AN: Hello! I've decided to write another Lucius/Hermione story. So if that isn't your thing, shoo! Besides, Hermione's always of age in my stories, otherwise I agree with you. This story is based off Pride and Prejudice because I really believe that story line and idea fits in with their relationship…in my head….:) so please read and review!! Reviews genuinely make me really happy
Here goes!
Ailing Red Rose / Ailing Red Rose
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single wizard in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. However, this truth is more universally acknowledged by the women of the world, more specifically the meddlers. Hermione Granger contemplated this idea as Molly Weasley stood in front of her lecturing about her lack of a love life.
"Really Hermione, how on earth do you expect to find a husband when you sit around here night after night after night?" Mrs. Weasley's hands were on her hips and she wore an exasperated look on her face. She stood in the exact same place as she always did while giving the exact same lecture. Hermione smiled to herself. She loved Mrs. Weasley with all her heart and greatly appreciated the effort she put into finding her a soul mate, even if Hermione didn't need one.
"Molly," said Hermione, standing up from the kitchen table and hugging her, "I really don't need a husband right now, nor do I want one! I'm only 25, I've got years and years of my life ahead of me. I do appreciate your help, I really do!" she smiled at her, "You're my mother, Molly, you really are. But please, do not worry about me. PLEASE," Hermione implored her.
"Don't tell her that," said a new voice as Ginny Weasley as she stepped into the kitchen, "She'll put even more effort into marrying me and Harry." Ginny grinned widely and dumped her enormous amount of shopping bags on the floor, rushing over to hug Hermione. "When did you get here?" she asked.
"Three weeks ago! How was Paris with Harry?" said Hermione.
"Wonderful, you have no idea. Really," gushed Ginny. Ginny looked beautiful. Her satin, red hair was curled perfectly, framing her heart-shaped face wonderfully. Her robes were magnificent and expensive in quality. Her eyes glowed with the fresh fervor of love and calmness. Paris had done her good, and if Hermione wasn't wrong, Harry too. Hermione told her this.
"Are you kidding? I'm a right mess, but, then again, we did use muggle transportation. Why Harry prefers airplanes to international flooing, I'll never know. But you, honey, you look gorgeous." Hermione blushed profusely at this, knowing full well it wasn't true. She was the mess, with her unmanageable hair at its bushiest and her t-shirt and jeans covered with paint from her most recent project. She also knew that there were bags under her eyes from many nights spent sleeplessly in a row. But Hermione thanked her all the same.