Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
why do you rub me the wrong way?
why do you say the things that you say?
sometimes i wonder how we ever came to be
but without you i'm incomplete
—True Love, P!nk
Sometimes she wonders how they ever became friends, much less more than friends.
:-:
She is born and raised in Muggle London, where she finds magic her own way—through the worn pages of her books, stories like The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe and Pride and Prejudice.
And she absolutely loves Junie B. Jones.
:-:
She has brown hair and eyes to match. Her looks are nothing special in her own unimpressed opinion (veryvery unimpressed).
Her nose is much too pointy, her teeth too large, her face too pale.
:-:
The children at her school seem to agree—she is constantly made fun of and called ugly, or more commonly, called a "witch." She doesn't take offense at this, though—it just makes her sad.
She wishes she was a witch.
At least then she would have an excuse for being so horribly ugly.
:-:
One day, she's walking through store with her mother, whenever they walk past a large family. Every person has flaming red hair, the boys (father and manymany sons) have bright blue eyes, and the girls (mother and daughter) have dark brown eyes.
The group seems nice, though a bit rushed. They hurry along, the woman saying, "We'll be home soon, George, we just have to pick up some Muggle thing for your father."
She glares at the tall, thin man, who smiles sheepishly at her. "Apparently he couldn't go by himself—'There's something you have to see, Molly!' There's something I'd like you to see, Arthur—"
"Molly." The man looks pointedly at the toddler resting in his arms, and the little girl marching in front of him. The woman huffs, but closes her mouth.
By this time, her mother is pulling her away, giving Hermione enough time to barely make out a pair of surprisingly intense blue eyes staring at her over the man's shoulder.
:-:
She never makes the connection, not really remembering that day, not when she's nineteen and has too many other things to remember—like people's lives, before they died.
:-:
On a happier note, the day she turns eleven, a letter arrives in the mail, a woman turns into a cat, and she is a witch!
:-:
At first, Paul and Megan Granger are not keen on the idea of sending their darling little girl to a school of "witchcraft and wizardry."
But then they see the way Hermione's eyes light up when Professor McGonagall talks about wands and spells and potions, and they decide that they love her enough to let her go.
:-:
She never comes back, but in all honesty, they don't really blame her.
:-:
How does the wizard world compare with Muggle London—how can their quant little cottage fare next to magical castles?
How do parents compare to wizards and witches and warlocks, Muggles to werewolves and vampires and house-elves?
They don't compare, both of them know that. She made the smart choice—the Ravenclaw choice (because they're certain that's where she'll end up)—in leaving gradually, eventually disappearing entirely (well, they see her, but she's not Hermione anymore, she's the mother of two, a hero, savior of the wizarding world, along with Harry Potter and her husband).
If he wasn't a wizard, Paul would've killed that boy by now, for taking away his daughter.
:-:
She spends the time between her birthday and Hogwarts buying books about magic—her parents can almost convince themselves that this is just another outing to Barnes & Noble—and dreaming about her new life as a not a Muggle, but a witch.
:-:
September 1st, 1991, she wakes up at six AM in the morning, asking her mother to please do her hair and make it pretty, and requesting that her father make her a cheese-and-ham omelet fluffy and slightly burned, just the way she likes it.
:-:
On the train, a round-faced boy with black hair comes into her lonely compartment, saying, "Have you seen my toad? His name is Trevor," and she leaps up, promising to find the poor toad and wondering if this boy will be her new best friend.
:-:
It turns out Neville isn't her best friend. He's nice and sweet and she's sure they'll always be friends, but it never feels like he is her bestfriendforever, sadly.
Though, really, she should be glad she has Neville at all, since he seemed to like talking with Harry Potter and that annoying redheaded sidekick he's got.
:-:
On Halloween, her whole life flips around (which has already happened, she'd like to tell the universe). First, Ron Weasley—that annoying redheaded sidekick—makes her cry—cry!—and then a troll stumbles into the girls' bathroom and nearly kills her.
And then, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley save her from a horrible death, and she's finally found her new best friends (even though Ron is still a redhead, and most certainly still annoying).
:-:
They go on all sorts of adventures together. She's starting to think that maybe the Sorting Hat was right—she does belong in Gryffindor, when it's time to go on the real adventure.
The one they might not come back from.
:-:
Ron yells at her ("Are you a witch or not?"), Ron gets hit by a giant chess piece, she takes a potion and walks through fire back to Ron, her and Ron find Dumbledore together.
He still makes her want to slap him, he still makes her grumble, but he's a Gryffindor through and through, she realizes.
:-:
Next comes the Chamber of Secrets. For this, she is not there, she is lying in the Hospital Wing, blackness the only thing on her mind, and it makes her mad (furious)—even more mad than Ron makes her.
:-:
After meeting Ron's (huge redheaded) family, she feels a pang, a wish that she had that many brothers and sisters—well, sister.
Harry is her brother, she decides. He's the perfect brother, kind and funny and smart (and willing to hex anyone that messes with her).
And Ron.. well, he's definitely not her brother, but he's willing to kill anyone that messes with her, so she'd have to label him as a friend.
:-:
Third year is full of Crookshanks and Scabbers and Sirius Black and Professor Lupin and Peter Pettigrew and time turners.
Also, fighting with Ron—real fighting, not stupid arguments—which is the worst-feeling thing she's ever done, she discovers.
:-:
Fourteen is the first year she feels beautiful—she has Viktor Krum, famous international Quidditch star, all over her. He even asks her to the Yule Ball.
Viktor is very sweet, but can't get herself to feel that way about him, unfortunately.
Somehow, she thinks that he would look better with red hair.
:-:
Fourteen is also the year she realizes it.
It being her despicable feelings for Ron, obviously.
:-:
How can I love someone like him? Aren't I supposed to hate him?
Oh, but she does hate him, she finds after he spells her name wrong ("Honestly, Ronald, have you not known me for four years now?").
She just loves him a teenytiny bit more.
:-:
And then Voldemort is back—the graveyard gave re-birth—and all those petty thoughts about Ron and love disgust her, especially when Cedric is dead and Harry looks like he wants to be!
:-:
Over the summer, she thinks and thinks and reads and worries.
She decides that even if she does have feelings for Ron, it doesn't mean she has to act any different, or—God forbid—tell him about these so-called feelings.
She also decides that she will fight—she will fight for her parents, who are only innocent Muggles in the middle of this because of her, and for her friends, who are her new family.
And Voldemort can kiss her butt (she absolutely refuses to think the other word—she cannot turn into Ron) if he thinks he'll be able to stop her, Harry, and that-annoying-redhead-that's-sort-of-cute-aka-Ron.
:-:
Her fifth year is all about Harry. All she thinks about is how he's coping, what Umbridge is doing to him, the D.A., why Dumbledore is ignoring him, or something similar.
And, sitting on her bed in June: how is he dealing with Sirius's death?
She really hopes he's doing better than her (she's seen and heard a lot, but Sirius was—he was Sirius, so how could he die?).
:-:
Oh, right. In addition, the Ministry has discovered that they were wrong, Voldemort is back, so now Harry is officially the Chosen One.
(Like he wasn't already.)
:-:
Hermione's Sixth Year (reflections):
- Professor Slughorn is seriously falling for this? He's not using the textbook!
- Lavender Brown—Lavender Brown—Lavender Brown—Merlin, I can't even call her a name, I get so angry.
- He's not with Lavender. He's not with Lavender. He's not with Lavender!
- HarryandGinny sittin' in a tree ("I told you so, Ron.")
- Dumbledore is not dead. He can't be.
- Snape? Snape? But—but we trusted him—he can't have—he's not the Half Blood Prince, he can't be—we trusted him!
- ("You trusted him, Hermione. I always told you he was a—"
"Ronald.")
:-:
Over the summer, she readys herself for what's sure to be the death of her.
Removing parents' memories, check.
:-:
She prepares and prepares and they're still not completely prepared whenever the time comes.
She thinks that the world is set on her life being an ironic, twisted story to tell little kids after she's dead, to teach them what happens when a witch falls in love with her best friend and fights evil somewhat pathetically (he's still winning, no matter what they do).
:-:
Ron is still there, and so is Harry—her two constants, their presence never questionable.
Until that head of red hair stomps away, and tears freeze on face in the wintry air as she cries and cries and does her best to not look at Harry—he'll just make her think of the one that's missing—and then she falls asleep and pretends he's still with her in her foggy dream.
:-:
She reads books and researches and thinks that maybe—just maybe—if her and Harry kill Voldemort, she'll be enough for him again.
:-:
An eerie air hangs over where her all-but-blood-brother was born, and she just wants to run away and never come back.
The strange old woman intensifies this feeling, but Harry follows her so she does too, against her brain, which tells her to flee like the wannabe-Gryffindor she is.
:-:
So many things happen.
:-:
Harry's wand is broken, and they have no new leads, and she's sitting on her bed when—
"Hermione?"
:-:
He's back—that annoying, aggravating redhead had the nerve to come back, complaining about his fingernail—and she hates him, really, really, hates him.
But she still loves him just a teenytiny bit more, sadly enough.
:-:
Ignoring him works for a while, until he makes a joke—she can't even remember what it was, something horribly corny for certain, though—and she's laughing, and Harry's laughing, and she looks at his cerulean eyes and everything's normal again.
Even though they're in a fucking (he's rubbed off on her way too much) tent.
:-:
They go to Luna's house and find out a lot more than they were bargaining for—the Deathly Hallows?
She's never heard of anything more ridiculous in her life, but Harry seems to believe it (more like completely obsess in it).
:-:
One day, she thinks about the Weasleys.
She thinks about how they all have their own way to shine—their own special quality, their own uniqueness about them. Ginny is a firecracker of rebellion, Bill is a strong and scarred leader, Ron is..
Ron is too much to put into words.
:-:
Then Harry says Voldemort and all hell breaks loose.
:-:
Malfoy Manor, Shell Cottage, Gringotts, a lake, Diagon Alley.
It's a bit comforting to back at Hogwarts, somewhere she's always called home, even though, at the moment, it doesn't look like she's going to be able to curl up in Gryffindor Tower and read a book.
No, she's fairly certain that this is it, and something that feels a lot like nervousness spreads through her entire body.
:-:
Ron is—once again—showing his bravery, and she's never been more proud of him.
Then he says something about house-elves and she's gone.
That nervous feeling—it's gone to her head, and her brain screams at her: stop, stop! what are doing?—but she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him.
And she's feeling a buzzing feeling, but she's not sure that it's nervousness.
It rather feels like love (or insanity, but same thing, really).
:-:
Harry—they—kill Voldemort, and it's a time for rejoicing, not crying.
But Fred is dead and how can she even think of Ron when Fred is dead?
:-:
Remus, Tonks, James, Lily, Sirius, Colin, Dumbledore, Fred, Moody, Cedric.
She wonders how many more people died in the epic battle—that's finally, finally over.
:-:
She's eighteen and the world has never been more horrible and beautiful at the same time.
:-:
Eventually, she is able to smile again. Harry and Ginny get back together, her and Ron kiss again, and all the pieces are flying into place.
:-:
In a few years, they're more serious than she'd like to admit they are at twenty, and she denies it when Ginny and Luna pester her, but deep down, she wants to marry him.
:-:
He proposes—after another year—and she glows so much it's a wonder she doesn't catch on fire (yes, that is how much she shines).
He slides the ring onto her finger—that adorable head of red hair—and she focuses on not setting it aflame with the heat of her happiness.
The white diamond on her finger sparkles when he kisses her.
:-:
In the end (well, the end of pretending they aren't thirty-freaking-six, but not even close to the end of them), watching him tell Rose to beat Scorpius Malfoy in everything—of all the things he could've been telling her—she thinks that she hates him, but she loves him a lotlot more.
Written For:
- Day 25 on isn't-she-lovelyy's 400 Fragrant Prompts Challenge (white diamonds; glow; denial; irony).
- Round 2 of luckycharmgirl944's Writing Prompt Challenge (hate).
- The Pairing One Hour Challenge/Hardest Challenge Ever II with the pairing Hermione/Ron, prompt True Love by P!nk, word count of 2,500+ and time limit of 2 hours.
- Favorite Pairing on the Broaden Your Horizons Challenge: Romance Stories.
- The If You Dare Challenge, Prompt #59 (Big Teeth).
Please review.
