upwards, the sheet falling away from her as her upper body was exposed. He looked away. She wiped at the drool on the side of her lips and looked at him almost like a confused child.
“Oh,” was her only response as she pulled the sheet up to cover her chest.
“Hermione…what happened?” He asked, clearly concerned. She shot him a resentful look and turned her face away from him, staring at the floor.
She opened her mouth to speak but then shut it.
“C’mon ‘Mione, what went on here?” he tested gently, and she looked at him with an ashamed expression.
“I was sleeping, that’s all,” she lied rather poorly, and he shook his head as he allowed himself to stand on his feet.
“Did you throw a gathering last night?”
“No.”
“Ah…well, you didn’t come to work this morning so I came to check on you,” Harry sighed, “I was worried.”
“I’m sorry, my alarm clock must not of went off.”
Harry stared at her with a look of skepticism, “You don’t have an alarm clock.”
She opened her mouth in a small ‘o’ and lay back down on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Harry knew what the matter with her was. She was clearly drunken, and there was evidence enough to determine that. He’d never seen Hermione even go near any type of alcohol, and it troubled him. Feeling weary, he sat down on the edge of her four-post bed, fidgeting a bit as his radiant green eyes watched her. She had her arm extended towards the ceiling, tracing patterns in the air.
“I think maybe you should try to get up,” he said apprehensively. Hermione only glanced at him before turning back over on her side, giving him a clear view of her bare back.
To say the least, it startled him. He could see her spine clearly, as if the skin was stretched over her too tightly, she was extremely thin. The thought only occurred to him earlier for a brief moment as he entered the room, when he got a good view of her stomach.
Now it gave him a feeling of extreme fretfulness. He decided to keep his feelings on her fragility to himself for now. His thoughts were brought to a halt as her shoulders began to shake, and a sob emitted clearly from her throat. Hermione was crying, and trembling all over her.
He immediately dropped to the floor, timidly placing a hand on her shoulder. She let out another sob and Harry felt helpless.
“God Harry, I feel so stupid,” she choked out, curling up into a ball. His eyes softened and he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t think clearly at this point.
“You’re not stupid,” was all he could say. She turned and looked at him with glazed, red eyes, tears streaming idly down her cheeks. His heart broke at that moment.
“Yes I am,” Hermione said, “I’m so stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID!”
He recoiled, looking at her with wide eyes for a second. His back leant against the bed, and he swallowed.
“I need to get in the shower,” she declared acidly before standing up, holding the sheet around her like a loose gown. “I’ll Floo you later, see yourself out.”
Feeling the air suddenly go cold, Harry merely nodded. Hermione had never been so icy, but he figured it was just the alcohol. He watched as she stumbled across the room, slamming open the door to the master bath.
“Alright…you going to be alright, ‘Mione?”
Her head peeked out from the door and she narrowed her glassy eyes. “I’ll be fine, now go.”
He put one of his hands in the pocket while he ran the other through his messy, unruly black hair. “Okay, okay. I’ll-”
“Please GO already!” she yelled out, her face turning red. He stiffened and waved a hand before exiting.
He could hear her sobs resounding from the bathroom as he disapparated from the flat.
***
“Bloody good game that was,” Ronald Weasley concluded, pulling out a chair from the kitchen table before plopping down. Harry only nodded with a small smile, which resembled more of a grimace.
“Would’ve liked it better had the Canons won,” Harry said pointedly.
“Still, it was damn well exciting,” Ron responded with fervor.
The
“Ronald! You were supposed to go on a date with Freda today!” she bellowed. Ron shot Harry a look of fright that one only got from a little sister.
Harry only watched bemusedly. For the past three weeks or so, Ginny, Ron’s younger sister had been setting up lunch dates for the single red headed banker, who had taken up a job at Gringotts recently.
“I forgot Gin,” he whistled innocently, looking heavenward.
“That’s a bunch of rubbish,” she snapped, “She owled me just now and was positively distraught! She hates being stood up.”
“And that’s my problem how?” Ron glared, sitting up straight as his arms crossed against his chest.
“It is now,
because I rescheduled it for tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be meeting her at Madam
Puddifoot’s.
Ron stood up and slammed his palms onto the table top, “Absolutely not! I refuse to go to that…that…revoltingly frilly tea shop! That’s where couples go-”
“Which is exactly why you’ll be going to Madam Puddifoot’s, because it’s where couples go,” Ginny looked wound up. “Listen Ron, Freda is a lovely girl-”
“Maybe you should stop worrying about my love life and look at yours. You haven’t had a boyfriend since Hogwarts,” Ron snapped bitterly.
Ginny looked taken aback. Her lips pursed and she turned away from him, her long mane of hair sweeping behind her.
“Oh Ginny, I know that was uncalled for-”
“Then why did you SAY it?” she asked loudly, whipping around to face him once more. Suffice it to say she looked tremendously livid.
“I want you to leave me alone – just for once – with all this chuff!”
Ginny looked at Harry about to ask for advice when he raised a hand to silence her. “I’m not getting into this.”
“But Harry, even you know Ron needs a girl-”
Harry shook his head, “Maybe it just isn’t the right time for him.”
Ginny sighed sadly. “I’ll cancel the tea-appointment then.”
“Thank you,” Ron forced a smile. She stuck her tongue out at him and left the kitchen.
“What is it with girls and love? Bunch of bloody grot it is.”
“No clue,” Harry smiled amusedly.
“By the way, did you hear from Hermione today?”
“Actually, I visited her before I went to the Quidditch game with you,” Harry said.
“How is she?”
“She’s-” Harry paused. Did he want to tell Ron? “She’s fine; took the day off to run some errands.”
Ron tilted his head. “Think I’ll go Floo the girl.”
The two stood up from the table as Harry followed Ron into the living area of the Burrow. The room was a cozy, country styled nook with couches, a rocking chair and several pillows lining the sofas. On the walls were pictures and sentimental drawings, things of the like. Ron lit the fire before throwing some Floo powder into the grate. In turn the flames turned a shade of brilliant green, and Ron whispered Hermione’s name.
The duo waited for a few moments before Hermione’s head appeared in the fire. Her bushy hair was slopped into a messy bun and a quill was between her lips. Harry thought she looked well now.
“Ay-up ‘Mione,” Ron grinned toothily. Hermione’s lips twitched at the side but she allowed a smile back.
She took the quill away from her lips and responded, “Need something?”
“Now do I always need a reason to Floo my favorite Hermione?” Ron inquired slyly.
“Of course not.”
“Something got you down?” He asked concernedly; she shook her head.
“No. I’m feeling a bit worn out though. I’ve so much to do before the morning,” she looked down for a moment. “Lots of document work.”
“Poor ‘Mione,” Ron said, shaking his head sadly. “You’ve got to come over Saturday though, Mum’s gonna be cooking a big dinner.”
“I’ll try,” she laughed softly. Her eyes flashed to Harry who was sitting still and quiet. “Hullo Harry.”
“Hey there,” he responded meagerly. Ron turned to give Harry a confused look.
Ron looked to have an epiphany for a moment, and his blue eyes lit up glowingly. He put his fingers on his chin and looked back and forth at them thoughtfully for a moment. He resembled Sherlock Holmes.
“You two had a row, didn’t you?”
“Ron! Of course not,” Hermione laughed nervously. Ron looked back at Harry.
“We didn’t. I’m not feeling talkative at the moment is all.”
“Oi, you two are hiding something. But that was sufficient enough to calm my curiosity.”
Shortly afterwards Hermione excused herself, claiming she needed to get all of her work done.
“I really hope she shows up this time,” Ron broke the silence that had rounded about when the Floo conversation ended. “She didn’t show up the last couple of times.”
“She said she had work to do so I believe her,” Harry supposed.
Setting down on a sofa chair, Harry propped his feet up on a footrest before him. He rubbed at his temples, thinking about Hermione and the little incident earlier. He couldn’t get it out of his mind – it was driving him mad. It wasn’t like her to act as she was lately. He knew her well enough to conclude that.
Ron had exited the room to go make some tea. Left alone, Harry maneuvered himself around until he was comfortable, removing his glasses. Immediately his vision was blurry, but a scratch in one of the lenses had been irritating him for quite some time.
“Oculus Reparo,” he murmured, feeling a rush of memories surge through him. The lens was mended and he once again adorned the spectacles.
Hearing a large clatter in the kitchen, he shot up from the chair and into the other room. Harry stifled laughter as he watched the scene before him. Ron was on his back, a plate shattered on the floor, and a thin blonde woman stood before him, staring eerily with wide blue eyes.
“Oi, Luna, you scared me!” Ron growled. He sat up, using his arms as leverage to keep propped upwards.
“Silly Ronald,” Luna shook her head.
“Don’t call me that,” he shot up at her, a vein in his forehead twitching.
“Why Ronald?” she asked before tilting her head to the side. “It’s such a lovely name-”
“-That only my mother can call me.”
Harry stepped over, helping Ron up to his feet. Ron gave Luna a sour look.
“Reparo,” Ron mumbled, and the plate’s pieces came together again.
Harry turned his attention to Luna, aka Loony Lovegood. She was a woman of twenty-three, tall and skinny. Her stringy dirty blonde hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulder some. Her eyes were quite protuberant – a shade of bright blue. He lightly noted her clothing wasn’t as extravagantly original today, she only wore dark red robes and a yellow turtleneck.
“How are you Luna?” he questioned. She turned her head towards him, the same dreamy look she always had even in school etched upon her features.
She smiled. “Oh I’m fine Harry. I was just taking a stroll when I remembered Ronald lived nearby.”
“What a crock of shit. You didn’t remember, you’ve always known I was here.”
“Ronald I do have a bad memory…but I could never forget anything that concerned you.”
He gave her a distressed look and mumbled something like “…needs to be put in a loony bin…” before setting the plate he held in his hand onto the counter. Turning his back to the counter he placed his hands in his pockets, crossing his legs at the ankle.
“You look very pretty today Ronald,” Luna concluded with an expression unchanged.
He stared at her as if she were mad. “Pretty? P-pretty? That’s something you say to a girl - and I look rather ruddy today-”
It was almost true. Ron was wearing a plain gray t-shirt with a pair of faded khakis, which looked to be at least two years old.
“Oh Ronald…marry me! You’re beautiful!” Harry said mockingly. Ron glared daggers at him and Harry laughed amusedly.
Luna let out a very loud and obnoxious laugh, ending it with a snort. She had the tendency to…over-exert her chuckles. Ron gazed at her perturbed; Harry slunk against the opposite wall and yawned casually.
Ron sighed. “It wasn’t that funny Luna.”
“It was so! You two are so hilarious!”
“Was that Luna I heard?” Ginny sung out, entering the kitchen. The atmosphere immediately changed to one of relief.
“Hello Ginny Molly!” Luna smiled.
“Please just call me Gin,” Ginny interjected.
“Sorry Ginny Molly!”
Ginny was the only one ever to tolerate Luna besides Harry. Luna was Ginny’s long standing best friend and so she had learned over the years to ignore Luna’s offhand behavior. The vivid red headed Weasley only smiled kindly.
“Lets get away from these two priggishly mean boys. We can go search for something for you to write an article about in The Quibbler,” Ginny said persuasively.
“That sounds fabulous Ginny Molly!”
Ron sighed gratefully as the two stalked up the stairs. “Women,” was all he could say.
Harry couldn’t help but think the same thing.
***
