Fic: "But Maybe" for inell
Happy witchwinter, inell!


Title: But Maybe
Author: ?
Recipient: inell
Pairing: Hermione/Lavender
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3998
Summary: Things don't always go according to plan.


With the words, "I think this isn't working any more," Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley ended their relationship. Hermione said them and Ron was left to react. His reaction had, understandably, been violent at first and he had ranted and raved about the trust and effort he had put into their relationship. While he had gone on, Hermione had sat silently, waiting for him to finish.

Finally, Ron's tirade reached a faltering end. He slumped back down on the sofa next to Hermione, raking a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell. We haven't had sex for three months."

Hermione nodded her head. "Nearly four."

"And when was the last time we kissed?" A crease appeared on Ron's forehead as he tried to remember.

"Apart from on the cheek? I don't know."

Ron nodded, a silent acceptance that their romantic relationship was over. "D'you want me to move into the spare room?"

Reaching for his hand, Hermione shook her head. "No, that's alright. I will as I'm the one who started this. It'll only be temporary, anyway. I think I'll start looking for somewhere else on Monday." She smiled, almost apologetically. "You can have this place."

He wrinkled his nose. "Nah. If you're leaving, I might do the same. We got this place together - it would be weird without you here." Ron squeezed her hand. "I might try and find somewhere closer to work."

"That's good," Hermione agreed nodding. She dropped his hand and hugged him tightly. "I love you, Ron," she murmured. "Just… not that way."

"Not that way. Yeah. I know exactly what you mean." He gave her a sheepish grin. "Sure you don't want to try again?"

"Not particularly." Hermione frowned.

He shrugged. "It had to be asked."

"Of course." Kissing him on the cheek, Hermione murmured, "Thank you."

*****

Lavender Brown would never have been Hermione's first choice for an assistant. At Hogwarts, she had been a little scatterbrained and lax about her schoolwork, things which Hermione, with her meticulously organised schedule for homework and socialising, had reviled. There was also the matter of her relationship with Ron, which had concerned Hermione when Lavender had started working under her at the Ministry of Magic.

It was surprising, then, to discover that Lavender was very good at her job. Even if she wasn't brilliant at keeping herself organised (arriving fully dressed and on time for work still proved to be something of a challenge), Lavender was extremely proficient at keeping Hermione and her schedule on track. Thankfully, she channelled her energies into her work rather than her nails and Hermione was actually somewhat envious of her ability to know just about every piece of gossip that floated around the Ministry.

Lavender liked to call it 'networking'.

At first, Hermione had rolled her eyes in despair, sure that the people in the Personnel Office were out of their tiny little minds when they had hired Lavender. However, Lavender's gossip often proved to be far quicker and more reliable than official Ministry sources.

It didn't surprise Hermione, therefore, when Lavender handed over several memos and asked if it were true that she'd broken up with Ron. Looking up at one of the clocks on her wall - Hermione had several, all with different functions - she sighed. She had only been in the office for fifteen minutes, and the only thing that she had said to anyone in that time was a polite 'hello' to a security wizard.

"Yes."

"Wow. I mean, that really surprises me. It's like you two were made to be together or something."

"Apparently not," Hermione said, unfolding a paper aeroplane and reading the memo.

"So, when did it happen?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You expect me to tell you about the details of my personal life?"

Lavender smiled, flashing white teeth. "Of course. Would you rather I heard it from you or from some anonymous source in the tearoom?"

She had a point, Hermione conceded. Even if they weren't close friends, Hermione trusted Lavender. It would be far easier for Lavender to shoot down any potentially damaging rumours if Hermione set the story straight herself. There was no doubt in Hermione's mind that there would be rumours: she and Ron were best friends with Harry Potter, after all, and so were something of a high-profile couple.

"Fine." A resigned tone rumbled from her mouth. "It happened on Friday night. We're just… not in love anymore. Not like we used to be."

"That's such a shame. Even if I did hate it at first, I still thought you two were good together." Lavender grinned suddenly, grabbing Hermione's arm. "We have to go out," she announced.

"Out?" Hermione asked, bemused.

"Yes! Out. Tonight. To a club or something. We'll have a few drinks, do a bit of dancing… it'll be fun. We can celebrate being single."

"I thought you were going out with that security wizard?" Hermione's brow furrowed.

Lavender waved a dismissive hand. "No. That was over, like, last week or something. I am now very much single."

"I don't know if I feel like going out, Lavender."

"You're still living with him, right?" Hermione nodded. "So if you don't go out, you're no doubt going to spend the evening at home while you mope about the end of your relationship in your bedroom. Possibly eating excessive amounts of chocolate ice cream or something equally as fattening. And you really don't need any more weight on your hips, so really I'm saving you from yourself."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. Really, she had to marvel at Lavender's particular brand of logic. "So you're saying that if I go out with you tonight it'll stop me getting fat?"

"Yes." She nodded in confirmation. "Are you going to come?"

It had been a while since Hermione had gone out to a club for the evening, and so she was rather reluctant. "I wouldn't know what to wear."

"I'll come round to your place and help you pick something, then."

It was obvious to Hermione that she wasn't going to be able to get out of this now; she really should have known that Lavender would suggest something like that. "Fine."

"I'll be there about eight-ish." Lavender turned to leave, but Hermione called after her.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

This earned a sly smile from Lavender. "It's a surprise."

Yes. Lavender was definitely right when she said where they were going was a surprise. "Lavender," Hermione hissed, making a grab for her arm. "This is a gay bar." There was no mistaking that fact when Hermione spotted a very attractive pair of men who were engaged in a kiss that would surely get them thrown out of many other, rather more staid, wizarding establishments.

Lavender tried to look innocent. "Yes. Didn't you know?"

"But… but it's a gay bar."

"Come on," Lavender said, hooking her arm through Hermione's. "There's nothing to be frightened of. You'll have a good night, I promise. Funky music, good drinks and pretty boys who won't be trying to get into your knickers. What's there not to like?"

Hermione sighed as Lavender pulled her over towards the bar and proceeded to order them a couple of drinks. They weren't the only women there, either, and the way that some of them were looking at her made Hermione feel a little nervous, especially as Lavender had spent on hour constructing a somewhat flirtatious outfit from the demure contents of Hermione's wardrobe. "Do you come here often?" she asked Lavender when she handed Hermione her drink.

She shrugged. "Depends. A couple of times a month, maybe." Lavender grinned and leant in closer with a waft of floral perfume. "Are you asking me if I'm a lesbian, Hermione?" she asked with a giggle.

Hermione blushed, horrified. "Well, I wouldn't dare to presume something like that. I just…"

Laughing, Lavender patted her arm. "Don't worry about it." After taking a sip of her drink, Lavender added, "Let's just say I'm just not fussy." She winked and giggled again; that statement was apparently even truer now than it had been in the past. "Let's go dance!" she announced, hips already swinging to the music. "Show these boys what they're missing."

As Lavender shimmied ahead of her, Hermione following behind her and feeling horribly self-conscious, another woman brushed past her. Hermione made a hurried apology, but the woman just winked at Hermione and carried on walking. When she noticed that Hermione wasn't following, Lavender turned back and beckoned to her, a dark look clouding her fair features.

"Who was that?" Hermione asked, catching up with her, her voice barely audible over the sound of the music.

Lavender frowned, her eyes narrowing as she peered through the crowd with heavily-lined eyes. She pursed her lips. "That," she said coldly, "is someone you should avoid."

"Avoid?" Hermione asked, not sure that she'd heard Lavender correctly.

Lavender nodded, tongue darting over glossed lips as she glanced over at the woman again. Leaning over to Hermione's ear, she explained, "Tracey Davis. Your purse will be a few galleons lighter in the morning if you take her to bed." When she pulled back, she gave Hermione a significant look. "That's what they say, anyway."

Hermione's eyes widened and she twisted around to look over at the bar; Tracey had settled herself on a barstool, her long legs crossed demurely at the ankles as she sipped a drink. Her dark eyes scanned the crowd of dancers, barely skimming over Hermione and Lavender. "So she's a…"

Pressing a manicured finger to Hermione's lips, Lavender cut her off. "Don't bother even thinking about her." She toyed with a lock of Hermione's hair, smiling encouragingly. "Come on - we're here to have a good time, not worry about slappers like her."

It was all very well and good telling Hermione not to think about something, but that didn't mean that it would actually work. Tracey Davis. Hermione remembered the name from school, a Slytherin. Other than that, she knew nothing about the woman. The little that Lavender had told Hermione about her had intrigued her. Did she really get paid for sex?

"You're thinking too much," Lavender murmured beside her ear, a hand resting on Hermione's hip. "Come and dance."

*****

"Here's your post, Hermione." Lavender put a stack of thick envelopes on Hermione's desk, looking far too bright and cheery for someone who had been out at a club until two o'clock in the morning. "And I got you a coffee, too," Lavender said, the large mug that was floating beside her setting itself gently down on Hermione's desk.

Hermione gave a groan of appreciation, her hands wrapping eagerly around the mug. "Thanks," she said, feeling as though she would much rather be at home in bed than in the office. She looked up at Lavender, a little confused by the situation. Lavender was both immaculate in her appearance and punctual, two events which rarely coincided.

A paper aeroplane zoomed in above Lavender's head and she snatched it out of the air before it could start bothering Hermione. "It's a note from the Department of Magical Games and Sports. They want to know if you're free to talk with a representative about your plans for a Triwizard Tournament."

"It's not a Triwizard Tournament," Hermione said tiredly. "Not exactly. Much, much safer." Taking a large gulp of hot coffee, Hermione's eyes watered a little. She looked up at Lavender. "Am I free today?" she asked. "I've forgotten."

Lavender smiled. "Yes, you're free at eleven. Shall I let them know?"

"Please."

Nodding, Lavender turned to leave. She paused by the door, turning back to Hermione. "Did you enjoy yourself last night? I know it wasn't really your sort of place…"

"No, it was good, Lavender. I'm just feeling a little hungover." Hermione frowned slightly, reaching for the rather intimidating pile of letters she had received. "I don't keep any potions for that sort of thing because it doesn't happen very often."

Lavender laughed. "I'll reply to this note and then see if there's anything I can do about that," Lavender assured her.

Working in the Department of International Cooperation, Hermione had done her fair share of work with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, and had even offered several students a chance to do internships in the department over the summer. It was when she'd been watching a couple of the interns playing a rather rowdy game of chess during their lunch hour that Hermione had been reminded of the Triwizard Tournament.

While she owed the tournament for her friendship with Viktor Krum, her memories of the tournament were mostly unpleasant. However, the idea of bringing the three schools together - and possibly others - was something that Hermione admired. It was just the death toll that was the problem. So, with this in mind, Hermione had submitted a proposal for a similar sort of tournament. The head of her department had been intrigued, hovering somewhere between delighted and dubious in his reaction, suggesting that she seek advice before pursuing the matter further.

When the representative from the Department of Magical Games and Sports arrived at her office, it took Hermione several moments to pull herself together even enough to say 'hello'. She had been expecting a burly ex-Quidditch player or a scrawny wizard from the Gobstones Office, depending on what the department thought of her proposal.

Instead, it was a woman with dark hair and eyes and full lips in a near-permanent smirk, as though she were mildly amused by everything. "Tracey Davis," she said holding out her hand; Hermione shook it, surprised. "I don't believe we've ever been formally introduced."

"Hello. Yes, I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione hoped she wasn't blushing; she was planning on doing something nasty to Lavender for putting such awful thoughts about the woman in her head.

Tracey laughed as she took the chair opposite Hermione's desk. "Yes," she said with a nod. "I know who you are." She flipped the end of her demure ponytail back over her shoulder. "So," Tracey said, barely waiting for Hermione to resume her seat. "Let's talk about this tournament, shall we?"

An hour later, Hermione was left with both a feeling of satisfaction over the meeting and frustration towards her secretary. Lavender's remarks the previous night had thrown her so off-balance that she had stuttered her way through the first ten minutes of the meeting in embarrassment before she got a better impression of Tracey.

The feeling of frustration was also aimed at herself - she knew just how much Lavender enjoyed a juicy piece of gossip and to tease her when she didn't know apparently obvious things about people. This was just a joke on Lavender's behalf. As the meeting about the tournament had gone better than Hermione had expected, Hermione's willingness to forgive Lavender was greatly improved.

"Lavender? Can I see you in here for a minute?"

Lavender appeared in the doorway, shoulders slumped. It took a moment for her to meet Hermione's eyes, shifting on the balls of her feet. "Can I get you something, Hermione?"

"Come in. Close the door." Hermione raised her eyebrows as Lavender took a shuffling step forward. "Tracey Davis isn't a prostitute," she said flatly.

Lavender sighed. "No. She isn't." She tucked her hair behind her ear, frowning. "Sorry."

"Then why would you tell me that?" Lavender was a gossip, but she wasn't normally malicious.

Twisting her hands, Lavender shrugged. "We… had a bit of a disagreement about a year ago. I don't like her very much."

"Still, Lavender… you shouldn't defame someone's reputation like that. It's not nice - I know." Her personal experience with Rita Skeeter's vicious articles during the Triwizard Tournament still brought a twinge of pain when she thought about them, even if she could now see a funnier side to what had happened.

"I just… I just don't like her very much, okay?" Saying this quickly, Lavender cringed.

"I don't understand." Hermione's brow furrowed and she peered at Lavender, taking in her stance and general body language. Something doesn't add up.

"I don't expect you to." Lavender glanced at the door. "Did you want anything else?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Yes. I want you to explain it to me. Please." Hermione gave the quill in her fingers and impatient twist, splattering several blobs of ink over the notes she had made during the meeting. "You can't just go around telling something that a witch is a… scarlet woman!"

Lavender's chest heaved as she inhaled, eyes closing for a moment. "I don't know how to explain," she said, teeth set.

"Try."

Glaring, Lavender studied Hermione for a moment, and then gave a curt nod. She marched around Hermione's desk, grabbed her blouse and kissed Hermione hard.

Hermione gasped, eyes widening in surprise. Lavender took the opportunity of Hermione's open lips to slip her tongue past, deepening the kiss. Hermione's chest tightened almost painfully and, when Lavender pulled back, she remembered that she needed to breathe. Licking her lips, Lavender stumbled back a few paces on her heels, releasing her grip on Hermione's blouse.

A vague part of Hermione's mind wondered how Lavender's lipstick could still look so perfect after a kiss like that, then remembered that she was the one who had been kissed.

"Bloody hell."

Lavender was already straightening her hair. "Does that answer your question?" she asked. Her voice sounded tight.

Hermione swallowed. "I think it just brought up a few more."

Lavender set her with a hard look. "As I am your secretary, I think it's best if those questions went unanswered."

Silent as Lavender went to the door, Hermione stared down at the ink blobs on her notes. This put a new perspective on Lavender's attentiveness and friendship, one that, to be honest, intrigued her. "She's your ex, isn't she? Tracey?"

Lavender laughed, but there was no humour in her tone. "Yeah," she agreed. "Anyway, I'm… going to leave you to get back to work."

Hermione frowned, knowing that she was hurting Lavender and hating that. "Lavender, wait…"

The other witch turned, hair flipping sharply over her shoulder. "There's nothing to discuss, Hermione. There's nothing to discuss, really. Any fantasies I have of shagging you on your desk or whatever are going to be kept strictly to myself, just like they have been since I started working for you."

"On my desk?" Hermione squeaked. A tightness in her chest started to grow and she reminded herself to breath.

"It's a very big desk!"

Hermione gaped. "That's not what I meant!" She cleared her throat, her own shrill tone hurting her ears.

Lavender shut the door a little more firmly than necessary. "Look, Hermione," she said in a fierce whisper, "I made a mistake, okay? You broke up with Ron and I thought maybe I'd see if you could ever find a woman attractive and I went about it completely the wrong way." She threw up her hands. "What I did was stupid and immature and I'm sorry."

"And what if I could find a woman attractive?" The thought had crossed her mind more than once when they'd been at the club and the idea intrigued Hermione.

"Oh, don't. Don't do that, Hermione. I don't want to be a pity shag or a rebound shag or whatever, because right now that's what I would be." Lavender pursed her lips. She sighed, shoulders sagging. "You only broke up with Ron on Friday, for Merlin's sake!" Lavender groaned. "I don't know what's come over me."

It took Lavender a couple of tries to get the door open, manicured nails scrabbling at the handle.

The tightness in Hermione's chest threatened her. "But maybe…"

"Just leave it there, Hermione," Lavender said softly, one foot out the door. "Can we leave it at that? 'But maybe'?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Okay," she agreed. "But maybe."