Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, etc, please don't sue me!
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Merry Christmas! I thought this we be a good gift to you all.
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Thanks to wintersong1954, LittlebigmouthOKC, TasmiaFay, luzhasswag for the reviews. They really make my day!
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Recap:
"Hey! I only bought nineteen books!"
"What restraint, Princess! So, heading back in a week when they are all finished?"
Hermione poked her tongue out in response to her dad's question before she dragged the bags upstairs to her room.
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Chapter 3 – Hermione the healer
After her parents returned to work, Hermione did indeed spend five days straight reading through the nineteen books she had bought. All the books centred on the topic of legal systems around the world.
She had also been thoroughly reading The Daily Prophet, but in the last few days they had been printing some horrible articles about her. Hermione scowled at the latest:
Hermione Granger: Murderous Adulterer
By Rita Skeeter
That's right folks, Hermione Granger is a murderer!
Yours truly found out the truth when, determined to inform the valued readers of this great paper, I interviewed Molly Weasley. Mrs Weasley confirmed that the 'heroine' of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger, broke her fiancé Ron Weasley's heart when she aborted a baby the two had desperately been trying to have. Ron Weasley, the youngest Weasley son, was a successful war hero and member of the Golden Trio.
The would-be grandmother was devastated and fighting tears when she confessed that, "Dear Ron and that attention-seeking Hermione had been taking a fertility potion to try and conceive, but Hermione just up and left Ron one day without warning. I'm certain she was pregnant. Obviously she was cheating on Ron, and aborted the innocent child when she realised it wasn't Ron's. My son has been devastated by the betrayal of his fiancée, not to mention the murder of his first child."
Ms Granger has refused to comment, but this reporter can tell Mrs Weasley is telling the truth. Since the muggleborn girl's school days, where she led on a smitten Viktor Krum and Harry Potter at the same time, it has been clear that she seeks attention from deserving wizards, before leaving them on the sidelines when she finds someone else.
Clearly Mr Weasley has made a lucky escape, and we witches must count our lucky stars that he is once more single and safe from Ms Granger's malicious designs. Hopefully he can find solace in an upstanding and faithful witch.
Merlin help the next unfortunate man to be entrapped in Ms Granger's selfish and calculating talons.
For further details about Ms Granger's deceitful history, see pages 5, 7, and 12.
With a snarl, Hermione scrunched the paper into a ball and threw it at the door. Unfortunately, Helen had just opened the door, and the newspaper missile hit her in the chest.
"Oomph!"
"Sorry Mum!"
"Oh, that's okay. Is this that wizarding newspaper you used to get?" Helen asked, picking up the paper.
"Yeah," Hermione muttered.
Helen smoothed the paper out carefully, however, a quick glance at the title had her almost ripping the pages apart, as her fists automatically tightened in anger. "What's this rubbish!"
"Rita Skeeter, being her delightful usual self. You know she has hated me since I got revenge for her articles in my fourth year."
"Hmmm, yes, I remember those. And you haven't even been offered the chance to tell you side of the story – such irresponsible journalism. Can you owl her, or her editor, or something?"
"And say what? A Weasley is lying? No, I know Harry or Ginny will put them straight. Those two know the truth and will stand up for me. The paper will do whatever Harry says, being the Golden Boy and all. I just need to give him time to act; the articles have only been occurring for a few days."
"If you're sure…"
"I am, Mum. Don't worry, Harry will come through for me; he acts like my unofficial brother!" Hermione smiled, thinking of how he used to defend her in the halls against the Slytherins.
Helen scrunched the paper back up, a satisfied, therapeutic feeling tingling through her as she felt it crumple between her fingers. She then tossed the paper to Crookshanks, who began batting it with great wrath across the room. "I swear that cat knows what the paper is saying about you."
"He does. He has magical abilities."
"Really?!"
"Mm. He is also an excellent judge of character. I suppose I should have twigged when he never liked some of the Weasleys. I just figured he didn't like them because they weren't cat people."
"Maybe we should have Crookshanks and your dad assess every boy you meet before you date him," Helen said with a grin. "Speaking of which, I have a friend who is coming for dinner tomorrow, and she has a son at university who she is bringing along."
"Mum, no blind dates, please!"
"How else are you supposed to meet people?"
"No, Mum. No blind dates. I'm serious. Look, give me a bit longer, okay?"
"Fine, no blind dates. But they are already invited and coming tomorrow, so wear something nice," Helen replied, determined to distract Hermione from the article Crookshanks was now shredding with his teeth.
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Hermione spent the following weeks going to the beaches and parks. She even took a quick trip up to the Great Barrier Reef to go snorkelling with her parents – books in tow, of course. The only downsides were that none of her friends had sent her any owls, and Rita Skeeter was still publishing horrid and cruel articles in The Daily Prophet. Hermione bit her lip in anticipation when she saw an owl flying towards the window, hoping for a letter, but dreading another article.
Her parents had suggested she take legal action against The Daily Prophet, but she was sure it would just get worse if she did. They then tried to tell her to cancel her subscription, but she didn't want to. There were other important and interesting articles which she would miss if she cancelled, like the one published about the rescinding of house elf rights; some ridiculous nonsense saying house elves could not survive if freed, and, as such, all free elves would be sold back into service. Hermione thought the change to the rights was disgustingly cruel!
The owl swooped through the window, and Hermione tentatively reached out when she saw the newspaper in the owl's talons. Paying the bird a knut from her pocket, she then removed the wad of parchment. Unfurling it, and glancing at the headline, she dropped the paper in shock. Leaning heavily against the wall for support, she slid to the ground. Hermione dragged the paper closer with the tips of her fingers, blurred eyes focused on the title.
Ron Weasley: Engagement of the Century
By Rita Skeeter
Happiness has, at last, made its way to the well-deserving Ron Weasley, successful war hero and member of the Golden Duo (alongside best friend Harry Potter)!
Yesterday, to yours truly in an exclusive interview, an elated Ron Weasley announced that wedding bells were in the air. He said that his romantic proposal had been accepted by the sweet and intelligent Lavender Brown, a fellow Gryffindor and war heroine, who works as a successful witch beautician.
"The heart of my life agreed to marry me last night after I took her to a romantic dinner under the Eiffel Tower in Paris. We portkeyed home immediately to share the news with our loved ones. This is the happiest news since I helped win the war. I am sure I will be very happy with my beautiful fiancée," Ron Weasley said.
Mrs Weasley has informed me that she is delighted that her youngest son has finally found a worthy witch to marry (unlike his previous fiancée who tricked him into proposing and lied to the wizarding world about her role in the war). Mrs Weasley said, "I am delighted to welcome another daughter into the family."
The future Mrs Lavender Weasley has confessed that she intends to leave her job to ensure she can raise her child in a loving family environment. She is confident that her husband-to-be can earn more than enough for the two of them and their baby. Lavender confided to me that she, and her fiancé, are expecting a healthy son in 5 months.
"We didn't want to tell anyone about the baby until we were well passed the dangerous first trimester," Lavender whispered to me, while a devoted Ron rubbed the bump on her stomach with fondness.
Ron confessed that, "I have loved Lavender for a long time. We were school sweethearts. Hermione forced me away from her, with muggle tricks and magic. Fortunately, Lavender and I are now reunited, and we will be happy forever."
There you have it folks, a true love story has been saved from a tragic end. The two star-crossed lovers are to be united forever on 14 February, the most romantic of days.
I will keep all my loyal readers posted on baby and wedding news as it unfolds over the next few months.
Hermione just sat on the floor staring at the paper until her legs were numb. Crookshanks had crept quietly next to her a little while ago, his head resting on her lap as he purred softly.
Due in five months.
That meant four months pregnant.
The cheating bastard.
Cheating for at least two months.
How could he be so cruel to flaunt it?
And so shameless.
She dug her fingers into the paper, and slowly started to shred the parchment, forcing her nails through the flimsy material and pulling it apart. Faster, and faster, until she was in a frenzy. Then came the tears, running unchecked down her face before splattering around her on the wooden floor as sobbing hiccups shook her frame. Pieces of confetti surrounded her in a mound by the time she was spent. Her sobs changed to gasps as she fell forward towards sleep.
Helen and John came home from work to find their daughter still lying in the snowy mountains of paper in the dark. Realising it was the same parchment as the horrid newspaper, they concluded it was the remnants of another article by Rita Skeeter. Given the state of their daughter, and the paper, they would have to ask Hermione what it said later.
"I could kill that Skeeter woman," John growled, heart wrenched by the sight of his hurt teenage daughter lying on the ground.
"Can you carry her up to bed, John?" Helen whispered.
"Sure, can you open her bedroom door for me?" he replied softly.
"Yes."
They carefully took Hermione to her room and laid her in bed. Crookshanks followed, watching them warily, ready to protect his upset witch. John and Helen crept quietly out of the room, worry gracing their faces. Then they headed downstairs to prepare some comfort food for Hermione, in case she woke and was hungry.
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Hermione did not wake that night.
In fact, she did not wake until 1 pm the next day.
Glancing around, she realised that she had been moved to her room. She wavered for a moment, wondering if she should get up and face the day, or just hide in the safe warmth of her blankets.
Picking up her wand from the bedside table, she gave it a wave and let music immerse the room. Morose tones wafted through the air, encouraging tears to spring into Hermione's swollen eyes. She flopped back onto her pillow and watched the light from outside playing on the walls.
Crookshanks appeared at the door, slinking in quietly. He was followed by a sombre Helen.
"Mum? What are you doing home?"
"I took a personal day. I wasn't going to leave you alone after yesterday. What can I get you to eat and drink?"
"I don't want anything."
"You haven't eaten in a long time. You need to eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"Your heart might be telling you that, but your stomach must be saying otherwise. I'll be back in a moment with something for you," Helen replied, swiftly gliding out the door.
"You let Mum know I was awake, didn't you, Crooks?"
Meow.
"Humph. Did you have to?"
Meow. The cat pounced onto the bed with poise.
Hermione reached forward and rubbed behind his ears. "I'll be fine."
Crookshanks just stared at her, clearly disagreeing with her statement.
"But I promise if you see Ron, Molly, Lavender, or Skeeter you can scratch them. How's that?"
Meow.
"Thanks for sticking by me, Crooks. You are the only friend who has."
Purr, he replied, touching his nose to her hand.
"I love you too, Crooks."
The door swung open again and her mum came through. "Here we go, I've brought you some hot chocolate and toast. Don't tell your dad about the hot chocolate," Helen said with a soft smile, as she placed the tray of food on Hermione's lap.
"Thanks, Mum," Hermione replied. She lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip of the creamy liquid.
Helen sat down on the side of the bed, leaning into her daughter as Hermione ate a small portion of the food. When Hermione pushed the tray away, Helen wrapped her in a tight embrace. "Was that a newspaper yesterday?"
"Mm."
"An article about you?"
"Slightly."
"About Ronald?"
"Mm."
"Is he with someone else?"
"Engaged."
"That's moving rather quickly."
"Together at least five months."
"Five? But – oh."
"Mm."
"The article said so?"
"She's pregnant with his child."
"…"
"He cheated on me. Even after everything he said and did, I didn't think he would ever cheat on me. And then tell everyone. I feel so stupid!"
"No! You are not stupid! He is a liar, but you were right to trust him. It's just unfortunate that he didn't deserve your trust. You are an incredibly intelligent and street-smart young lady."
"How could I not realise?"
"There was a lot to realise about him, and you caught on to a few of those things. Given there were so many, it's not surprising you missed one or two things. Some men are just like that; never happy with what they have, no matter how lucky they are. He was lucky to have your love, but something was wrong with him – it is never okay to consciously cheat on your partner."
"Maybe it was me…"
"No! It was not you! This is all on Ronald. His actions and decisions have nothing to do with you. Do you understand?"
"Yeah…"
"I'm serious, Hermione. Look at me." Helen waited until Hermione looked into her eyes. "Ronald's actions and decisions have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with you. Yes?"
"Yes. Thanks, Mum," Hermione sniffled.
Helen gave Hermione a squeeze.
"Now, what are you going to do about that newspaper?"
"I'm cancelling the subscription when the owl arrives today," Hermione replied.
"You sure? You said you wanted it for some reason or other."
"I'll get the information from somewhere else, if I really need it."
"And are you going to let Ronald waste more time of your life?"
"You're right. I'll stop moping in bed and playing sad music," Hermione said, as she leant over and, with another swish of her wand, the music changed from morose to righteously angry.
After a few moments, Hermione pulled out of her mum's arms and stumbled out of bed. Grabbing some fresh clothes, she quickly changed in the en suite, and when she re-entered the room, she said, "Okay, time to have some fun."
Helen smiled. The small fire that had been missing from her daughter's eyes since she arrived in Australia was rekindled. It was small, but it was definitely there. "So where to?"
"The car. We are going rock climbing."
"Ummm, up h-high?" Helen asked.
"Yes. It's about time we both conquered our fear of heights."
"It's more a fear of falling - which is completely logical, as our primitive ancestors slept in trees, and the fear of falling helped them survive."
"Then we only need to be as competent at moving at heights as our ancestors."
"They had opposable toes!"
"And we will have harnesses. Come on, Mum, do this with me. Pleeease?"
"What about a movie about heights instead?"
"Come on, Mum. Pleeease? I want to do this. First steps to changing my life… excluding the new hairstyle and clothes."
"Your hair is lovely now, much more manageable. Why, a day in bed and it's only slightly frizzy. That sleeking lotion really does change it into soft, lavish curls, and it brings out the shine in your hair too. You know, I thi -"
"Mum."
"Hmm?"
"Stop stalling, and come rock climbing with me."
"Fine," Helen huffed. "But only because I love you."
"I love you too," Hermione said with determination as she pulled Helen out the door.
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Two weeks later, Hermione had successfully gone rock climbing, visited theme parks and ridden every roller coaster (and screamed loudly every time she felt her body lift from her seat), parachuted, and flown a plane. On the last, she made a mental note to never jump out of a plane immediately before she intended to fly a plane; that specific mix made seeing the ground from up high, in a rickety plane, rather terrifying.
Next, she was going to ride a broomstick. Well, once she found someone to teach her. She had looked into the wizarding world in Sydney, finding it was more widespread than London (which was surprising, considering the smaller population of Australia compared to Britain). She figured she could find a person to teach her once she started her new job.
She was to start training for the job tomorrow. Hermione felt as though dragonflies were flittering around her stomach at the thought of starting the training. The job was her first since leaving school. A proper adult job, and a huge step. She was joining a healer program in the Royal Sydney Hospital. The hospital actually had wizarding and muggle components; this allowed easy movement of patients between the two parts when a muggle or wizard was injured in the opposite world.
Hermione thought the dual purpose hospital was a great idea. The wizarding side told the muggles that they dealt with very specific highly infectious diseases, which meant the muggles never went near the wizarding part of the hospital. Occasionally, when a muggle with one of those specific infectious diseases was transferred to the wizarding area, a quick Obliviate and reassignment to an alternate muggle hospital rectified the problem.
Hermione pushed away the books detailing magical and muggle healing that she had been studying from, allowing her thoughts to turn to the previous night. She had gone on a blind date (after much pushing from her mum) with some muggle son of someone her parents knew through work. The pair had gone to a movie, which was followed by coffee. He was very sweet, but he had red hair, which meant that every time she looked at him, his face would morph into Ron's.
She grimaced at the awkward end to the night when he tried to kiss her. Hermione had turned her cheek at the last moment, eyes darting to the ground in awkwardness. Feeling guilty, she explained how his hair colour reminded her of her ex. He had jokingly responded that he had bad genes and was likely to go bald, so could dye his hair until that time. Hermione recalled her weak chuckle and less than eloquent dismissal before she had all but leapt through her parents' front door to escape.
This morning when her mum had asked how it went, Hermione had said, "He has Ronald's hair colour."
Her mum had quickly replied, "To be fair, I think he is older than Ronald, so really it's his hair colour." Hermione had sent a withering stare at her mother before Helen has said, "Okay, no redheads in the future."
"No future blind dates full stop. As of tomorrow, I have to concentrate on my training."
"Fine," Helen had grumbled. Helen had then pulled out her organiser to replan the dinner she had been going to arrange, which included some other friends with single son. "But don't forget, you need to take some time off studying to have fun and live."
"Yes, Mum."
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When the sun blinked over the horizon the next morning, Hermione burst from bed with the energy of a puppy chasing a ball.
Crookshanks, previously having been a happily sleeping cat, was not quite as fast and landed on the floor with a thump and snarl; his witch was making a very annoying habit of this. He glared at her reproachfully.
Hermione, however, did not notice. Grabbing the clothes hanging on the wardrobe door, she headed into the en suite and began her morning routine.
Finally dressed and feeling fresh, she emerged in a billow of steam. Hermione then skipped towards the kitchen, to grab some yogurt and fruit, before she headed to her first day as a trainee healer. Her parents arrived in the kitchen half an hour later as she was heading out.
"Morning Princess, excited?" John asked.
"Yes!"
"Good luck today," Helen said. "We will see you when you get home, unless you go to celebrate your first day with new friends."
"Okay, I'll let you know if I do. Love you! Bye!" Hermione called as she bounced out the room and towards the front door, calling out, "Bye Crooks!" as the door closed.
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Hermione tried to calm her nerves outside the hospital. Having a flashback to the day she found her parents, it occurred to her that she really needed to stop standing outside health buildings breathing heavily; it was just weird.
Striding confidently into the wizarding entrance to the building, Hermione walked in and headed towards the receptionist. "Excuse me, I'm a new trainee healer and I start today. Can you tell me where I need to go?"
"Name?"
"Hermione Granger," she replied, waiting for the flicker of realisation; hopefully they didn't read The Daily Prophet in Australia.
With a blank look the receptionist ticked a name off a list, and glancing up, he replied, "Take a seat in the far north corner. As you are an hour and a half early, you will have to wait for someone to come and get you at 8:30 am."
Hermione felt her face heat up in embarrassment as she mumbled, "Thanks."
In the corner she found herself seated next to a man reading a medical book.
His eyes flickered over her. "You don't look sick," he said.
"I'm not. I start healer training today," Hermione replied.
"So do I. My name's Peter Loch, I guess we'll be in training together."
"Hermione Granger," she replied with a smile as she shook his hand. "You're here early."
"So are you," he replied with an amused smile.
"Yes, first time getting here. I didn't want to get caught in traffic and be late, that and I was too excited to sleep. What's your excuse?"
"I came in with my dad, he's a Healer. He started an hour ago."
"Oh… it must be great having him to talk to about the training and such!"
"I suppose."
"My parents are muggle dentists, so despite being somewhat medical, I can't learn the magical aspects from them. Although, they have been great at giving me advice on handling patients. Have you always wanted to be a healer?"
"It was always kind of expected, so I suppose I've never thought of anything else. I did kind of want to be an auror, but a few years ago, when I suggested it to my parents, a war was gearing up back in merry old England. Given that my parents thought it was a bad idea, they thought I might get sent over there if more forces were needed."
Hermione's mind reeled. Would that have been a possibility? Why hadn't the Ministry sought help from other countries?
"You have an English accent, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm from Hampshire," Hermione replied.
"Was the war a big deal? There were a few things reported in the papers here, but being so far away it wasn't that big an interest item, I guess."
"It was a big deal. A lot of deaths and destruction. As far as I know, no one from other countries was involved in fighting," she offered.
"Huh, maybe I should have stuck with being an auror," he mused before carelessly asking, "Did anyone you know die?"
Hermione looked at him in shock. She had just said a lot of people died! "Yes, I knew a lot of people who died," she snapped, unable to stop her emotions from rising to the surface.
He looked abashed. "Sorry."
Hermione realised that despite him obviously being a few year older than her, a war made people grow up a lot and changed their perspectives considerably; she could never imagine anyone in England asking such a careless question… except maybe Ronald, who spoke without thinking on a regular basis.
"It's fine," she said, determined not to drive away someone who would likely be a colleague for a long time. "The war ended less than a year ago, and most magical folk of age were involved in some way or other. Maybe this is a topic we can just not mention again."
"Sure thing," he said nodding enthusiastically, eager to be forgiven for his guff.
"So, any insight from your dad about how many people are in the training group?"
"Umm, it's usually about 20 people recruited each year. Most healers in the country are trained in this hospital. After training, they are sent around the country to posts they volunteer for. This hospital tries to keep the trainees with the most potential after we become certified. Healing is quite competitive, with long hours, and needs smart people. So girls usually choose something less complex."
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.
He did not really just say such a sexist thing to her did he?
Yes, he did.
Right then.
"So which of those criteria do you think women are incapable of? Is it the stamina, intelligence, or competition?" Hermione asked.
"Err."
"Evidently that response rules out intelligence. So stamina or competition?"
"Look, I don't want to argue with you…"
"There goes competition. Which leaves stamina. Guess I'll just have to prove that my stamina far surpasses yours, unless you would like to retract your sexist comment and promise to never speak in that way in public again."
"Oh come on, no girl is ever the top of this training."
Hermione's eyes glinted - she would be. "I guess the selectors are just as sexist as you. Pity that's the case in such a clearly skill based profession. You know what? To make up for your utterly sexist comment and lack of apology, you are going to help me ensure this hospital becomes less sexist."
"Or what?"
"Or, I'll work to embarrass you and your skills so thoroughly during this training that you'll either volunteer to work somewhere else or have to run to daddy to save your ass."
A throat cleared near her. Glancing around Hermione saw and man and woman watching her and Peter with wide eyes. Hermione raised her eyebrow challengingly at them. She had done nothing wrong, except maybe alienate herself from one of twenty people, or more, depending who Peter was friends with.
"Well, this isn't awkward at all," the woman said with sarcasm. "I'm Jemma Jones."
"I'm Hermione Granger," she offered. Hermione took in Jemma's appearance - Jemma looked very cool, with purple coloured hair resting on her black framed glasses. She was tall and slim, and obviously fit. The only drawback was her glinting eyes… they showed anger.
Jemma turned to Peter. "And you are?"
"Peter Loch."
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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed Chapter x. Thanks again to my amazing beta reader NJ Coffee Queen.
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Any events you want to read about in the story?