So, guess who jumped into the Harry Potter fandom like ten years late? Yup, me. I've only been a fan for about a month, I'd say- but I'm in love. I finally read the books. But no, it wasn't the constant pressure from my friends. It was a Hogwarts AU story I read that made me curious and give in. Read it, it's a perfectly beautiful story called "A Hogwarts Story" by Palleas. Anyway, now that I had gotten into the fandom, I was like, woohoo! I can finally become a canon fan!
Sadly, YouTube, Deviantart and Tumblr had another idea. They decided to tell me, "No, you're going to fall in love with Dramione." I was like, "No! I have to like Ron with Hermione! They're canon!"
But no, the ship drowned me in feels until I declared myself a Dramione fan. So this popped out! This is an AU, no magic, but rather a Princess tale. So overdone, so done to death, yeah, but here's my take on something like this.
The sun parted the silvery clouds in the sky, but Hermione Granger wished that it wasn't up quite so soon. Princesses had to get up at the brink of dawn, something the royal wasn't fond of.
"Princess," one of the various maids of the household popped her head through the ornate bedroom doors. "Your mother is requesting your presence in the ballroom."
Hermione knew this was coming. It wasn't going to be avoided. She had, however, hoped that it wouldn't happen quite so soon.
"Yes, thank you," she told maid, sitting up in her bed and pushing the satin covers by her side. The maid waited expectantly for Hermione's next orders. "Oh- er- you may leave now," Hermione said, and the maid bowed respectfully before taking her leave. The way that these maids had to respond to her every word sickened Hermione. She'd have to talk to her parents about that.
Sliding out of bed, she winced as her bare feet grazed the cold floor. It wasn't appealing to rise at such an early hour, she thought. How her parents managed it without fail was astonishing. Another maid, a freckled young redheaded girl entered the room, bearing a lavender gown and matching heels.
"Princess," the girl bowed her head low, causing some of her red hair to slip over her forehead. "I have your clothes. The Queen request that I help you dress-"
"Thank you, but that will not be necessary," Hermione smiled at the girl. She looked around Hermione's age, so Hermione felt more at ease with the stranger. "Could you please go tell my mother that I'll be down in a moment?"
"Of course," the girl bowed low, leaving the clothing on Hermione's nightstand. "I'll return once you bathe and clothe to fix your hair, Princess."
"Thank you-" Hermione said, leaving a pause for the girl to tell her her name, but the maid simply bowed again and left.
Living in the castle was fun, but lonely. Hermione wished there was somebody she could talk to, anybody she could befriend. Walking into the bathroom, she turned on the tap to fill the marble tub with hot water. Humming quietly to herself, she rummaged among the oils and scents the cupboard had to offer, deciding to choose sandalwood as her scent. Pouring a liberal amount into her water, Hermione began to dance around the bathroom, still humming as she found her toiletries to shower.
Next, she poured bubble bath into her water, smiling as the water frothed with the scented bubbled. Baths were fun, and when she didn't have anything in her way to attend to, she would love to frolic in the water all day until her skin wrinkled from staying in too long. This gave Hermione an extra spring in her step as she surveyed the results of her bath. Finding it to her satisfaction, she began to untie the corset that tied her nightgown.
"I have to say.." a drawling voice said from behind Hermione, startling the young princess into letting go of her corset strings. "I'm enjoying the view, Granger."
Hermione whirled around, clutching her dress as for it not to fall, and set her eyes on the intruding form of Draco Malfoy, a neighboring prince from the kingdom of Slytherin.
"Malfoy!" Hermione growled, blushing bright red. "How did you get into my room?!"
"That maid of yours," Draco turned to the closed door behind him, tilting his head. "Shame she's poor, though; pretty thing like her. Anyway, she was easily convinced I was courting you so she let me in."
"Get out, you blasted git!" Hermione gathered her sandalwood oil to throw at him. "Get out before I throw this at you!"
"Easy, Granger, easy," Draco smiled, his lips curling into a smirk. "What would your parents say if they knew you tried to attack your guest?"
"You are not-" Hermione slowly lowered the bottle she held. "You? Why are you a guest?"
"Simple," Draco leaned against the bathroom door. "Your mother and my mother have monetary business to attend to. What could be expected from the poorest kingdom out there-"
"I will hurl this at your head Malfoy, and without hesitation, you stupid-" Hermione curled her fingers tighter around the bottle. "Now get out!"
"Any girl in the kingdom would kill to be in your spot Granger, and you're trying to kick me out?" Draco grinned.
"Get out!" Hermione whipped the bottle at his head, but Draco nimbly avoided it.
"I'll leave you to your bath, Granger," Draco smiled, that ever-so-cocky grin of his still gloating over his lips. "What unlucky man would ever want to see you naked anyway?" Hermione stormed towards him hurtling curses and the most foul things she could think of, all the while backing him to the door.
"You have absolutely nothing better to do than taunt me, don't you, Malfoy?" Hermione was practically yelling. "Leave! Get the bloody hell out!"
Draco wasn't intimidated, instead, he just smirked and exited the bathroom. Hermione, seething, went back to her bath. Stupid Draco, being the most despicable thing on the planet. This was exactly why she didn't have friends. Because the people she was supposed to befriend were absolutely horrid.
"Draco, dear," Queen Narcissa spread her arms wide to greet her son as he tramped down the elegant staircase. She and Queen Monica were sitting next to each other, sipping tea in the dining room.
"Mother," Draco replied with a smile, leaning in to peck his mother's cheek. "Are you-" he turned to give Queen Monica a scalding look- "Done yet?"
"Not yet, Draco, be patient," Narcissa said. "Why don't you run off and play with Hermione or something?"
"Narcissa," Monica interrupted warmly, though her smile seemed forced. "They're grown now, they don't play anymore. You've gotten so big, Draco. How old is he?"
"Seventeen," Narcissa beamed, squeezing Draco's arm affectionately. "So old- of marrying age, too, I might add."
"Mother," Draco frowned, moving away from her. "When should you finish?"
"Another hour or so, Draco dear," Narcissa waved the hand not clutching a delicate teacup. "Why not go find Hermione?"
"I believe she's busy at the moment," Draco made a face at the memory of going into her bathroom.
"Surely she's finished changing by now, you may go check if she's done," Monica said kindly, and Draco fought to hide the disgust he felt for her with a small smile.
"I'll leave you two alone then," Draco said. "Since I'm not wanted." With a parting kiss to his mother, he went back upstairs outside of Hermione's closed door.
The maid from earlier was also waiting outside, and when she saw Draco, she bowed quickly. It was against Draco's standards to talk to the help, so he merely sniffed to acknowledge her presence before continuing to wait in silence.
"I'm ready," Hermione's voice shifted out from the closed door. She opened the door, one hand clutching a fluffy towel to her hair and the other on the doorknob. Draco's eyes shifted to the towel wrapped around Hermione's body, and his lips curled to see that she noticed him looking and she shifted the towel tighter.
"This is a great view Granger," Draco said. "Though a bit- covered for my taste."
"We can't all be perverted like you," Hermione snapped, seeming to forget about the maid waiting by her door. "Why are you here still? Go with your mother."
"Trust me, I'd rather be with her," Draco said, "But she's preoccupied at the moment with your mother, and wants us to 'play' together. Do you hear that, Granger? Even my mother wants us to shag."
"You foul, loathsome little cockroach!" Hermione snarled. "Stay away from me!" Grabbing the maid by the hand, she pulled her inside the room and slammed it in Draco's face.
Draco simply smirked again. It was fun to wind her up, so very fun.
Hermione wished that Draco would wipe that stupid look on his face. He kept smirking towards her, as though he were waiting for her to say something rude in front of their mothers. Tea with the Malfoys was not something Hermione had wanted to do. But after she had gotten dressed in a lavender gown she thought too lavish for company tea, Queen Monica insisted Hermione join her, Narcissa, and Draco at the table.
"All of this has been lovely, Monica," Narcissa said snottily, standing up from her seat. Closing her hand on Draco's arm, she pushed away from the table. "Such a shame we must go. I shall bring you what we discussed sometime next week- wait for my letter."
"I cannot thank you enough, Narcissa," Monica said solemnly, and reached across the table to shake the other queen's hand. "I trust you'll come to the event I told you about?"
"If I can, you'll find me there," Narcissa said slowly. "But we must be leaving now. Draco, say goodbye."
"Goodbye, your majesty," Draco said, his nose turned up at the queen. He turned to Hermione, a gloating smile gracing his features. "Goodbye, Granger." Hermione frowned at him, but refused to bit back with her mother still there. Narcissa and Draco left the dining area, with Hermione refusing to look after them. The Malfoys. The rulers of Slytherin, and so obnoxious and rich that Hermione couldn't help but hate them.
Since they had left, Hermione picked up her cup and saucer, preparing to take them to the kitchens and help clean up. Thinking of leaving all the work to the maids was an instant no in her book.
"Hermione," Monica called to stop her daughter, "We haven't finished yet." Hermione paused by her mother, her dishes in hand.
"We haven't?" she asked, perplexed. "Mother, I assumed after the Malfoys left that-"
"This is rather important dear, please sit," Monica waved a hand towards the chair. Hermione slowly sat down, never relinquishing her hold on the cup and saucer.
"You see, Hermione, Gryffindor kingdom has been divided for years," Monica said, taking Hermione's hand in her own. "You also know, as well as I do, that we took the throne simply because my grandfather was a close friend of Godric Gryffindor himself, none other than the establisher of this fine kingdom, and that there was no one else he trusted."
"Yes, you've told me so many times," Hermione said, knowing she sounded as obnoxious as a Malfoy but couldn't help it. After all, a photographic memory like her own never needed a reminder. "That's why many of the people don't favor us- they deem us unfit since we have no royal blood."
"Exactly," Monica was glad her daughter remembered. "Now, since Gryffindor has been divided for so long, the king of the first half, Dumbledore, has gotten himself a heir to the throne, and there's been word that this new heir will strengthen Gryffindor."
"Dumbledore?" Hermione's interest was peaked. "He's an old man- never been married or had children! How?"
"His name is Harry Potter," Monica said. "Word is Dumbledore took him in, away from an aunt and uncle who didn't care about him. He's around your age." Hermione could tell what her mother was hinting at.
"Oh, mother, no-" Hermione groaned.
"I think it's best if you were to wed Harry Potter and bring Gryffindor together again," Monica said the dreaded words.
"Mother!" Hermione gasped. "I couldn't- I don't know him!"
"I've explained everything to your father," Monica said, her voice wavering. Hermione could sense she had tears in her eyes. "Please, Hermione, this could solve all of the kingdom's problems. If Gryffindor is united again, we are stronger. Think of the people, Hermione- they're in a hard place at the moment."
"I'm sure this Harry Potter fellow isn't keen on marrying me either," Hermione said stubbornly. "Please try and see this through my point of view, mother. I don't know him."
"This is why I've invited him to a ball next weekend," Monica said. "He will be there, as will Dumbledore. Then you'll have a chance to see that he's a wonderful young man."
"I could assume nonetheless from a prince," Hermione said spitefully, her mind flickering to Draco. Now, that was a prince that wasn't a "wonderful young man."
"I know how you must feel at the moment, dear," Monica sighed, looking fondly at her daughter. "But it's for the kingdom. Won't you consider that?" Hermione exhaled, looking away from her mother before turning back to her. As always, her mother was right. It wasn't for herself, but for her subjects.
"Alright," Hermione said, and the queen's face lit up. "But I have to meet him first."
"Thank you," Monica peppered Hermione's face with kisses. "This means so much to me, dear."
"I know," Hermione tried to say bravely, but her voice faltered. "Mother- I'm going up to my room now, if you don't mind."
"Of course not," Monica said. Hermione gave her mother one last smile before taking her dishes out to the kitchen.
Getting married for her kingdom was so noble, so expected, so cliché, and Hermione hated it. Especially to some no name Harry Potter.
I messed something up, they're ooc, I swear to God, I'm ruining Harry Potter! I can feel it...