Hello there, fellow Romione lovers!
In this story, I'm riffing on an idea that isn't mine originally. The chapter you're about to read is inspired by one of my favorite Romione fics — one of the first that I read a few years ago when I got into fan fiction in a big way. That story is called "The Other Side of Life" by a wonderful writer named kjc1123. kjc is perhaps better known for a different Romione tale — the deservedly revered "The Time In Between" — but I've always had a soft spot for "TOSOL" because it plays with an idea that I find quite intriguing: How would Ron and Hermione's relationship develop if they hadn't known each other as children? kjc's original is a charming and totally absorbing story. If you haven't read it, go and check it out right now.
My goal here is not to mimic kjc's story step-by-step but rather to improvise on the themes that are suggested there. I'm mostly interested in the relationship between these two characters and therefore probably will not be spending a lot of energy creating an adventure-driven plot in which their romance will evolve. Action and mystery aren't really my thing as a writer, though I enjoyed those plot twists in "TOSOL" as a reader. My style as a fic writer is to zero in very closely on the emotional connection between these two beloved characters, and I find endless inspiration in putting them in different situations and imagining how they would behave. In this case, I'm exploring a theme that I've seen elsewhere in fandom — Hermione as muggle or Hermione as non-Hogwarts student — but I am taking inspiration from kjc's opening chapter as well as a few later scenes because her original really charmed me when I first read it. (I also owe a psychic debt to the wonderful but unfinished Hermione-as-outsider story "Impedimenta," by my first friend in the fanfic world, jesrod82.)
The opening chapter in this version starts in the same place as kjc1123's story does because, frankly, that was the chapter of her work that first captivated me, and I thought it was a brilliant set-up. This first scene will look familiar to you, but I plan to regard it as a jumping-off point and plan to fill in later details in ways that kjc didn't. After Chapter 1, I intend to take the story in a different direction.
I reached out to kjc1123 before I began writing to let her know that I was considering doing this, but I never heard back. I hope that if she ever does see this work, she'll take it as an homage, which is really what's intended. As I did with "The Way We Will Be" (a sequel to ermynee322's wonderful "Making Memories"), I'm feeling a pang of guilt for toying with another writer's original idea. But it's worth remembering that we're all improvising on the great JKR's imaginings anyway, so it seems silly to get too proprietary about any of it.
For those who are wondering when the heck I'm going to finish "The Way We Will Be" (hello, chemrunner57!), don't worry — I'm mulling over a good ending. Hopefully this tale will entertain you in the meantime.
As always, thanks for reading, stay tuned for future chapters, and please share your constructive feedback in the review section!
Cheers,
Holly.
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Chapter 1
It dawned on him gradually — he was absolutely, completely, stupidly fascinated with this muggle girl. A complete stranger. He'd actually started to play games with himself over the past few days, trying to guess what she'd be wearing the next time he saw her. Would she have on that tight little pink cardigan again? He hoped so. Or maybe the slim black skirt she wore last week with the black leggings. Yeah, that was nice.
He reminded himself a bloke's brain will do that on a long stakeout. Play tricks on him, it will. Make him think about things he shouldn't. He should be thinking about the suspect he'd been tailing, and what was at stake if he let himself get distracted by a pretty face in the middle of an investigation.
Even so, he was looking forward to seeing her, felt almost as if he knew her. After all, she'd shown up quite reliably at that very tea shop across the street every morning, promptly at 7 a.m. Her order — a cup of tea and a scone — never varied, he'd come to notice. And she always chose to sit on a stool right by the front window, soaking up a bit of the morning sun as she read her newspaper before shuffling away some 15 minutes later or so toward an unknown destination.
He was a professional — should have had his mind on other things, surely — but, looking at her from outside the shop every day since his stakeout began ten days earlier, he couldn't help pondering how lovely she was, with her chestnut-colored curls hanging down about her shoulders and framing her cheeks. He mentally shook himself, not for the first time since noticing her that first morning: He'd never had a thing for brunettes before, had he? The witches who gravitated to him — and they did gravitate, his war-hero status having done wonders for his sex life — tended to be the leggy blonde type. But this girl was positively petite, with skin the color of light caramel or maybe tea with lots of milk …
He cursed himself again for pondering such bollocks as what her complexion looked like and laughed, knowing how mad he might appear to the muggles passing by — a long-legged, ginger-haired eedjit cackling to himself on a park bench in the middle of Sevenoaks. He had to concentrate, dammit. This is a stakeout, he told himself, not a ruddy beauty pageant. The entire Auror Corps would give him the mickey for sure if they knew what was in his head just then — and he shuddered involuntarily at the thought of what his boss, Brocklehurst, would say.
And yet, he cast a furtive glance at his wristwatch. It was coming up on 7:08. Where was she?
To his mild relief, she came bustling around the corner just then, nearly running, and dodged a pedestrian or two as she hurried into the tea shop, the bell above the door tinkling brightly with her entry. He smiled to himself. The pink cardigan and the black skirt. Today was going to be a good day.
He stretched his legs out before him as he waited for her to place her order and re-emerge into view, draping his arms over the back of the park bench and thanking Merlin that no one in this heavily muggle neighborhood had noticed him furtively cast a Cushioning charm on the seat when he'd arrived for his shift at 6 a.m. He tapped impatiently on the wooden plank beneath his fingers, shooting a quick glance toward the doorway next to the tea shop to be sure his official quarry hadn't shown himself. No sign of life there. Good.
Soon, the curly-haired girl stepped into the sunshine filtering into the shop window and took her customary seat, though clearly she was hurried this morning. Her curls appeared a bit damp, and she shuffled quickly through her newspaper, her cheeks slightly pink from what he guessed was the exertion of getting to wherever it is she would eventually go on time. His expression, which had melted into an absent-minded grin at the sight of her, turned sour as he fleetingly pondered what might have interfered with her usual clock-like timing that morning. A lover who demanded an extra roll in the hay before work, perhaps? He hardly had time to think about it when a flash of movement in the window snapped him from his reverie: She was checking her watch, folding her newspaper hastily and cramming it into her briefcase while dashing toward the tea shop door at a near run, a steaming paper cup full of tea balanced in her hand.
The tinkling of the bells reached his ears again as she exited the shop, and then a loud "oof" as she collided at full speed with a gray-haired but sturdy-looking woman walking a large, drooling hunting dog of some sort. The distance was too great to hear the conversation that followed, but it was clear that the girl was apologizing profusely and, judging by the charmed grin on her face, the dog-walker wasn't terribly arsed about it, perhaps because the girl in the pink cardigan had come out the worse for their collision. She'd spilt tea all over herself.
After a few more nods and reassurances, the girl bid the older woman adieu and moved along, looking down at her sweater with a furrowed brow before glancing right, then left, and then ducking into the alleyway next to the shop.
And there, much to the surprise of the only person who happened to be able to see her do it … well, it happened in a flash. A wand. The girl had a wand! She pulled it out and performed a quick Drying charm, glancing around guiltily yet again as the spot on her cardigan disappeared. And then, just as quickly, the girl had stashed her wand in her briefcase and was on her way again, hurrying off in the direction she normally went each morning.
A witch! The girl was a witch. Merlin's mismatched balls!
As he watched her hurry around the corner and out of sight, he shook his head in disbelief. She looked to be about his age, and yet he had absolutely no recollection of her from his Hogwarts days. He racked his mind, thinking of all the girls who'd been in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and — blech — even Slytherin, but she looked like none of them. Could she have gone to Beauxbatons? He wondered whether he could ask his sister-in-law, but then he kicked himself again. "So, Fleur, did you know any curly-haired girls at school?" He could just imagine the smirk she would give him at such a daft question. Oh well, nothing to be done for it. He'd just have to wait … and hope that he'd see her again.
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Holly.