A.N.: In case anyone's wondering, this is nothing like the story "A Hogwarts Cinderella" (though I wouldn't mind getting an amount of reviews similar to the amount that story got). I got the idea for this while rereading Jane Yolen's "Briar Rose," for the millionth time (a must-read). This story starts out very strangely, but it will get more interesting as the story goes on. This is the first part of my first series fic, so I would appreciate it enormously if you would review. Please do. I will be more likely to continue if people review. If people don't review, or give me terrible reviews, I will discontinue this at once.

Disclaimer: Briar Rose (the story and the person), at least in the words I tell it in, belongs to the Grimm Brothers, I think, and whoever published the stories. The story itself is a German folk tale, so it doesn't belong to anyone. The book "Briar Rose, " by Jane Yolen, belongs to Yolen and her publisher. Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Ron Weasley, Dumbledore, and Voldemort belong to J.K. Rowling. Helen Granger, Miranda Bryce, and Robert Johnson all belong to me.

Helen Granger-Johnson sat in one of the nursing home's plush armchairs as she watched her grandmother's even breathing. Tears filled her eyes as she realized how important this moment was. Each time she saw Hermione taking another breath, the terrible realization that this might be her grandmother's last breath clouded her mind. The doctors had at first tried to shield it from her, but Helen had known long before they had told her: Hermione Granger was dying.

As Helen held her grandmother's soft, wrinkled hand in hers, she heard her grandmother murmur frequently in her sleep words like, "Hogwarts, Ron, Dumbledore, Voldemort, and most frequently, Harry." Whenever she said that name, she writhed in her bed, as if in great pain and sorrow. These were all empty words to Helen, but she still treated them each with a special importance, because she knew in her heart that they might be the last words that would come from her grandmother's mouth.

Hermione opened her eyes, and stared at Helen with a look that Helen had never seen in Hermione before. "Helen, " her grandmother told her, and each word weighed heavily, "I know inside my heart, in a way that no one, not even the doctors, can know, that these are the last words I am going to say to you."

Helen's eyes clouded with tears, for though she had known her grandmother was dying, and that she may die the next moment, hearing her grandmother tell her so was far more painful. "Do not cry, my Helena," Hermione told her granddaughter, using Helen's pet name, "for to the well organized mind, death is but the next adventure." Hermione said this as though she had heard it said before, but from whom, Helen could not fathom.

"My Helena, you have been everything and more than I could ever expect of you, and I love you dearly. I have but one dying wish for you."

"What is it, Grandmother? " Helen asked, her hand shaking but her voice remaining steady in light of the importance of the moment.

"Hermione, you must read, one more time, from our copy, " she put special stress on the last two words, "the story of Briar Rose."

Helen began to ask why, but stopped at once, for she knew that Hermione placed an importance that she refused to explain on the story of Briar Rose, when told in her version. Helen was sure that it told a story that Hermione refused to tell: the story of Hermione's childhood. "I will, Grandma," Helen said.

"Thank you, my dear, " Hermione said, "I hope it will help you understand the things I have never been able to tell you." Those were the last words to leave her mouth.

***
Helen wept silently as she heard someone finishing the eulogy, "and she was a loving and beautiful person." Helen had known that her grandmother would die soon, yet it had come as a shock, the realization that her loved grandmother was gone forever. She knew it in her mind, but her heart refused to admit that she would never again see Hermione.

She blankly heard words washing over her...a pity...loving...warm. "Usual funeral words, " Helen thought, half bitter, half sad, "Such usual words for such an unusual person."

She sighed. Her husband, Martin Johnson, put his arm around her. "I'm so sorry, honey, " he said, "Hermione was a beautiful person..."

Called back to earth by her husband's words, Helen said abruptly, "Of course she was. Let's go back home, I need to read Briar Rose..."

Martin seemed taken aback by the words. "But...Helen...I know that this is hard for you, but...really...wouldn't be...proper...can't leave in the middle...I know she loved that story...but...Helen, this...really isn't the...time for...fairy tales..." He seemed to be having difficulty finding the words to express himself.

Helen turned suddenly harsh. "Martin, her last words to me, her last wish, was that I would read that story and understand something. Now, if you don't want me to do that for her, then, fine, that's your problem! But I am not going to let petty formalities bar my way!"

Helen left in a storm of emotions, leaving her husband stunned and the crowd whispering.

***

Helen turned the fragile pages of the old book, which had been turned countless times before, to the story of Briar Rose. She began to read:

A long time ago their lived a king and a queen, who said every day, "If only we had a child!" But for a long time, they had none.

It happened once as the Queen was bathing that a frog crept out of the water onto the land and said to her, "Your wish shall be fulfilled. Before a year has passed, you shall bring a daughter into the world."

The frog's words came true. The Queen had a little girl who was so beautiful that the King could not contain himself for joy, and he prepared a great feast. He invited his relatives, friends, and acquaintances, and also the fairies, in order that they might be favorably and kindly disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in the kingdom, but as the King had only twelve golden plates for them to eat from, one of the fairies had to stay at home.

The feast was held with all splendor, and when it came to an end the fairies all presented the child with a magic gift. One gave her virtue, another beauty, a third riches, and so on, with everything in the world that she could wish for.

When eleven of the fairies had said their say, the thirteenth suddenly appeared. She wanted to revenge herself for not being invited.

Without greeting anyone or even glancing at the company, she called out in a loud voice, "The Princess shall prick herself with a distaff in her fifteenth year and shall fall down dead." And without another word she turned and left the hall.

Everyone was terror-stricken, but the twelfth fairy, whose wish was still unspoken, stepped forward. She could not cancel the curse but could only soften it, so she said, "It shall not be death, but a deep sleep lasting a hundred years, into which your daughter shall fall."

The King was so anxious to guard his dear child from the misfortune that he sent out a command that all the distaffs in the whole kingdom should be burned.

As time went on, all the promises of the fairies came true. The Princess grew up so beautiful, modest, kind, and clever that everyone who saw her could not but love her. Now it happened that on the very day when she was fifteen years old, the King and Queen were away from home and the Princess was left quite alone in the castle. She wandered about over the whole place, looking at rooms and halls as she pleased, and at last she came to an old tower. She ascended a narrow winding staircase and reached a little door. A rusty key was sticking in the lock, and when she turned it the door flew open. In a little room sat an old woman with a spindle, spinning her flax busily.

"Good day, Granny," said the Princess, "What are you doing?"

"I am spinning," said the old woman, and nodded her head.

"What is the thing that whirls around so merrily?" asked the Princess. And she took the spindle and tried to spin too. But she had scarcely touched it before the curse was fulfilled, and she pricked her finger with the spindle. The instant she felt the prick she fell upon the bed which was standing near, and lay still in a deep sleep which spread over the whole castle.

The King and Queen, who had just come home and had stepped into the hall, went to sleep, and all their courtiers with them. The horses went to sleep in the stable, the dogs in the yard, the doves on the roof, the flies on the wall. Yes, even the fire flickering on the hearth grew still and went to sleep, and the roast meat stopped crackling. The cook, who was pulling the scullion's hair because he had made some mistake, let him go and went to sleep. The wind dropped, and on the trees in front of the castle not a leaf stirred.

But round the castle a hedge of briar roses began to grow up. Every year it grew higher, till at last it surrounded the whole castle so that nothing could be seen of it, not even the flags on the roof.

But there was a legend in the land about the lovely sleeping Briar Rose, as the King's daughter was called. And from time to time princes came and tried to force a way through the hedge into the castle. They found it impossible; for the thorns, as though they had hands, held them fast, and the princes remained caught in them without being able to free themselves. And so they died a miserable death.

After many, many years a prince came again to the country and heard an old man tell of the castle which stood behind the briar hedge, in which a most beautiful maiden called Briar Rose had been asleep for the last hundred years, and with her the King, the Queen, and all their courtiers. He knew also from his grandfather that many princes had already come and sought to pierce the briar hedge, and had remained caught in it and died a sad death.

Then the young Prince said, "I am not afraid. I am determined to go and look upon the lovely Briar Rose.

The good man did all in his power to dissuade him, but the prince would not listen to my words.

Now, however, the hundred years were just ended, and the day had come when Briar Rose was to wake up again. When the Prince approached the briar hedge it was in blossom, and was covered with beautiful large flowers which made way for him of their own accord and let him pass unharmed, and then closed up again into a hedge behind him.

In the courtyard he saw the horses and brindled hounds lying asleep. On the roof sat the doves with their heads under their wings. And when he went into the house, the flies were asleep on the walls. And near the throne lay the King and Queen. In the kitchen was the cook, with his hand raised as though about to strike the scullion, and the maid sat with the black fowl in her lap, which she had been about to pluck.

He went on farther, and all was so still that he could hear his own breathing. At last he reached the tower and opened the door into the little room where Briar Rose was asleep. There she lay, looking so beautiful that he could not take his eyes off her. He bent down and gave her a kiss.

As he touched her, Briar Rose opened her eyes and looked lovingly at him. Then they went down together, and the King woke up, and the Queen, and all the courtiers, and looked at each other with astonished eyes. The horses in the stable stood up and shook themselves, the hounds leaped about and wagged their tails, the doves on the roof lifted their heads from under their wings, looked around, and flew into the fields. The flies on the walls began to crawl again, the fire in the kitchen roused itself and blazed up and cooked the food. The meat began to crackle, and the cook boxed the scullion's ears so soundly that he screamed aloud, while the made finished plucking the foul.

***

Helen sighed. Thus far, the story was normal, something she could understand. But then it changed. The ordinary words, "Then the wedding of the Prince and Briar Rose was celebrated with all splendor, and they lived happily till they died," were crossed out so heavily that they were no longer visible.

Helen read the words written in her grandmother's neat hand for the thousandth time. "He then bent down and kissed the Princess once more. 'Farewell, Princess,' he told her, 'for I have done what I could. Now I must leave you and the world.' And then the Prince died, leaving the castle to grieve for him."

Helen sighed. She knew that this was a different ending that her grandmother had created. But what did this change mean? Why had her grandmother written this in? It couldn't be just because her grandmother liked that ending better than the way it originally ended; nor had her grandmother had a habit of changing fairy tales. All the other stories in the book remained the same. Yet this one...

She was sure that the story of Briar Rose meant something more than it seemed on the surface. She was positive in her heart that it had another meaning to her grandmother. But what was that alternate meaning?

***

A knock on the door interrupted Helen's reverie. She wearily got up, hoping that whoever it was wouldn't stay too long or pry too much into her business, wondering why she had so abruptly left the funeral.

She opened the door and found herself facing Miranda Bryce, a friend from high school. "Come in, come in," she told her friend wearily.

Miranda seated herself on the couch, and Helen sat herself next to her. "I'm so sorry...about your grandmother," Miranda said, after a long pause.

"Yes..." Helen answered vaguely, "very sad...she was a great person..." she wished she could say something better about her own grandmother, but how could she explain the feelings of guilt, hope, sadness, and importance that were churning inside herself and mixing with one another.

Looking as though she was reluctant yet determined to say it, Miranda said, "But, well, excuse me for asking, but...why did you do that at the funeral?"

Helen sighed. Miranda wasn't going to understand this, nobody could unless they had heard Hermione saying it to them. "Listen, there's more important things I need to do for Hermione than to stand at a funeral listening to words I already know. She..." Helen's voice trailed off. "Her last wish..." she seemed to be struggling to find the words. "She wanted me to read Briar Rose, so that I could understand something she never told me." Helen's voice struggled as if it didn't want to say it, but she spoke the words nonetheless.

Miranda sighed. She had known Helen's grandmother, and knew that Hermione was fond of riddles and metaphors that were difficult to solve. She also knew that Helen was always determined to figure them out. But why had Hermione had to use this as her last wish? Speaking slowly, trying to find the right words to explain what she felt to helen, Miranda said, "Helen...I know this is very important to you. But you can't spend forever trying to understand a riddle. If it was terribly important, I'm sure Hermione would have told you."

Helen looked into Miranda's eyes and saw an entreaty in them. She knew that Miranda was being earnest and that she really did believe she was acting for the best. She put her head in her hands. How to explain such a thing to someone who can't understand it? Finally, Helen said, "Listen, Miranda, I know what you're thinking. But I think that, well, maybe Hermione couldn't say it. Maybe it was too painful for her to tell me. But I know she wants me to know it, even though she can't tell me."

Miranda looked at Helen and knew that there was no dissuading her. When Helen had decided to do something, there was no stopping her. "Helen," Miranda told her, "I guess I'll have to trust you. But please, don't let your life be eaten up by your quest."

Helen simply smiled, and continued on with her journey towards the truth.