Hermione wasn’t normally one to head to the pub for a pint (or something even stronger) after work - or so she liked to think anyway - but here she was, sitting at the bar staring down a beer after yet another hellish day at work. Again. She... She just didn’t know anymore. 

It wasn’t like the work itself was bad or too hard, and the company had a good reputation when it came to how it treated its employees (well, all its other employees. Apparently she was some sort of exception to that rule). It was just... If only she didn’t have to actually interact with other people!

(It was all her fault after all. She was the one who could never manage to fit, to chip off the bits of herself that stuck out and got in the way of connecting to her peers. Too smart. Too curious. Too ugly. Cared too much about all the wrong things and not enough about the things that ‘really’ mattered - even if it seemed that the priority of importance should be the other way around from the way it was. Too slow to paste on an empty vapid smile and pretend that everything was okay even as the world around her burned to ask.)

A tap on her shoulder had her blinking out of the near hysterical daze before the dark spiral that her thoughts had descended in could rip painful laughter from her lips. She should’ve known better than to sit at the bar. Clearly she was sitting in one of the regular’s seats (although, how could you get a regular at a pub that’d barely been open a week she would never know. But then, she was always rubbish at knowing those kinds of vital things); at least he was willing to be polite in asking her to get the fuck out of his seat instead of just yelling at her because clearly everyone knew it was his seat and she was just trying to stir up trouble by sitting there. 

The apology for the unintentional seat theft died on her lips as the sight of seven familiar people (maybe eight? It was hard to tell but it looked like there was someone hiding in the back and while their features were somewhat familiar, from what little she could see they had some sort of physical mutation - likely some sort of manifestation or side effect from their quirk - that made their skin look like the bark of a tree so Hermione couldn’t rightly say if she recognized them or not) that she’d thought she never in a million years see ever again (even if some of them weren’t exactly what she would’ve considered to be friendly faces).

“Hello Hermione.” Harry said with a tired and shy smile.

Hermione didn’t bother saying anything. She just launched herself at her friends and had a bit of a (long overdue) breakdown right there in public (such a disgrace she was). Harry and Ron proved that they were the friends she always wanted but never deserved, letting her ugly cry all over them and guided her over to the table they’d been heading to while Percy and Professor Snape squared things up with the bartender.

“I take it you Remember then.” Ron said once she’d been securely seated towards the center seat of the table and had calmed down to the point where she was still a bit sniffly but at least wasn’t sobbing in the arms of her friends anymore. Neville seated a timid looking Daphne (and now that Herimone was close enough, she could see that it was Daphne) next to her while he took the seat on the other side of Daphne. Blaise and Draco sat themselves next to Neville, leaving the last couple of seats for Percy and Professor Snape - who were still at the bar.

Hermione nodded, not trusting her voice to say anything quite yet. She normally wasn’t this weepy, she swears. She’d taken on the good old British advice of keeping a stiff upper lip no matter what adversity was slung her way to heart back when she’d been a little girl unable to understand why the other little girls refused to be her friend and kept saying so many hurtful words no matter what she’d tried (this is, of course, not a slight on her parents. They’d done their best to deal with their emotionally sensitive little girl who just couldn’t understand why people would be so horrible to others; indulging her curiosity and interests when and where they could and never actually tried to get her to suppress her emotions - even if they might’ve said something about not letting the bullies know that they hurt her in the moment once or twice. But when the cultural zeitgeist told you to hide your feelings and just soldier on and as a child who misconstrued what the actual message of that had been due to not having enough experience dealing with shades of meaning and how to figure out what the true inference was - as so many children her age did, well... People underestimate just how much toxic nonsense kids suck up and internalize; much to their detriment. And just what implications their otherwise innocent statements have to people who don’t have their lives and can’t read their minds for the true intentions behind what they said). 

Draco rolled his eyes as Percy and Professor Snape walked back to the table carrying a round of drinks. “A server should be by shortly with a menu, but from what I’ve seen it looks like it’s standard fare so...” Percy said as he sat down next to his brother and began to pass out his half of the drinks.

“So...” Blaise declared as he eagerly rubbed his hands together.

“So.” Neville said flatly. This drew a quiet giggle from Daphne, who wasn’t quite huddled right up against him, but was close to it. (Considering Daphne and Neville hadn’t had much to do with each other beyond what was necessary during shared classes Before, Hermione figured that there had to be quite the story behind Daphne’s actions. But no matter how her curiosity ate at her, she wasn’t going to ask; it wasn’t her place after all).

“Normally we’d start with introductions and shite, but we already know who we all are.” Blaise continued on as if he’d never been interrupted, “Shall I propose a game then?”

“What kind of game?” Ron asked with a hint of reservation (you never could be too careful when it came to Blaise after all; he had a flare for the dramatic that could be overwhelming and wasn’t always appropriate).

“Why a drinking game of course! (And by drinking game, I mean one that we play while drinking and not one that dictates when we drink and how much)” Blaise stated, pointing at his pint, “Maybe two lies and a truth? I’ll go first.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be two truths and a lie?” Neville asked amicably.

“That’s just simply too boring.” Blaise said dismissively (not that reversing it made things any more exciting mind you), “Anyway...”

Hermione sat back and listened to Blaise try to tell his lies with the interference of the others (Even Professor Snape got into the fun, showing off the sardonic and sarcastic wit that Before, Hermione had only seen when he was insulting students - or on rare occasion (although it became a bit more common in their fifth year thanks to a certain professor she simply refused to think about) his fellow professor) For the first time in a long time (too long a time some would say), Hermione gave a real smile. She was certain now in a way that she rightly wouldn’t be able to explain that everything would be alright. She’d finally found her place.

(Now if only she could figure out a way to deal with her workplace once and for all)