Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns both Harry Potter and my soul.
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts for her last year of school. Harry has dedicated himself to fighting Voldemort, leaving her and Ron to wander through the days together. Over six years of repressed feelings are thrust onto center stage, and in times of danger and tragedy, it becomes apparent that love is the only thing worth fighting for. This story does not follow The Half Blood Prince in anyway whatsoever. Kindly humor me and pretend the trio's sixth year was full of nothing more than typical teenage angst and uncontrollable hormones. And now, without further ado, I present "Tomorrow Came Too Soon."
Chapter 1: Waiting
Night fell hard over the sleepy English town, draping the winding roads with stillness and peace. The only sound was the rhythmic chirping of the crickets as they hid in the dark, grassy lawns. The moon bathed every building and every tree with a soft, glowing light. Tiny homes crowded the narrow streets. It was simple town full of simple people.
One of these typically plain homes lay at the end of a particularly tiny lane, behind a large oak tree and overgrown bushes. From one small, open window on the side of the house, a vibrant yellow light pierced through the calm night. Within the room, books had been crammed haphazardly onto shelves, creating a strange mosaic of literature. Long rolls of parchment were draped over the aging mahogany desk that sat in the far corner of the room. The lamp producing the offending beam of light stood tall next to the closet door. And on the bed, stretched out over the handmade quilt, was one Hermione Granger.
Hermione Granger was an odd sort of girl. Her hair was wild and seemingly unmanageable, twisting out in every which way. From time to time, the young girl would push a few stray chestnut strands away from her face, only to have them fall back in place a few moments later. Her chocolate colored eyes traced the old familiar cracks along the ceiling, squinting whenever something seemed out of place. Releasing a long sigh full of boredom and impatience, she drew herself up and stared out the window. She knew she morning would be here soon to carry her away.
It felt strange already, this waiting. Waiting to travel to the Burrow for the last days of summer. Waiting to see friends she missed so dearly. Waiting to board the train and return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the last time. Waiting to achieve something greater than this horribly plain town. Waiting to become something more. Waiting to say goodbye.
She was ready for those changes, of that there was no question. Yet it was that dreadful in between phase that made her skin crawl and her mind scream. Hermione Granger did not wait for life to come to her; she sought the very art of living with a passion and vigor very few have ever had the pleasure to bear witness to. But watching the minutes pass by one after another, she accepted that time was, in that moment, untouchable.
Resting her chin comfortably atop her folded hands, she cast her doe eyes across the night landscape before her. Her mind raced through the checklist of things she would need in the coming months. Her schoolbooks, her homework, her uniform were all carefully arranged in her large, black trunk resting silently by the front door. There was nothing left to be done, only to wait. Hermione's eyelids grew heavy as she listened to the crickets' gentle melody. Knowing the sun would awaken her in only a few short hours, she let herself be carried off to sleep by the cool night air.
It was in that awkward position of balancing on the windowsill that Hermione awoke the next morning. She arose slowly from the chair she had been sitting on, extending her arms toward thelow ceiling. The sun had illuminated the atmosphere, revealing lush, green hills and brightly coloredflowers blossoming all over. Hermione smiled a small, wistful grin, knowing this was the last time she would look across this scenery for a very long time.
Making her way to the impeccably organized kitchen, she bid her parents good morning as they sat happily at the table, enjoying their breakfasts. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and grabbed a piece of toast before joining them in their content state.
"Excited, dear?" Her mother asked with a knowing smile.
"Mmhmm," Hermione responded through a mouthful of bread.
"What time will your friends be arriving?" Her father inquired, bringing his steaming up of tea up to the thick moustache covering his mouth.
"Um," Hermione turned her focus to the oven clock, somehow hoping it would provide the answer she was searching for. "I'm not quite certain. I think they said around lunchtime perhaps."
The meal continued with quiet conversation, each party aware that this simple routine would be very shortly interrupted. Hermione's mother insisted that she eat more than a single piece of toast. Her father wisely avoided this particular bit of nagging, and instead redirected their chatter towards the news and other such things. They sat at the table a very long while, reveling in their last moments of togetherness before outside responsibilities encroached on their time.
The hour passed to ten and the small family knew they could no longer put off the inevitable. Hermione arose and made her way back to her room, searching for anything forgotten once again. Gathering a few inconsequential trinkets, she hurried to her trunk and set them atop a pile of folded school uniforms. Choosing to waste her final moments at home by enjoying a long, hot shower, she grabbed a towel out of the linen closet and shut herself in the bathroom.
Emerging from the steam-filled room feeling both refreshed and on edge, Hermione dressed quickly and returned to the front room. Her mother sat knitting something or other, allowing the warm sun rushing in through the large picture window to caress her skin. Hermione made herself comfortable in an antique armchair, saying nothing as she watched her mother knit. She wished for a moment that time would freeze at that very second, leaving her to remain forever surrounded by this sense of security and family.
But the sudden rumbling of a very old car as it maneuvered carefully down the narrow lane assured that no such event would occur.
The past twenty minutes had been a blur to Hermione. She vaguely recalled Fred and George and their maniac smiles bursting into her living room. Her luggage had been quickly packed into the tiny car, another one of Mr. Weasley's endeavors into the mystery that was muggle living. The goodbyes seemed as if they had occurred years ago. There had been crying, of that she was sure. Yet, the clever witch could not recall whose tears had filled the tiny living room with a sense of loss.
"How's your summer been, Mione?" Fred's obscenely cheerful voice asked, ripping through her opaque train of thought.
"Lovely," she replied with a scowl. "But may I suggest never calling me 'Mione' again?"
"Yes, Fred," George concurred. "We wouldn't want her ruining your ever so charming face with a particularly nasty hex, now, would we?"
"Do not joke about such serious travesties," Fred admonished, his features schooled to a perfect look of horror.
Hermione couldn't resist a hearty laugh at the twins' antics.
"Now where is that laughter coming from?" George peered into every obscure crevice of the entirely too small car.
"Surely not from that terribly serious witch in the back seat!" Fred exclaimed.
"Don't be ridiculous, Fred," George rolled his eyes for effect. "Such somber beings do not partake in such trivial indulgences!"
"You two never quit do you?" Hermione was acutely aware of a sharp pain in her lungs as she gasped for air. Nonetheless, she could not find the willpower to stop laughing.
"Never, my dear," George assured.
"I don't see how your mother survives with you two," Hermione struggled to regain her breath. "Honestly, you two are more than I could handle! Let alone you and five other children!"
"I've no idea what you're talking about," George eyed her quizzically.
"Yes," Fred nodded his agreement. "We are perfectly civilized adults."
"Civilized adults do not make a habit of leaving dung bombs in professors' desks," Hermione pointed out.
"Ah, yes," Fred was suddenly lost in the memory, a reminiscent grin spreading across his freckled face. "That was a good one. Did you see the look on Snape's face?"
"Priceless," George responded. The same far away look had spread to his face as well.
Hermione settled into her seat as the twins recounted old pranks and noteworthy explorations. Her head bobbed up and down as the car traveled down a seldom used road. Green meadows streaked in a haze. The outside world seemed to blend together as they sped through the countryside. And for just a moment, Hermione was perfectly content watching everything pass by.
"How is everyone?" Hermione spoke up, suddenly curious.
"Well mum in a fit trying to cook enough food to feed all of England," George informed her.
"Oh, she needn't worry herself!" She said pointlessly, knowing there was no curing Molly Weasley's cooking addiction. "I don't want to be a burden."
"Cooking isn't exactly a burden," George assured her. "It's more like a necessity."
"Yes, cooking and breathing," Fred added. "That's really all she needs."
"What about sleep?" Hermione pondered. The twins laughed loudly before replying.
"Please, Hermione," Fred shook his head. "You do not raise seven children without learning to live without the nuisance of sleeping."
"Good point," Hermione admitted. "And the others?"
"Dad's been busy at work," Fred continued. "He's got a lot of new projects developing, apparently. He seems oddly enthused by the prospect."
"Bill and Charlie are all well and good," George picked up. "We went to visit Charlie in Egypt a few weeks ago, actually."
"I know," she smiled. "Ginny mentioned it in an owl awhile back."
"I suppose she would have," Fred acknowledged. "She's become very…what's the word, George?"
"Loud? Domineering? Terrifying?" George supplied.
"All of the above, I'd say," Fred answered.
"Oh please," Hermione scoffed. "She's almost sixteen! Just because you can't boss her around anymore does not mean she becoming some officious control-freak!"
"Really?" The twins seemed genuinely shocked by this revelation.
"Huh," Fred shrugged.
"I know," George commented. "And here I was worried she was planning on make us her loyal servants."
"Well, I wouldn't put that past her," Hermione said.
"I'd like to her make Percy wash her socks or something," George smiled at the thought.
"He probably would, spineless git," Fred muttered bitterly.
"Still on that, are you?" Hermione asked, recalling how hard Percy's change of character had been on the Weasley family.
"Well, mum and dad won't talk about it," Fred admitted. "And Bill and Charlie stay out of it."
"But you should see Ginny and Ron have at him," George's smile only grew wider. "Ron just nearly hexed good old Percival into oblivion the last time he was over."
"Really?" Hermione now smiled as well. She had no trouble imagining Ron losing his temper.
"Yup," Fred confirmed proudly. "Thank goodness that boy hasn't learned to channel his anger or any of that bullocks."
"Speaking of Ronnikins," George began. "He's been awfully busy this summer."
"That he has," Fred nodded. "He and Ginny do almost two hours of Quidditch practice everyday, now. Don't know why, honestly. Mum can't stand them being out on their brooms all day."
"He's been helping us at the joke shop, as well," George added. "We're already anticipating the start-of-school rush."
"Right you are, George," Fred grinned at his twin. "Be sure to stop in on the first Hogsmead weekend. We'll give you a discount since you're practically family, as it were."
"I'm touched," Hermione smiled. She was well aware that she would more than likely never find anything of use in a joke shop. However, she made a mental note to have a look around and at least appear to be interested.
"And here we are," George spread his arms as wide as the cramped car would allow.
"Home, sweet home," Fred grinned happily.
Hermione glance out the window and saw the inviting home in just down the hill. The smell of home cooked food filled the air with its enticing aroma. Voices and laughter sounded from inside and outside, a familiar trademark of the Weasley clan. Hermione smiled. Though she had left her parents only an hour before, she felt like she coming home for the first time in a very long while.
A/N: I would love to continue this story, and I'm dying for some feedback. I decided the first and second chapters made more sense put together. I've edited a bit, and I hope everything flows a bit better now. The first chapter or two will focus on description. However, I promise the plot will soon arise (likely a few rumblings in the next chapter). Kindly review and help me decide whether or not to continue this story! Your thoughts and opinions are priceless!