Title: Or Something Like That

Disclaimer: No Mine, No Sue

Summary: Hermione's turning thirty. It should be a wonderful turning-point, since her life hasn't exactly been a perfect peach. Still, firewhiskey can turn any pear peach-shaped. Or something like that.

Alternate Title: World Peace and Pepper-Up Potions

Word Count: 5025

A/N: In response to the Funny Quotes challenge I found in the forums. I'm a n00b when it comes to challenges. Hope you enjoy!

"I hate my life," moaned Hermione Granger, squinting her way through the first several hours of her day, wishing she'd whipped up a batch of Pepper-up before partaking in binge-drinking 'til she blacked out the night before.

Ginny simply sighed, glancing at an article in Witch Weekly about Blaise Zabini that looked promising. Bored after two lines, she flicked her wrist and moved on to the next page.

"Seriously," Hermione continued. "Life sucks. I'm a freaking secretary. I work for my parents on weekends. I've concluded, after hours of soul-searching, that my life sucks. And, my parents suck. That's it! Suckiness must be hereditary."

"Death is hereditary, too," Luna intoned dreamily, making the little old lady sitting at the next table in the café glance their way with a befuddled expression. "But not many people really take notice. I blame the Nargles. The CDC should be informed."

Ginny snorted without looking up and turned another page. "Myself, I intend to live forever. So far, so good. Want to join me, Hermione? Harry's probably the closest to figuring it out but, hey, I figure I'll get it from him some night."

"Go die in a hole." Hermione was not having a good day. Yesterday was fine, up until she realized that tomorrow was September 19th and that meant, without any way of postponing or hiding or running away, she was turning thirty, no questions asked. She was never going to be young again ever, ever again.

So she did the only logical thing an almost-thirty-year-old with money and a fireplace would do: she flooed to the nearest liquor store and cleaned it out of all Firewhiskey. Then she promptly went home and got smashed. "Or better yet, somebody kill me."

Luna leaned in and grasped Hermione's hand tightly, but Hermione didn't remove her face from the café table. She was working on a really good indent, right across her nose. "Don't worry, Hermione. The Nargles will get you eventually."

"Woe is me." Hermione pulled herself away from the dark recesses of her folded arms long enough to give Luna a long-suffering, red-eye stare. "I'm a secretary and I'm going to die because of Nargles. Oh, and I'm thirty."

"Happy birthday, by the way," Ginny added a little fiercely. She set down the magazine and held Hermione's tired eyes with her own hazel ones. "I went through all the trouble of missing a practice and planning a surprise getaway to France, of all places, for your birthday and all I get is 'woe is me'?! Thirty isn't that bad. Next year how about you go to the States and get smashed there, where I won't have to clean up after you for once!"

Hermione thought of several witty comebacks, rather an impressive feat for her poor, hurting head, but she'd never been able to control her brain, so why would a spectacularly agonizing hangover have any affect? She would have said one of them, probably, "I love how it was more painful to separate you from your Quidditch than to plan something for me!" or "Sure, thirty isn't that bad, and that should make me feel better coming from someone who's twenty-eight, now, shouldn't it?!"

But her nose was losing its indentation. She'd have to get back to work if she wanted anything to show for it. She face-planted back onto her arms. "I'm out of bed and dressed. What more do you want?"

Ginny sulked and didn't answer. Instead, she went back to her magazine, muttering how she would much prefer to be flying and catching snitches than paying out of her own pocket for fifty-dollar coffee for three in some fancy café in Grand Paree. And speaking of fifty-dollar coffee, why was she the only one drinking it?!

Luna nodded sagely. "Hermione, drink your coffee. There are people in India sleeping."

"I'm older than you, so you don't get to tell me what to do," Hermione snapped petulantly. "And you're not drinking it either," she added mutinously.

"Well, I'm a vegetarian," Luna reasoned reasonably.

Ginny huffed and Hermione, suddenly interested, decided to brave the bright lights of life at eleven o'clock in the morning in a café with too many bloody windows and sat up. "You're a vegetarian?"

Luna smiled. "Yes."

"So you don't drink coffee," Ginny deadpanned.

"Right."

Hermione gave that one up before she had time to try and puzzle through it. She wouldn't be able to, probably, given her track record with Luna. "That's great that you care so much about farm animals to give up meat, Luna."

"Oh, that's not why."

Ginny gave up sulking, too befuddled to be pouty anymore. "So… why?"

"Well, Neville was showing me some of his plants in the greenhouse we built behind our house, and one attacked me. And it wasn't possessed by Ukrainian Tree-Limpits, either. I checked."

Hermione would have written her inability to figure that one out to her addled brains, except experience told her she wouldn't have understood it even if she wasn't dealing with gongs the size of china pounding her head into the ground every half-second.

Ginny said, "What?"

Luna explained, "I am not a vegetarian because I love animals. I am a vegetarian because I hate plants."

Hermione blinked slowly, then carefully lowered her face back to the table. Ginny nodded, turned a page, and skimmed an engaging section about easy spells to Boost Your Bust!

After forty-two seconds of silence, Hermione groaned, "I hate my life."

"No sarcasm? That's new."

Ginny and Luna sprang onto the defensive, getting out of their chairs and forming a doubly human barricade between Hermione and her nemesis and bane of existence, Pansy Parkinson. Complete with husband, Ron Weasley.

The people in the over-priced French café all stared, but Ginny and Luna knew the truth: by making a scene, they were saving all the people there and, perhaps, the world, from a very ugly meltdown.

Their efforts were in vain. Hermione pushed her upper half up slowly, blinking languorously. She adopted a very bland look and when she spoke, she could have dried up the Mediterranean if only she were in Spain. As it was, the English Channel dropped a few inches.

"Don't piss me off. I'm running out of places to hide the bodies."

Unfortunately, Pansy took that as an invitation to tea. Or rather, coffee. She stole Ginny's abandoned seat, somehow slipping around the human wall, and palmed Luna's cup, discreetly casting a warming charm which steamed the previously-France-In-September-Temperature coffee. Ron pulled up an extra chair.

"Happy thirtieth, Hermione!" he congratulated, grinning.

Luna and Ginny only unfroze when the world did not cease turning and did not implode. Luna slid gracefully back into her seat; Ginny observed the situation for a moment longer, then moved on to glare at her brother when she found she would risk sitting at the overly-crowded café table meant for two, already adjusted for three, and now sinking under the tension of five.

Ron didn't notice her glare. Pansy did.

"Ronnikins, shoo. Girl talk. Go find a broomstore or a chessboard in the park. I'll find you when I'm done."

Ron looked like he was about to protest, but one swift Look from Pansy sent him scurrying out the door.

Ginny smiled at Pansy then realized who she was, what the circumstances were, and that Hermione was, all things considered, dealing remarkably well.

Because not only was it her birthday today, but exactly one year ago, Ron broke up with her. For Pansy. And only in the last week had Hermione acted heart-broken about it, then tried to drown herself in Firewhiskey the night before. After Ginny had explicitly told her about their Girl Day the next day, ruining the surprise but providing ample time for Hermione, Miss I-Hate-Surprises, to prepare, too. Which included not getting smashed enough to be hung over the next day! Though Ginny had to cut her some slack; getting fired from your high-paying job a week before your birthday had to hurt.

"So…" Pansy began.

"Eagles are so pretty," Luna gushed.

Pansy glared at her. "I have something to say, you know."

Luna nodded matter-of-factly. "I know. I was trying to distract you."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but remained wary of and angry at the Woman Who Ruined Hermione's Life. And, obviously, her brother's.

"Hermione," Pansy started again.

"Wow!" Ginny exclaimed. "You sure do have my brother whipped. Could you tell me how you did it? I could use it on Harry sometime."

Pansy huffed exasperatedly. "Would you two stop it?"

Luna shared a look with Ginny, and both said, "Never."

Glowering, Pansy opened her mouth. Inhaled. Said, "Her—"

"Bald eagles are the best, the most wonderful of all eagles. They're big and have glossy feathers, and they're not actually bald, just have this funny little patch of white on their heads, put there by the Albino spider-weasels of northern Canada. They're jealous, see."

"—mione, we need to—"

"Ron is pretty thick-headed, I know better than anyone, and some of that's rubbed off on Harry. That's their main problem, they're just so stubborn! So some of your tactics on how you control Ron would be a real lifesaver for me, Pansy. I should have known better."

"—talk. It's about—"

"I don't see why they're jealous. Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines."

"All men are idiots. And I married their King!"

"—Draco Malfoy."

Ginny and Luna both stopped talking at once. Flabbergasted, the looked from Hermione to Pansy and back again. Twice.

Hermione's face was expressionless. Pansy's was intense.

A beat too late, Hermione relaxed, leaning back in her chair. "Why should I care?" she drawled lazily.

Luna was nodded in hearty agreement whilst Ginny repeated, "Yeah, why the bloody hell should Hermione care?"

Pansy very delicately arched an eyebrow at Hermione. Without looking at either of Hermione's bodyguards, she shared a very heavy unspoken message with Hermione. Hermione shrugged, as though saying, Yeah, so? Pansy rolled her eyes. Fine.

"Hermione should bloody well care," Pansy enunciated each word clearly, for obviously she was speaking to morons, "because Draco Malfoy is the man she worked for, fell in love with, and shagged for over a year! That's why Hermione should bloody well care."

The little old lady at the next table made a disgusted sound, shook her head disapprovingly, stood up and left.

Ginny's mouth opened and closed like a fish's, lost for words. Luna was nodding sagaciously, as though she'd known all along.

Hermione sighed. Her headache was bound to get much, much worse on the way home. "I was never in love with him. We just occasionally… met up. I was feeling vulnerable. Ron had just dumped me. For you!"

Pansy glowered. "I didn't steal him from you, if that's what you're implying."

"Yes, you did, and yes, I am."

"Fine," Pansy relented. "Maybe I did. But I only stole your boyfriend from you because you stole mine from me!"

"Excuse me? That never happened!"

"It did too, admit it, Granger! You had something going on with Draco long before I had anything with Ron. Say it!"

Hermione's lips thinned. In a calmer voice (the waitress was giving their table dirty looks), she admitted, "According to my best recollection… I don't remember."

Ginny made choking sounds. Luna hid her laugh in a sneeze. Hermione glared.

"Whatever," Pansy said, "All that 'you stole my boyfriend first' crap is all behind us now. I love Ron, you love Draco. That should be that. So now onto the matter at hand…"

"I don't, nor have I ever, liked Malfoy, let alone loved him."

Pansy gave her a superior sneer. "Sure you don't. Which is why you have the most awful hangover in the history of hangovers and those bags under your eyes indicate far more than just a headache. You quit your job, you quit your responsibilities, and worst yet, you quit on Draco Malfoy. And now you're working for your parents on weekends. Now that, Granger, is truly pathetic. And I thought I'd seen everything when Blaise and I broke into Draco's house this morning and saw him piss-ass drunk looking like he'd been up all week without rest. Or food."

Hermione looked up from the depths of her stone-cold coffee. "Why are you here, Pansy?"

Pansy huffed exasperatedly. "Because if Draco's miserable then Blaise is miserable then I am miserable, and if you're miserable then Ginny's miserable then Ron is miserable from both his sister and Harry, which makes me, if any of you can do math, triple miserable! Hello! I am a politician next in line for Minister of Magic! I cannot be miserable! It would wreak havoc on my campaign and my image!"

Hermione shrugged. "That's not my problem."

Ginny spoke up, after finally finding her voice. "Yes, it bloody well is your problem, Hermione! I'm not even going to touch upon the fact that you've kept this from us for so long right now, but trust me, it's coming. Apparently you haven't been bumming around this past week because you were fired or remembered getting your heart broken, you quit and broke a heart! I'm going to have to make it clear to you right now, Hermione: you are the bad guy here!"

"Do you even remember Draco Malfoy?" Hermione snapped.

"Nobody's perfect," Luna murmured.

"Well," Pansy flipped her hair, "Then I'm nobody." She scrutinized the three girls closely, and then realized her job was done. "Well," she gathered her purse. "I'll just leave you to think about your next course of action."

"Wait up, Pansy," Ginny called. She, too, collected her clutch and didn't even have to glare at Luna in order for the Ravenclaw to follow suit. "I think we'll do the same. Goodbye, Hermione."

Luna squeezed Hermione's shoulder once before leaving. "And Happy Birthday."

Once outside, the three girls strolled purposefully down the street, but once out of view of all the too-many windows of the café, they gathered together and gushed.

"Well, I think I, for one, am a fabulous actress!" Pansy praised herself.

"You're a politician," Luna pointed out. "It's not acting, it's lying."

"Same difference," Pansy shrugged, unfazed. "Good job acting surprised, Ginny. I daresay you'd have made a wonderful Slytherin."

Ginny smiled. "Believe it or not, Harry says the same thing. He better hold up his end of the bargain."

"He'll be here," Luna said assuredly. Ginny couldn't help but feel a little frightened now.

Pansy agreed, though. "He will be. Ron went to go make sure."

"This better turn out well. It's Hermione's birthday. It better be good."

Luna frowned now. "She wasn't very pleased she was turning thirty. She didn't want it to happen."

"Yeah, well," Pansy flipped her hair again, "few women admit their age."

"Unfortunately," Ginny muttered, "few men act it."

"Draco will be on his best behaviour," Luna seemed sure.

"Well, he would be," Pansy argued, "If he'd had any idea what we were throwing him into."

The three women shared looks. "Uh oh," Ginny said.

Meanwhile, back in the overpriced French café, Hermione Granger had buried her face in her arms. Distantly she heard the annoying little bell tolling a new arrival ring, and the sound echoed in her head until it resembled a jet engine's roar.

She heard someone walk up and stand over her. She peeked through her elbow and caught a glimpse of polished dress shoes and impeccably-pressed grey cashmere slacks. She knew those legs.

"Here I am!" Draco Malfoy said curtly. "What are your other two wishes?"

Hermione sat up bone-achingly slow and blinked. "World peace and a Pepper-Up potion."

Draco grimaced and sat in the chair directly across from Hermione, leaning as far away from her as possible. He had on an expression like he was too close to radioactive road kill. "And don't you need it. You look like the fucking Fountain of Youth, over there, Ms. Over-the-Hill."

Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously, but whether it was from the light reflecting off of Draco's sunglasses at the exactly right angle to shine annoyingly into her sensitive eyes was uncertain. Asshole'd probably planned it that way, too. "We have enough youth. How about a Fountain of Smart? That's something you should look into. Definitely something you need."

"Smart? Smart?" Draco sneered. "I own a multi-billion Galleon marketing company. You work for your parents two days a week. Who's the smart one in that equation?"

"Obviously not you. An equation has to have an equal sign in it, moron. That's where the e-q-u-a comes from. Inbred imbecile," she added under her breath.

"Amazing attempt at alliteration," Draco shot back.

Hermione snared at him. "Are you kidding me?"

Draco shrugged. "I was bored."

"Uh huh. Listen, why are you here? Now, of all times? My birthday is supposed to be a celebration."

He leaned back, a little surprised he'd leaned in at all. He hadn't noticed. She'd always sort of had that effect on him, the bewitching bitch. Pretending to be surveying her down his nose, he scoffed, "Yeah, you look real celebratory. Did you scare off all your friends with that hair of yours, or do you normally just wallow in your misery by yourself in a different country?"

Hermione laughed harshly; Draco was taken by it because he'd never heard her laugh like that before. "Pansy told them."

"They already knew, didn't they?" Draco asked.

Wincing, Hermione shook her head.

Draco's eyes widened, but he'd come to expect that kind of hurt from her. That's all they'd ever done to each other, ever since school. Old habits are hard to break. "You never told them."

"You never told your friends," she snapped back. Sluggishly she gripped her coffee, warmed it wordlessly, and brought it under her nose. She didn't drink.

"True," Draco allowed. "But you're a woman."

"Just what is that supposed to mean?"

Draco waved one hand aimlessly, helplessly. "Nothing. Just that women are expected to talk about feelings, or some other pointless bonding topics of conversation."

"So basically, we're expected to be totally overemotional and ruin everything in our relationships, is that right? This was my fault, Draco, is that what you're saying?"

"No! See, you always do this! Turn my words around, use them against me!"

Hermione sniffed. "It's not exactly difficult."

"And you always do that! Put me down all the time."

"Me put you down?!" she spluttered indignantly. "You called me a cold, unfeeling Mudblood, Draco. That was so far down I could tell you the price of chicken in China."

"I was angry, Granger, is that such a new concept?" he grit his teeth. "You called my mother a superficial cow."

"I believe the term I used was hag, actually. She's a fricken popsicle stick, Malfoy; calling her a cow would have been idiotic, not to mention inaccurate."

Draco literally growled. "Can't believe I came here to talk," he muttered. "I knew you'd be just like this, no matter how much Potter said you begged to talk."

"Excuse me? Did you just say Harry said I said I begged?"

He blinked. "What?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed as her face slowly became the colour of a ripe cherry tomato.

"What?"

"Don't you get it?" Hermione whispered urgently.

"Get what?"

"What they've done to us! What they all did to us?"

"Who did what to us?"

Hermione groaned and planted her face back onto her arms. "I hate my friends."

Draco relished the silence until he could no longer endure it. He stared at her, trying to wordlessly communicate the way Pansy seemed able to. The woman had ESP, he was sure of it. He had over twenty years of documentation on the subject.

"If I stuck my head in your ear and stared at your brain I would still have no idea what you were thinking!" he finally erupted.

Hermione dragged her head up. "I think we've been had."

"I'm not playing twenty questions with you again."

"Our friends set us up. Ginny got me out here under the guise of my birthday," she spat. "And apparently, Harry and Ron and Blaise tricked you into coming here. I never wanted you here, Malfoy. I was trying to celebrate my birthday, and you and your sordid family were never in that pretty picture."

"You didn't ask them to ask me to come here."

"Not very quick on the uptake, are you?"

"Why are you so bloody bitter?"

Hermione gave him a long-suffering stare. It was a Look. It was a why-don't-you-think-real-hard-and-if-you're-lucky-the-most-obvious-answer-ever-will-come-around Look. It was a you're-a-bloody-moron Look. Draco hated Looks. All women seemed to have them.

"Listen, if this is about what my mother said—"

"It has nothing to do with your mother!"

"Then why'd you walk out, huh Hermione? Why'd you start screaming when we got out of the restaurant?"

"Because you didn't stand up for me! You didn't talk back to your mother! You didn't say anything that whole time she was nitpicking every last facet of my very being!"

"I didn't notice it!"

"Oh, that explains everything then," Hermione laughed exasperatedly. "You didn't notice."

"I grew up with the woman, Hermione. With her, for every action there is an equal and opposite criticism. Why'd you take her so seriously, after everything I told you?"

Hermione's face burned. "It doesn't matter," she responded petulantly.

He huffed. "Bull. You walked out on me, screamed we'd never work out. Quit your job, collected all your things. And then you left and I had no idea what was wrong. I think you owe me an explanation."

"You said, 'Good riddance,' Malfoy, when I left. Remember that?"

"I was angry."

"You were drunk."

"Not drunk enough."

"Apparently."

"Quit it, Hermione. Tell me why."

Hermione took in a breath and suddenly wished for Firewhiskey more than she had ever before. It would make this a whole hell of a lot easier.

"First of all," she began, her voice brittle, "It was the first time we met your family as a couple and I was nervous as all hell. I wanted her approval, Draco, because I wanted to be able to get along with her, so that one day – one day, I could hope she could get along with my mother."

"Your mother isn't exactly peaches and cream either," Draco interjected snidely. "What'd she call me after I left? An itch?"

Hermione sighed. "She was referring to… I don't know, the passion we showed for each other. 'The severity itch is directly proportional to the ability to reach it.' She knows… all about you from Hogwarts. She knows you're a pureblood, and she knows I'm… not," her voice cracked.

"You know I never thought that," Draco said softly.

"I know… So she meant it as a compliment, Draco, in her own way…"

Suddenly the anger was back. "Would you like to be referred to as an itch?"

"No, but… you interrupted me!"

"Fine," Draco said sullenly. He waved her on. "Do continue."

Hermione sulked. "So glad to have your approval. That's all I ever wanted from your mother. Secondly, all she seemed to pick on was my appearance, my personality, my work ethic, my moral ethic! She never once touched on the blood issue."

Draco failed to see the inherent evil. "So? Isn't that a good thing?"

"No! No, Malfoy, of course it isn't!"

"Why the bloody hell not?"

"If she thought we were serious she would have had a problem. If she thought you were going to… to sully the precious pureblood Malfoy line by being serious with a Muggleborn, there would have been a serious problem. But there wasn't. Which means, Mlfoy, that she thought I was just some unimportant, fleeting fling!"

Draco opened his mouth, ready to protest.

"Thirdly…! No, no, no, Malfoy, don't stop me now, I'm on a role! Thirdly, the opinion of your wasp mother was oh-so important to me because the hormones were getting to me and I was all emotional and it's hard to act all nonchalant about such cruel insults when they're coming from the mother of the father of my child that I just found out I was carrying that morning!"

Hermione gasped, bringing her hands to her face. Draco's features were frozen, ever so slowly melting, dropping his jaw down as his muscles thawed.

"You mean, you're…"

Floundering helplessly, Hermione shrugged. "There's one good thing about Firewhiskey, you can drink it all you want and it won't ever hurt the baby."

"And… and you're sure it's mine."

Hermione gave him another Look. She felt he deserved it, for that one.

"So when exactly were you planning on telling me?!"

"That night. But then… things went so downhill…"

"Yeah." Draco's morose expression broke suddenly and brightened. He laughed out loud.

"Just what the bloody hell is so funny?!"

Draco went inside his jacket and fished out a little black box after some struggle. "It's funny once you get the joke. I was planning on, well, you know, that night, too. When we got home." He set the velvet box in the centre of the table.

Hermione stared at it, open-mouthed, and then started cracking up too. Having never really stopped, Draco just laughed harder.

When they finally calmed down, both reached for the box at the same time. Their hands met over top of it, and the intertwined their fingers. Their eyes met.

"Quite the pathetic pair we make," Draco murmured.

"Yeah," Hermione replied just as softly, "But at least we're a pair."

"Or something like that," Draco agreed.

They shared their smiles and held their hands.

"Oh, and Hermione?" Draco said after a while.

"Hmm?"

"I'm gunna kill our friends."

Hermione smirked. "Happy to help."

Fin

There's my first challengefic ever! The lines in bold are the ones I used. I found all of them to be pretty hilarious, read through them if you want a laugh.

1. "You and me? Alike? As in we breathe particles of oxygen that are in close proximity?"

2. "If I stuck my head in your ear and stared at your brain I would still have no idea what you were thinking!"

3. "What would happen if someone found out about the prophesy? What if i were put under the imperius curse? What if I hit my head on something and started following the dark lord?"

4. "That boy is by no means an attractive specimen."

5. "Ew, he's like... horse dung," "Only I'd rather stare at horse dung for a hour than at him for one minute!"

6. "No sarcasm, that's new."

7. "I didn't eat fifteen! Well, okay, maybe I did. But they were small!"

8. "Drink your coffee. There are people in India sleeping."

9. "If you think there's good in everybody, then you obviously haven't met 'everybody'"

10. "Nobody's perfect. I'm nobody."

11. "Here I am! What are your other two wishes?"

12. "Time is what keeps things from happening all at once."

13. "Few women admit their age, few men act it."

14. "We have enough youth. How about a fountain of 'smart?'"

15. "No one is listening until you make a mistake."

16. "The severity of the itch is directly proportional to the ability to reach it."

17. "A clear concience is usually a sign of a bad memory."

18. "On the other hand, you have different fingers!"

19. "For every action there is an equal and opposite criticism."

20. "I'm out of bed an dressed. What more do you want?"

21. "According to my best recollection... I don't remember."

22. "I used to worry, I was a HUGE worrier way back when. Then I did a bit of research and discovered that ten out of ten people die."

23. "I intend to live forever. So far so good."

24. "All men are idiots. And I married their king."

25. "Before you criticize someone you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them you'll be a mile away and have their shoes."

26. "Death is hereditary."

27. "Don't piss me off, I'm runing out of places to hide the bodies."

28. "Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines."

29. "I am not a vegetarian because I love animals. I am a vegetarian because I hate plants."

30. "Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7 of your life."

31. "The more you complain, the longer God makes you live."

32. "Where there's a will, I want to be in it."