Alright, so I'm not going to say much: Just that this is an amusing little story to pass my time, that has been rotating through my head for a while. I do not own Harry Potter, that honor goes to JK Rowling.
Chapter One
Hermione Granger, your average 'hero' of the wizarding world, not that she preferred to be called a hero. She'd leave that title to her few friends who enjoyed the spot light, such as a certain Ronald Weasley: who was currently the bane of her existence, thanks to his constant insistence of attending the most recent party held in the honor of the Golden Trio after the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Even now, Hermione found it ridiculous that the wizarding world had issues with saying his name. Voldemort was dead . . . simple as that. Why still worry over it.
Truth be told, there was a lot going on in Hermione's life that led her to feel a bit better, especially today as she sat around the table with the other Weasleys, during a Family Dinner. Ron was still going on, and on, and on about how much fun this party would be, and how everyone would be there, and how the had to show their support to help the wizarding community continue to build up, and grow, become stronger than it was before the fall of the Dark Wizard.
Unfortunately, Hermione had no such desire to attend this 'dazzling event' and from the look on Harry's face: well, she gathered he didn't want to go either. "Ronald Weasley, that's quite enough. If the girl doesn't want to go – then she doesn't have to!" His mother snapped, finally tired of the pressure her youngest son was directing towards the witch she felt was another daughter to her.
Ronald's ears grew red, but he fell silent, stubbornly glaring at his dinner. The room fell into an awkward silence after that, the family eating slowly. A few minutes passed, followed by another few minutes before the low flow of conversation finally resumed, Harry turning to Ginny, asking if she'd go to the party with him. The twins were talking softly, Fred's recovery from his near death at the hands of a felled wall having gone smoothly in the months since the war ended (though he still had to push himself every day to regain the strength he'd lost while in a magical-induced coma).
There was a puff of ash from the fireplace suddenly, and the family turned as one unit, the majority standing with their wands pointed at the unannounced visitor, before a delighted cry left Mrs. Weasley's mouth, "Charlie! You're home! We didn't think you'd make it!" Molly rushed forward embracing her second eldest son in a strong hug, as the man smiled awkwardly, looking a bit more ragged than usual.
"Careful mom, had a run in with a dragon before I came over. Still a little sore from the healers work," The ginger-haired man spoke with a soft chuckle, even as he returned the woman's embrace, grinning at the others, "Sorry I'm late. Hope you can forgive me for the interruption. What's for dinner?"
Molly immediately pulled him to the table, sitting him down and dropping a plate overflowing, and piled high with food in front of him, to which he immediately responded by digging in . . . it was the only way to handle the Matriarch of the Weasley family during such a time. To be quiet and let her fuss.
Molly helped Hermione comb out her hair, as Ginny fussed over her dress choices later that night. Hermione could understand the manner in which Molly would often fuss over her, considering Ginny was far more like her older brother's than a girly girl, leaving Molly to not have the privileged with spoiling her only daughter the way she wanted.
So small matters such as letting the older woman run a brush through her curly hair didn't bother her (and she'd willingly admit it was nice to let someone else deal with the easily tangled bush than struggle with it herself). She glanced as Ginny growled at her selection, careful not to turn her head fully, "Everything okay, Gin?" She asked with a soft frown.
Ginny shook her head, her gaze narrowed slightly, "No! There's not a bloody thing to wear in this closet! I need a dress for that party!" She grumbled, ignoring her mother's startled cry of 'Language!' She ran a hand through her hair, tugging on the ends slightly in her agitation, "If I'm going with the hero of the wizarding world, the proclaimed 'Boy-Who-Lived' I'm not going to go looking shabby." She added.
Hermione shared a frown with the motherly woman, before Molly spoke, "Now Ginny, you know how much Harry hates being called either of those things. If you go with him, go with him as Harry. Don't go just to be on the arm of the Boy-Who-Lived."
Ginny flushed, looking wide eyed at her mother, "That's not what I meant." She squeaked, alarmed when she realized how it'd came, "I just meant that I didn't want to look like I wasn't good enough for him, and risk someone else flinging themselves at him with the claim of being a better fit." She said, her tone going darker at the thought of anyone daring to try and take her Harry away.
Hermione chuckled softly, "I wouldn't worry about it Ginny. Even a blind man could see how in tune the two of you are to each other. You're clearly meant to be." Even though she spoke with a smile, there was a twinge in her heart from the pain, and the knowledge that she didn't have anyone special like that.
She and Ron had tried to make things work, after their kiss on the battlefield, but it hadn't lasted more than a month or two before the realized how incompatible they were. He was all impulse and anger and aggression. She was far more down to earth and collected. It was a very volatile mix, one that didn't last that long, and now she was once again among the single world. Ron had hooked back up with Lavender himself, but her happy ending was no where in sight.
She smiled as Molly set down the brush, the silent signal that her hair was combed out and perfect, "Thank you, Molly. It's so much easier to let someone else deal with this mess." She said with a soft laugh, though she really couldn't call it a mess. Over the years the bush had tamed itself slightly. Her curls were still wild, but in a more crazy, sexy wild then a bush that had attached itself to her head. It was a miracle what maturity could do to you.
Molly smiled easily, "It's no problem, really Hermione. You have such pretty hair, anyways!" She gushed, as was typical of the older woman, before giving the girls a hug, "Get some rest now, you two. It'll be a big day tomorrow. We'll all go shopping and look for some clothes for the party."
Hermione sighed, even as Ginny let out a whoop of delight, before the two turned off the lights, and climbed into bed, Molly closing the door behind them, neither of the three aware that the world was about to get a little more crazy tomorrow.
Everyone sat around the table the next morning, slowly eating their way through a breakfast that could feed a small army, as the others talked about the plans for the day. Shopping for a party that Hermione still had not intention to attending. A cry of an owl broke the noise as the post swooped in, dropping off copies of the Daily Prophet, before a small envelope and box was dropped in front of Hermione, surprising her.
"Did you order something?" Ginny asked her friend, curious about the package. Hermione shook her head, not responding verbally as she slowly opened the letter to read it, making no reaction of any kind, even as she felt as if her heart would stop beating. It was from her parents, or rather her mother.
My Dearest Hermione,
I hate to send this to you now, but I'm afraid I've lost track of time.
Rather foolish of me, I know, but it's of the dire importance. Please come
by the house later today, I must speak with you urgently about something,
It's not to worry about, I assure you . . . but there are a few things I've not
had the time to share with you. Until we can speak, I've sent you a small
gift that should keep you safe until I can explain it all to you. Make sure
you put it on immediately. I hope to see you soon, my darling daughter.
Love, Mother
Hermione frowned in confusion, refolding the note before opening the small box. Ginny glanced inside and gasped in awe at the beautiful necklace set in the silk. A dainty silver chain with a pendant of silver and a soft opal-tinted stone. Curious, Hermione lifted the necklace from the bed of silk, and eyed it. "Go on!" Ginny gushed, "Put it on!" The letter had instructed her to do the same thing . . . so, Hermione slowly slid the small pendant over her head, the silver chain surprisingly warm as the pendant set just below the hollow of her throat.
"Oh, it's lovely Hermione! Who's it from?" Molly asked, smiling at the young witch.
Hermione glanced back at the parchment, still a tad confused, "My mother. She's asked me to come visit today. Said it was severely important. I'm afraid I won't be able to go shopping after all with you. I'd best leave now before she starts to hound me." She said, attempting to lighten her own mood with the joke.
Ginny and Molly gave her a hug each, before Ron and Harry did the same thing. Hermione picked up the parchment before moving to the fireplace, tossing the floo powder into the fire, and calling out, "Granger Residence! Australia!" And disappearing into the green flames.
Unknown to her, Charlie Weasley was still frowning from where he sat at the table, staring at her empty chair, struggling to remember where he'd seen that necklace before.