author's notes: my first multi-chap! i'm excited. i've had this idea rattling around in my head for a while now, so i decided, 'what the heck?'
i unfortunately have a life outside of fanfiction, so this will not be updated fast and the chapters will most likely be no longer than seven-hundred words. at any rate, i hope you enjoy.
emerald ink: chapter one
Hermione found the journal at a Muggle bookshop. It was thick, with pages of rich cream-coloured paper, and covered with soft brown leather. It even came with a gold-feathered quill and a pot of emerald green ink that reminded her of the Wizarding world.
The world she had left behind.
After the war, Hermione Granger, First Class Order of Merlin recipient, brightest witch the Wizarding world had seen since Helena Ravenclaw, sidekick to Harry Potter, had left. Quit. She'd had enough of the Wizarding world, she told the Daily Prophet in no uncertain terms, and she was leaving. She was going to buy a little house somewhere in the Muggle world — she didn't share where, precisely, as she knew that if she did the information would travel far and wide. As she had played a large part in the war, there were still many people who sided with the old ways and who would do anything to capture and kill her.
And so she left. Packed up her things and moved out early in the morning. She hadn't even told her best friends where she was going because that would be like painting it across the sky. Her friends couldn't keep a secret worth shit.
She wrote that fact — about her friends unable to keep a secret — down in her journal, the righthand corner of the page titled 12 August, 1999. It wasn't until the next week that she flipped to the following page to write about her horrendous day and shrieked when she saw handwriting that was clearly not hers scrawled on the creamy page.
There must be some sort of handbook for friends. The first rule: "be physically unable to keep a secret."
If not for the fact that this was most certainly not a normal occurence in the Muggle world, Hermione would have laughed. But since it was suspicious — this was exactly what had happened to Ginny, after all! — she immediately pulled her wand and cast Auror level detection charms on the journal. Nothing. Frowning, she sat down at her desk and dipped her quill in the little potbellied jar of ink, writing on the next page, I was unaware that journals wrote back. She deliberately left out the fact that she was a witch, though the other writer most likely also was a witch or wizard. That or the poor, unsuspecting Muggle had either stumbled upon a linked journal or had been trapped inside the one Hermione'd bought.
The reply came faster than she expected: I was unaware that anyone had the matching journal to mine.
Ah. So there was a linked journal somewhere out there. Hermione's lips tipped up. This was going to be an interesting mystery to solve.
