Hermione and Ron continue to rebuild their friendship. Meanwhile, she gets a nasty surprise when she makes it to the Great Hall for breakfast.
Sunday 13th October 1996, 08:45 am
Dear Diary,
I had the most marvellous dream last night. In it, I got back from Ballindalloch castle super late only to find my best friend (or ex-best friend) waiting for me. Instead of fighting, as we have been for the past week, Ron and I made friends. We even had a bit of a cuddle, too.
Oh, wait.
It wasn't a dream. It was true, and it happened. RON AND I ARE FRIENDS AGAIN.
Well, at least, I hope we are. I could get down to the common room to find that everyone is still ignoring me, but it all felt real last night, despite the ridiculously late hour. There is no way it could have been a dream.
I still can't believe everything that happened yesterday. It was the craziest Saturday I have ever experienced. From the awful dress fitting to the disastrous dinner, Ron talking to me when I got back last night washed all of that away. We have fixed the rift between us, and if anything, my friendship with him is stronger than ever.
Of course, I've not seen him yet today, so that could all change when we lay eyes on each other, but I hope not. Maybe the magic is in the fact that I decided to open up to him last night, and we now have a shared secret?
Yeah, yeah. I know I should tell Harry about it. He's as much my best friend as Ron is, and it's unfair for me to keep it from him, especially because his parents were fundamental in bringing down the anti-half-blood/muggle-born faction that killed my father. They're war heroes, Lily and James Potter, and the nicest people you'll ever meet. And because of that, they're super famous.
Oh, and of course, Harry's grandfather developed Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.
Yeah, you read that right. My best friend, whose hair is always messy, is the heir to a massive vault in Gringotts full of gold. I mean, the Potters were rich before, but when Fleamont sold his potions recipe to a company that put it into mass production, he made sure that generations of Potters would be financially secure.
So yes, I am well aware that telling Harry that I am a princess should be at the top of my to-do list today. But, I'm kind of enjoying the fact that Ron and I are sharing an important secret. It's a special kind of feeling and hard to explain. I want to ride that out for a moment longer.
I am an awful friend, aren't I?
Okay, okay. You've guilt-tripped me into telling Harry this morning after breakfast. There are no plans for the day, which will be nice. Of course, I have a mountain of homework that I need to tackle, but if I'm nice enough, then maybe the boys will want to hit the library with me so we can blast through it all.
I promise I'll make time to relax, too.
This is all assuming that Harry is happy to be my friend again. Although we weren't fighting, he took Ron's side in the whole debacle and hasn't once checked in to see if I am okay. Ginny was mean, as well. So they all owe me an apology.
Although, maybe because I've been keeping a massive secret from them, it'll be better to let bygones be bygones? I'll try and grab Ron at breakfast and see what he thinks I should do. Perhaps if they know that he and I are talking again, Harry and Ginny will forget about me missing practice last weekend, and everything will be hunky-dory once more.
Oh, I'm so happy that everything is getting back to normal, apart from the whole princess thing. I feel more Hermione. Hopefully, that'll seep into my lessons, too, and I'll get my Potions grade back to Outstanding.
Then I'll only have one last thing to deal with: Ron's blatant rejection of my asking him out. I mean, he didn't give me a flat out no, so I guess I should take that as a win. But passing off my request as a 'friend thing' and suggesting we invite everyone else hurts. I think I need to make peace with the fact that he might not see me as anything more than only a friend. If I move on, maybe even find someone else to be my consort, then it'll hurt less, but I had so much pinned on being in love with my best friend.
No, I refuse to fixate on it. It'll ruin my good mood, and I spent too long last week being miserable. Instead, I'll focus on the fact that Ron didn't laugh in my face or throw up in disgust at my invitation.
That would have been devastating.
Anyway, now that my friendship with Ron is back in order, I need to try and make sure I put in the effort to be a good friend to everyone. Isn't that what being a princess is all about—getting people on my side? The Gryffindor Quidditch team are playing their first game in a couple of weeks. When I see my grandmother next weekend, I will make sure that our princess lessons will be over in time to make it back to Hogwarts so I can catch the match. There's no way I can miss it. It might mean the end of our friendship forever.
Talking of being a good friend, I should probably get myself out of bed and down to breakfast and check that everything that happened late last night is real. Ron is my friend now, and I am going to have a good day today. And I must catch Tonks up on what happened, too.
Until I remember to write again x
Half an hour later, Hermione emerges from the girl's dormitory. She has opted to wear her usual jeans and a cosy jumper to ward off the chill that already fills the castle's corridors, despite the fact it's only mid-October. Rather than carry her school bag around with her, in preparation for the homework she plans to spend the day completing, she has shrunken down her journal and quill, then tucked them into her pocket with her wand.
She can always come back for her school books later.
"I was wondering when you'd show your face, sleepy head," a low voice fills her ears, sending a tingle down her spine and setting the hairs on her arms on end.
She checks her watch in mock shock. "It's only quarter past nine," she retorts. "Why are you even awake?"
"Harry got me up early to discuss Quidditch stuff. I fear this will be my life from now on. He and Ginny have already gone down for breakfast."
"And Tonks?"
Ron shrugs. "Haven't seen her yet."
"Oh, okay."
An uncomfortable silence sinks between them as Ron gets to his feet and stretches with a loud yawn. He shoves his hands in his pockets and wanders towards Hermione. "I had a chat with them."
"What did you tell them?" Hermione's heart pounds in her chest, and her palms grow sweaty in panic.
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. "Nothing! I only informed them that we've made friends, and that they should try and be a little kinder to you."
She slumps back against the door, the adrenaline disappearing as his words put her at ease. "Oh. Thank you, Ron."
"Y'welcome." He shrugs again. "Can we go and get breakfast? I'm starving!"
"Come on then."
⁂
"Wotcher, Hermione!" Tonks waits for them outside the portrait hole, and she gives the pair a friendly wave. "Morning, Ron. Are you two fighting again?"
"Nope, we made friends!"
"Brilliant." The Auror falls into step with the pair. "I was missing hanging out with you all. Are we heading to the library today? Lots of homework for us to complete."
Hermione laughs. "I might have let it slip to Ron last night about the whole princess thing, Tonks. There's no reason to pretend around him."
"Oh, thank Merlin! Honestly Hermione, the sooner your grandmother makes an announcement either way, the better. I'm already done with pretending to be a student. It's exhausting at my age."
"You're only twenty-two!"
"That's old!" Ron exclaims, then winces as Tonks punches him in the arm. "Ow! You're not allowed to do that." Rubbing the spot where she hit him, he continues, "So, you being a princess? Is it anything to do with that diary you keep on writing in?"
Hermione gawks at him as she steps onto the moving staircase. "How do you know about that?"
"Please! Like I haven't spotted you scribbling away in it anytime we're not in lessons. Ever since your birthday. You talk to it more than you do us."
"It was a present from my mum," she responds after a moment. "But it's not all princess related. It helps, though."
"Hmmmm." Ron raises his eyebrows at her in a knowing way then leans against the railing.
"I thought I was being discreet."
Tonks scoffs. "That's all I've known you to do, write in that damn book."
"Will you two stop ganging up on me!" Hermione laughs.
If it were anyone else, it would unnerve her knowing that someone was paying that much attention to her. But the thought of it being Ron watching her that closely sends her pulse racing.
But why would he do that then reject her asking him out? Did he misunderstand her intentions? Perhaps she didn't word it correctly?
She shakes the wistful thoughts out of her head. Hermione had told her diary that she would make peace with the fact she would only ever get to be Ron's friend, so there's no point in getting her hopes up in looking for the meaning behind his words and actions. It'll only ruin her life, and there's no way she'll be able to move on from him. Eventually, she'd like to get married and have children, even if it isn't with Ron Weasley.
Plus, false hope sucks, and she hopes to avoid that and the whole unrequited love heartbreak for as long as humanly possible.
Still, she can't stop her eyes from drifting over his body, admiring the lazy way he lolls against the stone balustrade, his jumper rolled up to his elbows. A flutter of snitches dance through her stomach, and she lets out a heavy sigh.
Denying her feelings is going to be a lot harder than she thought.
In an attempt to turn the limelight away from her, Hermione decides to change the topic of conversation. A smile creeps over her face as she teases, "So, Harry and Ginny have gone down to breakfast alone, have they?"
Ron scowls. "Shut up."
⁂
The conversation moves on to the upcoming Quidditch game as they make their way down to the Entrance Hall.
"It's strange, turning up to breakfast late," Ron comments. "Everyone is already here. Usually you get us out of the tower ridiculously early."
"Yeah, well, we had a late night, didn't we?"
It's easy to spot Harry as they approach the large wooden doors. He's sitting next to Ginny, her flame-red hair sticking out in the sea of muted colours halfway down the Gryffindor table. Harry lifts his hand in the air to gesture them over, and the trio picks up their pace to get to him.
As Hermione steps across the threshold of the Great Hall, the usual buzz of conversation stops and the room turns deadly quiet. There's a loud clatter as a student drops their knife, the sound reverberating around the high ceiling only emphasising the strange quiet, but nobody looks for the sound of the disturbance.
Instead, hundreds of pairs of eyes abandon their breakfast and swing towards the teenage witch. Her breath catches in her throat, and the snitches in her stomach double their efforts, creating a whirlwind of nausea and bad feelings.
"Have I got dirt on my face?" she murmurs to Tonks and Ron.
"Nah, it's 'cos you're with me," Ron replies as he pushes her towards Harry and Ginny. "I'm the star Quidditch Keeper now, aren't I? Surprised they haven't all rushed for my autograph."
The paranoia stays with Hermione, following her to the gap opposite Harry at the Gryffindor table. But the conversation resumes once she's taken her seat, a low, gossipy murmur and the uneasy weight that has shifted onto her shoulders intensifies. What on earth are they all staring at?
Trying her best to ignore it, she helps herself to a slice of toast and a spoonful of eggs. She spears a mouthful with her fork and is about to lift it to her lips when she's rudely interrupted by Lavender.
The blonde witch leans over Ron, who protests loudly at the interruption.
"Do you mind?" he challenges, but his words go ignored.
Lavender's perfume is strong, and Hermione almost chokes as the strong scent fills her nostrils and mouth. It reminds her of her grandmother and trees, ruining her appetite straight away.
Before Hermione can ask Lavender to leave her alone, the blonde asks in an over the top stage whisper, "Is it true? What everyone is saying about you?"
"What in Merlin's name are you talking about?"
"The news," Lavender continues, raising her voice even more and gaining the attention of Hermione's friends. "Don't tell me you've not heard?"
The brunette is about to open her mouth to question her roommate again when an unknown figure plonks a copy of the Daily Prophet down in front of her, sending her scrambled eggs flying.
"What the—?"
"This rubbish can't be real," a familiar drawl comes from behind her.
Hermione whips around to see the pale face of Draco Malfoy, who is standing behind her with his wand clutched in his hand, his knuckles turning white with the effort to restrain himself.
"Will someone please tell me what is going on?" she demands.
"Uh, Hermione," Ginny pipes up. "Maybe you should read the paper? They're saying you're a princess."
The noise of the Great Hall fades away as the steady thump of Hermione's heart fills her ears. Her skin grows cold and her palms clammy, and she fumbles in the mess of her breakfast for the newspaper. How the hell did this happen? How did the news get out? She's almost too frightened to pick it up and read the headline, yet her natural curiosity pushes the parchment to her face. She shakes off the remains of her egg and reads.
HALF-BLOOD PRINCESS SET TO TAKE THE THRONE
Dowager Queen Beatrice, who has been quietly working behind the scenes to keep our community thriving alongside the Minister of Magic, held a Ministry dinner at Ballindalloch Castle last night.
The event, which was to celebrate the combined efforts of magical and muggle Governments in protecting the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, also marked the reappearance of the Queen into magical society.
But it seems Beatrice Windsor had another reason to gather the most important and influential magical and muggle people together.
A source close to the Minister of Magic told us in an exclusive interview that, although no formal announcements were made at last night's prestigious dinner, a young girl—known to this journalist as plain Hermione Granger, a sixth-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—was also in attendance.
"The Dowager Queen was introduced to the room first," our informant stated. "We thought that dinner would be announced soon after but instead, the Master of Ceremonies had another introduction to make."
The MC, an ex-Auror known as Dedalus Diggle, introduced the teenager to the room as Princess Hermione Jane Beatrice Windsor Sherington Granger, the heir apparent to the throne of Magical Britain.
But we all know that Prince Hugo died before producing an heir, so who is this witch impersonating the princess, and how has she managed to fool Queen Beatrice?
This is not the first time Hermione Granger has been featured in this paper. Only two years ago, we reported that she was courting the handsome Bulgarian Bonbon, Viktor Krum, much to the upset of Harry Potter, the Hogwarts Triwizard…
Hermione doesn't get a chance to read the rest of the article as Ron snatches it from her fingers.
"Oh of course, fucking Rita Skeeter. How dare she write this bullshit?"
The rest of the Gryffindors clamour around the table to get the news first-hand from Hermione. Comments and questions bounce around her as her fellow housemates theorise and speculate, but the young princess fixes her attention on Draco, who is still standing in front of her, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. He takes several deep breaths as if trying to keep control of his anger, although his usually pale face is now bright red, and it's clear he's seething at the news.
"The crown was supposed to come to the Malfoy family. We only had to prove the batty old Queen was losing the plot and then it would be ours." He sneers. "How the fuck did you wriggle your way into the royal family? What potions did you use to trick her?"
"I didn't. She's my grandmother. I am the heir."
The Gryffindors around them let out a collective gasp.
"You can't be magical royalty, you're a mudblood!"
A loud swear comes from Ron's direction, followed by the clanking of cutlery and the sound of the bench scraping back, but Hermione pays no attention to it. A red mist fills her vision, and before she can even register that she's moving, she's on her feet and pulling her arm back. The next thing she's aware of is a burning pain in her hand as her fist connects with Draco's jaw, sending the Slytherin sprawling on his backside. A flash of red and black follows as both Harry and Ron pile onto Draco.
"Shit!" Hermione shakes her hand, squeezing her eyes shut against the ache that radiates across her knuckles.
"That was a fantastic hit, are you sure you even need me?" Tonks comments in a triumphant tone as she abandons her breakfast to tear apart the jostling students. She's no match for the hefty teenage boys, as she grunts with the effort of trying to pull them apart. With a sigh and ignoring the crowd of pupils who have swarmed in to watch the fight, she forces the three of them apart magically with a loud bang.
As the dust settles, Hermione reaches for Ron. She ignores her own injuries to spin him around to inspect his face.
"You have a bloody nose. Here." She lifts her wand to fix the break and siphon off the blood before passing him a napkin from the table. "Don't scowl at me."
"Tonks should have let me kill the Malftwat. He can't call you stuff like that."
"Yeah? And what good would that have done with you locked away in Azkaban? As you can see, Ron, I can stick up for myself."
The tips of his ears turn pink as he mumbles, "Yeah, I know."
Giving him a small smile, she turns her attention to her hand, which is shining red and swelling at an alarming rate. "Still, thank you for fighting for my honour. You know I've always been proud of my blood status, even though he's wrong. I'm a half-blood now. Not that it makes any difference."
She winces as Ron inspects her hand. He opens his mouth to reply to her again, but their tender moment is interrupted by Professor McGonagall, who storms towards them.
"What in Godric's name is going on here?" she demands, her hands landing on her hips as soon as she reaches the fighting students. The fiery look on her face causes Hermione to shrink back against Ron.
"I'm sorry, Professor. It was a misunderstanding, I promise."
McGonagall's eyes shift from Hermione's swollen hand to the blood on Ron's top and then to the stone floor, where Draco and Harry are still lying, gasping for breath. "I'd expect to see better behaviour from our Prefects and senior students. I'll be taking fifty points from your houses for each one of you for fighting. Miss Granger, with me, please."
With a sigh and a regretful glance at the mess of her breakfast on the wooden table, Hermione gathers her belongings and mouths a quick "sorry" at her friends before following the Gryffindor Head of House out of the Great Hall, Tonks hot on her heels.
⁂
Queen Beatrice and Jean Granger are already in McGonagall's office when they arrive there, both women looking as harassed as the professor. Hermione throws herself down in the only empty chair remaining and examines her throbbing hand again. If she doesn't get it looked at soon, she's worried the pain might get too much, and she'll pass out.
The silence in the office is deafening. Hermione's grandmother's lips are drawn into a thin line, and her eyebrows are set in an unimpressed look as if a Niffler stole the crown jewels. On the other side of Hermione, Jean wrings her hands although she offers her daughter a small smile. Nerves slosh in the princess's stomach as she casts her eyes quickly at Tonks, who is now standing next to Kingsley. The Auror has already changed from her regular clothes into her Order robes, but she only shrugs and grimaces at Hermione.
The young witch shudders as she contemplates how much trouble she must be in. Not only has the news about her current status in the magical community hit the press prematurely, but her favourite teacher caught her fighting over breakfast. She's undoubtedly going to get detention now. Or expelled.
Professor McGonagall takes her seat, then unfolds her copy of the Daily Prophet before reading out loud, "'Princess Hermione: Hogwarts' Very Own Royal'. I've already received fifty owls about this article, and it's not even lunch time."
Jean Granger reaches across to squeeze Hermione's knee, and the princess feels a surge of reassurance, although it does nothing to quell her annoyance at all the fuss that's happened before ten in the morning. She was supposed to be having a good day today, after all.
"I promise I didn't let the news slip," she rambles. "I told Ron, but that was last night and there was no way he would have spoken to Rita Skeeter. We don't have a great history with her."
Beatrice waves Hermione's concerns away then takes a sip of the tea that has appeared out of nowhere on the desk in front of them. "I have my suspicions as to who might have talked to that Skeeter woman last night and I seriously doubt your friend, Ronald is it? Well, I doubt he would claim to be a 'source close to the Minister'."
"Well, no." Hermione slumps in her chair. "Then who?"
"It will do you no good to speculate, dear, especially as you have already been in the wars. May I remind you that fighting is unbecoming of a princess."
"I know, I'm sorry. But Draco called me a mudblood."
"Whatever for?" Beatrice tsks. "You're a half-blood and you should be proud of that."
"Beatrice," Jean interrupts. She removes her hand from Hermione's knee and presses her fingers together so tight, the tips turn white. "I'm concerned about the impact all this attention will have on Hermione. Only a few weeks ago, she was a normal teenage girl and now all of a sudden, she is being thrust into the limelight. She still has exams, and another year of school to go. Maybe we should hold off on deciding whether she takes the crown until she graduates."
"Hermione was never normal, Jean. There was no way she could be. She was born a witch, for starters, which already puts her above normal teenage girls. But more importantly, she was born into royalty, and we cope with the press every single day. We do it with our heads held high, and will continue to do so."
Jean bristles and sits up taller in her chair. Her worry lines smooth out as anger clouds her face, but instead of responding to the Queen, Jean turns her attention to Hermione. When she speaks again, she uses a kind, comforting voice.
"You don't have to do this, love. You can get out of this whole thing right now, if you want."
Hermione's eyes flit between her mother and grandmother. She feels like she's at a Quidditch game, watching the quaffle being passed from chaser to chaser. Her mother has only Hermione's best interests at heart, but Beatrice has to think about the entire magical community.
The deal was always to see the princess lessons through until the ball when Hermione would make her final decision. Would her grandmother even let her escape from it all now? She's bound to have a trick up those purple sleeves of hers to keep Hermione in training for a while longer.
Sure, it would be easier for Hermione to give up the crown right away and not have to face the added pressure of the press on top of the daily taunting that's bound to increase now that the news is out. Then there's a whole list of reasons for her not to be a princess: no privacy, she'll always have to look and act just right, and she can't have a bad day. She can't punch Malferret because he's insulted her.
But then Ron's excitement last night when he heard that Hermione is royalty floods back into her brain, and his reassurance that she'd be the best princess fills her with warmth. That, and the increasing churn of uneasiness in her stomach at the thought of giving it all up tethers the teenage witch to her promise to her grandmother.
"I can't quit, can I?" she asks Queen Beatrice in a small voice.
Before anyone else can open their mouth, Kingsley interjects, "Nobody can quit being who they really are, Princess Hermione. Not even a princess."
"Kingsley is right, my dear," Beatrice adds. "You can refuse the job and I will announce at the ball that you will not be taking up the throne. But you are a princess by birth, and that will never leave you."
Hermione pushes her uninjured hand through her hair as she contemplates her grandmother's words carefully. She can't look Jean in the eye as she responds, "I don't want to give up yet." She sighs before continuing, "It's not like I haven't been the subject of Rita Skeeter's campaigns before. This won't be any different to that."
"Are you sure?" Jean implores. "Because now the news is out, your life is going to change drastically."
"It's already changed, Mum. It's had an impact on everything I do. I have less free time. I have to be careful of what I say in front of my peers. I have a bodyguard following me around! If anything, this will make it all easier now. Tonks won't have to pretend about who she is, and maybe people will leave me alone if they realise she's here to protect me."
Jean sighs and takes her daughter's hand. "Are you sure?"
"Positive."
Professor McGonagall is the next to speak up. "Then I suggest we let Miss Granger go to the infirmary to get that hand looked at. I'd hate for you to miss out on your Sunday. Nymphadora, if you could stay. We need to discuss additional security protocols. I wouldn't put it past Rita Skeeter to try and get into the school. I'm sure Hermione will be fine as long as she promises not to leave the castle."
"I promise. Thank you." Hermione jumps to her feet and gives her mum a quick hug. "Sorry I haven't had a chance to catch up with you properly," she whispers in her ear. "I'll see you soon."
⁂
Ron, Harry and Ginny bombard Hermione as soon as she steps out of the office and into the corridor.
"Hermione! Are you okay? Are you in trouble?"
"Is it true that you're a Princess?"
"I told them it was, but they didn't believe me." Ron holds out a pile of toast. "I brought you this, since you didn't get to eat anything. How's your hand?"
Hermione takes the food with a grateful smile. "Sore. I need to go and see Madam Pomfrey."
"We'll come with you." Ginny loops arms with Hermione and steers her in the right direction. "You've become the most popular girl in the school. Everyone is talking about getting your picture and your autograph."
"I'm sure they mean it as a joke."
"Nope!" Harry interjects. "You're more famous than me. Seriously, Hermione, they all want to be your best friend."
"Can we not talk about it right now?" Hermione pleads. "All I care about is getting my Potions grade back to an O and surviving until this stupid ball. You're all invited, by the way."
A hurt look flashes across Ron's face, but there's no way she can ask him about it with Ginny and Harry nearby. His response confuses her. He was the one who suggested they bring everyone along, anyway. Surely that's what he wants—only to be friends.
She continues in earnest, "Honestly guys, I'm not even sure I want to run a country right now."
"You'll get your grades back. You're a genius. This is a blip, that's all," Ginny reassures her.
"Yeah, and you can borrow my book."
Despite her friends ignoring her question, the seeds of self-doubt are already beginning to creep in again. What if she messes the whole country up or causes a war or something?
"How can I even tell if I'm going to be good at the job, though?"
Ginny shrugs back at her. "I guess you have to give it a try."
"Yeah," Ron adds, shifting closer to Hermione so that their hips almost bash together with every step. The proximity allows the scent of his aftershave to fill her nostrils, immediately calming her down.
Oblivious to Hermione smelling him, he continues, "And we've got your back. We promise. You can make us royal advisors, and we can make sure you don't fuck it up. Now let's go and get that hand looked at before it drops off."
AN: Thank you so much for taking the time to read my chapter. If you enjoyed it, please consider taking two seconds to let me know. Reviews fuel my writing, and I love hearing what you have to think.
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Have a great week and stay safe xxx