A/N – This is for (the awesome)a-trip-to-honeydukes and was written because of her (unhealthy) obsession with Hermione's parents, who she has christened Jean and Graham (can't remember exactly why)- so that's where this madness comes from, that and my mum's habit of chatting to random strangers at bus stops and on park benches! Also I know that Jean is a dentist, but I have decided to make her a writer as well!
Disclaimer – I am not and will never be JKR, which means that I do not own any part of Harry Potter or any of the characters in this story (Lily, James, Sirius-In dog form-, Hestia Jones or even Jean and Graham)
All those years ago
Jean Granger met Lily Evans only one time. It wasn't a big, flashy or showy event; in fact it took place in a park, in early October '79, just after Hermione had been born. Jean pushed her pram along a narrow gravel path, the wheels making a crunch-clack-crunch sound as they turned. Hermione gurgled, pushing her tiny hand through the tight weave of blankets she was wrapped in, "Not far to go now sweetie", Jean murmured, leaning over to grasp Hermione's hand in hers.
Eventually they reached a familiar bench, just off the path, a huge weeping willow hanging over it, letting the bright sunlight filter through the leaves, casting a warm glow on everything it touched. She sat down rocking the pram back and forth gently trying to settle Hermione down for her afternoon nap. When she finally closed her eyes Jean looked around for something to pique her interest, something that might inspire her new novel. Her gaze finally fell on a group of teenagers, eighteen and nineteen, perhaps a couple in their early twenties, running around, playing Frisbee with a huge black dog. As she watched the dog jumped up on one of the girls, the one with long, dark red hair and sparkly eyes, flattening her against the ground. The girl let out a small shriek amongst her laughter as the dog licked her face eagerly. "Padfoot!" she giggled, "Get of me, NOW! I mean it!" she continued as the dog didn't move, "James, Hest…a little help here?" she turned to a tall boy with messy black hair and glasses, and another girl with red cheeks and a long stripy scarf that trailed along the floor as she bent double laughing at her friends predicament. "It's not funny!" the red head choked out between fits of laughter, "Come on James, please?" she pouted.
"Fine, fine" he smirked dragging the dog backwards off of her by its collar and offering her his hand. She took it and pulled her to her feet, whispering something in her ear as she kissed him on the cheek.
"Oi, Lovebirds, get a room!" one of the other men shouted from his position lying on a patchwork quilt, not dissimilar from the one in Hermione's pram, a young, slightly round-faced girl lying against his chest.
"Thanks a lot Frank", the boy- James- yelled back as the red-head pulled back, grinning sheepishly.
"S'alright", Frank replied, "it's my life's work you know, winding you lot up, payback for all the pranks you pulled on us prefects at school."
"Oh yeah?" James challenged, walking over and threatening to pour a cup of what looked like orange juice over Franks head.
"James, don't!" The blonde girl shrieked, hastily scrambling away to avoid the splatter of thick liquid that splashed off Franks jumper. Frank sprang up, chucking a half-eaten bit of sandwich at James his head. Suddenly it was a fully blown food fight, the girl, Hest, Jean thought her name was, sprinted over to join in, beckoning the red-headed, who although she smiled, shook her head and walked over to sit on the bench.
"Hello", she said warmly.
"Hello", Jean replied, "lovely day", she added generically.
"Yes, it is, isn't it", the girl agreed, looking up at the sky, "I hope it stays", she said before adding shyly, "I'm getting married tomorrow."
"Oh!" Jean exclaimed, "How lovely."
"Yeah", the girl smiled, "I'm so excited, a little nervous too I guess" she added, twisting a lock of hair round her finger, "James is… is just so amazing", she giggled, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks, "It's insane, but I love him."
Jean bit her lip, grinning, "I felt exactly the same way before I married my husband – Graham- We were a bit older than you, I think, I was twenty-six, he was twenty-seven. I don't believe that really matters though…" she trailed off
"Neither do I", the girl sighed, "My sister thinks I'm too young, 'your only nineteen' she told me the last time I spoke to her – I don't even think she's coming to the wedding."
Jean looked down at her hands, "I'm so sorry", she said sincerely, "I never had any siblings; Graham has a brother, Andrew, but we don't get to see him very often as he works in America."
"Cool!" the girl grinned, eyes lighting up, "I've always wanted to go", she continued, "Hest suggested that we go to New York for my hen night, but we never had the time."
Jean was about to respond, but Hermione chose that moment to start yelling and she hastened to pick her out of her pram. "Is she your daughter?" The girl asked
Jean nodded, slightly proud as the girl exclaimed, "She's beautiful- Gorgeous hair", she added, peering at Hermione's tiny features, "how old is she?"
"She'll be a month next Friday" Jean answered stroking her daughter's palm.
"And is she your first?" the girl asked curiously.
"Yes", Jean replied, "she'll probably be our only too, we never wanted any more than one kid."
"Really?" the girl asked interestedly, "James wants a big family, he was an only child, I think he thinks he missed out", she smiled, "but our friends are our family, none of us really have many relatives left, so we sort of stick together."
"That's sweet… did you all go to school together?" Jean asked
"Yep!" the girl chuckled, "We weren't all in the same year, but we really only made friends with Frank and Alice through…" she paused, for a second, "through the army" she finished,
"You're all in the army?" Jean questioned gesturing over at the girl's food fighting friends.
The girl nodded, "we all wanted to do something to make a difference I guess, we're in the phoenix regiment." She smirked, making Jean assume it was some sort of inside joke.
"So I take it you're on leave at the moment?" Jean asked
"Yeah" the girl replied, "only for a few days though – we'll be on call again from Tuesday" she replied grimacing slightly.
"Tough luck", Jean sympathised, her eyes travelling back to the girls friends, James, her fiancée seemed to be calling to her, blowing her a kiss and holding out a rose, hastily picked from one of the flowerbeds, out to her.
The girl smiled, sweeping her hair back from her face, she turned to Jean, "I've got to go", she smiled, "stop him causing any more trouble."
"That's alright", Jean smiled back, "It was nice to meet you -"
"Lily", the girl supplied
"Lily", Jean echoed, "Good luck tomorrow."
"Thanks!" Lily replied, "It was lovely to talk to you" she added, standing up and waving a hand in Hermione's direction, before running back to join her friends, clobbering James over the head for his, "ridiculous display!"
Jean stayed and watched them for longer than she intended, smiling as eventually, as it neared about three 'o' clock, the girl Lily had called Hest pulled her away, explaining, much to Lily's protests that she wasn't allowed to see James until the next day. The boys stuck around for only a little while longer, before they too left, picking up empty sandwich wrappers and the large blanket off the ground as they went.
Once they had all gone Jean began to wheel the pram back towards her house, thinking about the friends and all the ideas she now had for her new book. It had been a very productive trip.
o.0.o
Monica Wilkins sighed placing her pen back down on the desk, gazing out at the vast Australian outback that surrounded her and Wendell's home, she was almost finished what would be her second manuscript since they had moved. It was a tale of love and betrayal set around the lives of six teenagers in the army. She didn't know quite where the idea had come from and when asked in later years always replied that she had just woken up one day with the idea formed, almost fully, in her mind.
It wasn't until she was Jean again and had reached the grand old age of 67, that she took her little granddaughter Rosie to the same spot, beneath the same willow tree, that she remembered the conversation she'd had with a red-headed teenager called Lily all those years ago.