Prologue - Crossroads
The night was warm, and Hermione Granger couldn't sleep. She supposed she could have taken a sleeping draught, but there was a small part of her that didn't quite trust the use of magic in that way; it seemed like taking recreational drugs. Anyway, she had never been able to put a problem off until the next day.
Particularly since tomorrow was her wedding day.
She was staying at home, or rather, her parents' home; a three-storey townhouse in Summertown, Oxford. She felt she owed it to her family to spend the night here, to make them feel on a more equal footing with her future in-laws, but the truth was – and she knew her parents knew it – that she had become a fully-fledged witch a long time ago, and that she'd never really be part of the Muggle World anymore. With that thought, she got up and crossed the bedroom she'd grown up with, pulled back the curtains, letting the light of the full moon stream in. She hung out the open window, suddenly feeling a huge sense of déjà vu, and with it, loss.
She found herself taken back to that time, just under twelve years ago, before she had left to embark for Hogwarts and her new life in the Wizarding World. She'd had no idea what she was walking into; it was a little scary, but this fear had been easily superseded by the thrill of such an extraordinary challenge. She was a witch! Did it get any better than that?! It was surely more exciting than the alternative dull certainty of privilege and academic brilliance at d'Overbroeck's College. And she hadn't been wrong. Now, she knew she was at a similar crossroads, but felt due to take the less interesting route this time.
Hermione had fallen in love with Ron Weasley several years ago, when she'd still been virtually a child. All they had been through had only strengthened those feelings. They had been so perfect together; he had made her more relaxed, fun and helped her not to take herself so seriously. For her part, she knew that she had made him more thoughtful, more tolerant and caring. When the war was over and Voldemort defeated, the ecstasy of saving the world and being with Ron had been almost overwhelming. In reality she was never going to be like his mother, happy to devote her life solely to him and – in time - his children, but if in those first few months if he'd asked her to, she might well have been happy to agree to.
Over the last few years, however, something had shifted. She thought about the last meal she'd had with Ron's family at the Burrow only a week ago. Ron – as usual – spent the time speaking about Quidditch with George, Ginny and Bill. Apparently the Chudley Cannons had lost the national cup…or something, and Ron had been in a bad mood over it. There'd been a time when Hermione would have found that a quite sweet, and would have been happy to humour him over it. Now though, it annoyed her. It was only Quidditch, just a sport. Who cared? Wasn't the grindylow exploitation scandal which had exploded in Sweden more interesting? Weren't the redundancies of goblins at Gringotts - replaced by wizards – more worthy of debate? Nobody seemed interested in her burgeoning career in at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures; all the talk was about which celebrities Ginny was meeting after being signed as a reserve for the Hollyhead Harpies. None of them was quite as famous as Viktor Krum, Hermione had noted wryly.
That joke hadn't gone down well.
The rest of the evening had been dominated by Mr. Weasley asking her patronising questions about "muggle things". She didn't mind explaining things to him, but at the same time she felt like telling him to buy some books and read them, if he was so interested. Mrs. Weasley was no better. When Hermione had been younger, Molly's incessant fussing and mothering had been endearing; now, it infuriated her that she still babied Ron so much, that she wasn't giving him any incentive to make more of a commitment to his Auror training. Privately, Hermione knew that Ron was the least gifted of everyone on the programme, and that unlike Harry, he just didn't have a talent for defensive magic. He'd only pull through if he worked twice as hard. There was no way that she, Hermione, could do it all for him anymore. She was irritated by his laziness and bored by his limited conversation. However his proposal of marriage, done over dinner on the anniversary of Hermione's founding of S.P.E.W, had temporarily extinguished these concerns.
Hermione snapped back to the present. She couldn't call off the wedding, not now. Wasn't she just being ridiculous, like any other bride-to-be? Everyone has nerves before their wedding night, and she must have known that life with Ron would never be perfect. She went over to the bedside table, and picked up a moving photograph of the two of them together. In it, Ron was pushing her on a swing in the local park. Higher and higher she swung, until eventually she slid off backwards into a patch of mud, and the empty seat swung back and hit Ron in the face. There was a moment of shock, and then the two figures started laughing, and the cycle repeated itself. Hermione giggled to herself, then felt a tear trickle down her cheek.
She loved him, but she knew she was also settling for him. And she couldn't tell anyone how she really felt. The large support network she'd built up for herself began to feel like Devil's Snare through which she couldn't reach. Her friends were Ron's friends, or his family. Attempting to confide her womanly feelings in Harry had in the past been…less successful. Who else? Her parents, she knew, were rather biased towards the Weasleys in general, particularly Ron. They'd only use her doubts to talk her out of the marriage. It wasn't snobbishness, Hermione thought, but her mum and dad just didn't think Ron was intellectual or "socially aware" enough for her. It was a bit ironic, considering how little they knew about the Wizarding World – not that Hermione had chosen to enlighten them.
She got back into bed, and was dismayed to see that it was already quarter to two. She didn't want to look tired tomorrow, if she was going down the aisle. She put all doubts out of her mind and focused instead on the fine details of the ceremony tomorrow. For the benefit of Hermione's extended family, it was going to be a traditional muggle ceremony, in a church followed by a reception at a hotel, then a wedding breakfast the next morning. Wizarding ceremonies seemed not to be as drawn-out. Her only female friends, Ginny and Luna Lovegood, were arriving by Floo Powder at seven to help her get ready. That should be interesting. She had visions of Luna doing her make-up like a lioness as some sort of symbolic gesture, and regretted asking her to come along. She wouldn't be in the mood for Luna's conspiracy theories and spiritual rubbish tomorrow.
Gradually, she began to doze off, thoughts swirling around in her head. She sighed; she wouldn't have any of these worries if she were marrying Draco.
She sat bolt upright in bed, feeling a cold chill break out over her skin. That nasty voice had entered her head again, the same one that had first appeared when she'd seen Draco Malfoy on his first day at the Ministry, almost a year ago. At the time, it had been nearly two years since she had last seen him, and he had largely disappeared from her mind; all his remarks about her blood status, all his bullying ways had become an irrelevant childish memory. She'd never thought that she'd have anything more to do with him. But that day…things had been different. He'd changed somehow, and Hermione couldn't explain why she'd begun to feel as she had done. His sardonic wit had been funny rather than cruel and he'd looked confident rather than cocky. These changes didn't seem yet to have manifested in Ron.
She felt sick. She got out of bed again, to take a literal good long look in the mirror at the vanity table. Hermione had little time for vanity, so she rarely bothered with mirrors, and her "vanity unit" was more of another place to pile up her book collection. Perhaps this was why she was so surprised at her reflection. She didn't see a twenty-three year old, highly intelligent, ambitious girl on the eve of her wedding; she saw an older woman, married seven years, reconciling herself to an unsatisfactory fate. She remembered a time when she'd had such a zest for her life; all the months spent on the run solving the clues, running into trouble, barely escaping death. To destroy horcruxes, to defeat Voldemort…the horrible truth was, that she'd relish a chance to do the same thing all over again. Her life had seemed rather empty ever since.
Ron couldn't offer her any solution to this. But someone else could.
She went back to bed, and eventually fell asleep. She dreamed deeply, but her future as Ron's wife could not have been further from her mind. Instead, Hermione recalled the rollercoaster of events that had taken her to this point, escaping from her destiny for just a few hours, at least.
A/N - Thank you for reading this prologue. I know this is a little short, but the story is set to develop and expand quite considerably. I've rated this story as T purely because I don't want to be too limited and intend to write more adult themes as Hermione's journey unfolds. I've gone a bit Tarantino and made this prologue set in advance of the actual story purely so set the scene; there aren't any plans for repeated time skips, which can be quite irritating!
This will be a shameless Hermione/Draco fanfic; I know there are thousands upon thousands out there, but their relationship beyond Hogwarts is one which I feel is worth exploring and one which I've always thought could be realistic (!) Feel free to disagree :) J.K. Rowling has confirmed that she now doesn't think Hermione/Ron is particularly realistic either.