AN ~ All right, keep in mind that I did some things that they did in the movie (i.e., Melanie changing her last name and lying about her past, as will Hermione) in my story to stay loyal to the movie, though I did do a few things different. I also had to make up first names for Hermione's parents, as how they "don't have any" in the HP series. Dedicated to all of my fans and fellow R/Hr shipmates! enjoy ;-)
Return To Hogsmeade
-dutchtulips-
***
Fifteen-year-old Hermione Granger sat in Greenhouse Two that Spring afternoon, enjoying the warm sunshine as she perched on her stool, pruning the purple rosebush that was sitting on the floor in front of her. She looked exasperated, but in an amused sort of way, as she stared hard at the blossoming plant in front of her, scrutinizing her work.
From the rosebush to her right, fifteen-year-old Ron Weasley bumped her, for the second time. "Well?"
Hermione looked over at him, a smile tugging at her lips. "Well what?"
"Answer my question."
She turned back to her work. "No."
The redhead's brow furrowed. "No you won't answer, or no, you won't marry me?"
Hermione didn't say anything; instead she tightened her fingers around her pruning shears and snapped a withering branch off of her bush. The tool had barely been in her hands for two minutes before Ron pulled the shears out of her grasp, silently demanding an answer.
"You're so immature," she mumbled.
Now Ron's eyebrows arched amusedly. Gently he reached over and took her chin, tilting her face so she would look at him. He gave her a look, silently asking her to reply.
"Oh, Ron!" She exclaimed, exasperated as she tousled her bushy brown hair. "Why would you want to marry me, anyway?"
That was when he gave her his classic lopsided smile and, pausing a moment before answering, as if he'd been waiting forever to say the following words, replied, "So that I can kiss you anytime I want."
Hermione couldn't help it then; a large grin overtook her face, lighting up her lovely face. As Ron slowly leaned in, his lips coming softly down onto hers, she gave in and kissed back, the purple rosebushes neatly obscuring them from view.
***
10 Years Later
***
A thunderclap sounded from outside as rain drummed against the window of twenty-five-year-old Hermione's office at the Daily Prophet. The young brunette witch herself, who had previously been dozing, stirred, her head resting against one sprawled-out arm. Slowly she blinked, lifted her head from the desktop, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Hermione looked down at the finished article she'd been working on, gathered up the sheets of parchment, stuffed them in her knapsack, and started quickly out of her office.
The sheet of translucent glass on her door rattled as Hermione closed it, and no sooner had she turned around that Hermione found herself face-to-face with the Daily Prophet's editor-in-chief and her boss, Daniel McGregor. He was wearing bottle green robes and an ear-to-ear grin. Hermione obliged, beaming right back at him. "Dan!"
"Ah ha! There she is! My star reporter!" Daniel exclaimed.
"Yes," she smiled, walking briskly down the corridor, Daniel at her heels. "And I think that you'll be enraptured to know that I've finished that follow-up article on Mafalda Hopkirk's promotion to Deputy Mistress of Magic at the Ministry." Hermione stopped momentarily at a silver jug in the hallway to pur herself a cup of pumpkin juice. "Hot, hot news, Danny!"
"Didn't I tell you that you would be going places, Hermy!" He exclaimed, hugging her in happiness. "You're going to make the Daily Prophet the biggest selling newspaper in the world!"
Hermione rolled her eyes amusedly. "Just as long as you don't make me out to be another Rita Skeeter, and we'll get along just fine, okay, Danny?"
"Anything you say, Hermy!" He exclaimed. Suddenly his tone dropped and he said sincerely, "But just look at you. Hermione Clarke, you come out of that tiny little village of Hogsmeade and now you're my star!"
All she could do was laugh as she left Daniel in the corridor and left the Daily Prophet office, slipping into the evening crowd in Diagon Alley and heading up the street for the Leaky Cauldron.
***
Hermione, who lived in a wizard village just outside of London called St. Mungo's, where the wizard hospital was located, had just unlocked the front door to her small house when she was met with a shower of colorful sparkles of pink, blue, and gold. Shielding her eyes from them and laughing at the same time, the curly-haired witch stepped further into her living room and her eyes fell upon Mimi, her tawny owl. Mimi had a papyrus envelope clutched in her beak. Eagerly Hermione reached out for it and withdrew a letter from it.
Hermione ~
How are you doing today, love? I picked up the Daily Prophet today and I just had to write to my sweetheart and tell her that I think she's going to become the biggest news reporter in Europe! You keep listening to Mr. McGregor, he knows what he's talking about! Have you given any thought to my invitation? Christmas in Bulgaria this year with my family? We can discuss it at dinner tomorrow night, after my Quidditch game, okay? See you then!
I Love You,
Viktor
Hermione beamed at the note. Wasn't he just so thoughtful! Carefully she folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket, and then reached her hand into a jar of owl treats sitting on the windowsill. Stroking Mimi's wing lovingly, Hermione fed her the treat, happy and cheerful for the news her owl had brought.
***
The next night, Hermione was working late. As she and her fellow Daily Prophet reporter and close friend Maya sat around Hermione's desk in her office, they were busy at work finishing their newest article about the latest goings-on at the Ministry of Magic, specifically a number of stunning promotions. While they were working, the W.W.N. was playing softly from the radio on Hermione's desk.
At the moment, though, the curly-haired witch was alone, after Maya had stepped out a moment to get them something to drink. Minutes later she returned, toting two goblets of pumpkin juice and the just-off-the-press evening edition of the Daily Prophet. Maya appeared to be reading it intensely.
Hermione looked up upon her friend's return, laying her quill aside and sighing though when Maya sat back down. "Cripes, what is in there really to read, that you haven't already?"
"I was just taking the chance to gawk at your boyfriend." Maya brandished the front page of the newspaper, and then began to read from it. "At tonight's Quidditch semi-finals, Bulgaria at France, it was clearly Viktor Krum who took the cake, nabbing the Most-Valuable-Player award for himself in this match. By his spectacular catching of the Snitch that pulled off an awesome comeback by Bulgaria - to win the semi-finals 190-180 - Krum is a prime example of a Quidditch career that gets more spectacular with every passing year."
Hermione felt herself blushing.
"Herm, you've got to face the facts," Maya said, setting the paper down atop the desk. "You're the most envied woman in the entire wizarding world."
The brown-eyed witch looked down at the newspaper, seeing the photo of Viktor Krum smiling and winking back up at her. The grin on Hermione's face widened as she looked at it.
Then her friend's voice: "Please tell me he has one flaw."
She picked up the Daily Prophet, and then said, "He asked me to spend Christmas in Bulgaria with him."
"Trust me, Herm," Maya said, twirling a lock of her blond hair, "He's going to be asking you more than that soon enough."
Hermione's stomach fluttered as she looked back up at her co-worker. "You really think so?"
She nodded. "A catch like Viktor Krum? You had better believe it."
She returned Maya's smile as they both looked down at the paper, although another thought was swirling inside of Hermione's head.
***
Later on that night, after Hermione had ran some Sleakeazy's through her hair and put on her favorite scarlet dress robes, she Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, where she stood at the courtyard door nervously, waiting for Viktor to arrive from his Quidditch game. Reporters from Quidditch Weekly, Witch Weekly, the Daily Prophet, and a number of other periodicals were buzzing around, knowing that wherever Hermione Clarke was, Viktor Krum would surely be. They'd attempted a few questions from her, but she'd simply ignored them.
At first Hermione didn't see him, as he was wearing black dress robes, or even hear him, but suddenly out of nowhere, Viktor Krum himself was there next to her, one arm wrapped around her waist. Kissing her cheek, he said softly, "Herm-own-ninny. Vhere you are."
The reporters, upon noticing him, rushed eagerly towards Viktor, tumbling over each other for the chance to be the first to get an interview from him. But Viktor said nothing; he swept his arm to the side to clear the way for himself and for Hermione, and they disappeared through the courtyard door and out to Diagon Alley.
The couple blended into the small nighttime crowd easily. "So," Viktor asked her after a moment, " Haff you given any thought to spending Christmas in Bulgaria vith me and vamily?"
"Oh, Viktor, that's still months away," Hermione replied, slipping her hand inside of his as they approached their restaurant, King Arthur's Court.
But Viktor led her right past it, as they walked together up the street to a small, dark shop. Confused, Hermione turned to her boyfriend, only to find that he was smiling enigmatically. "I thought we were having dinner. Where are we going?" She wanted to know.
"You'll see," he told her, creaking open the door of the pitch-dark store and leading her inside. Hermione attempted to look around after she'd went in, but to no avail. Giggling nervously as Viktor rejoined her after closing the door, she asked, "Where are we?"
He said nothing. Slipping his wand from his pocket, he casually gave it a wave, and suddenly the shop was illuminated, revealing lines of counters with rows of velvet-cushioned rings resting atop them.
Hermione, mouth dropping open, was astonished. The sight had rendered her utterly speechless, and when Viktor stepped forward and bent down on his knee in front of her, she couldn't even breathe, let alone speak.
Smiling, the Bulgarian Quidditch player said to her, very softly, "Herm-own-ninny, vill you marry me?"
"I. . .I. . .Oh my stars," She was in complete disbelief. "I. . .Viktor, are you sure? I mean, because if you're not, we can just go right back home and -"
He blinked and rose, peering at her in confusion. "Herm-own-ninny, calm down. Yes, I'm very sure. Now, please. Vill you? Vill you marry me?"
Suddenly all Hermione could do was grin, and one single word rolled off of her tongue. "Yes!" She exclaimed. "Yes! Yes!"
At that moment, Viktor swept her up happily and spun her around, Hermione clinging to his neck. At last he put her down, giving her a gentle push towards the wide selection of engagement rings. "Go ahead. Pick one."
***
Sometime later, the couple were walking back up the street in the direction of King Arthur's Court, Viktor holding his new bride-to-be close to him. Hermione couldn't take her eyes off of her ruby engagement ring, which seemed to manage to sparkle at her even in the dim moonlight.
"I can't vait until ve tell my mother, she'll go crazy," Viktor murmured as Hermione reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"What?" Hermione suddenly said.
"She's meeting us at the restaurant," he told her. Abruptly a thought came to him. "I've got an idea! Let's go see your parents tonight and break the news! Do they not still live in Hogsmeade?"
It was true; after Hermione had graduated from Hogwarts and moved to Hogsmeade, she'd persuaded her parents to come and live with her. And although they were Muggles, they had agreed to be close to their daughter. Even though Hermione had moved away five years ago, they remained there still. Except Viktor didn't know that they were. As far as he knew, Hermione's parents were a witch and wizard, magic folk just as she was.
"No!" She exclaimed, stopping in her tracks. "I mean, yes! Yes, they do still live in Hogsmeade, but I thought that, you know, maybe we'd wait a little while before telling them." Pause. "And I think I should go alone. I mean, I haven't seen them in so long."
"Oh. . .vell, all vright," Viktor replied slowly, and then smiled.
They reached King Arthur's Court and were just about to head up the front path and go inside, but Viktor's mother, Portia Krum, was waiting from them at the door. She brightened considerably when she saw them. "Viktor, dear!" Mrs. Krum exclaimed, hugging him. "You voodn't believe it - all uff these newspaper reporters inside are vanting a vord vith you! About your Quidditch game tonight!"
Viktor looked over at Hermione and sighed. "I suppose I'd better take care uff them, Herm-own-ninny. You can vait out here if you like."
"Okay," she replied, watching her fiancé disappear up inside the restaurant. Turning to Portia then, Hermione held out her hand, saying, "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Krum."
The older woman smiled, taking Hermione's hand and shaking it. "You as vell, Herm-own-ninny." Pause. "You know, you voodn't believe vat else those reporters are buzzing about! It seems they think vhat you and Viktor vent out to get engaged tonight!"
Mrs. Krum had not yet let go of Hermione's hand and, as the younger witch attempted to wrench it away, her ring started to slide from her finger. "Oh, oh stars -" She murmured, but Mrs. Krum had heard.
"Vat is vrong, dear?" She asked, following Hermione's look downward and seeing something sparkle on the curly-haired witch's finger. Mrs. Krum immediately grasped her wrist to get a better look at the ruby engagement ring, just as the reporters were filing out of the restaurant.
"Please, Mrs. Krum, Viktor and I just wanted to keep this -" Hermione started to say, but was cut off.
"Oh my stars! You and Viktor are engaged!" She exclaimed, and a second later, the newspaper reporters had promptly gathered all around them, as noisy as a swarm of bees.
Hermione's shoulders slumped and she sighed. " - Quiet."
***
To Be Continued