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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After	By : ElizabethStump Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 90306 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
"And They Didn't Live Happily Ever After"
Chapter Six
"News Flash"
Disclaimer: Rowling owns all the characters and the canon. I own the plot and the fanon.
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Hermione's mouth went slack with disbelief. It was just like Ginny described it. Lavender Brown had magically appeared while she was in the midst of wallowing in pity and despair.

Ignoring Hermione's gob-smacked expression, the blond witch slid into the booth across from her old schoolmate like the Queen sitting down for tea.

Hermione’s brow furrowed while her mind whirred, and the frazzled brunette wondered why Lavender had chosen that very moment to come back into her life.

Lavender, looking all too relaxed and well dressed for the establishment they were in, raised one hand in casual elegance and said, "Bottle of your finest and two glasses, please."

The barkeep, recognizing the cosmetic empire empress – and a very large tip on the way – scuttled to the back room and brought out a bottle of aged Calvados and two new, relatively clean snifters.

The barkeep, a balding man with a large potbelly and a slightly spotty apron, bowed repeatedly as he retreated to the bar after placing the bottle and glasses on the table. Hermione looked at him in horror; his smile was one of the examples her parents used to scare children into brushing their teeth every night before bed.

"So, how is married life treating you?" The richly dressed witch wiped the tip of her finger against the snifter, and frowned as she studied the dirt that appeared on her glove.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. It was all too suspicious for her liking. She hadn’t seen her schoolmate since graduating Hogwarts and when she was on the verge of crisis with her friends and husband, the blond just happened to saunter into the picture.

"I know what you did to Ginny," she replied, not bothering to hide her disgust.

"Ginny was not forced into anything. She chose to do what she did. She was already miserable when I met her, or hadn't you – as her friend – noticed at the time?"

Hermione thought back and tried to piece together any changes in Ginny's behavior between the time lines; before Malfoy and after Malfoy. Ginny did say that she hid her reservations about marrying Harry because everyone was too thrilled with the idea. And she had been, as well. The whole package of Harry, Ginny, Ron and herself living happily ever after in a Voldemort-free world, except in reality it was anything but hunky-dory. She had to admit to herself that Ginny was far better at hiding her emotions than she gave the younger witch credit for. Hermione shook the cobwebs from her muddled mind and got back to the matter at hand.

"How is it you know just when to show up? Just like that? I haven’t seen you for… years, and now, poof! Here you are in this–" here she paused to glance around at her surroundings, realizing she had picked the bar because it would be cheap, "– rat-hole of a dive, asking me how my marriage is. Ginny told me when you popped into her life. Is this how it works? Find women who are at the brink of emotional destruction and 'save' them?"

Lavender smiled at her in a reassuring way that was most unsettling to Hermione as she removed her gloves. "You were brilliant in every subject at school except flying and divination." Hermione snorted angrily, but the other witch ignored her and continued, "Though Trelawney was right only once in a great long while, she was correct in sensing my inner-eye."

Hermione rolled her eyes, unable to stomach the tripe she was sure Lavender was going to go on about, regarding the so-called “fine art” of Divination.

Lavender pulled the cork from the Calvados and poured a small measure into both bulbous glasses. "It might not be an inner-eye in the sense you know. I tend to think of it as an extraordinarily large amount of woman's intuition."

Hermione huffed at Lavender's self-assessment of fortune telling.

"No, it's not tarot cards or tea leaves, but a sense one has. Much like when a mother knows when something is wrong with her child when they are apart, or a wife's knowledge that her husband had been severely injured when he's miles away. It's that intuition that both Muggles and witches posses. I have just learned to tune into it, listen to it when someone is upset. If I could see auras, I'm sure yours would be a mixture of gray and sulfur. You're upset and in pain."

Hermione looked at her and understood what she was talking about. She had similar experiences with her mother. Whenever something bad had happened with Voldemort or the Death Eaters, she would receive an owl from her mother asking if everything was all right. She never understood how her mother knew to owl her at those particular moments, but with Lavender's explanation, it made sense.

"I don't know how to say it, but it calls to me. Did you ever wonder how I learned about all the awful news at school? I was drawn to it, and in my youthful stupidity, gossiped about. Since then I've learned discretion."

"Now what? Do I tell you what's wrong with my life and you set me up with a man to shag me and make me forget about how miserable my life is for a night?" Hermione asked bitterly.

"If that's what you want, then yes. But I have a feeling you're more of a talker. You need to get things off your chest, verbally analyze what's bothering you. I can provide a non-judgmental man, who will listen and provide a shoulder to cry on," Lavender answered with ease, while her manicured hand flicked off an invisible piece of lint off her linen robes with a sophisticated grace that Hermione envied.

Hermione mulled it over in her mind. If she had not had the day she had had with Ginny and her husband, she would have balked at the idea of paying someone to listen to her. However, after what Ginny told her, and after facing the harsh realities of her own marriage to Ron, it was a tempting offer.

"Why?"

Lavender looked at her with puzzlement.

"Why do–" she waved her hand, unable to say the words that added such a prurient nature to the situation, “–what you do? You have all this money and yet you dabble in this… trade. It seems beneath you."

Lavender laughed lightly at Hermione's naiveté. "The courtesans of the old days were not beneath kings and princes, except in the bedroom. Unless she was on top," she added glibly. "They provided companionship and sex. In a way, that is what marriage is. Except many witches and wizards marry and quickly forget why they wanted to get married. Their friendship falls by the way side lost in the quagmire of day-to-day life. I just help some people rediscover what they have thought lost. Some witches go back to their husbands with renewed vigor, once they remember that sex is fun and how to have a real conversation. Some wizards just need a little appreciation of their company. There are a few who like the thrill of cheating on their spouse, but some go back to their husband or wife with a greater appreciation of them, and never visit my business again."

The weary witch couldn't believe it, but it all made sense to her at the time. Perhaps she would regret it in the morning, but somehow, she found herself asking, "So how much would an evening with a sympathetic ear cost me?"

If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn Lavender's smile turned predatory. Perhaps it was the Calvados, which tasted so good and mellowed her nerves, or maybe she was just exhausted and imagined it.

"I work on a sliding scale. Those that can afford more, pay more. Those who do not have as much to spare," she said, her eyes sliding over Hermione's less than fashionable outfit, "pay less."

Hermione sat up in her seat and tried to look proud despite her slightly worn robes and slightly wild hair that began to escape its braided confines.

A smirk played at the corner of the madam's lips. "What were you willing to spend tonight in drinks?"

Hermione looked in her pocketbook. She had planned to spend every Knut she had that night or drink until she was too drunk to order another round. "Ten galleons."

"I'll cut you a deal. Since this is your first time, I'll charge you seven. If you like it and you come back, I'll charge you ten the next time."

Options weighed in her minds. Should she turn down Lavender's offer and get arseholed (along with that was the possibility that she would likely do something really stupid like the last time she got unbelievably drunk), or spend the money to have someone listen to her have a good cry.

That one time she got completely bladdered after her N.E.W.T.s had been rather embarrassing. She didn’t think making front page of the Daily Prophet with headlines blaring "Head Girl Bares Her Soul and More!" bore repeating. The accompanying picture had her prancing about with no top, her hands cupping her breasts singing, "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts." The little black bars over her nipples barely covered her in the photo and left little to the imagination.

At least if she paid some man for a little comfort, Ron wouldn’t have to read about it in the morning paper.

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A/N: Calvados is a fine apple brandy from France. Pronunciations vary. Americans say CAL-va-dos, where as my French speaking friends say it is pronounced cal-VA-dos.
Aura colors: Gray: dark thoughts, depressing thoughts, unclear intentions, presence of a dark side of personality. Sulfur (color of a mustard): pain or lack of ease, anger
According to effingpot.com, "arseholed" means getting drunk. So you fellow Americans, is does not mean she got mean, just really, really drunk.
“I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts”: composed in 1944 (as "I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Cocoanuts") by Fred Heatherton, a songwriting pseudonym for a collaboration of English songwriters Harold Elton Box, Desmond Cox and Lewis Ilda. Published by Box and Cox Publications(ASCAP).
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And They Didn\'t Live Happily Ever After