Ola!
Chapter 1 – Where it all begins…
"Ha! Gotcha, baby!" I exclaimed excitedly, while sitting up in my bed. The mosquito that was now no longer buzzing around my head in a highly irritating manner was squished into a bloody pulp in my hand.
Subsequent to the first seconds of feeling ecstatic victory soar through my veins, I did get rather disgusted by the mushy red-brown mass in my hand and walked into the bathroom to wash it off. Solemnly, I turned up the water and let the dead body go to the happy hunting-grounds.
After getting rid of the faunal leftovers of what might have possibly been my grandfather, I stepped out of my pyjamas and hopped into the shower.
Aah, god bless the invention of the shower, there was indeed nothing better after a restless sleep.
Enjoying the feel of the water droplets on my tanned skin, I closed my eyes and thought about the last two weeks.
Which hadn't been, come to think of it, very exciting. But that had been exactly what I had needed, after finally finishing my studies. I sure did deserve this three-week holiday in the south of France. Mon Cherie, la Côte d'Azur, je t'aime.
So, in a week's time, I would be back in rainy, foggy, grey ol' England, ready to start looking for a job. Yep, you heard right, Hermione Granger had finished her studies and had yet to get herself a job.
I have to say, I enjoy the feeling of dangling in the air, without knowing what to do next. But I am sure there will be no lack of offers, after all, I am the Hermione Granger, the one who helped Harry Potter defeat Voldemort.
But I'm sure that you all know that story from the Daily Prophet, so I won't flog it to death yet again, as not to be a strain on your patience, and last but not least, will to read this.
But I'm digressing, yet again, from the matter that I wanted to address while I was telling you about my thoughts in the shower of my single bedroom in my four-star-hotel, the Hotel Don Cesar in my favourite town in France, Antibes Juan-les-Pins.
So, I guess the more attentive readers will have already guessed my problem.
Yes, indeed. It's always my, my, my. My single bedroom, my four-star-hotel, my favourite town.
Sad, isn't it? Aged 21, always top-of-class, finished studies in a record time of only 2 and a half years (Mind that I now have a Charms, Potions, Arithmancy and Herbology degree…), popular, not bad-looking, at least so I have been told, but I haven't found my Knight in Shining Armour yet, my Romeo, hell, I haven't even found his freaking squire on his lame old donkey.
But before I let myself fall into the depths of despair and hedonism, I have to remind myself of the fact that I, first of all, hadn't been looking very carefully, and secondly, for my studies, I had to tour around Europe for said 2 and a half years.
Of course, I had been at home to visit my friends and family, but I never settled down long enough to get to know someone new or deepen my acquaintances from school or university.
Damn. Already half past eleven and I'm still in the shower. Owing to my pitiful reminiscing, I didn't even notice the water turn cold.
Deciding not to think about my single-do(o)m anymore, I got out, put on my brand-spanking-new golden-polka-dots-on-fuchsia bikini (Well, as brand-spanking-new as it is after a two-week holiday) and made my way to the beach.
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"RON!!! There's an owl for you!" Fred yelled from the living room of the Burrow.
Swiftly, Ron scurried down the stairs and grabbed the letter that Fred was waving in his left hand.
Having ripped it open, he read the few hurriedly scribbled lines and started grinning.
"Harry! Hermione's coming! She's had enough of tramping and holidays!" he shouted and happily ran into the kitchen, where Harry was calmly preparing himself a tasty-looking BLT-Sandwich.
When he heard the news, Harry's face lit up as well, and the two young boys sat down for brunch.
They were both still studying, although not as much and not as intensely as their female friend, thus they had not finished their courses yet.
That explaining why they were both still living with their parents. Or rather, why Ron was living with his parents and Harry was living with his parent-substitutes, Molly and Arthur.
In the last Great War, Muggles had been involved and the Dursleys had been killed. Although Harry had never entertained warm feelings towards them, he had still felt a certain sense of loss when he had heard that Death Eaters had brutally slaughtered them. After all, they had been the first faces he had got to know (and dislike) in his life.
Because of Sirius' death, the Weasleys had offered to take him in until he had finished his learning and was standing on his own two feet.
He had never been more grateful in his life.
"So, Ron, how about we give a little Welcome-Home-Party for Herms?"
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Maybe a Surprise Party. We know how much she loves those…" he suggested sarcastically and the two started planning, both with impish grins on their faces.
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Huffing and puffing, Hermione tried to close her suitcase, but all her efforts were in vain.
It seemed as if some greater power did not want her to take home all these bottles of the finest red and white French wines. Damn, it would have been so nice to 'taste the holiday' at home in Britain (or at least that had been what the salesman at the local Wine-O-Mart had said… cliché, but nevertheless appealing.)
But hey, wasn't British wine supposed to be very tasty as well? Even though this tasty was not tasty as in sunny, warm, lovely nice beaches-tasty, but rather a dull, grey, cloudy-tasty, she'd just have to live with it.
So Hermione took the seven bottles of wine out of her bag, threw them onto her bed, and, lo and behold, the zipper closed with ease. Leaving the bottles on her bed with a sigh, she left her room and walked down the stairs to the reception.
After having checked out, the young woman called a taxi and asked the driver to take her to the airport. Trying hard to hold back a small tear in the corner of her eye, she mentally waved good-bye to her holiday, and although she wasn't aware of it, to her previous life.
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When Madame Julie Longchâmp had finished cleaning up room #137 in Hotel Don Cesar in Antibes that same evening, she left it mumbling something sounding very disapproving and suspiciously like "…alcoolique..."
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A/N:
Hey there :D
I'm Marie, this is my first fanfic, blabla, you know the deal :)
Anyway, I wanted to thank you for reading through the first chapter of my fic, hope you enjoyed it, and, as always, all comments, be they bad or good, are appreciated and thought about.
If you have any suggestions, I'd love to include them :)
Oh, and if anybody would be willing to beta-read whatever I manage to type out, I'd be very thankful :) You see, my mother tongue isn't English, so I guess some of my grammar will be on the blink... I think I'm okay at spelling, but mostly grammar is my problem :P So if you are interested, just email-o me at mary420aon.at
So, I have a good idea about how this story will turn out. It will definitely be romance/humour only. I have no interest whatsoever on explaining the ongoings of the war, blabla, as you might have noticed :P Unless, of course, that is a big problem for the readers and they feel that the story lacks something because of that, then I will do my best to change that :)
Okay, so, as said, suggestions/flames/critics/praise/comments/etc... Just review or email me :)
Have a great day and may you only find well-written fics :)
(Long A/N, I know, thanks for reading, won't happen every time)
And this was quite a short chapter... so to speak, there wasn't much I could write for in here, since, in my opinion, this is only a prologue, and had I written any more, it would have become too long :)
Bye now :D