Summary: A story that follows the lives of a few select Hogwarts students after they've graduated and started their lives in the outside world, and how they're all brought together.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea.
Twenty pounds, a pack of cigarettes, and a ticket to Star Wars.
It's crazy to think that the people you bump into on the street, apologize to, and leave it at that are people you'll never see again in your life. You stop, ask someone for directions, they're perfectly courteous and tell you very nicely presicely where to go, and then you'll never see them again. If you do, it's not like you'll notice. You won't be thinking "Oh, hey, there's that guy who told me how to get to that place..." No. That doesn't happen.
I bumped into a kid on the street on my way home one day. He fell over. I helped him up. His eyes were so piercing, it scared the shit out of me. It was like something out of a book. I thought maybe he was an assasin, and there was some new type of wizard that could kill you with their eyes.
I hadn't been in the wizarding world for several years, so I wouldn't know.
I was a gynecologist.
And no, it wasn't because I had a fetish for women's vaginas.
You might think of it as somewhat of an oxymoron that I'm a doctor that smokes. But what can I say, my life was shit.
So I lived in a nice flat in London, and I had a fair amount of money, but I was alone. Fucking alone. And I'd rather be dirt poor than bloody alone. All the stupid women that I saw had boyfriends and fiancees and girlfriends and husbands and partners and that's why they needed me to check them out. To make sure the baby was doing fine. To make sure they didn't get an infection from their promiscuous boyfriend or their girlfriend's strap-on.
God damn, sometimes I just wanted to kill myself.
Not that I ever would actually go through with it. I'm too much of a pussy. No pun intended.
Then she came to visit.
It's funny how sometimes everything comes together.
Ron Weasley lived in a shitty little flat with his wife, Hermione Granger. She kept her last name. He worked in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic, and was currently participating in some undisclosed research that kept him until the wee hours of the morning and paid a shitload of money. Well, this specific project did. Normally Ron got paid a decent amount of money, but he obviously didn't like to spend it. He didn't want to end up like his parents, nor did he want his kids to live a life like he did- just incase they had a mini-Malfoy in one of their classes.
So when one day he finally had a kid (which felt like never at this point) this kid would live in a nice big house and have nice clothes that weren't hand-me-downs from his cousins, or something.
It was three-o-clock in the morning. He had gotten home early. He dropped his keys on the kitchen counter, along with his briefcase. As he entered the one and only bedroom he ripped off his tie, kicked off his shoes, and fell onto the bed. He thought she was asleep.
"How was work?"
She never was.
"Fine," he responded, his throat scratchy from being up for too long.
She rolled over and rested her head on her palm. "It's always fine."
"I'm so fucking tired."
She lay her head on his chest and he wrapped and arm around her. They fell asleep.
Hermione woke up the next morning with the imprint of a button carved into her temple. Her alarm was moaning at seven-o-clock, as usual. She whacked it with her fist and hoped that it didn't wake up Ron. She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, and got into her uniform. She was a waitress at a restaurant across town. It was a nice restaurant, but she had the shitty hours. The morning and middle of the day. Who came there in the morning and middle of the day? No one.
She used to have a job at the Ministry. She was a secretary. But she quit. She claimed she needed a break. She had her own reasons.
The restaurant had been doing very well in terms of organization and lack of accidents and errors in the food and cooking ever since Hermoine had arrived. Still no one knew she was a witch. But then again, everytime something goes right you don't exactly assume it's witchcraft, do you?
"Hey," Hermione greeted fifteen minutes after she entered her cab that morning. There were more people in the restaurant than usual. It was becoming more popular. Hermoine liked to thank herself for that.
"Hi," her friend Sienna greeted. Sienna had no idea Hermione was a witch. Sienna was one of Hermione's only friends. "It's so much more crowded today."
"Why do you say that with a glum face?" Hermione questioned.
"Because... I'm so bloody tired," Sienna admitted.
Hermione shrugged. She couldn't care if she got money. She walked into the kitchen to find her manager and figure out her job for the day. Louis, a chef, grabbed her arm.
"I heard there was a celebrity here," he said, his eyes glittering.
"A celebrity?" Hermione was skeptical.
She hoped it was Orlando Bloom.
Draco Malfoy hated the fact that he was 33 years old and still living with Blaise Zabini (A/N: I have no idea who that is, but everyone uses him in their stories). Even he had a girlfriend. Draco was supposed to be a sex God. Not a girl repeller. So that was why he was moving. He was moving to New York City. To a whole new country. To a whole new life. Or so he hoped.
He had just gotten home from speed dating. He was very ashamed of himself. He wasn't used to going this long without sex.
Speaking of which.
Thump, thump, thump.
Blaise's room was occupied. As usual.
"Shit," Draco grumbled and threw himself on the musty and ripping couch.
Why was his furniture so crappy?
There was some leftover Chinese takeout sitting on the coffee table. He helped himself to some of it. It was cold.
Thump, thump, thump.
"Oh my God," Draco moaned to himself. He fell back against the couch and smothered his face with a pillow, trying to block out the sound. It didn't work.
He threw the pillow onto the ground. It landed with a cloud of dust. He shuffled into his bedroom and into his bed without changing or brushing his teeth or pissing.
Blaise's sex toy moaned through the thin wall.
"Jesus Christ," Draco breathed. He willingly let the jealousy cascade over him. It wasn't worth smothering. Because it was there and very prominent.
Then he remembered it was the middle of the day and got up again and opened the blinds.
"Hello, my name is Hermione, and what can I get for you today?" Hermoine looked up and let out an uncontrollable gasp.
"Hermione?" the customer said breathlessly. "Hermione Granger?"
Ginny Weasley hopped out of her chair and embraced her old friend warmly. After graduating from Hogwarts, Ginny pursued an acting career and soon became a successful and well-known celebrity. She resided in Beverly Hills, California, and never came to visit her family and friends back in England. So this was a great surprise.
"Oh my God, Ginny, what are you doing here?" This must have been the celebrity Louis was referring to.
A bit better than Orlando Bloom.
Ginny sighed dramatically. "Well, you know, I really haven't seen anyone in forever. I thought maybe I should come and visit you guys." She paused. "I'm really sorry. That I haven't been here in a while. I'm sorry."
Hermione smiled. "It's okay." It wasn't. "I'm just really happy to see you again." She was.
They hugged again. Then Hermione took her order and returned to the kitchen to tell Louis who the celebrity was. And then she called Ron. (They both had cellphones. For communacative purposes. Obviously).
"Ron? You'll never guess who's here!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly into the phone.
"Ginny," Ron guessed, certain with himself that was the complete wrong answer. Hermione had just woken him up.
"What? How did you know? Did she tell you-?"
"GINNY'S HERE?" Ron screamed. "Holy crap! What? No way; you're lying."
"No, I swear! And everyone's all "Whoa, it's a celebrity", but it's weird because I know her."
Ron laughed at the other end. They spoke for a few more moments before hanging up. When Hermione gave Ginny her food, they made a plan to meet later for dinner. Hermione was shaking with excitement and shock from the appearance of her friend. She couldn't help but wonder why she was really there.
A/N: When I talked about the jealousy and how it was prominent, I was not referring to a penis. Or a boner. Everyone (meaning all my friends) think that everything I write is a sexual innuendo. Well, this wasn't. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the story. The first chapter of everything I write always sucks, but I'm just mainly giving background information. Please review! I'll give you a six back of Budweiser. And if you're underage, I'll give you some really good sparkling cider. :)