Stuck in FOREVER with You
So, the chapters might vary in length; hopefully, if I keep them short, I'll be able to update more often. I'll be home for the Christmas break. But when classes start again in January, the updates will become less frequent. You've been warned! Please leave a review – it totally helps motivate me to keep writing. Favorite it, too! Thanks.
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What happens when you realize that happily ever after isn't what you wanted after all?
Hermione Jean Weasley, nee Granger, found herself wondering this very thing. Hermione placed the dish she had been washing onto the rack to dry. Wiping her hands dry with the towel, she looked around the kitchen. Spotless; just the way she liked it! But how long would it stay that way? Ron would trudge in at any moment and drag mud through the hallway and across the kitchen and living room. He probably wouldn't remember until he got to their bedroom upstairs that he was still wearing his shoes.
Of course, Rose could also wake up at any moment. She would run to the garden out back and play until Hermione called her in for food or because it was getting too dark or too cold. Rose, much like her father, would unknowingly traipse through the house with dirty shoes.
Hermione sighed. Peace and quiet was nice for a while, but she didn't' think she could handle it much longer. She missed her days at Hogwarts. There was so much to learn, so much yet to discover. Not to mention the adventures that awaited her. Sure, it was dangerous for her and the boys. But at least it was never boring. As much as she loved rules and regulations, all order and no chaos made for a really dull life.
If someone had told her during first year that she, Hermione Granger, would be secretly rooting for bedlam to erupt so that she could have a bit of excitement in her life, Hermione would have never believed them. After all, why would anyone want to leave things to chance? Hermione always had a plan; she studied all the time so that she would know the answer to every question. She'd never leave anything to chance.
People couldn't understand why the brightest witch of her age needed to study so much. She was already intelligent; what did she need to study for? They never saw the need to strive to be the best. Usually, they were just happy to pass their exams. How would they know the pressure that Hermione put on herself? Or why?
No one understood. No one ever stopped to think about it. Why did Hermione study so hard? Why did she ALWAYS have to be the top student in every class? Why this quest for perfection? Why, indeed? It's simple, really. Hermione was a muggleborn. Neither her parents nor her grandparents (nor their parents before them) had any magical abilities. Yet somehow, Hermione was a witch; and a brilliant one at that.
Pure-bloods like the Malfoys couldn't understand how that was possible; nor did they want to understand why a "mudblood" was so talented. Oh how Hermione hated that word. She had hated it since she realized what it meant back in her first year. She thought it had been bad when Draco Malfoy had used the slur against her in front of the entire Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch teams back in second year, but of course it didn't hold a candle to what 'Auntie Bella' had done to Hermione during her seventh year.
Hermione shuddered as the horrendous memory suddenly flooded her mind. After the Snatchers had captured her, Harry and Ron, they had been brought to Malfoy Manor for inspection. Once Hermione and Ron had been identified, Draco's aunt Bellatrix Lestrange had decided to interrogate Hermione – believing her to be the weakest of the group. She thought she could break Hermione. She probably also just wanted a chance to torture Hermione. After all, why give up the chance to put a "filthy mudblood" in its place?
Bellatrix had enjoyed every single second of it. Every horrendous curse that had been flung her way had caused excruciating pain. Every crucio had made her scream out in agony; it had felt as if every nerve ending and every fiber of her being had been set ablaze. To add insult to injury, and perhaps to remind Hermione of the ordeal, Bellatrix had carved the word "mudblood" into Hermione's left arm. The knife puncturing her skin and tearing her flesh had caused intolerable pain.
The fireplace roared to life as someone stepped through. The individual brushed the floo powder off of himself and attempted to shake as much of the powder off as possible before stepping forward and going to the kitchen. Hermione had been so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn't hear the person approaching. Feeling concerned that she hadn't even bothered to look up when he entered the kitchen, he gently placed his hand on her shoulder and lightly squeezed it.
Immediately, Hermione snapped out of her stupor and withdrew her wand. She had it aimed and pointing at the other person in her kitchen before he had a chance to reach into his robe.
"Harry! Merlin's beard! You scared me half to death! What are you doing sneaking up on me and scaring me like that?"
"Scaring YOU? You're the one pointing a want at me. And you were pretty damn quick to draw, too. What if you had fired a spell at me?"
"It would've served you right, Harry Potter! Sneaking up on me like that. Goodness. We spent seven years fighting for our lives. That last year, we had to be on alert all the time. 'Constant vigilance,' as Mad-Eye Moody kept saying – rest his soul."
"Yes, but it's been twelve years Hermione. You don't have to be on alert constantly."
"Maybe not. But it's hard to forget the training. It was second nature to us; I can't just switch it off you know."
Harry sighed and placed his right hand on top of Hermione right hand, which was currently in a fist and clutching onto her wand quite tightly. Slowly, he lowered her hand and took the wand out of her hand. Placing it on the table, he turned back to look, really look, at his best friend of 19 years. They had known each other for nearly two decades now and he had learned how to read her emotions quite well.
Hermione was also adept at reading Harry's emotions. The furrow in his eyebrows told her that he was concerned about her. The way he was biting his lower lip told her that he was nervous and debating whether or not he should tell her what he was thinking. He looked down and blew out a breach of air. Harry then ran his left hand through his messy jet-black hair and cleared his throat, signaling that he had made up his mind and was about to tell her exactly what was on his mind. But when Harry coughed and began fixing his glasses on his face, Hermione lost her patience.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Harry! Just spit it out!"
"Whoa. What's gotten into you? Have you and Ron had another fight then? No need to take it out on me! We're best friends, but I'm not him."
Hermione lowered her gaze for a moment and rubbed her bridge of her nose with her right hand. She sighed and began in a softer voice. "I'm sorry, Harry. You didn't deserve that. And no, Ron and I haven't had a fight in a while… a long while actually. In fact, it seems like he goes out of his way to avoid arguing with me."
"Isn't that a good thing? I thought girls liked it when we let them win an argument."
"First of all, you don't let us win; we win on our own. And second, giving up when you're making a pointless argument is different than avoiding an argument completely. Lately, he's been all, 'Yes, dear.' 'Of course, dear.' 'You're right, dear.' It's driving me mad, Harry!"
"I'm not sure what to say Hermione. If you want, I could talk to Ron and tell him…"
"Tell him what?" Hermione interrupted. "Tell him that I WANT to argue with him? Tell him that I'm not happy? Tell him that I'm completely bored to death at home? Tell him that I'm miserable? Tell him that I wish I hadn't…"
Hermione stopped her rant when she saw Harry's bewildered face. His eyes were as round as saucers and his glasses magnified then further. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth when she realized just what she had said. When she realized what she had been about to say, Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She slowly exhaled and placed her hands on the kitchen counter. Hermione lowered her head onto the cool tiles of the counter and laid her head down on her crossed arms.
Harry was too shocked to say anything for a while. When he was able to gather his wits, Harry cleared his throat and pulled out the stool next to Hermione's. He sat down next to her and faced the wall for another minute. Steeling himself, he half-turned his body and put his hand on her back. When she didn't look up, Harry realized that the situation was more serious than he had previously thought.
"Hermione, what's wrong? Please, tell me. You know you can tell me anything. I've always counted on you to listen to my problems and to talk me through them. Please, let me help you… the way that you've been helping me for the past two decades."
Hermione shook her head, but Harry's hand didn't move. He was intent to finding out what was causing Hermione's problems and in helping her solve them. Hermione realized this and decided that it was time to come clean. She lifted her head off of the counter and sat up straight. She took a couple of deep breaths and then looked around the kitchen.
"Accio tumblers and firewhiskey."
Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione's choice of drink. 'This must be really bad,' Harry thought to himself. He waited patiently while Hermione poured herself and Harry generous amount of the amber liquid. She handed Harry his tumbler and took her own in her hand. She clinked her glass with his and without so much as a 'Cheers' she gulped all of her drink down. Hermione immediately closed her eyes, shook her head and coughed a little. She stuck her tongue out, as if that would get the taste out of her mouth. Harry took a small sip of his drink and waited for Hermione to begin.
AN: Yes, it's evil to leave things on a cliffhanger. But all good writers do it! ;) Review and I'll update A.S.A.P. F.Y.I. the next chapter will be much shorter, but that just means that there'll be more chapters to this story!