Disclaimer: Belongs to JK Rowling

Fighting Fate



She had spent so long fighting it, denying it with every thought that raced through her. It all proved useless in the end, it seemed they were the ones she was supposed to be with. Hermione had tried relationships with other men, even one memorable, but disastrous attempt with a female colleague. They hadn't even come close to comparing to the feelings those two managed to brew within her. All at once they made her want to scream with frustration, laugh with pure joy, and the feeling of safety, of protection they gave her. She knew nothing could possibly hurt her when they were around. They just wouldn't allow it. There was something else, something that run under the surface, that scared her more than anything ever had.

She didn't want to rock the boat, everything in her life was running so smoothly. What she felt, it was just something that couldn't be actualised. A relationship with two men? How would that work? Simply, it couldn't. Add the fact that they are brothers, and it's wrong on a whole new level. So she pushes it to the side, ignoring it. If she can't see it, she won't acknowledge it. She probably hurt them by not seeing them as much as she did, but it was the only way.

Hermione managed to keep this up for a few weeks, it was hard, she passed by the shop many times. She ached to go in, and just sit on a stool by the counter, talk and laugh with them like she used to. Each time she kept on walking.

One evening, after working late, it happened. She was walking home in the crisp air, she was just about to walk past the shop, when she saw movement. Stepping back into the shadows, she watched them closing down for the night. There was nothing different about their movements, but the expressions said otherwise. There was no smiles, no laughs, just two solemn expressions on two faces that weren't meant to show them. He pushed her stool closer to the counter, out of the way, brushing his hand over the top as he finished. His brother came and placed his hand on his shoulder. Together they moved to the back of the store, shutting the lights off.

She remained standing there long after the lights turned dark, pondering what she had seen. It could mean nothing, right? It was just a stool, nothing special about it. Except they called it hers, no-one else was to sit there, it was her seat.

The next day on her way to work, she passed the shop, and stopped. Turning back, she saw them conversing at the counter. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to talk to them a little? It had gone on too long.