Nemessos

Disclaimer: The characters of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling.

Author's Note: Some spoilers for HBP.

00000

Chapter 1: Running Away…right smack into Trouble.

It all, Hermione reflected, began to go downhill somewhere after seventh year.

It was quite insensible really, to feel so dissatisfied and unhappy. Voldemort had been defeated, the death eaters repelled, and everything was rosy and back to normal and shining and new and twinkly…but somewhere, somehow, in the pit of Hermione's stomach, was the feeling of unease.

The problem was not that she felt uneasy though. She was Hermione Granger after all. She was practically always uneasy! Either her studies or the life and limb of Harry Potter had always brought out her unease quite sufficiently.

The problem was that this feeling had everything to do with her upcoming nuptials to one Ronald Weasley.

She should have been happy right? She should have been ecstatic and drunk and whooping. And indeed, she had been, in a fashion. She had also had a very strong urge to wave her bottom in the air and brandish her ring in front of the Ex, Lavender Brown.

But the initial delight and euphoria had passed after a while, and she had felt herself growing increasingly troubled. It was not until she had found herself sitting very bored, in the wee hours of the morning, on the springy Weasley sofa with Ron next to her talking animatedly about Quidditch moves with Charlie, nearly jabbing her eye out in the process that she finally realized the source of her unease: She did not want to get married to Ron after all.

It was true. The idea of getting married to Ron now made her feel as if she were going to throw up a bucketful of slugs.

Yes, she had looked at him with puppy dog eyes ever since second year when she had noticed just how cute Ron Weasley was when he talked with his mouth full. And yes, she did love him in a way.

But…she was beginning to realize that she loved him like…like how she loved Harry, or how she loved Crookshanks, or – for Merlin's sake, how she loved Hogwarts, A History! It was not the kind of all consuming, passionate, beautiful love that you somehow feel deep in your bones; the kind of love you feel when you wake up next to that special person every morning, and still knew (like she knew one could not apparate out of Hogwarts) that he was the one for you. To put it simply, and somewhat paradoxically: to Hermione, love should have some magic in it, and there was none in her relationship with Ron.

Perhaps, she reflected, it was because she had been pumped so full of that Disney crap when she was growing up. "One day my Prince shall come" indeed! She felt slightly resentful that her sensible mother had let her watch all those obviously ridiculous chauvinistic movies. Of course, she had conveniently forgotten the fact that she was the one who had sat there in front of the telly, starry eyed and demanding for more; daydreaming about the 'prince' who would one day come to sweep her off her feet to live happily ever after and enjoy the good books and chemistry sets that his castle would undoubtedly have.

It was too late by now to change her mindset of course, the idea had set into her brain like concrete. It was conditioning, or something of the such. She knew it was a stupid way to think and she knew that she was a strong female who did not need any rescuing whatsoever (Dolohov, with his missing arms could testify to that in Azkaban). But she had grown up with that idea and while she did not need to be saved her Prince had jolly well hurry up and make his way to her…now!

Furthermore, she could not deny that the lifestyle she would probably lead once married to Ron did not appeal to her in the least. Once, after a particularly…um…heated make-out session, Ron had confessed to her, all googly-eyed, that he had always wanted a large family like his own. Unfortunately for Ron, the thought of being tied down with seven small red-haired children and one big, Quidditch crazed child made Hermione want to recoil in horror.

And while Ron was no village idiot, he was also not very particularly interested in intellectual pursuits. His idea of an interesting conversation was talking about the technicalities of the Wronski Feint (which he had insisted she learned the proper name of – honestly! Even Viktor had not required that of her, and he was the one who could actually do the bloody move) and whether or not regulations on size should be applied to bludgers across the Quidditch leagues in Europe.

Just imagine! Years and years of listening to absolutely boring Quidditch drabble with not one jot of intelligent conversation. The thought made her giddy, and not in a good way! And while she knew instinctively that Ron loved her and would try his best to make her happy, she wasn't quite sure if Ron knew what it took to do so.

Most of all, however, she just could not stand all the winks and smirks of Molly and Ginny Weasley. One of Molly's two greatest wishes was about to come true (the other wish of course being that Harry would soon be absorbed into her brood as well). She wasted no time in talking incessantly about "what a handsome couple Ron and Hermione made!" and "how lovely everything would be once they moved into the Burrow (Moved in! Hermione had squeaked after hearing that piece of news Ron had neglected to tell her)!" and, the thing that took the cake, "what smart and adorable red-haired children they'd have!"

Ginny on the other hand kept making not so veiled insinuations about the wedding night, and oh, what fun they'd have then! Honestly, while her first few stolen kisses with Ron had been thrilling, subsequent experiences had left her feeling as if she were kissing her brother. Their sexual chemistry, or lack thereof had not made her look forward to that night at all. She felt that everything was being planned for her, and that she was slowly but inexorably headed towards the life she never wanted to have, not really living, but rather, existing.

It was all just building up, making her head spin. There were the preparations for the wedding, the endless number of cards to be sent out, all the happy congratulations from the onlookers, articles in the Daily Prophet, Ron's oblivious anticipation and loving looks sent her way…

She just could not take it any longer. And so she did the only thing she could think to do.

She ran away.

00000

Nightfall saw Hermione packing her essentials in a mad rush. Books and quills were knocked over in her hurry to dump them in her suitcase. She stroked her copy of Hogwarts, A History lovingly before deciding that the bulky tome was a non-essential item that she just did not have space to bring; besides, she had already read through it seven times. She did not even know how long she'd be gone, just that she needed to get away, and get away now.

Clothes went flying off their hangers in the deep of the night, folding themselves magically and being placed into the bag.

Finally, she picked up a framed picture of Ron, Harry, and herself, and gazed at it longingly. How she wished they could just go back to normal, back when they were just 13 year olds, getting into all sorts of trouble and adventures. She hated the complicated turn her life had made. She hated the fact that she had to decide the rest of her life right now, right when she was still only a kid, only 19. Yes, the war had forced a lot of them to grow up much faster than they had liked, but this marriage would finally sound the death knell on her childhood, the end of exploring, the end of growing up and learning. Shouldn't there be more to life, she wondered?

She slipped the picture of the smiling, waving trio into her suitcase, and uttered a spell to shrink it down to the size of a knapsack. It would be much easier to lug around all her belongings this way.

Finally, she left two envelopes side by side on her table. One was for her parents, telling them not to worry and that she'd write often during her sojourn. The other was for Ron. In it she had written simply, that she was sorry for all the hurt she was about to cause, but that she did not feel that they were suited for marriage, and that she had decided to take some time to think on what she should do next.

On hindsight, it was a completely, cowardly, foolish, non-Gryffindorish thing to do. She had just hurt everyone she cared about, especially Ron. But she just couldn't…she took a deep breath. She just could not bear to see the look on his face when she told him she did not love him enough to marry him. Not right now. She could just imagine Ron, all puppy dog eyes and trusting face crumpling into a hurt, confused look. I thought you loved me, he would say.

Then there was Harry, admonishing and stern as he would try to scold Hermione out of her decision. Molly, whose disappointment and pain for her son would cause her to revert to the time when she thought Hermione had been two-timing Harry with Victor. Hermione cringed as she remembered how cold and civil she had been then.

She supposed she was also afraid that once the onslaught of Weasleys plus Harry had finished their naggings and persuasion about all this being wedding jitters, she would be so cowed that she'd change her mind and marry Ron in the end like a good little girl. But she refused to be budged. This was no wedding jitter. She could feel the cold certainty like a knife in her belly. She did not want to be married to Ron.

Running to the outside her house, past the room of her sleeping parents, she cast one last wistful glance at the house she had grown up in, and at the haven that was always there when she returned home for the holidays. Then she fled down the street in the night, with only the chirping crickets to bear witness of her flight.

00000

The problem was that she did not want to be traced. How does one run away without leaving a signal? Hermione took a moment to curse the wizarding community's ingenious tracking devices for her inconvenience. Apparating was out of the question. That would leave signals and traces all over the place. So were the floo networks, especially if she did not want to be seen. She crossed out the Knightbus as it only operated within the UK. At that thought, she realized that she had not even planned where to go! She stopped her running to think for a second. More importantly though, what would she do once she had gone where she wanted to?

Feeling wretched and tired and sweaty all at once, Hermione sat down on the curb with her knapsack, shoulders shaking with exhaustion. Truly, she did not know what to do, or why she was even doing this. One part of Hermione was already regretting her actions. The other, stronger part of her was screaming at her to getawaygetawaygetaway NOW!

Suddenly, a car whizzed by, causing the puddle on the floor to splash all over her jeans and shoes. "Great", she grumbled, "just what I needed to make my night complete". She whispered a quick Scourgify, drying her clothes in an instant. And like a freight train it hit her. She let out a quick "Huh!" Why did not she not think of this before? Wasn't she supposed to be one of the brightest witches of her age? Honestly, she told herself, one would think her brain was made of cotton wool! The answer was right there, staring at her in the face. She was a muggle! And muggles use muggle travel means! Like cars! And trains! She would take the train under and across the Channel to France, and then, the world was her oyster. She had always wanted to backpack across Europe anyway, right? This was the perfect opportunity!

With renewed confidence and determination, she set out to the nearest train station to take her to Waterloo, where she would then get on the Eurostar and depart for the train stop in Calais, France.

00000

The trip across the Channel tunnel had been uneventful, one she had taken numerous times with her parents in the past. Once she emerged in Calais however, she had to make the decision of where she wanted to go, and how she would get there.

First though, she followed the directions to a convenience store at the train station, hoping to buy a snack to cure the rumblings of her stomach. She had not eaten anything since her flight from home last night and boy, was she starved! Hermione felt a quick jolt of guilt when she remembered her last dinner in England had been with the entire Weasley family at the Burrow. The family she was now betraying. She wondered how Ron would take it once he read her letter and realized she was gone. Would he go in a rage? Would he break down and cry? Would he try to find her, or would he just give them up for lost? Shaking herself out of her reverie, she told herself to get a move on. "You created this situation," she scolded herself, "now you have to deal the best you can. Forget about the past."

She was paying for a ham croissant sandwich at the counter when a small coloured postcard caught her eye. It showed an unbelievably quaint, but beautiful French town, full of Gallic and Roman architecture jumbled up together side by side in a delightful mix.

The photograph of the town said, "Welcome to Gergovia!" She then remembered the history of this unique town from her History of Magic class at Hogwarts. Gergovia, nearby the city of Clermont-Ferrand in the Auvergne region of France was supposedly the epicenter of very mysterious and unexplored forms of magic carried out by the ancient Celts. In fact, their pagan practices dating back to 100 BC were thought to have been the first recorded instances of witchcraft and wizardry. Many old spells were thought to have originated from there, some, thought to be lost to the world after the Roman conquest of Gaul.

It was also the birthplace of Vercingetorix, the legendary Celtic druid and chieftain of the Averni who had united the Gallic tribes in their fight against Caesar. What the muggles did not know of course, was that Vercingetorix had in fact been a wizard! In fact, all of the 'mysterious' druids whose histories were by now lost to lore had been either wizards or witches who had gained the trust and leadership of the Celts at the time. The druids were much revered by the muggles, and had even been allowed to move from tribe to tribe.

This was probably one of the best well-recorded instances of cohabitation and cooperation between muggles and magical people, and the bookworm in her sprang to life as she thought of all she could explore of the Celtic culture; its religion, art, history, and, most importantly, its magic. The Celts and their druids were full of mystery really, and even wizards and witches today did not know all of how they had lived their life, and how the powerful druids as a cohesive group ultimately met their demise at the hands of a mere muggle, Julius Caesar.

Mind made up, Hermione immediately left the convenience store in the direction of the domestic ticket station where she would purchase a one-way train ride to Gergovia. She repeated the name to herself under her breath. Even its name felt beautiful and magical. There was a rightness to it Hermione could not explain. Yes, this was the place to go.

00000

"Oops! Sorry!" The French woman who was boarding the train glared at Hermione as she unintentionally jostled her Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee. Biting her lip, she waited till the woman had boarded completely before going up on the train herself.

Walking down the aisle, she was surprised to find that this train was oddly very much old-fashioned and Hogwarts Express like with its antiquated wood paneling and individual compartments. Seeing as the other compartments were already fully occupied by this time (the train was making a stop at Clermont-Ferrand as well), she walked to the end of the train until she reached the last compartment right at the other end.

Nearing it, Hermione felt a strange…twinge at the back of her head. A feeling she always got when magic had been performed. But…she thought confusedly, this is a muggle train. No one magical would be here.

Sliding open the door to the compartment, Hermione walked in to find a strangely clad man sitting as far as he could to the other end of the compartment, as if he was trying very hard not to be noticed, and doing the exact opposite in the process. He was wearing a large wide-brimmed leather hat that covered almost half his face, a long, black cloak that was pulled tight across his neck, black shoes, and, most oddly, pink and blue mismatched socks.

She sat down diagonally opposite him and stared curiously. There was something really familiar about him, but she just couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was. He seemed to be exceedingly nervous about her presence however, and was resolutely turning his head away from her, brim of the hat tipping forward as he shrank away from her company.

The train soon rumbled to life and off they were to Clermont-Ferrand (which would take six hours or so), and then Gergovia.

As the train jerked about the rails however, three very interesting things happened.

Number one, the strange man's hat seemed to slip, revealing shockingly white-blond silky hair.

Number two, said man seemed to look up in alarm, simultaneously pushing his hat up in panic, revealing his pointy, pale face.

Number three, Hermione Granger jolted up to a standing position, screaming at the top of her voice.

"YOU!"

00000

Author's Note: I apologize sincerely and most profusely for butchering Gallic and French history and place names! For those who are interested, the Averni stronghold was indeed Gergovia (where the Gauls had won a resounding victory over the Romans); however, I have no idea whether or not such a place exists now, or where Vercingetorix (a national hero and icon in France) was actually born.

Also, to those who are wondering, Nemessos was actually the Gallic name of Clermont-Ferrand (it is a very old city apparently) in the past. It means 'sacred forest'. Fascinating, no?