Wizard-Proof
Summary: H/HR. Alternate Universe. OOC. Takes place after Hogwarts. Hermione is heartbroken after Ron decides to choose Lavender to be his bride. To keep her mind off of things, her friend, Harry Potter helps her land a job at the Daily Prophet. But as time goes by, Hermione stubbornly refuses to give Ron up. Will she realize just maybe the person she was meant to be with was in front of her this whole time?
Caveat: Based on the film Man-Proof with Myrna Loy and Franchot Tone. Harry Potter characters owned by J.K Rowling.
A/N: Here's a new one for you. Been contemplating this one for a while. Not sure if I will continue with this story, so please review and let me know. Also, the grammar thing, go easy on me. English is not my first language. Please note, Harry and Ron are not friends.
Chapter One: Heartbreaking News
It was a nice summer's day in Oxford, at the home of Mrs. Granger and her daughter Hermione. Mrs. Granger had been sitting in the study, at her desk with a typewriter for over an hour now. Thanks to her muggle connections and her daughter's wizarding connections, Meg Granger is now one of the best-selling romance novelists in London in both worlds. Her publishers had been eagerly waiting for her next manuscript. Meanwhile in the living room, she could hear her daughter talking on the floo network that connected to the fireplace in their house. It sounded like she was having a conversation with the proprietor of Ron's flat.
"Has Mr. Weasley come in yet?" Hermione asked anxiously. After a moment of silence, she heard her say, "No, no message."
Mrs. Granger sighed as she ripped yet another page from the typewriter. With the sheet crumbled in her hand, she got up from her desk and made her way to the living room.
Hermione was still on the floo network, this time talking to someone else.
"Ginny? Yes, I was just wondering if your brother is back in town today," her tone, nonchalant, "Oh, he was suppose to arrive at three o'clock? Thank you," With that, Hermione backed away from the fireplace.
"Maybe he's decided to stay over there for a few more days," Mrs. Granger suggested.
"Maybe," Hermione replied, "But he wrote me, telling me he would be back today." She sat down on the couch, absentmindedly running her fingers along the edge, "I bet Ron was bored in Palm Beach. He always did hate house parties."
"For a man who has no appetite for boredom, he bit off a rather large slice," observed her mother, "Three weeks to be exact."
Just then, the doorbell rang. Hermione's face lit up, "There he is now!" she declared before opening the door, ready to greet Ron with a bright smile. Her face quickly fell as her eyes met the person on their doorstep, "Oh, it's you."
Harry tilted his head curiously, pretending to look around, "Well, I think so," he answered with a grin, "Now after that rousing welcome, may I come in?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione apologized, still holding the door, "I thought you were someone else."
"I got it," he replied, stepping into the house, "Hello, Meg!" he greeted Mrs. Granger.
"Hi, Harry," Mrs. Granger smiled.
Harry walked up to her with one arm behind his back and bowed, "It's the gift, not the thought," he said as he presented a small bouquet of flowers, roots still intact.
Mrs. Granger took the flowers from him, "Oh, Harry, they're beautiful," she replied with obvious embellishment.
"They ought to be," he told her with a slight chuckle, "They came right out of your own garden."
Mrs. Granger giggled as she placed the stems into an already filled vase.
Harry asked, "How's the new novel coming along?"
"Not so hot," she responded, shaking her head, "Sure, the plot's alright. It's never failed me before. I'm just having difficulty giving new names to my characters." Mrs. Granger laughed to herself, "What brings you the wilds of Oxford?"
"An overwhelming desire to see the only woman that's ever appreciated the genius of my work," he answered. Harry is a photographer and cartoonist for the Daily Prophet. He had been responsible for designing Mrs. Granger's book covers for a few years now. "And her brat," he added, gesturing his head over to Hermione by the coffee table.
"To say of nothing to the possibility of a free meal," Hermione replied offhandedly.
Harry turned back to Mrs. Granger with a mock look of disappointment, "Children should be seen and not heard Meg." He walked over to the coffee table by Hermione and casually picked up a copy of Witches' Weekly. "As a matter of fact, the paper sent me down here to take some photographs of Mrs. Lestrange, the hatchet woman. You know, the one who made love to her husband with an axe?" He placed the magazine back on the table, "Charming woman, just a playboy at heart. You ought to send Hermione over there to play with her some afternoon."
"I'll give you ten to one he won't leave until we serve dessert," Hermione added slyly.
"You nasty child," Harry remarked teasingly as he took a seat on the couch, "She must take after her father."
"Don't mind her Harry," Mrs. Granger explained, sitting across from them by the fireplace, "She's been thwarted this afternoon."
"And how is Mr. Wonald Weasley, pardon my lisp," he asked with a smirk.
"You needn't be sarcastic," Hermione retorted, hardly amused, "You don't even know him."
"Only by his deeds," Harry recalled, "Seen in Morocco. Seen in Paris. Seen in Southampton. Seen in the Quidditch finals. How does he do it anyway? I'm broke too, and no one seems to see me anywhere."
"Society reporters don't hang around in dark corner pubs," Hermione snapped.
"Well, they ought to," he stated plainly, "They would meet a much better class of people."
Mrs. Granger shook her head, "Can't you two ever get together without leaping at each other's throat?"
"Suits me," Harry shrugged his shoulders, "Shall we bury the hatchet Hermione?" He said, offering his hand, "As Mrs. Lestrange said to her husband."
Hermione's expression softened, "I'm sorry, Harry," she grabbed his hand and shook.
"Think nothing of it," he patted her back gently, "Why do you let any man upset you like that?"
A defensive Hermione grew furious and stood up, "When will you learn to mind your own business and stop playing dutch uncle to me?" She glared at him, "I can't see that you made such a brilliant success in your life and what's more----"
Her rant was suddenly interrupted by a sharp tapping noise on the window.
Harry heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief, "Saved by an owl."
Hermione walked over to the window where a small brown owl had appeared with an envelope addressed to her. She took the letter from his beak and proceeded to open it. Her expression was unreadable as she read the letter to herself. Worried, Mrs. Granger walked up to her daughter, who was still facing the window, "What is it?" she asked.
Without a word, Hermione handed the letter over her shoulder. Mrs. Granger took it and read aloud, "Want you to be the first to know of our engagement. Expect you to be our loveliest bridesmaid. Lavender and ---" she paused before uttering, "Ron." She sadly looked over at her daughter whose eyes were filling up with tears. "My dear, I'm so----"
"Don't mother," she interjected, "Don't say anything." She turned; ready to retreat to her room.
"Would you like me to leave?" Harry asked tentatively, getting out of his seat.
"Why?" said Hermione, trying to hold back the tears from flowing down her face, "There isn't going to be a scene," She marched right up to him, "I won the consolation prize didn't I? I'm going to be a bridesmaid," she muttered bitterly.
"Stop it, Hermione," her mother pleaded, growing more concerned, "Harry, get her to stop."
"Do bridesmaids ever wear black?" Hermione continued, as if she hasn't heard a word, "No, of course they don't. I'll wear the conventional organdy with forget-me-nots."
"Now look, Mione," Harry placed his hands on her shoulders to calm her down, "Stop being noble. Go ahead and cry. If there's anything I hate is a noble woman."
"I'LL BE AS NOBLE AS I LIKE!" Hermione barked, trying to get out of his grasp.
"Oh, no you won't!" he yelled back, not letting go, "Now cut it out."
Hermione was so livid; she did the first thing that came to her mind and slapped him across the face, taking him completely by surprise. Harry immediately lets go. Without another word, she took off to her room, slamming the bedroom door loudly behind her,
Harry and Mrs. Granger stood alone in the living room, both staring towards the direction of Hermione's bedroom.
"Now what do I do?" Mrs. Granger asked.
"Don't look at me," Harry said, gently rubbing his sore cheek, "I'm just an innocent bystander.
A/N: There you are. Just a little chapter to set everything up. It's short, I know, but the chapters should be longer in the future. Please review!