(no subject)
Who: Hermione Granger
Where: The Silver Star
When: 14 January, 2002
Status: Complete
Hermione curled her hand around a pint glass with a rather large thumb print that was on the outside. The only way she knew it was on the outside was the fact that part of the spiral in the middle of the pattern smeared when she touched it. The lager inside was mostly flat and completely unappetising, but she took a large gulp and her red lips left a mark on the lip of the glass.
She wasn't drunk. She didn't have plans to get drunk.
Instead, clad in a heavy dose of polyjuice, Hermione decided to leave the house in Canterbury and go to Ipswich to spend time outside of her own life, thoughts and heartache. Anne was easy to lose herself in. She had no worries, no boyfriend who utterly hated her and distrusted her, and absolutely no responsibilities.
Anne was the opposite of Hermione.
She could smell the drunk before he even sat down beside her. It wasn't that he was visibly filthy, but more he gave off the air of something rough and tumble. Something Anne might go for if Hermione was trying to entice someone away for questioning. He was the kind of person that Death Eater had been.
"Eh Luv," he said, leaning on the table. "You're a right looker. Me an' the blokes have had the horn for you all evenin'"
Hermione didn't look at him. Anne would have, had she been playing the game, given him a coy look just out of the corner of her eye. Not once did Hermione consider that it might be odd for her to think in terms how her persona would react in certain situations. It seemed to come more naturally. Almost too naturally.
Shifting in her seat, Hermione crossed one long leg over the other. Her skirt rode a tiny bit higher and the lace detailing of the very tops of her stockings peeked out from under the hem. Without even paying attention she could tell he was looking at her leg.
She jumped, uncharacteristically for Anne, when his hand slid over her knee. Far too brazen.
But it was her reaction next that scared her. She didn't even know how the knife got from her sleeve into her hand, but suddenly there it was and it was pressing to his groin, not enough to seriously injure him, but enough to show that she had the potential to do so.
"Keep your filthy hands off me!"
He jumped back from her, nearly falling off the rickety stool. "Oh you're a cock-tease, aren't you?! Fecking cow," he said, spittle flying off his lips and hitting her knee. He spun around and stormed off, rejoined his chortling friends.
Suddenly Hermione had to leave. The knife fell from her hand as she fled the ugly pub, apparating once she was far enough away. Why had she come here? For some sort of thrill? She had absolutely no idea and it was so out of character for her. Wasn't it? Hermione looked at the blood red fingernails and the wisps of blonde hair swaying about her face.
When was it that she'd lost herself?
The same time you lost Ron, said a sneering voice in her head.
Where: The Silver Star
When: 14 January, 2002
Status: Complete
Hermione curled her hand around a pint glass with a rather large thumb print that was on the outside. The only way she knew it was on the outside was the fact that part of the spiral in the middle of the pattern smeared when she touched it. The lager inside was mostly flat and completely unappetising, but she took a large gulp and her red lips left a mark on the lip of the glass.
She wasn't drunk. She didn't have plans to get drunk.
Instead, clad in a heavy dose of polyjuice, Hermione decided to leave the house in Canterbury and go to Ipswich to spend time outside of her own life, thoughts and heartache. Anne was easy to lose herself in. She had no worries, no boyfriend who utterly hated her and distrusted her, and absolutely no responsibilities.
Anne was the opposite of Hermione.
She could smell the drunk before he even sat down beside her. It wasn't that he was visibly filthy, but more he gave off the air of something rough and tumble. Something Anne might go for if Hermione was trying to entice someone away for questioning. He was the kind of person that Death Eater had been.
"Eh Luv," he said, leaning on the table. "You're a right looker. Me an' the blokes have had the horn for you all evenin'"
Hermione didn't look at him. Anne would have, had she been playing the game, given him a coy look just out of the corner of her eye. Not once did Hermione consider that it might be odd for her to think in terms how her persona would react in certain situations. It seemed to come more naturally. Almost too naturally.
Shifting in her seat, Hermione crossed one long leg over the other. Her skirt rode a tiny bit higher and the lace detailing of the very tops of her stockings peeked out from under the hem. Without even paying attention she could tell he was looking at her leg.
She jumped, uncharacteristically for Anne, when his hand slid over her knee. Far too brazen.
But it was her reaction next that scared her. She didn't even know how the knife got from her sleeve into her hand, but suddenly there it was and it was pressing to his groin, not enough to seriously injure him, but enough to show that she had the potential to do so.
"Keep your filthy hands off me!"
He jumped back from her, nearly falling off the rickety stool. "Oh you're a cock-tease, aren't you?! Fecking cow," he said, spittle flying off his lips and hitting her knee. He spun around and stormed off, rejoined his chortling friends.
Suddenly Hermione had to leave. The knife fell from her hand as she fled the ugly pub, apparating once she was far enough away. Why had she come here? For some sort of thrill? She had absolutely no idea and it was so out of character for her. Wasn't it? Hermione looked at the blood red fingernails and the wisps of blonde hair swaying about her face.
When was it that she'd lost herself?
The same time you lost Ron, said a sneering voice in her head.