Hello again lovelies!
I've sort of disappeared since I posted my last story and for that I apologize, but I have an extremely good (albeit really old) excuse. School has taken over my life. Seriously, I'm not even kidding and nor am I exaggerating. There's a bit of a lull right now though so I'm taking advantage of it.
So anyway, this story…it's a long story. I had been writing it over the last couple weeks of the summer on my handy dandy iPhone and probably about a month ago I was ready to submit it. However instead of emailing it to myself like I do with every other story I've written, I accidentally deleted it… So then I spent the next two hours trying to save it, which didn't even end up writing so I was mad and frustrated and almost in tears. Anyway, I've spent the last little bit REWRITING it during my "relaxation time" (which doesn't happen nearly as often as I'd like it to) and I've managed to get things pretty accurate as to how it was before I so stupidly deleted it.
As the title says, it's about princesses, frogs and snakes – except not really and not necessarily in that order. You'll find that this first part, below, is centered around Hermione and other males even though this is a Dramione story… Some of you may not like it, because it isn't Dramione as promised, but I promise you there is method to my madness! So please read it, it'll all make sense once I post the second part – which is ALL DRAMIONE!
Enjoy! And also please review, lemme know your thoughts :)
Princesses, Frogs and Snakes
She was never a princess and so, realistically, it was silly of her to expect a handsome prince to sweep her off her feet. Perhaps she was never supposed to find a prince. Perhaps it was always about the frog – or in this particular case, the snake.
X
The first time her mother told her the story about the Princess and the Frog, Hermione Granger thought the woman was mad. A princess kissing a frog? That's mad! Right? Personally she preferred stories like Cinderella and Snow White – you know, where the prince is already a prince.
Perhaps she had a skewed childhood. Perhaps wishing for a charming prince to come sweep her off her feet was a bit…farfetched. After all, she wasn't even a princess. No, she was just a mere dentist's daughter – two dentists' daughter, actually – who believed in fairytales. She believed in love at first sight and true love's kiss. She believed in the charming prince that will one day come to sweep her off her feet – or at the very least, she believed in a well-mannered boy.
The first well-mannered boy she ever met was Daniel Peterson. She was seven. She'd known him for years, on account of the fact that he lived right across the street from her for as long as she could remember. And despite being a grazed-kneed, dirty-fingered, grass-stains-everywhere kind of boy, she was absolutely positive that he was her prince. Her true love.
He was funny and charming and kind. And he doted on her like no other boy – because all the other boys were stuck in that "girls-have-cooties" stage, despite the fact that everybody knows boys are the ones with the cooties. He was polite to his elders and got along magnificently with her parents. He was her fairytale.
Every day after school, after having spent the entire day on opposite sides of the city, she would race home from the bus stop to do her homework – which never took very long at all, she'd eat breakfast with her parents, and then she would wait. And every day, like clockwork, she would see him run across the street and straight to her front door. Then, together, they would travel down the sidewalk to the park in the next neighbourhood over.
Everybody knew they were meant to be together. Everybody, it would seem, except for Stacey Goodwill.
Stacey Goodwill was new to the neighbourhood. She was all long and gracefull limbs, long, sleek hair and a perfectly flawless face – unlike her own long and awkward limbs, bushy hair and freckles. She was the girl who the boys didn't mind had cooties; they'd hit their best mate with a shovel if it meant getting close to her. And it just so happened that Stacey Goodwill wanted to get close to Daniel. Her Daniel.
It seemed Daniel didn't mind either. And just like that, everything began to change. Stacey and Daniel went to school together, had all the same classes, did their homework together and then they would go to the park together. Daniel began to dote on Stacey the same way he used to dote on her. And, somehow, Stacey knew it.
Then came the day when Stacey would rub it in her face. In front of everyone. "He likes me so much better than he ever liked you. In fact, I don't even know why he ever liked you, you're so…plain."
But her snide little comments didn't hurt. Neither did the snickers and giggles of the other kids in the sandbox. What hurt more than anything was the fact that Daniel just stood there, silently. She had expected him to stick up for her, to deny everything that Stacey had said. She had wanted him to take her hand like he used to and walk her away from the bullies; to protect her and care for her, to tell her he really, really liked her. But he hadn't.
And so, without even a backward glance, she ran back home and sobbed into her mother's shoulder. She hated Daniel Peterson and later that night, as she lay awake in bed, she dubbed every boy on the planet a frog.
X
Frog No. Two
Over the summer break between her third and fourth year at Hogwarts, she meets her second frog: Jake Tyler.
It's a Friday afternoon when she decides to take a break from reading her most recent novel to take a trip to the ice cream shop a few blocks from her house. She's staring up at the menu board, trying to decide between her favourite flavour of all time and her favourite flavour of the summer when she hears a voice.
"It's hard, isn't it? Trying to make a decision." The voice is distinctly Scottish and incredibly confident.
She glances sideways at him, looking him over. Dirty blond hair, bright blue eyes and the kind of boyish smile that makes your palms sweat.
"There's just such a wide variety of deliciousness," he continues, smirking at her before turning his own gaze to the menu board. "I mean there's your usual – you know, the one you get because it's your favourite and because, let's admit it, it's just so simple. And then there's, well, everything else – the exotic stuff, the stuff you don't usually get because, well, it's kind of uncomfortable isn't it? A little bit weird… And I feel as though I'm talking to myself here. Are you real? Maybe I'm dreaming. Come to think of it I'm probably definitely dreaming-"
"You're strange," Hermione giggles.
He grins – and she just about swoons. "You speak."
"Occasionally."
Two hours later she has to run home – literally – for dinner, with his phone number scribbled onto a piece of paper in her back pocket.
She calls him the next day and every day for the following two weeks they are inseparable. On their 17th day hanging out they go to the beach with a couple of his friends. During a trip to the mall on their 21st day he kisses her in the photo booth – three of the six pictures is of the two of them snogging.
On the 28th day, after having lunch with his parents – and then saying goodbye to them when they leave to do some errands – Jake shows her to his room. She gets distracted by his massive book collection on the shelf in the corner of the room, admiring the books spine-by-spine. Jake watches her, teasing her about her librarian-ness and rolling his eyes playfully when she gets overly excited.
After several minutes she apologizes for neglecting him, to which he responds, "I know how you can make up to me."
Several more minutes later one of his hands is up her shirt and the other is fumbling with the button on her skirt and his lips are all over – over her lips, across her jaw, down her neck.
"Wait, stop," she breathes, placing her hands over both of his to stop him. Still, he continues to kiss her. "Jake, stop."
He groans, pulling back to look at her. "What's wrong?" he asks expectantly – and rudely, at that.
She blinks. He's never spoken to her like that before. "Um, I just…I don't think-"
"That's your problem, 'Mione. You think too much," her murmurs, lowering his lips back down on her.
She squirms, feeling goose bumps crawl across her skin. "Jake, I'm serious. Stop it." When he doesn't stop she pushes him off her roughly and he topples over the edge of the bed, landing with a loud thud on the hardwood floor. She scrambles to her feet to get as far away from him as possible.
"What the fuck is your problem?!" he yells, pushing himself to his feet. "Why are you being such a bitch about this?"
Rather than giving him an answer, she shakes her head and leaves, ignoring his angry, resentful yells after her.
A few days later she goes to the mall with her cousin Laura and sees him hitting on another girl. He smirks at her over the girl's shoulder and she fights back tears as she scowls back.
X
Frog No. Three
The title belongs to a boy she meets – again – over the summer holidays, this time between fifth and sixth year. His name is Henry Newton.
She's visiting her Grandmother Granger in Ireland this year. The woman is 80 years old, spunky as hell and lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere with acres upon acres of land. The second she arrives, she remembers how much she used to come here.
Three days into her stay, while her grandmother takes a nap on the living room couch, Hermione decides to take a walk down to the river along the outskirts of the property. She walks among the tall, green grass and the field crickets, through a bed of trees and moss and down to the water's edge. She breathes in the sweet smell of fresh air and river water and basks in the glorious silence.
There's just something so fulfilling about taking a break from the bustling city.
In the distance, on her walk back to the small house, she sees an old, light blue pick-up truck. Confused and a little paranoid, she walks faster – until she's almost running. She stops at the door to pull her wand out of the back of her cowboy boot before rushing inside. Her grandmother is no longer sleeping on the couch. "Gran!" she shouts, her voice sounding panicky. When she doesn't receive an immediate response, she walks quickly towards the kitchen at the back of the house. "Gran!"
Holding her wand firmly at her side, she skids to halt in the doorway to find her grey-haired grandmother standing at the island in the middle of the room next to a tall, brown-haired, broad-shouldered boy with a brown paper bag.
Grandmother looks up at her, followed by the mildly curious teenager. "What's wrong, dear?"
"Um, n-nothing," Hermione mutters awkwardly as she slips her wand back into her boot.
"Hermione, dear, I'd like you to meet Henry. Henry, this is my granddaughter," the old woman says, smiling fondly.
"Hey," Henry nods.
"Hi..."
"Henry lives up the road with his father. He comes around every now and then to help me out with the farm – and sometimes he does my groceries for me. Which reminds me – how many times do I have to tell you that I'm old, not disabled?" her grandmother asks the boy, looking at him pointedly through her glasses.
He grins, shrugging his shoulders as he turns to place some cans in the cupboard next to the refrigerator.
Several hours later, after grandmother has gone to bed for the night, Hermione finds herself sitting in the small living room with Henry. It's silent at first – and a little bit awkward – until she speaks.
"She's really fond of you, isn't she?"
The corners of his lips curl into a shy smile as he shrugs.
"And you – you care for her?"
"She's like…my un-biological grandmother," he replies, smiling softly.
"How did you meet?"
He smirks, leaning back in the rocking chair he's currently occupying as he looks at the ceiling. "I had a troubled childhood when I was younger-"
"Had? What are you – how old are you?"
"Sixteen – I know it sounds funny, but it's true," he replies honestly, looking at her seriously. "I was 10 when my parents decided to get a divorce and, naturally, I decided to act out – I was angry, mostly, and upset. I skipped school one day to steal some candy from the corner store because my parents wouldn't give me money. Your grandmother caught me, berated me, told me all this stuff about getting arrested and going to jail – scared the living daylights out of me. A few days later, I was fooling around and ran into her again. She was having trouble with one of the horses – Buck – so I offered to help. I've been helping her out ever since."
Hermione smiles softly. "She really appreciates it."
He smiles back.
A few days later he drops by the house on his way into town and she tags along. They spend the entire afternoon together – he shows her around the local shops, introduces her to the local people and even pays for her lunch at the "greasiest chip wagon known to man."
He returns every day after that under the guise of "doing chores", to which she offers to help – and she's pretty sure they spend more time fooling around than anything.
On the seventh day he asks her out for dinner – although they tell her grandmother they're just going into town to get some supplies. He holds her hand the whole back, steering the truck with his right hand, and then kisses her on the door step. It's tentative and sweet and when he leaves, he leaves behind a tingling sensation in her lips and the subtle scent of his cologne.
She gives her virginity to him on the 18th day. After dinner he takes her to an old, abandoned barn a few acres away from her grandmother's. She follows him blindly – literally and figuratively – up the wooden ladder to the second story where, when he takes of her blind fold, she sees that he's set up a romantic picnic. They eat homemade sandwiches with the crusts cut off, a fresh Caesar salad and they split a bottle of wine – which he's "borrowed" from his father's liquor cabinet. She's in the middle of sharing with him some of her most random, intimate thoughts when he kisses her – cutting her off. And then, under the stars and in the moonlight, she gives herself to him. It's all very cliché, she thinks. Perfect, but cliché.
He drives her to the airport two weeks later and promises, between sweet, chaste kisses, that he'll call her all the time.
But he doesn't call her. Not even once.
X
Frog No. Four
Ronald Weasley.
He's one of her best friend for years before anything romantic happens between them.
They're in sixth year when it starts – but not really. A million things are happening at the same time – the war is looming closer and closer, Harry – Potter, of course – is slowly losing his mind (but not really) because of everything having to do with Voldemort, she's still reeling from yet another failed relationship with a certain Irish boy, and – suddenly – she's seeing Ron in a whole new light. There are so many things going on that it makes it hard to concentrate on just one problem, which is why it doesn't really start until what's supposed to be their seventh year at Hogwarts.
Instead of being at Hogwarts, however, Harry, Ron and Hermione are chasing Horcruxes. Living in tents. Bathing in rivers. Trying to pretend that their world isn't falling apart around them. Trying to ignore the fact that if they can't find what they're looking for, everyone else's world is going to crumble as well.
She doesn't know what day it is that he kisses her for the first time – mostly because she had stopped keeping track a long time before. All she knows is that the leaves have turned brown, the ground was hardening and his lips were chapped. She knows he tasted like cinnamon porridge and smelled like firewood. And she knows it was all wrong – because it wasn't supposed to be like this, in the middle of a forest amidst an on-going war. She isn't exactly sure what it was supposed to be like, she just knows it wasn't supposed to be like this.
Her feelings for him grow and their romance begins to blossom but they decide – for everyone's sake – to keep the intimacy to a minimum. It's all subtle glances, and shy smiles and holding hands underneath the table. Every now and then, when she's having a particularly hard time sleeping, she climbs into his bunk and it's like he knows so he rolls over and holds her. [And if any of it bothers Harry, he never says anything.]
The first time they make love is after the war – which she thinks might've been their downfall. It's been two weeks since Fred died in the Final Battle of Hogwarts – since a lot of their friends and family members died. And it's been one week since his funeral. He is desperate to escape and she is desperate to help him.
A couple months later she goes back to Hogwarts to finish her seventh year and he takes a position in the Auror Department at the Ministry. At first, the distance between them doesn't matter. But as his job gets more demanding and as N.E.W.T.S and O.W.L.S begin to loom over her, the distance begins to take its toll. On her. On him. On their relationship.
He breaks up with her after graduation, claiming they're better off as friends – that they always have been. She agrees wholeheartedly, but it takes nearly three months for things to go back to normal.
X
Frog No. Five
After Ronald she swears off frogs [men] for good. Frogs, she's decided, are just a waste of time – time that would be better spent saving herself for a prince, not a slimy git trying to be one.
When she meets Kyle White one and a half years later, it's like she's forgotten all about her own promise. But in her defense, it almost seems like fate on account of the fact that she runs into him – literally.
She turns away from the barista at her favourite coffee shop, drink in hand, and walks straight into him. Her drink topples out of her hands, spilling all over the front of his dark grey pea coat. She yelps, covering her mouth with one hand as she looks up at him. "I'm so sorry," she apologizes immediately before turning back around to grab some napkins. She hardly notices the look of amusement when she turns back around to pat the soiled spot on his jacket. "Oh God, I'm really sorry. I wasn't paying attention-"
"It's okay," he chuckles, reaching to still her hand. "I got it."
She looks at him, properly this time, as he smiles at her before taking care of the mess himself. Dark brown hair. Blue eyes. Hipster glasses. Light stubble. He certainly has the whole sexy-geek thing going on, she notices, flushing at her own thoughts. "Um, is there anything I can do? If you need to get it cleaned…"
"It'll be fine," he assures her smoothly.
She nods, gathering herself and her things. "O-okay. I have to go – I'm really sorry, again," she murmurs before making hasty exit, forgetting all about her coffee.
A few hours later she's sitting behind the counter at her book store, legs crossed at the knees with a book resting in her lap. She looks up when the bell hanging above the front door chimes and her eyes widen in shock to find him standing in the doorway. He grins at her, holding up his right hand to show her a cup of coffee. She blinks, a smile tugging at her lips as her face heats up.
He cocks his head, lets the door close behind him and walks towards her as she closes her book and slips off her stool. "Hi," he greets her.
"Hi," she greets back shyly.
"You ran out so quickly earlier that I didn't get a chance to get you another coffee," he tells her casually, handing her the cup.
"I know, I'm sorry," she apologizes again.
He shrugs, leaning forward confidently with his hands on the counter top – she can see his nametag sticking out of the collar of his jacket: Dr. Kyle White, Surgeon. "Before you think I'm some stalker, you should know that I asked the barista if she knew anything about you and she told me where you work and what you order every day – although I probably could've figured that much out on my own if I had tried. And I thought it was a shame that you spilled your drink and left without another one, since you have it every day, so I took the liberty of going back to get you one."
She smiles softly. "You didn't have to do that."
"I wanted to."
Half an hour later they have a date scheduled for the following Friday, which is just five days away.
Their relationship is lightning-fast. A whirlwind romance, her mother – who absolutely adores him – calls it. Within weeks of their first kiss, which happens on their second date, they've met the parents – who seem just about ready to plan the wedding. Her friends seem to really admire him – Harry and Ron take an immediate liking to him – and his friends can't seem to get enough of her.
He's perfect for her, in every way. He's intelligent and extremely witty, which means some of their more "smart debates" – his friends' choice of words – can sometimes last for hours. He has a good sense of humour and a better sense of style. He knows what she's thinking before she even thinks it and finishes her sentences when she can't force her thoughts into words. He challenges her and completes her all at the same time.
On their seventh month anniversary he asks her to move in with him and two weeks later they move all of her things from her tiny, one bedroom flat to his massive penthouse. And it doesn't even surprise anybody because she had already been "unofficially" living there for months beforehand – her toothbrush and shampoos had taken over his bathroom and her clothes had been hogging his dresser for a long time.
She thinks he's the one. She thinks, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is it. Kyle is her Prince.
Six months after she moves in, she walks into the kitchen with a bag of take-out in one hand and her wallet in another. He's standing there, leaning against the counter. His muscle shirt is soaked with sweat and his skin is glistening with it. "How was your run?" she wonders, pushing herself onto her toes to plant a soft kiss on his cheek.
"Alright," he breathes.
She smiles softly, placing both of her possessions on the counter beside him. "I got Chinese, so I hope you ran extra hard today," she teases.
"Can we talk?"
She blinks, taken aback by the hard, blunt tone in his voice. He's never spoken to her like that. "Of course. What's wrong?"
He looks at her, licking his lips nervously. "Remember my ex-girlfriend I told you about?"
"Yes," she whispers, her breath catching in her throat. And even though he doesn't say which one, she knows exactly who he's talking about.
"She's back in London."
"Oh? For how long?"
"For good."
Hermione swallows the giant lump in her throat, bracing herself for what's next. "I see."
"She contacted me a couple weeks ago to tell me she was coming back and asked me to go for a coffee."
"Did you go?"
He nods sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"And?" she asks softly, so softly she almost doesn't hear it. She already knows the answer.
"She wants to get back together," he murmurs.
"And?"
He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face tiredly. The pained look in his eyes says it all. "God, Hermione, I dunno-"
"Yes you do," she snaps, snatching her wallet off the counter. She makes to leave, but stops to face him once more – willing the tears in her eyes not to fall. "Otherwise this wouldn't be happening."
"Hermione," he begs, reaching for her.
She shrugs him off, shaking her head in a silent plea to tell him to stop. Which he does, immediately. "Don't. I'll call you in a couple days to arrange a time to pick up my stuff."
The fact that he doesn't chase her – or even try to stop her – seals the deal.
[To be continued…]