Disclaimer: I do not own the Vampire Diaries or Harry Potter. All the copyrights associated with both fandoms belong to their rightful owner. Only the ideas contained within this story are the property of the author. No profit is being earned by the writer of this story.

AN: This sort of story is so far out of my depth as an author that I wonder why I'm even bothering to post it. I've never written anything to do with any of the characters that will feature and everyone knows that Crossovers are unwieldy things at the best of times. Nevertheless, I found I couldn't concentrate on anything until I had written this down. By the way, The Wrongs of the Past has been extremely neglected, I know, but the purge a while back killed to urge to write anymore for fear of it being deleted. Now that everything has settled down, my muse should come back (hopefully).


"So you're really going, then?" Harry asked, worry clearly seen in his eyes. "I had hoped ... after you said no more about it that you'd decided not to, in the end."

Hermione sighed and reached forward to place a hand on his knee. The two of them we sitting in the drawing-room at Grimmauld Place. They had spent the day systematically going through the rooms with a few Healers from St. Mungo's to see if the house could be converted into a long-term home for the patients in the spell damage ward. St. Mungo's didn't have the space for all the long-term patients after the war. Harry was going to give the house to the Healers and rename it the Phoenix Hospice.

He shook his head and smiled faintly, "It'll just be strange not having you to rely on for answers when Ron and I bollocks something up."

Six weeks had passed since the battle and Hermione had finally made up her mind about what she wanted to do after the summer. Most people expected her to go back to Hogwarts and finish her schooling there, but a month after the Final Battle Hermione had realised she needed a break. Not from magic or the wizarding world or anything so drastic as that, but she needed to get away from the aftermath of the war. She felt trapped, suffocated, here in Britain where random strangers recognised her on the streets, streets which were covered in flowers marking the spot where someone's loved one had died. She needed space to breathe, to get distance and perspective on the previous few years.

When Hermione had mentioned to Kingsley how unhappy she was in Britain, he had arranged for her to spend a year abroad in Muggle America, working as a receptionist. Kingsley justified using Ministry contacts to sort out her accommodation and expenses by using her research as an excuse. Hermione had, indeed, been delving into various different magics and theories in an attempt to distract herself from everything that has happening around her. Everything was now in place, she would take her NEWTs over the summer, with permission granted by Minister Shacklebolt, and come the end of August she will have disappeared into the vast anonymity of South-west Virginia.

Hermione smiled at her best friend. "Try not to think of it as me having to get away from here, but as me taking a very good opportunity to see and experience some completely different aspects of magic than we've come across, and all expenses paid by the Ministry!" The girl drew in a deep shuddering breath, getting genuinely excited about her trip now she had decided she was actually going. Indeed, she had still had doubts before she had talked to Harry, unable to be sure that he would not need her to stay. "Mystic Falls is the perfect place for such a trip! Supernatural activity has been consistently recorded in that area for centuries. It's a hotspot! Living on a hotspot for a whole year will be invaluable to my research that hotspots in different geographical locations attract different sorts of supernatural!"

Harry laughed as Hermione's enthusiasm for her project lent her breathless. "Well, I suppose you have to go now! Or you'll spend the rest of your life itching for this one opportunity that you'll have passed up in favour of making sure Auror training doesn't kill me and George doesn't accidentally blow Ron up at the shop." The smile on his face faded slightly and he continued in a more serious tone. "Speaking of Ron, have you told-"

"Ron and I have talked this out long and hard, Harry. Despite everything that happened in the middle of the battle the timing is not right for a relationship between us now. He agrees that I need to find some way to recover and after Fred-" Hermione's voice caught, "and after everything he needs his friends not a new relationship."

"I'm glad." When Hermione looked up at him surprised he rushed to continue. "I mean I'm glad you've decided to put a relationship on hold until the world has sorted itself out a bit more. I think ... I think the war, and our proximity to it, influenced your romantic feelings a lot, both of yours. I'm not saying you don't love each other, a blind fool could see that, but it's my opinion that you need a little distance from each other and the past few years to sort out the strength and type of that love."

Harry stopped to see Hermione looking at him strangely, and raised an eyebrow in question. She simply kissed him on the cheek and walked away, shaking her head in bemusement. As Harry watched her go he thought he heard the words "fifth year" and "relationship advice".


"I'm sure you're all terribly disappointed," Hermione said, grinning, "because, despite everything you've done to it, my new house is going to be just fine." The group of exhausted workers lying around her sitting room laughed but she was right, all her equipment was now safely on the other side of the Atlantic. There had been several crises along the way, of course. Terry Boot had dropped a box of ancient, priceless books that Hermione had liberated from the Black library in Grimmauld Place before coming - with Harry's permission. Then, there was the fact that one of the other movers had apparated outside the wrong house with some of her equipment. Luckily, the house was quite secluded and none of the residents inside had noticed, so a team of Obliviators wasn't necessary. But all in all nothing too disastrous had happened.

Kingsley had arranged for a group of Ministry workers to help her with the move, citing it as official Ministry business that all her data and equipment arrived safely. Hermione was vaguely worried that he was stretching the limits of his powers a little too much especially so early in his career, but she nevertheless grateful for the manpower. She would never have been able to move all this by herself and permits were needed for every civilian flooing or apparating across the Atlantic. Besides, she had gotten on well with the team who had helped her with her equipment over the past couple of days.

"I assume that ninety percent of these boxes are filled with books and the rest with various equipment. So tell me, did you even remember to pack clothes?" asked Katie Sparrow, a trainee Obliviator with a somewhat sharp tongue. Every now and then she brought a lump to Hermione's throat because she knows that Fred would have liked her.

"Eh, even if I didn't, Kingsley has given me enough of a starting sum for my research, I'm sure I won't have to parade through that streets of my new town naked."

"And won't they find that a damn shame?" Hermione grinned at the blonde and went to make the tired group tea. Although it was mostly an excuse to use her kitchen for the very first time.


"Can I help you in any way?" A voice startled Hermione from her thoughts. She looked around to a pretty woman with brown hair who was surveying her closely with a concerned expression on her face.

"Oh, no, thank you. I'm sorry, I'm not ill or anything, I just wanted to have a look around. I start work her next week, as the new receptionist," Hermione said, rather flustered at having been caught standing around in the hospital lobby. She had wanted to make sure she knew where the hospital was and how long it would take her to get there on foot well in advance of starting work.

"Oh," the woman looked taken aback for a minute and Hermione flushed, wondering if she really seemed so out-of-it. "It's nice to meet you then. My name's Meredith Fell. I hadn't realised you were English. How long have you been in Mystic Falls?"

Meredith gave her a tour around the hospital while doing her rounds and introduced her to the staff who were not in the middle of a task. Eventually Hermione checked her watch and made her excuses to Meredith saying that she needed to leave and do some grocery shopping before it got too late. She also needed to check out the town's library because she wouldn't have time to do it tomorrow with all the unpacking to be done.

Hermione sucked in a breath of fresh air as she left the hospital and resolved herself to either buying herself a car and learning to drive or buying a pair shoes more suited to walking. She was wearing a pair of cream pumps that went particularly well with her blue dress which had a vintage lace trim. However, as adorable as the shoes are, they're not the most practical of footwear for exploring a new town.

As Hermione wandered down the main street of Mystic Falls she wondered if she should perhaps buy herself a computer. Unlike most other Muggle-born, Hermione had kept abreast of the technological advances made the Muggles while she was in Hogwarts. She missed out in the past year or so while on the run and distracted by the war by she at least knew her way around a computer. And she hated to admit it to herself but a computer would be far more efficient to her research than notes on parchment. A computer could give her so much more than her own brain in this case, it could do all the necessary calculations in an instant and hold volumes worth of data without taking up precious space on her bookshelves. Bookshelves which she will already have to go to the effort of glamouring to prevent the Muggles who come to visit from picking up a book on Advanced Arithmancy or Theoretical Thaumaturgy. Hermione also had an ulterior motive to buying a computer; she was very concerned about her typing speed and did not want to embarrass herself at work. A receptionist who could only pound out a couple of words a minute is not the most useful of employees. With a computer, she should be able to figure out a spell to help her find her way around the keyboard. Failing that, she would at least get some practice in before starting her job next week.

Looking up at the burnished orange sky, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that buying a computer would have to wait until she had more time on her hands and proceeded to the supermarket closest to her house to finally buy those groceries she so desperately needed.


Mystic Grill seemed to be the only worthwhile bar in the whole of Mystic Falls and as she glanced around she could see why the building was so popular, especially with the younger people in the town. It was an old fashioned sort of place with dark lacquered wood and stone walls. The heavy beams gave the painted ceiling the appearance of being low-hanging. The soft lights just added to the effect.

Hermione had just drained her first glass when a voice behind her said, "Well, now that your drink is empty I don't suppose you'd give me the chance to refill it for you?"

Hermione turned to see a dark-haired blue-eyed man seat himself on the stool next to hers. She blinked at him and then her lips curved into a cheeky and slightly mischievous smile. "I'll let you buy me the drink if you get it right."

The man's eyebrows had shot up at her words and he grinned at the challenge. "Well, with that sexy accent of yours I'd be extremely disappointed to get it wrong. However, I'll give it my best shot." Hermione turned on her stool to face him properly and waited. "Something fairly light, a cocktail of some kind but nothing overly sweet. Vodka? ... No, that's too common. You would have something a little different, elegant, so I'm sensing ... gin. A plain gin and tonic with a slice of lemon. Simple, yet sophisticated."

Hermione stared at him in bewilderment and then shook her head in disbelief. "How on earth did you guess that? That's just uncanny."
The raven-haired man looked smug, "If a pretty woman sitting alone at the bar is in desperate need of a drink, it'd be a shame if she got the wrong one. Anyway, I believe I've earned the right to buying you a drink. The name's Damon Salvatore, by the way." He gestured to the bartender.

"Hermione Granger."

"So, Hermione Granger, what is a sexy, gin-drinking British girl doing in Mystic Falls' only worthwhile bar?"

"I moved into town today actually. I decided to put off unpacking until tomorrow and to acquaint myself with the place today. From what I could tell at a glance, The Mystic Grill was the only place to get any sort of alcohol. And I was in the mood for a celebratory, moving drink."

Damon looked extremely surprised, "You live alone? What age are you?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at his bluntness, "I'm almost nineteen. I got a job working as a receptionist at the hospital. I start there next week."

"So, you finish school and your first job is over six thousand kilometers away? Why the distance?"

"Because there was distance," Hermione said with a somewhat bitter smile and gestured to the bartender for another drink. "What about you have you lived here long?"

"Not recently, I moved away when I was a lot younger. I'm just back visiting my little brother while he starts junior year in high school."

"That's good of you. It must be nice for him to see you?"

"Well, truthfully, he hasn't seen me yet. Last time we saw each other we didn't part on very good terms so he might not be overly pleased by my reappearance in town. But I'm planning to surprise him tomorrow." Damon smirked here, as though he was enjoying some private joke.

After her fourth gin and tonic Hermione was starting to feel very warm and comfortable. She could practically feel her inhibitions unraveling as the night wore on and decided that it was time to call it a night before she did something she would definitely regret in the morning. Hermione stood and grabbed the bar to steady herself as all the alcohol went to her head. "Well, Damon Salvatore, I'm going to thank-you for a great time and for buying most of my drinks for me. It was really wonderful to meet you, but now I think I really should go home."

Damon stood and gave her a charming smile, "I'm not quite ready for this night to end. Let me walk you home ... at least some of the way," he cajoled, but she was firm.

"No, I really can't. I have a house full of unpacking that needs to be done tomorrow as well as a heap of other things. I'll see you here again sometime and I'll stay longer. When I don't have an unholy amount of things to do the next day."

At that Damon capitulated, looking surprised that he had done so, and took her hand kissing it goodbye, "I look forward to it."

Even in Hermione's inebriated state she thought that sounded more like a promise than a simple expression.


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