(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Tuesday 22nd September 2026
6.49am
"Daddy! You go and get milk NOW!"
Rose stamps her feet and folds her arms, chin raised defiantly, scowling at her mother and father.
"Uh, Rosie-Roo, we don't talk to Daddy that way, do we? It's very rude," says Ron, getting up from bed. "We say 'please may I have some milk, Daddy?', don't we?"
"MILK NOW!"
"Rose, enough." snaps Hermione. She is wrestling a wriggling Hugo into a dinosaur t-shirt, while he attempts to remove his pull-up nappy simultaneously. "Why don't you go and fetch your clothes so we can put them on?"
"I WANT MILK!"
"Well, you'll have to wait, I'm afraid." Hermione reaches over for the TV remote on the bedside table to turn the volume up on CBeebies.
#Give it up for Tuesday / Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oa / Clap your hands it's Tuesday / Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oa#
Ron returns, unlocking the child gate at the top of the stairs. He carries two 360-cups of warm milk, two plates containing assorted slices of apple and Marmite on toast, and two cups of black coffee.
#Let's dance it's Tuesday / Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oa / It's a Happy Tuesday / Whoa-oa-oa-oa-oa / the second day of the week#
"Here you go, best girl," says Ron, handing a plate and a cup to Rose. "And here's one for my little man." He hands the other cup and plate to Hermione, who puts it down on the table, then hands her her cup of coffee.
Rose's bottom lip juts out portentously.
"I don't want it!" she shouts, dashing the cup to the ground.
"Rose! You're being awful!" shouts Hermione, apoplectic. "Look, there's milk spilled on the ground! Now poor Mummy is going to have to go and clean it up!"
"Yeah, poor Mummy." adds Ron.
Rose seems unmoved by this information, picking the cup up again and taking a large swig from it.
"I. Don't. Like. This. Cup!"
She proceeds to spit milk all over the floor. The muscle under Hermione's eye starts twitching.
8.35am
After a relaxed morning in front of the television, the two children burst through the front door and onto the driveway, eager for their 9am start at nursery. Hermione decides to tackle the fastest one first; Rose is swept up and rapidly buckled into her car seat in Ron's company Vivaro with Weasley Brothers Tree Services Ltd. emblazoned on the side, but Hugo has somehow dashed all the way down the drive and onto the street in the time it has taken to secure her.
How fast can his stubby little legs go? Thank God there's no through traffic.
She looks this way and that, trying to establish if he's run right towards The Burrow – the safer choice, into the arms of her in-laws – or left, down the Ridgeway into town, towards certain death.
He chooses death. Of course.
"Hugo! Come back here right now!" she shouts, breaking into a sprint. He's managed to run a long way, down to the bungalows but not yet at the crossroads where traffic is. He veers left into Mr. Grindelwald's front garden, arms outstretched as if he were about to bang on the door.
Mr. Grindelwald had died about six months previously, at the advanced age of ninety-eight, leaving the neat dormer bungalow he had once inhabited empty. He used to describe himself as a 'confirmed bachelor' and had been resident in the country since just after the war, working as an electroplating technician. Despite living in the UK for decades, he still had a very thick German accent; always bidding Hermione a guten morgen whenever she passed his house, where he'd inevitably be pruning his roses. Ron had been more sceptical about him, maintaining he had some sort of murky past:
"Look, I'm just saying, at his age, he was definitely a member of the Hitler Youth"
"Oh, for goodness— I don't think they had a choice in joining or not, Ronald – besides, he's a very nice man. He invited us over for oysters the other day."
"Hmm, I dunno. I reckon he's one Mossad let slip through the net."
Hermione sees a blonde head bobbing along in the distance – their neighbour Neville, out for a jog – and waves frantically at him. He removes his EarPods and does a double take at Hugo at Grindelwald's front door, rushing over to pick him up. Hermione slows down into a jog as she approaches him.
"Lost one of these?" pants Neville, laughing, holding Hugo up on his hip. Hugo looks ecstatic.
"Look, Mummy, s'Nev!" he giggles.
Hermione slows down to a stop. "Oh, thank you so much," she says, breathlessly. "It's been a bit of a morning."
"No worries! Shall I carry him back for you? On my shoulders?" Neville asks Hugo, who shrieks with delight.
"Hmm, I'm not sure that naughty little boys who run away when Mummy's trying to put them in the car deserve to go on Uncle Nev's shoulders."
Hugo puts his arms around Neville's sweaty brow, cackling at the sensation of being up high. "Oh, I think we can let him have a go just this once." says Neville conspiratorially, grinning at Hermione.
"How's the work on The Bunker coming along?"
"Good! I'm getting the big mirror installed on Thursday," he responds. "Everything's a bit of a mess right now, hence—" he motions with one hand towards his sweaty body. "Instead of the treadmill."
Neville Longbottom was the Weasleys' always-cheerful, ever-helpful, and perpetually single neighbour who lived in the semi directly next door to them. Roughly a decade younger than Ron and Hermione, he had a sort of bland, not-quite handsome, not-quite-offensive face that allowed him to blend in anywhere. Apart from earning a decent enough amount as a senior developer, he had inherited a sum of money from his parents' estate – both having died tragically young after some unspecified trauma – and had been able to buy the house next-door outright. On his side of the property was a windowless former secondary electrical substation, dating from the post-war period, that had been nicknamed 'The Bunker'; it was deceptively large and had been kitted out with simple sets of free weights and a bench, but had otherwise not been updated in any way; still an empty, dark, cold, concrete-lined vault that was very much linked to its industrial past. Neville had repeatedly encouraged Hermione to use it whenever she wished:
"...I've even got mats and kettlebells if you don't fancy using the bench press."
"No offence, Nev, but it's a bit – how can I put it politely – it looks a bit murdery in there."
He had since invested a lot of time and money into upgrading it, even going as far to render a 3D model of the changes (both Hermione and Ron had thought that the entire PowerPoint presentation on the projector, accompanied by wine and nibbles, had been a bit much). The new Bunker was going to have a power rack cage with pulleys and an adjustable weight bench; a new free weights and kettlebell section; a StairMaster; an elliptical trainer; two treadmills; a Bluetooth sound system with wall-mounted smart speakers along the ceiling line; a large OLED Smart TV that could be cast to from a phone; an LED-backlit mirror spanning the entire length of the room; and one corner of the room was even being plumbed in to be converted to a wet room. Hermione was finally going to be able to have some time to herself to decompress and lose the last two stone that had been plaguing her.
"But," he pants, "the elliptical was delivered yesterday if you want to take it for a spin this afternoon?"
"Oh, that sounds incredible Nev, I may well take you up on it." says Hermione with genuine enthusiasm, as they begin walking down their drive towards the car. Ron is out on the drive, chatting to Rose.
"Morning Nev," says Ron, waving. "You've got something on your shoulders."
"I know, I picked it up going past Grindelwald's place," Nev smiles, lifting Hugo from his shoulders.
Ron stretches his arms out, reaching for a delighted Hugo. "How have the apps been treating you lately, mate?"
"Ugh, not great," Nev says, rolling his eyes. "It might be a different story in a big city, but out here it's slim pickings."
"I should imagine the demographics are working against you a bit here." chuckles Ron, strapping Hugo into his seat.
"Well, you're right; I'm probably one of the younger ones out there," Nev replies wistfully, rubbing the back of his neck absentmindedly. "There's a phrase you learn in online dating – the odds are good, but the goods are odd."
Ron laughs heartily, slamming the van door while Hermione smiles politely.
What I wouldn't give to hear those women's post-match analyses. Fucking odd goods, indeed.
"Oh mate, sounds rough out there," laughs Ron. "You need to find yourself a wife, pronto."
"Can't all be as lucky as you, mate." says Nev ruefully, winking at Hermione in the second when Ron is distracted getting into the driver's seat. She shudders inwardly.
"See you later." shouts Ron, muffled inside the cab. Hermione waves and blows kisses to the children as the van disappears from the drive with an increasing sense of dread, while Nev stands next to her and waves as well.
Ugh, here we go.
"So yeah, just let me know what time you want to come over," he says casually, just standing a fraction too close to her. He has his hands on his hips, swivelling them in a circle on a flimsy pretext of stretching his lower back. She moves back just a little, to a distance she's more comfortable with. "If I'm not in the main house, just knock on at the annexe."
He hadn't always been like this. In fact, in the past few years, when she had been either pregnant or fat, he barely paid any attention to her at all, being insipidly pleasant at best; treating her as an aesthetically discomfiting extension to Ron. Since losing weight, his attitude had changed and not necessarily for the better; somewhere on the downward slide between a size 16 and a 14, she had been re-designated to the status of fuckable. Now, she was subject to his unpleasant scrutiny, which he sneakily only seemed to employ when Ron was out of eye-and-or-earshot.
"I should be with you at about midday," she replies with a plastered-on smile. "I really must get a copy of the key to The Bunker off you at some point, so I don't need to bother you all the time."
"Oh, it's no bother," grins Nev. "I could always do with the company." He's moved closer to her again, swivelling his hips in the other direction. Hermione can smell the sour notes of his body odour so acutely, she can almost taste it at the top of her soft palate.
God, I thought this shit stopped in your twenties. I'm too old and angry for this. If he didn't live next door, I'd have found a way to kick him in the bollocks by now.
"I certainly would if I wasn't back-to-back with meetings today." she lies, apologetically.
"Another time then. Let me know when your work-from-home days are so that we can set up a rota," says Nev, licking his lips. Hermione zeroes in on them; the skin there looks rough and calloused, as though she could pick at the edges of the keratinous parts until they bled and scabbed. She has to fight to prevent herself from grimacing. "And you should definitely give me some tips on how to get a lovely floral display like the one you have out the front there."
"Oh, the delphiniums? They're my absolute favourite," says Hermione, still Stepford-smiling. "Very easy to grow. Tough as old boots. I'll collect some seeds for you."
They're also one of the most toxic plants in the UK. She went through a paper on delphinium poisoning in humans as a spot of light reading recently; she has a fleeting fantasy of adding the seeds to his water bottle, watching him drink it, then looking through the window of his annexe a few hours later; observing his bloated, vomit-covered body twitching on the floor as he suffers from a slow, spreading paralysis, ultimately leading to respiratory failure.
"Anyway. Don't be a stranger, Hermione." he says to her mouth.
"Bye Nev. See you later."
Her skin crawling, she heads back in the house and sits down at her home desk setup. Remembering last night's activities, she opens WhatsApp.
Luna Lovegood
last seen today at 08:53
Loony 09:03
Yes slag? 09:03
Quick question 09:04
You can get sketchy drugs from the dark web still, yes? 09:04
The phone buzzes almost instantly. Luna has responded with a gif of a bearded Robert Redford nodding and smiling. The corners of Hermione's mouth turn up.
That's an insane question to ask at five past nine in the morning, but yes 09:05
What are we ordering? Anything fun? 09:05
I've got an insanely good coke link now via newest partner 09:05
WHEN ARE WE GOING OUT 09:06
Seriously, make Misery Guts look after his own kids for once 09:06
That'd be the day 09:07
But no, not going-out drugs 09:07
Now I'm intrigued 09:08
What you need? 09:08
Oestrogen gel and testosterone proprionate 09:08
Don't worry about needles, I can sort 09:08
As your trusted pharmacist, I advise you to provide me with context 09:09
Immediately 09:10
Hermione sighs.
Ugh 09:11
So 09:11
Very much TMI but 09:11
My clit disappeared during breastfeeding and never came back properly once I stopped 09:12
I just want it to come back 09:12
Internet research says this is what I need 09:12
Luna sends a gif of a man blinking in confusion. It's followed shortly by another gif, this time of Dave Chappelle dressed as Lil Jon, with the text "hhh-WHAT" underneath.
Okay bitch this is why we NEED TO HANG OUT MORE 09:14
First of all, this is totally vindicating my decision to never have kids 09:14
Secondly, yes, I can get you those things pronto 09:14
Thirdly 09:14
I can't think of a thirdly, you've kind of blown my mind with this information 09:15
Glad to be of service 09:15
I can get it quick 09:17
Swing by mine on Thursday afternoon 09:18
Hermione chews her lip nervously, thinking.
If Ron looks on the map, he'll see I'm at yours and ask questions 09:20
Like why am I taking the kids to yours 09:20
Yuk, I forgot you two Google Maps stalk each other like freaks 09:21
Fine, we'll make the connect in Waitrose car park, make it super fucking sketchy 09:21
Just how I like it 09:23
We still need to get together properly and talk all this shit out 09:24
I know you're on the wagon but this exactly the kind of thing a nice crispy bottle of Chapel Down was made for 09:24
Just sayin 09:25
Don't tempt me, Frodo 09:25
12.05pm
Clutching her water bottle and dressed in her new lilac workout outfit, with a large and baggy fleece jacket over the top, she steels her nerves and knocks on Nev's annexe front door. There's a wait of approximately thirty seconds before she hears the scrabbling of a huge number of locks being opened.
Why the fuck does he need that many locks on his door? There's fuck-all crime out here.
After the last clunk of the deadbolt is unlatched, Nev appears before her, in nothing but a short, red jacquard kimono wrap, and a pair of flip flops. Hermione determinedly looks above his chin, and adopts what she hopes is the crazed, cheerful, sexless demeanour of a children's television presenter.
"Oh, sorry for interrupting—"
"—not at all, not at all." he smiles, his arms stretched wide, holding onto the doorframe.
"—I was just wondering if I could grab the key?" she asks, almost apologetically.
He pulls on a gold chain around his neck, revealing several keys attached to the chain, which he brings to rest just slightly over the top of the kimono, over a patch of sparse blonde chest hair, as if inviting her to touch it. "Well, you could, but—" he dissolves into a fit of high-pitched giggles. Hermione laughs along politely, but stops well before he does, his laughter petering out to a few gasping guffaws. "Come on, I'll let you in."
"Thanks, Nev." she says, following him at a distance, praying silently for a windless walk.
"Are you not boiling in that fleece? It's like twenty-five degrees." he asks, scanning her outfit up and down, slowing his pace to walk alongside her.
She is boiling. "Ha, well; I'm fairly cold-blooded." she lies.
Trudging across the gravel, he sorts through the nest of keys around his neck and selects a small gold one, which he inserts into a Chubb lock in the metal entrance door. Hermione can still just about make out the faded, triangular yellow DANGER OF DEATH sign, with the serrated arrow striking the prone outline of a man. It's dark inside The Bunker; Nev flips a switch to the immediate right of the entrance door, and some harsh, fluorescent bulbs flicker on overhead. She can now see that they're in a newly-created lobby area, and directly in front of them is a heavy, double-glazed glass safety door, which he pushes open into the main room.
"Ooh, that's new." comments Hermione.
"Yeah. Soundproofed. In case you really want to make a racket." He pauses for effect. "You know, when you're working out." he says, turning around, grinning, looking at her mouth again.
God, this little fucker really wants to shit where he eats.
"I'm quite quiet, really." she says, with a tight smile.
"It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?" he laughs to himself. Hermione is nonplussed, but manages a desultory chuckle, nonetheless.
There is a significant amount of work left to do in The Bunker, but the new flooring has been installed; large amounts of heavy equipment have been delivered, yet to be unboxed, save for one elliptical machine that is set up in the middle of the floor and is plugged in; the walls are bare, nothing more than plasterboard with wires emerging at various intervals. However, it does smell considerably less fusty than it used to.
"When are you aiming to have it all done by again?"
"Fourth of October; everything'll be delivered by then. Got some mates over to finish it all off, make a day of it." Nev says, leaning against the elliptical. She notices it doesn't have a drinks holder. As if he heard her thoughts, he says, "Yeah, sorry, not everything's a hundred percent together at the moment."
"That's okay. Thanks again for letting me use it." she says, smiling and blinking rapidly, twisting her water bottle around in her hands.
"You not gonna hop on?" asks Nev, holding a hand out to her to help her onto the elliptical in a supposed display of gentlemanliness.
She ignores his efforts studiously. "Oh, I will eventually. I like to do some stretching and warm-ups first though."
"Huh," he says, pausing, retracting his hand. There's an uncomfortable silence where Hermione begins to think is he seriously going to hang about to watch me do fucking stretches, before he exclaims, "Well! Don't let me stop you from cracking on."
"Thanks, Nev!" she says, breezily. She then takes her phone out of her jacket pocket with an apologetic sorry-I've-got-to-take-this look, while Nev walks backwards, holding up his palm as a farewell. She stares at her phone, clicking on various apps randomly until he's left, then rips off her fleece jacket, sighing with relief. To her displeasure, she actually does have an Outlook notification, which she clicks into:
From: [GOLDSTEIN, TINA]
Sent: 22 September 2026 12:12pm
To: [WEASLEY, HERMIONE]
Subject: RE: Re: Re: Re: Funding NIHR CompNu [SENSITIVE]
Hey Hermione,
So, there's some good news and some bad news – first off, the good news! Albus signed off on funding finally 😊
The bad news is that the form with his signature on may have been put into the secure paper disposal by Mary-Lou in the five minutes it took for me to go grab a coffee – I know, I know, she sure is fanatical about having a paperless office, right? Anywho, I'm gonna track down a copy of the form again but you might have to jog his memory again. You know how he is!
Best,
Tina
Hermione reads the email with one hand, the other still clutching her water bottle, which she has been pressing to her skull, presumably in an attempt to stave off an aneurysm.
"FUCK!" she screams, lobbing the water bottle at the plasterboard. There's a hollow sound where it lands, and she's immediately overcome with guilt, thinking she could have damaged the integrity of the wall somehow.
Oh well. Anger-fuelled workouts are the best.
Notes:
When I say 'no sympathetic characters', I mean NO SYMPATHETIC CHARACTERS
References:
• The title of the chapter comes from the Bananarama song Mr. Sleaze, the B-side to their 1987 number 3 hit
Love In The First Degree, both written by SAW.
• The first gif that Luna sends initially is this one, from the film Jeremiah Johnson.
• The second gif that Luna sends is of Drew Scanlon, aka Blinking White Guy.
• The third gif that Luna sends is probably this one and is self-explanatory.
• Luna telling Hermione 'As your trusted pharmacist, I advise you...' is a direct reference to the character of Dr. Gonzo in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
• Hermione telling Luna 'Don't tempt me, Frodo' is of course, from The Fellowship of the Ring, spoken by Gandalf.
• Chapel Down is an English winery, and a bloody good one too.
• I've just discovered that the Danger of Death sign is a UK-only thing (edit 01/02/2026: it has been brought to my attention by the user versaobrasileira that it is in fact not a UK-only thing; we love fact-checking up in this fic, folks). Gotta be one of my favourite hazard pictograms of all time, up there with the Hazardous To The Environment.