A/N: this is my first fanfic! i'm so excited. Lots of background detail here, but please hang on till the meat of the story. i have some very original ideas for our beloved Hermione and the bat of the dungeons! any/all reviews appreciated, as this is my novice attempt! please, no flames.
disclaimer: i do not own these characters or rights to them at all. its just my imagination having fun with rowling's work! cheers!
2012 update: Well, I know it's been a ridiculously long time since I worked on this story. And for those of you who were excited and hooked - I really do apologize. I know it's a terrible thing to leave someone hanging in the midst of a good story. As the last of the books and the movie came out, and the park in Orlando was opened, I had a really hard time "saying goodbye." I just wasn't ready for the adventure to end - but I felt it had, it did end.
Of course you and I know that's what fanfic is for! This is our way of keeping our favorite characters and the incredible magical universe alive. For a while I needed to take a break, and find some new stories to get into. But like it is with any good pal, you miss them when it's been a long while since you've last hung out. I've been working on writing a lot for some other non-fanfin projects, and coming here to work on this story seemed like a great way to get some practice in, without any pressure.
For now I'm cleaning up the first six chapters that I already have posted here. But I am working on new material, actually. Hopefully I'll be able to get it up for you to read soon. If you're new to the story - welcome! welcome! This is my first attempt at a long-format fanfic, and because my favorite bit of fanon ever are WIKTT stories, I decided to try and brew one of my own.
I'll leave you to it now... enjoy!
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Chapter 1: The Invitation
Brow furrowed, bottom lip swollen from excessive biting, and a quill scratching against parchment at dizzying speeds, Hermione Granger looked every bit the part of mad woman. As a candle hovered inches away from her long brown curls, she hunched over her small writing desk attacking paper with ink.
After almost a foot of her immaculate, tiny handwriting was collected on her scroll she collapsed back in her chair with a serious sigh. This will do, hmph. Her appearance radiated the seething anger that boiled up within her; yet as the last of her thoughts stretched out from her hand, she had to suppress the tiny smirk that smugly threatened to crack her aura of lividity. Mad woman, indeed.
Before her brown eyes could give the letter a re-read, she heard the fire strike up suddenly. Someone was flooing in to her small cottage living room. Her head spun around, and flawlessly she snatched up her wand and held it at the ready.
"Old habits die hard! 'Mione, its just me. May I come through then?"
She let her wand down instantly as a green Harry Potter crackled amongst the flames. "Constant vigilance, eh? Old Mad Eye really ingrained that one into me."
Harry gave a knowing smile, they were all a bit jumpy. Probably always would be.
"Sorry Harry, didn't mean to keep you waiting... of course you can come through straightaway." She walked towards the form of Harry Potter emerging from her fireplace, the emerald flames turning back to natural warm hues.
"I've just heard about the party as well, and I, err, I knew you'd be upset." He was starting so intently at her floor, he could memorize every fiber of the rug.
Hermione gave a sigh, and Harry awkwardly patted her shoulder as he stepped around her.
"So, tell me." He sat in his usual place at the end of her powder blue sofa.
"I'm not angry about the party Harry, honestly! I'm angry that everyone thinks I'm still so fragile about Ron. I understand that this is life, and this is what happens."
"It's bound to still sting, it's okay-"
The bright witch cut her best friend off mid-sentence, "we made the choice mutually to separate, and I'm happy for him. Quite ecstatic."
"Oh 'Mione, its me. Don't puff up your chest and play heroine for my sake. I think it's crap that everyone tip toes around you, but I know deep down it has to hurt. And its okay, that's why I came over."
"Harry, how do you do it? Are you reading my thoughts?" She let out a sad breath and sat down next him, resignation taking over her facial expressions.
He rubbed an errant hand on her back without thought. "I know you better than I know myself. Besides, you would feel me push through, I'm not that smooth at creeping into the brains of others just yet."
She gave a genuine laugh, and sheepishly looked at him.
He smiled at her, "Want to ditch the party and get pissed with your ole best friend?"
"God I would love to, but we both know Ginny would have a fit. Furthermore, I'd only convince everyone I'm still mourning the day Ron Weasley chucked me and I can't stomach that thought at all." She scrunched her face into a mischievous little smile, "we should have some fire whiskey before, though. That couldn't hurt."
"That's my girl!" He patted her shoulder firmly and smiled. "Just come 'round to Grimmauld place before-hand and we'll all go over together."
"Thanks Harry." She felt a weight lifting off her shoulders already. "Oh, I guess I should go ahead and tear up the angry letter I was about to owl to Molly?"
"Immediately." He laughed, gave her a tight hug and got up to floo back home.
Before tossing the powder into the fire he looked over his shoulder to ask her one last time, "I'm glad we're joking and making light. But, are you sure you're okay, Hermione?"
"Harry, yes. I really will be fine. The party isn't until next weekend, so I have six days to absorb the idea and ready myself. The hardest part will be seeing him, but really - I'm fine."
He looked at his best friend with love and sympathy. He had so much in his life right now, and he was sad for how alone she seemed. "You know I haven't even seen him since last Easter holiday? What was that, five months ago?" He looked down at his feet.
"Well, he's busy and famous now I suppose." She rolled her eyes just the tiniest bit, and then in earnestness confessed, "I guess I don't even feel bad seeing the 'New' Ron get engaged. Its mostly the sadness of losing the 'Old' Ron that gets me."
Harry smiled in agreement, a sad, little smile that he meant to be supportive. "Sometimes I still can't believe it all myself. But I try my best to just be happy for him."
She smiled back at him, "Of course, we all do. Give Ginny and James my best please."
"Will I be seeing you on Wednesday?"
Hermione nodded. Every Wednesday she babysat the cutest baby in the wizarding world - James Potter, while his parents, Harry and Ginny got out for a date night. The routine and intimacy of it all really made Hermione feel like the fourth member of the young Potter family.
"You're the best, and you know we will dissect the situation all night with you." He gave a wink, he was always teasing Hermione for how analytical she really was, and with that he tossed some floo powder and was gone.
Hermione sighed and shook her head. She knew Harry was right, so she flicked her wand at the parchment she had been filling with such fury only a few minutes earlier, and magically tore it to shreds midair, and sent the bits directly into the fire. Out of habit, she sent a special charm to the flames to turn the heat down. In the wizarding world one almost always had a magical fire going, even on a humid August evening.
How on earth did he know I'd get so upset over the invitation? And how did he know I would get my letter at the same time he did?
But that was Harry, Auror extraordinaire, and the person who knew her best in the world. It was true, she wasn't exactly thrilled to learn that Ron was engaged, but Weasleys were family to her, and she would want to be there to smile and celebrate with them just as she had for every major holiday and event for years. Since Ron had moved away, she was more family with the redheaded clan in an everyday sense than he was. Taking turns babysitting the various ginger offspring that abounded, helping Molly prepare Sunday dinners. After Hermione's parents were murdered by Death Eaters, she knew Arthur and Molly would never let her live as an orphan. So even if she wasn't an official family member by blood or marriage, they were all bonded together through their experiences, the war, and in their hearts.
...
She laid on her couch and with gentle flicks of her wand tidied up her living room, sending books to the shelf behind her, dusting as she went. She cleaned as a distraction while she was deep in thought.
Mutual break-up my arse, she thought rather bitterly. Was it even a break-up? It was more like a fight that went unmended. The situation had been so strange. She started to remember the timeline of it all and she slipped into a serious reverie:
Harry had just proposed to Ginny, and she was at Grimmauld place with Ron, discussing what to do about their living arrangements. Yes, that was it, right? She remembered discussing where she was to live.
For two years after the defeat of Voldemort, the Golden Trio had lived together at Harry's home. And even though Ron and Hermione had a romantic aspect to their relationship, it never felt odd between the three of them. After the stress of the Horcrux chase, and the magnitude of the final battle, they were just happy to be alive, and able to bury any petty fighting.
So why were we discussing where to live? Hmm. Harry was an Auror, I was at St. Mungo's, and Ron was… oh! Her heart lurched a bit as she remembered. Harry proposed to Ginny at about the same time Ron's career made quite the drastic change.
Harry had taken up with the Auror department immediately after the war. During those first two years post-war he was so busy with the Ministry, Auror training, and seriously courting Ginny (with an emotional freedom he had never known before), Harry had been too busy to be overwhelmed by living with a couple, so the arrangement was working out fine.
Yes. Ginny had one more year at Hoqwarts after V-War 2, and then she signed on at the Auror department as well. Hermione smiled as she recalled Ginny proudly announcing her chosen job. She was a natural. Excellent flier, audacity in battle, and held a stubborn nature that was undeniable.
During those same two years Ron signed on with a minor league Quidditch team, and worked for Fred and George at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. After two full seasons of playing in the minors, a scout decided that his Quidditch talents were being wasted as Keeper, and offered him a contract and a chance to train to become a beater. Professionally. In Portugal.
That's when the trouble started.
The opportunity seemed so thrilling at first, Hermione had felt nothing but excitement...
"Oh Ron, I know you've always dreamt of playing professional Quidditch! How could I be anything other than thrilled?" She had been so genuine, and meant those words as she looked into eyes.
He was radiant. "I mean, shite 'Mione, I'd never have thought I had a chance. I thought the minors were just for fun. Never thought scouts would be looking at me. And blimey, Beater?" He was practically in shock.
"Wicked!" They'd exclaimed in unison, an inside joke of using "Ron's word" as the ultimate expression.
She remembered how she gripped his arm that day, feeling the already impressive muscle under his jumper. "Iimagine how big you'll get with all the training this new coach proposes?" She laughed. An honest, girlish laugh.
He pulled her into a tight embrace and kissed her with all the passion and excitement Ronald Weasley possessed. "Mione, I'll big the biggest of 'em all!"
Laughing led to snogging, and snogging led to... well, you know. He picked her up and carried her to bed, all the time exaggerating jokingly about his formidable strength. They made love all afternoon that day. Only seeing this as a great chance, they were both so excited then. How it was all to unfold in reality had little to do with the glee and giddiness of that day.
Ha. Excitement. Yes, all very thrilling indeed. Her memories were smattered with bitterness now.
She ran a small hand over her hair, and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. She was lost in the memories of it all. She laid back on her couch and closed her eyes, remembering the day he accepted the professional position so vividly. Then her brain played the next three years out like a muggle film.
Harry and Ginny were perfect. They worked together, loved together, and were now going to live together. Molly's old fashioned nature forced Ginny to officially reside at the Burrow during her first year post-Hogwarts, but for all intents and purposes she really had moved in to Grimmauld Place.
Harry didn't want to ask Hermione and Ron to move out, but he knew starting a marriage and possibly a family with a house full of friends wasn't fair to he and Gin either. It was a non-issue though, as Ron's new contract required him to move to Portugal. He assumed Hermione and he would get a place there.
Hermione assumed she would stay in London, and continue her training as a magical healer. And so much to Ron's chagrin, she rented the small cottage that's still her home today.
They tried long distance for a while. A full season, maybe. She would forgo work events and extra studying to attend his matches. They would owl and floo each other as often as possible. But the distance grew between them, their old ways of bickering returned. When Hermione decided to take a Potions apprenticeship on top of her Healer studies, Ron took it as a personal affront.
"Why can't you just move to Portugal and be with me?" He whined one evening while they were actually together in London.
"Ronald, I've never been the housewife type. I don't want to give up everything I've trained and studied so hard for just to follow you around and go to your matches. Why can't you respect my ambitions as well?"
"But I'm important now, 'Mione." He should not have said this and he knew it.
Her hair appeared to swell in anger. "Just because I'm not Rowdy Ron, the biggest and best beater ever," she mocked him by one of his ever increasing media headlines, "doesn't mean I don't have a life and job that contributes."
"Oh yeah?" He cut her off, "well plenty of witches would gladly take the opportunity to cheer me on full time instead of burying their noses in books and hospital patients!"
"And what does that mean?" She lept up from her seat, livid. Next to the couch a vase shattered.
Ron looked startled. She didn't knock it over, it had magically shattered. He forgot she could be scary powerful sometimes. But he didn't back down. He had been thinking of breaking things off for a while, and he had to use all his Gryffindor bravery now, and carry it all the way out.
"I'm just saying, there are plenty of witches out there who would love to be in your position. To get to be with me! You don't appreciate what you already have." He really was this proud of himself.
"You arrogant git!" She seethed. "Appreciate you? And what exactly do you think I've been doing with my accomplishments other than congratulating myself! Ha! I'm the one who should be bellowing for appreciation while every time you tie your shoe it makes headlines! Other witches would be happy to have you? Well good luck to any or all of them! I hope all of these witches you seem to know, enjoy putting up with your massive ego!"
The real Hermione snapped out of the memory with a shudder. An official 'breakup' never really came. No discussion of divvying up belongings or what-not since they were already living separate. They both just knew it was very over.
The second 'Rowdy Ron' Weasley was declared an available bachelor again, he went on a dating frenzy with his escalating number of female fans, and the wizard media didn't miss one bit of it.
And now after following his cavorting through the papers and wireless, Hermione was being invited to his engagement party. The latest witch he had been steady with, Estrella Estrellando, was beautiful. The tiny witch was born and raised in Spain, and had met Ron at a Quidditch match there. The petite blonde came from a wealthy pureblood Castilian family and lived a mostly frivolous life. Or so the tabloids claimed.
So this was really it. He really had moved on. Hermione had dedicated the years since the war to her studies and career, and had much to be proud of in those respects. Perhaps now, she realized with a surprising amount of optimism, this gives me the closure I needed to really move on. Marveled by her own positivity despite her sadness and jealousy, she gathered herself off the couch and headed to the staircase. It was time for sleep. Tomorrow was Monday, and her grueling work week didn't care who was getting married.