Breaking Tradition

by She's a Star

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to that wonderful genius who we all call JK Rowling, and Gone With The Wind, which is mentioned a bit, belongs to Margaret Mitchell.

Author's Note: For quite sometime now, I've been wanting to challenge myself to do the unthinkable. The impossible. Yes, I wanted myself to...*pauses dramatically* write an in-character H/Hr. If Rowling had meant for them to be together in the books, there simply had to be an in-character way to portray their relationship, right??

Well, I set off to find out.

And I realized that a truly in-character H/Hr has Hermione ending up with someone who, in fact, is not Harry.

* * *

Hermione Granger was as logical a witch as they came. She always did her homework correctly, was hardly gullible, and needed to know how things worked before she could truly believe them. As a matter of fact, if it weren't for the tiny fact that she was attending a school teaching magic, she would believe it all to be nothing more than a fairy tale.

Her belief that all things had to be logical usually tended to annoy Harry and Ron.

Usually Ron.

"Honestly, be logical!" was a phrase that she now knew well enough that there was more than a slight possibility that she might have recited it in her sleep.

Books were quite logical. They could teach you anything: science, mathematics, history....

Romance.

Not-so-surprisingly, the latter was what troubled Hermione most of all.

From all the love stories she'd read, from Jane Austen classics to romance novels (er...not that she read them or anything. She'd just glanced at one or two. Or three. Or four. Or sixty-eight.) she'd made one general conclusion.

The hero and heroine always had to end up together. If, by any chance in some strange alternate universe there was a series of books about her years at Hogwarts, she was quite positive that Harry would be the hero. And as she was his closest female friend, she supposed that she, Hermione Granger, was the heroine.

It made sense, when one looked at it rationally. She and Harry often agreed (unlike she and someone else who would remain nameless), and violent arguments never erupted between them (unlike she and someone else who would continue to remain nameless until identified as RON). She'd even pecked Harry on the cheek at the end of their previous year.

In her mind, it all seemed to fit perfectly: she and Harry were simply meant to be.

Granted, he didn't make her heart race or knees grow weak, but Hermione sincerely doubted that actual romances were as...well, romantic as the ones she read about in all her favorite novels.

And yet, one thing confused her.

Gone With The Wind.

The book was her absolute favorite work of fiction ever to be created, and yet it completely destroyed her 'hero gets the girl' theory. Scarlett O'Hara had convinced herself that she was in love with Ashley Wilkes for years upon years. He was the ideal hero: handsome, intelligent, a bit distant and constantly in a world of his own.

And then there was Rhett.

A no-good scoundrel, selfish and infuriatingly witty, always saying the right thing at the wrong time...purposely.

Scarlett and Rhett were good friends, and yet they quarreled so violently that she often claimed to hate him. Her 'love' for Ashley blinded her, not allowing her to see how desperately she cared for Rhett.

Everyone who read the book new from their first encounter that Rhett and Scarlett were meant to be.

Everyone, that is, except Scarlett herself.

Hermione couldn't help but compare Rhett to one of her own infuriating-scoundrel friends...

Not that she was any Scarlett.

Harry and I will end up together, she reasoned. It's tradition...it's how it's supposed to be.

...or was it?

* * *

Harry and Hermione were meant to be together.

It was just the way things went; the way that the world worked. The sky was blue. The grass was green. The hero got the girl.

If Ron were to end up with Hermione, the sky may as well be pink.

And yet he still found himself completely smitten with her.

When he looked back on it, he figured he'd always loved her, ever since she'd first marched into their compartment on the Hogwarts Express and blatantly insulted his spell used to attempt to turn Scabbers yellow.

With a wistful sigh, he studied her where she sat across the nearly empty common room, curled up in a huge scarlet armchair and immersed in a thick book. Her thick brown hair flew wildly around her face, rebelling against the elastic band that held it in a messy ponytail. She bit her lip as she studied the pages, honey-colored eyes flying back and forth.

He vaguely wondered what her reaction would be if he stomped across the common room and kissed her right then and there, something he'd been wanting to do for quite sometime now.

She'd probably be revolted. He could just see it now.

"Ugh! Honestly, Ron, what are you doing? You didn't really think that I cared about you, did I? Everyone knows that I'm going to end up with Harry!"

Another sigh escaped Ron's lips, heavier this time. Hermione looked up curiously, eyes still possessing the soft sort of exhilaration that sparkled in them each time she read.

"Ron, are you all right?" she asked, sounding concerned.

He knew what he was supposed to say. "Yes. 'Course. I'm fine."

And yet instead of that safe and emotionless answer, something very different left his mouth without consulting his brain beforehand.

"You like Harry, don't you?"

She studied him for a moment, baffled, before replying, "Well, of course I like Harry! He's one of my best friends-"

"Herm, don't pretend to be thick," Ron ordered. "It doesn't suit you."

She fell silent at once, her eyes falling back to the book she'd been reading.

"I...I suppose I do."

He reckoned that if someone ripped his heart out and stamped on it repeatedly it wouldn't be quite as painful.

Toughen up, you git, he thought angrily. You knew this was coming.

"It doesn't bother you, does it?" she asked tentatively.

Ron was ready to give up, to shake his head and pretend that she wasn't anything more than his friend.

And yet he couldn't quite bring himself to.

The common room was nearly empty; Ginny sat talking to Colin in a corner, but other than that, it was deserted. Why shouldn't he tell her right now that she was ruining him, that he was, cheesy as it sounded, in eternal agony??

Bloody hell, Ron, he thought miserably, You've turned into a complete sap, haven't you??

"Why shouldn't it bother me?" he asked defensively, the words once again escaping his mouth without his brain's permission.

"Well, why should it??" Hermione asked heatedly, her cheeks growing red.

"Because maybe I'm in love with you, Hermione!!"

Oh. Shit.

Ohshitohshitohshit.

"What?" Hermione whispered incredulously.

"I just said maybe," Ron croaked. "I didn't mean that I was."

Silence, a wretched, pressing silence that seemed to draw the air from his lungs. And then-

"Are you?"

Dammit.

"Why do you care?" Ron snapped, not ready to answer the question. "After all, your heart already belongs to Harry."

Hermione paused, then responded delicately, "It should, shouldn't it?"

Needless to say, huh??

"What do you mean by that??"

"Well," Hermione said, biting her lip almost nervously, "You see, the hero and the heroine are always meant to be together. And-"

"And I'm just the sidekick," Ron replied bitterly. "Big surprise. That's not anything that I don't already know."

"I always thought that Harry was the hero," Hermione continued, raising her voice to speak over him. "But then I suppose...well...what's a hero, anyway?"

"Harry," Ron responded easily.

What did she think she was getting at, anyhow? It was obvious that Harry was the hero. Was she just attempting to pour the salt in his wounds??

"And I don't really think it would work between Harry and I," Hermione went on. "I mean, I always kind of knew it, but I didn't want to face it. After all, if that was how it worked in the books, then it should have been the same way in real life. I suppose someone would think that Harry and I would belong together because we don't argue. There's no tension between us."

Fine then, rub it in, won't you?? Ron thought angrily.

"But there's no passion, either."

...

"Oh," Ron said weakly, knowing that the tips of his ears had gone red.

Passion. That was a...racy word.

Yes indeed.

An awkward silence had taken over them.

"How, exactly, did you come to this conclusion, if you liked Harry about two minutes ago??"

Hermione cast a last glance at her book, the cover proclaiming "Gone With The Wind" in sweeping white letters.

"I realized," she replied slowly, "That I didn't want you not to give a damn."

Ron didn't know what the bloody hell that meant, but was pretty sure that he'd always give a damn about her.

And so he grinned at her.

And she smiled back.

FIN