All Bets Are Off

Chapter 6

October (beginning) 2002

Hermione glanced at her watch and frowned. She was only an hour into this date and already it felt like forever. She smiled and nodded as Martin, the dullest man in the world, droned on and on about....shit, what was he talking about? Planes? No, trains! Ugh, he was obsessed with Muggle electric trains and wouldn't shut up about his collection.

Not once that evening had he asked anything about her or her interests. He endlessly transitioned from babbling about one train to another. She finished off her second glass of wine and moaned as Martin took a breath and continued talking.

"Are you alright?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione's head snapped up. It was the first question she had been asked that evening, aside from the waiter asking for her order.

"Um, no actually. Sorry, I'm just not feeling very well this evening. I think my fish may have been a little off."

"Or maybe it's because of how much alcohol you've had?" Martin suggested, arching his eyebrows and pursing his lips.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and debated the merits of dumping his water, with lemon, over his balding head.

"Yes, well either way, I think I'm going to call it a night and head over to the chemist's." Hermione stood, placing money on the table and her napkin on the plate. "Thank you for a very, er...an evening."

With that, she hurried out of the restaurant and up the street, to the Muggle London entrance of The Leaky Cauldron. Saying a quick hello to Neville and his fiancé, Hannah, she tapped the bricks and made her way into Diagon Alley. She was able to stop at Florean Fortescue's just before it closed for the evening. Balancing three chocolate strawberry sundaes in her hands, she continued up the cobble street to the twins' shop. She arrived just as George was flipping the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.

"You look a bit fancy for a night of bookkeeping," George commented, holding the door open and taking the sundae Hermione handed him.

"Bookkeeping was not my original plan for the evening," Hermione groused, setting a sundae next to Fred, who had his head buried in The Daily Prophet. She took a bite of her own ice cream before continuing, "Your sister is a horrible matchmaker!"

George laughed way too hard, making Hermione feel like she was being left out of something. The moment passed quickly and George asked, "I didn't even know you had a date tonight. Did you Fred?"

"No," Fred mumbled from behind the paper.

"It was a last minute set up," Hermione said, kicking off her heels. "I was promised a lovely evening, with a charming wizard named Martin. I didn't realize her idea of charming was a man that counted how many drinks a girl had with her meal. Which was two, by the way! Who gets their Y-fronts in a twist over two glasses of wine?"

Fred snorted. "If he wasn't already married, I'd guess you went on a date with Percy," he laughed, finally taking a bite of his sundae.

"Go easy on Percy. He's loosened up quite a bit since he got married," Hermione defended.

"So, your date took a nosedive and we're Plan B?" George questioned.

"I quite like this outfit.and wanted to get a bit more wear out of it," Hermione said remorsefully, looking down at her white pants and turquoise peasant top. "Wanted to show it off to people who might actually appreciate it."

"You look cute," George acknowledged. "Even the thickest bloke could see that."

"Unless I had a gigantic picture of a train over my boobs, any effort was going to be lost on that one," Hermione sighed. She watched while Fred continued to lose himself in the paper, as she slowly finished her dessert.