Disclaimer: Not mine, its Hers, get real.
Ack, I've had a mathematical crises, and it isn't quite resolved yet, and I have dance class, so even though I finished writing this on Sunday..or Monday, the days run together during break, it might not get out until Wednesday night, for which I am sorry. A few things to know: I love French, and have been taking it for years, but I am not all that good at it, and so the few sentences in the aforementioned language are probably incorrect. Translations are down at the bottom of the page, before my review replies. Also, for some reason, my timetable is completely screwed up. I've been using the 2001 calendar, and yet it occurs to me that two years after Hermione's graduation would be 2000, so God knows where I got that. *sigh*. So, we'll just have to pretend that its correct, cause I cant change it all now, and I'm sorry. Lets see, what else…oh! I found out recently on the Harry Potter Lexicon that JK Rowling actually said that there were no wizarding universities. I'm sorry, should I classify this as AU or something? There's no way I can change my whole fic now, I wish I had known that before I had started. Oh well, c'est la vie. Also, I don't think it really gets as hot as I say it does in Scotland, but I have no idea. I apologize profusely for all my ignorance, mistakes, and Americanisms, and hope y'all know that you're free to point them out to me, especially if it's a pet peeve. Sorry for this long AN, enjoy the story, and if you want to be notified of future updates, please tell me in your review or at amariran@yahoo.com . Thanks!
When I'm 64
Hermione arrived just in time for what looked to be the last boat going across the lake to the school. She had planned it that way, and was glad that she hadn't been too late. One hand was clutching her grey Transfigured handbag, the other a small gift bag with the Mirrors in it. There were three other people just getting into the boat when she Apparated, a man and two women. They were all dressed in very expensive looking clothes, making Hermione feel dowdy. But she had learned poise, if nothing else, in her time as a dancer, and she did not let her discomfort appear.
"Qu'est-ce qu'elle porte?" the woman asked her friend in a none-too subtle undertone. After all, it wasn't as though the English wizard would have any idea what she was saying. English muggles may have need of other languages, but wizards of any nationality rarely saw reason to invest the time in learning a language not their own when they could scrape by with a translating charm. But the woman hadn't muttered any charms, so she would have no idea what they were talking about.
"Quoi, tu me dit ça ses vêtements ne sont pas a la mode ?" her companion quipped sarcastically. "Et ses cheveux sont terrible. Est-ce que tu peux penser de sortir chez toi comme ça? Mais…je pense ça je l'ai vue quelque part. Ou…ou… Hm. Oh !˝ here the woman's voice took on the tone of someone with a juicy piece of gossip. "Sa figure est familier parce qu'elle était le Head Girl de Hogwarts, '98. Oui !" The woman nodded emphatically as her friend raised a doubting eyebrow to her recollection. They both snuck a look at the oblivious mousy brunette in the corner of the self-steering boat and giggled. Mireille had invited them because she couldn't very well leave her first cousins, by her mother's only sibling out of her wedding, according to Harry, but she had damned well wanted to. She had made up for it by telling them that they were absolutely not allowed to come before ten to four. Neither had particularly cared, as they certainly weren't enamored of their mother's sister's daughter, annoying girl that she was. Always too stuck up to gossip, and too stupid to even follow the really good gossip. The woman crossing the lake with them had been one of the biggest scandals in a while. Between that and meeting THE Harry Potter, they were overjoyed.
The man sat, lost in his own thoughts, ignoring his sisters. He had always been fond of his youngest cousin, and hoped she did well on this marriage. She didn't seem the type to marry for fame, but he had heard his sisters' talking of Harry Potter, and had followed some of the more legitimate stories on the news himself. Well, he would just reserve his judgment until he met the man, although since his sisters had been all but banned from going to the wedding early, that would be after the ceremony. Fuck, did those women ever stop talking? His sisters they may be, but absolute bitches he could but acknowledge. He was just glad that the woman they were talking about couldn't understand a word of what they were saying. After their discovery of her identity, they had engaged in an in-depth discussion of just what she had done to gain such infamy, emphasizing the accusations of sleeping with her teachers for her position and propositioning her boss, of course. He had read the articles, since he often read English papers in his job at the French Ministry of Magick, but it hadn't really rung true to him. Still, he didn't know the girl, so his opinion didn't really matter. He looked at her now. It was true that her clothing, while presentable, was nowhere near fine enough for a wedding of this status. And it didn't seem to fit her; that is, the conservative, almost frumpy style and the grey coloring. He peered a little closer at the woman, who was leaning against the side of the boat with her eyes closed as though she was having a light rest. Her brown hair seemed a little faded, like she had dyed it or something, and he could easily see the marks of stress around her face; wrinkles that shouldn't be on someone who graduated high school in 1998. He remembered hearing about her incredible exam scores when they were released; his department liked to keep an eye on up and coming people in the international magickal community, one of the reasons he often read foreign newspapers. And he saw her pale, pale hands clench almost imperceptibly when his sisters made a disgustingly crude comment about her. Ah. He would bet his life that she understood exactly what they were saying, and he wasn't a betting man. If only the silly girls would keep quiet for once!
"Are you a friend of the bride, or the groom, miss?" his English was perfect, of course, but his tone bespoke a definite French accent. Her eyes snapped open.
"I'm Harry's… acquaintance. But you knew that, didn't you?" she replied, with a darted glance at his sisters, seated on one side of the boat, talking to each other, oblivious to anything but their own conversation, nasty bits of which occasionally drifted over their own.
"Yes. They're…tactless. My sisters, I'm afraid. You speak French?"
"Yes." She seemed disinclined to continue the conversation, but he was intrigued. He began to stand up, intending to introduce himself, when he saw her eyes widen and her frantic motions to stay seated. Sadly, they were just a few seconds too late. The boat began to rock from side to side, in progressively heavier movements as his frenzied struggle to retake his seat led to destabilizing the boat further. His sisters sat frozen, fearing for their very outfits as a wave slipped over the side of the small craft. The English woman composedly whipped out her wand and paused. For a moment, he was worried that the rumors of her having slept her way to power were true, and that she didn't have any magickal ability, but then she muttered the charm she had taken the second to recall. The boat lifted off the water, but with such control that he was able to stay standing as they sailed over the remainder of the lake until they hit the dock. Well, hit was too strong of a word. They were set down gently. The two women stared with wide eyes at the powerful witch they had shared the boat ride across with. She merely stood up carefully, grabbing one side of the boat to keep her balance, and walked off to the castle a few yards away.
Edouard exited the boat a moment after her, wondering why she had completely ignored his hand out of the boat. True, he had been a fool for standing up in a boat, but that was hardly a high crime. He half-turned back, ready to help his siblings disembark, but thought the better of it when he saw the figure ahead of him, which had strode so confidently off the dock, waver in its path, and begin to veer a little. He ran forward.
Hermione supposed she was lucky. She had forgotten the limits of her power; the gift for Harry and Mireille really had taken a lot out of her, as had the Transfiguration, and she hadn't eaten enough to really replenish herself. And so when she had performed the spell on the boat, which normally would have been only a strain on her, but hardly crippling, she was exhausted. She had walked off the boat as quickly as possible, hoping to get somewhere and collapse quietly, but naturally she possessed no such fortune. She was, however, lucky that he had caught her. How he had known to run to her she wasn't sure, but as she lay across his arms, she was glad. For a moment.
The girl quickly threw herself out of his arms, turning around to face him with a frosty politeness.
"Thank you. Have a nice day." She turned back around and prepared to walk although it was clear that she was not yet recovered when a hand came around her shoulders. Try as she might to suppress it, a scream ripped from her throat. It seemed to echo in her mind, and she thought that everyone heard her shame, but the magnification of the soft cry was mental only. But it was certainly loud enough for Edouard to hear. Instead of removing his arm, however, he moved in front of her so that she could see exactly who it was who was stabilizing her. He had remembered, too late again it would seem, a tale that had gone around about the details of how she and Potter and Weasley had defeated the Dark Lord. The official report that was released to the world was extremely vague, but things tended to leak. One never knew what was true and what was not, though. Grabbing her from behind had been an even dumber idea than standing up in a boat- a boat didn't know a wide selection of painful curses, and he was sure that she did.
"But we have not been properly introduced. That was what I had meant to do, in my stupidity, for which I hope you will excuse me. I am Edouard Decriste, Mireille's cousin on her mother's side. Would you please allow me to escort you to your seat? I have heard that that charm takes such an amount of power from one's self that it can cause slight dizziness afterwards." He smiled as charmingly as he knew how at her, hoping to convince her. He was chivalrous enough to not want her to fall flat on her face in front of the other guests. He saw the hesitation run across her face, but she agreed with a soft yes.
She reluctantly told him that she wanted to see Harry before the ceremony, so they went in search of him. Edouard had attended Beauxbatons and had never had the fortune to see Hogwarts, but it seemed a perfectly nice castle. Exactly what one would think of when ancient English architecture came to mind. A little crude, a little obnoxious in its overt show of power, but other than that he thought it was perfectly fine. And certainly the cool sanctuary of the inside was a nice respite from the blistering late July heat. He looked around with interest, noticing how the woman his arm was wrapped around paused to soak in the atmosphere like a thirsty plant after a long dry spell.
"He's probably somewhere in Gryffindor," she spoke quietly, knocking him off his train of thought and nudging him in the familiar direction of what had been her home for the larger part of seven years. They moved slowly, although he was more than capable of supporting her thin frame as they walked. Still, it did not take them very long to enter the common room, where the Fat Lady, still the guardian of her little Gryffindors, allowed them entrance, telling Hermione how glad she was to see her and that Harry was up in his old room. Passwords were unneeded when there were no students to protect in the Tower. As they stepped in to the cheerful common room, Hermione suppressed a wave of nostalgia. Today was not about relieving the past, but a hopeful future for her best friend. She turned to Edouard.
"Would you mind horribly-." He cut her off before she could finish the question which she obviously did not want to ask.
"Of course not. I have read in the papers about what great friends you were, and I am sure that you want to be there for him. I can wait here." He smiled and released her, fairly certain that she could support herself a little on her own. He walked to a comfortable looking chair, although it was in an eye-smarting shade of scarlet, and pulled out a book which he had Reduced and stuck in his pocket in the vain hope that he would be able to find time to read it. She smiled a little at him, and he got the sense that she had been unused to the expression as of late. And then he recalled that he barely knew her, and thought that he might like to correct that. He smiled a little bit, knowing that she was not around to see him, and immersed himself in the pages.
Hermione had enough of her ability to cast a quick charm on herself that would allow her to appear physically fine. Mentally, though, she was not certain how she would react to Harry and Ron- or how they would react to her. She heard voices coming from the boy's dormitory and couldn't suppress a wide grin. No, this was Harry's day; everything would go perfectly.
Harry and Ron stopped talking as soon as the door opened, both turning to see who it was. Mireille had already been in several minutes ago to make sure that Harry was fine before she went and put her gown on, so they knew it wasn't her. As Hermione's head popped around the big door, the slightly apprehensive looks on the faces of the two men who had grown up under the threat of an evil megalomaniac turned into grins of incredibly happy proportions. Hermione's face underwent a similar change, and all three were now simple staring at each other, the door closed and it all feeling right for just a few moments. It was like old times when they had held clandestine meetings in Harry and Ron's dorm. But never before had two of them been wearing their finest dress robes, one in groom's style.
Hermione was the first to break the silence. "Harry, I don't give a damn whether it's cheesy to say, but I have never seen a handsomer groom than the one that I am looking at." Ron affected mock hurt as Harry pretended to preen.
"But what about when it's my turn, 'Mione?" he whined, causing him to receive a whack from his two best friends. Laughing, he put his arms over his head in vain defense of himself. "All right, just a joke!"
"Hermione, I know that you…didn't want to come, but I want to let you know that it means so incredibly much to me that you are here. You, and Ron, and Sirius and Remus; my family." Hermione bit her lip for a moment before shaking her head.
"No, Harry. I want to be here with all of my heart and soul. I just don't want to embarrass you with my presence. And before you say anything" here she held up a hand to forestall the denials bubbling at the lips of both of her best friends," it's true. But I had to come anyways, because I love you both so much." She finished with a weak smile, wondering what would come next, when she felt herself pulled in to a tight group hug. For a moment, Hermione thought she was back in school, with them all getting together after some harrowing adventure or other. All three leaned in to each other for a moment and savored the moment before returning to the cold adult world. "Harry, Ron- I want to tell you right now… Please don't ask what I've been doing. Just leave it alone. I'm taking care of myself, and that's all you need to know." Hermione looked at the two boys with wariness shadowing her already shadowed eyes, relieved to see expressions of compassion on their handsome faces. "So, Melanie is here, right Ron?" she asked cheerfully. Her two old friends shifted around a bit uncomfortably. Ron cleared his throat before answering.
"We, uh, broke up, 'Mione. About a month ago." It had clearly been a painful breakup, and one that Ron had been trying to put behind him. Hermione felt like shit for bringing it up and looked at her friend with a mortified expression.
"Oh, Ron-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-."
"Just leave it, Hermione. Look, no harm done." Here, Ron looked at the odd wizarding watch he wore. "Its about time for the ceremony. Best of luck, Harry; I'll see you up at the altar." He gave his friend one last hug before rushing out of the castle to await his part in the ceremony. Hermione was left alone with Harry.
"Hermione- I don't know how long it will take for this all to blow over, but I know it will. I know that one day, you will be free to walk around Diagon Alley without whispers. Maybe with Mireille and my children... because you know you will be a godmother, right?" Harry looked at her, seriousness in every line in his young face, tinged with the hopefulness of a man about to embark in one of the most wondrous events on life. Hermione pushed her normally skeptical self out the window to be burned in the bright light and just folded her Harry into her arms. Then she pushed him away and smoothed him out with a quick straightening spell. He nodded his thanks at her. "I need a few minutes to think. Tell the organist that we're going to start the ceremony a few minutes late. Just ten, maybe. I'll be ready then, promise." Hermione forbore another hug, and opted to give him a quick peck on the cheek. She understood perfectly his wish for solitude and was happy to grant his request.
Ambling down the stairs in a much better condition than she had ascended them, Hermione discovered that she had forgotten the polite stranger from the boat. Edouard. She wasn't certain what she thought of him. He was obviously a few years older than her, but only a few. He was handsome enough, with boyish, flopping brown hair and sharp eyes of a slightly lighter color. Several inches taller than her, but then, most people were. French, and with a certain amount of taste- as well as the ability to ignore stupid rumors. And once he got to know… She couldn't let that happen. She smiled with ice cold politeness as he turned from his thick book to her at her cough.
"Again, I must thank you for your assistance. I am quite recovered, however, and require no further help." Hermione was about to turn and stride calmly out of the room, when his voice arrested her movement.
"Ah, but you owe me." Bloody hell, did she have a sign attached to her that said 'sleazy morons apply here' or something? She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, when he finished his sentence. "Coffee, perhaps? Time and place at your convenience." He saw her about to refuse. "Please, consider a moment." He was almost surprised when she complied, a pensive look crossing her face.
Hermione thought for a moment. She would be sitting her exams in about a week, and that seemed like the perfect time to start her new life. She just had to figure out a way to mask herself and still meet with the man. Hermione was not one given to letting her gaze wander while she pondered serious matters, but just this once she did. And her eyes chanced to light upon those of Edouard, frank and hopeful, but not insistent. And somehow…she wanted to tell him what she was planning to do. She wanted someone to know that she could change her life around. And, if she were to be honest with herself, she wanted someone to know that it was really her achieving all that would be credited to Calypso Anastasia; a name that she had chosen after careful thought and was secretly proud of. Calypso meant 'concealer' in Greek, and Anastasia 'resurrection' in the same language. It was quite fitting, she thought. But what it really meant was that after she was, hopefully, enrolled at Oxford University of Magick, she would have an entirely new life- and would never return to her old one. She wasn't a fool- she knew that it would be painful, but she also knew that it was necessary. And if one, just one single person could know the truth…it would make it all so much easier.
"Look, the ceremony is about to start and I really don't want to miss any part of it, but I would like to talk to you. I'm not going to the reception, but I'm sure there will be a few moments after the ceremony, if…if you don't mind." Towards the end of her statement Hermione became unsure of herself, realizing that she had no right to request anything from this near stranger, nor unburden herself upon him, either. But to her surprise, he nodded and gave her an assuring smile. They walked out together to the ceremony, held outside with the aid of an abundance of Cooling Charms. Edouard left Hermione seated in the front and found a seat on the other side of the aisle with the rest of his family before the processional began- ten minutes late, as Hermione had instructed the organist before the pair had made their way to seats.
Hermione did not cry during the ceremony. She did not feel the need to. However, she was grinning so brilliantly that it was a wonder she didn't blind her two
best friends standing up near the altar. Wizarding ceremonies were quite similar to muggle customs, with the addition of spells cast by all of the wedding party to ensure happiness, well-being and love, designed to ensure long standing marriages in the wizarding community. And when Dumbledore pronounced those final words of the ceremony, the equivalent to the muggle 'you are now man and wife' and told Harry that he could kiss his bride, Hermione found herself immediately approving of the girl that Harry, though normally reserved in his public displays of affection, took in his arms and bent down for a movie star kiss in front of a crowd of his friends and 'family'…and the prerequisite ob of reporters lurking in the back. And just as she had imagined, she met Ron's eyes as they both stared at their best friend. But his eyes quickly turned penetrating, in a way that she had never remembered when looking at her. Sort of like the gaze he had turned on Snape when he wasn't looking in class after they had discovered that he was a Death Eater- and spying for the light. As though he was trying to figure out just what was up with the person. As though he wasn't sure whether she was good or evil. As fast as she could, she dropped her eyes, looking for somewhere else to shift her gaze as the wedding broke up, to be reconvened in the Great Hall for a reception. She saw Snape lurking on the fringe of the crowd, and she could tell that he was making at least a moderate effort to be pleasant at the wedding of his friend. She almost went up to him to ask…well, she wasn't sure what she would have said, but it didn't matter. His eyes, looking through the mass of people in the indifferent, superior way they always had, dismissively slid over her as though she meant nothing. Her breath, strangely, caught in her throat though she could not for the life of her figure out why it hurt her so much. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned fast. It was Edouard, of course. She had been so caught up in the ceremony that all thoughts of him had simply floated out of her mind. So. What was she to tell this handsome, brightly smiling fellow who had inexplicably asked her for coffee when none of her friends could even meet her eyes.
***
"And so…so I think that the best thing for me to do is disappear." He nodded at her and then paused.
"But I thought that you said you didn't want to go back to the muggle world." He left his statement open, allowing her to turn it into a question or not, as she wished. She chose to answer him.
"I-I've applied. For college. Like I said, it's hard supporting myself with the jobs I'm holding now, and I really was a good student at Hogwarts."
"Oh, really? Have you gotten entrance invitations yet?"
"Yes."
"May I inquire as to where..?" he prompted her gently.
"All of them," she whispered, with a blush. They were sitting in a shadowed corner of the room, away from the main festivities, although Hermione was seated so that she could keep a close eye on Harry and Mireille, for she liked to watch the simple love that shone from their eyes as they looked at each other. But a part of her was saddened, because it knew that she would never find love like that.
"Pardon?" He barely believed his ears. There were few people who applied to wizarding colleges, so any who did were usually the top of their class. Competition for the very selective spots was quite fierce, as he well knew.
"The preliminary essays I wrote were deemed acceptable by the all of the schools I applied to. Um, Oxford, Stonehenge, Salem, Madrid, Beijing, Alexandria. Those are all that I applied to. I really want to get into Oxford, though." Edouard let out a low whistle. She had just named some of the top schools in the international magickal community. Getting into any one of them would be an incredible accomplishment. And yet he somehow believed that this tired, faded girl who admitted to supporting herself by doing bar work (he suspected something else, from the way her eyes avoided his as she spoke of it, but he certainly wasn't going to press her for details) would have those prestigious colleges knocking down her door, begging her to go to their school. And he found himself drawn to her. He himself was fairly popular with his female coworkers, many of whom were quite attractive, while he had to admit this girl was not, but there was something about her that drew his attention anyways.
"And you are worried that they won't accept 'Hermione Granger' is that so?" She nodded, and he frowned, perplexed. "So what will you do? Re-invent yourself?" He gave a little laugh, which ended when he saw her large eyes staring at him solemnly.
"Yes, basically. I have new papers and everything, and those are what I used to apply to the schools. I plan on beginning a new life. I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to burden you with all of this. You barely know me; you shouldn't have to pretend to care! Have a good-." He grabbed her arm to keep her from leaving, pulling her back to where she had been sitting beside him.
"It doesn't matter that I barely know you. Besides, I feel like I've known you forever, just from talking to you for a bit." He chuckled softly. "I sound ridiculous, of course. But perhaps you can find it in your heart to forgive me. My countrymen have something of a reputation for foolish, romantic notions." Hermione smiled at him, genuinely, for the first time in their acquaintance.
"I told you, because I needed someone to be able to connect the two. Someone who knew that Calypso Anastasia" she paused and looked at him to make sure that he understood that that was her new identity "is really me, Hermione Granger. And maybe, maybe talk to someone, sometimes, who knows about the real me." She bit her lip, an uncommonly self-conscious gesture on her part as she looked at the man next to her.
"I'd like that a lot. Owl me." He gave her a small smile and slipped his business card into her hand. "Now, I believe the groom, who I have not yet had the chance to congratulate, or even meet, is coming over with my dear cousin for a word with you."
"Mione! You've decided to stay. Thank you so much." Harry gave her a sparkling smile, Mireille held firmly against his side as he made his rounds of all the guests. He had saved her for last.
"Oh, no, Harry I couldn't do that, I told you that I wouldn't and it would be an imposition, I just needed to ask Edouard something and I wanted a chance to speak to Mireille," she babbled. She really had wanted to meet Mireille, but now she looked so rude in front of the girl, suddenly deciding to stay for their reception. Then Harry moved very close.
"Hermione Granger, I have told you this so many times the words must be imprinted in that giant brain of yours somewhere. You are family. If you need to go, I understand, but otherwise, I would really love it if you could stay. After all, I need my best female friend to dance the second dance with, don't I?" he asked her mischievously, knowing how much she hated to dance.
"If you're sure…"
"I am," he said firmly.
"Then yes, I'll stay."
"Mireille, come over here and meet Hermione Granger, my first real female friend." Harry had detached himself from his bride for a moment as she had a little tete a tete with her older cousin. Hermione got her first close up look at the woman Harry believed would make him happy for the rest of his life. Funny thing was, jaded and cynical as she was, she believed it too. The two girls smiled at each other, although there was some awkwardness when Mireille went to hug her husband's best friend and Hermione, far more reserved, went to shake hands, but it was sorted out good naturedly. Hermione was content to sit out the first dance, with Edouard by her side, and watch her best friends dance. He had realized that she did not like to dance, and so had not pressured her, content to converse. Ron was with one of Mireille's beautiful cousins who were all too eager to dance with the handsome war hero. And then the next song struck up, and Harry deposited his wife with her father, and laughingly tugged the reluctant Hermione up and onto the dance floor, insisting he was wearing sturdy boots so she didn't have to worry. A mock swat and a sarcastic comment later and Harry and Hermione were dancing to the fast beat with happy grins on their faces. She figured she might have one last kick for old time's sake…before she disappeared.
***
TRANSLATIONS: What is she wearing?
What, you're telling me that her clothes aren't in style? And her hair, its terrible. Can you think of leaving your house like that? But…I think I've seen her somewhere. Where, where. Oh! Her face is familiar because she was the Hogwarts Head Girl of '98. Yes! (but y'all knew that part, didn't you?).
Okay, now, about Edouard. I promise that this will eventually be an HG/SS romance, but it seems that it will take a little longer to get there than I had previously thought. He insisted on showing up, and he didn't want to leave. Do y'all hate him?
Thanks to all my lovely reviewers:
Eirete: I'm so glad that you think its worth it, and that you think my characterizations are good. Hm, I had tried to make that fact (which you are absolutely correct about) clear the last chapter, but I will try again in the next one, thanks. Maybe when she gets a little more distance and perspective, she will be able to openly say that. Woohoo, we won't mention that not only do I want my readers to utilize their wonderful imaginations, but I'm bad at physical descriptions. Oh, goodness; I stayed up too late the other night, and I've done that reading fanfiction, so I can only thank you for taking the time to give me such thoughtful comments on the story. And Ron might be a good addition to the story, and I would love to accommodate you, but he doesn't speak to me much; Harry, Hermione, Snape, and Edouard do. If he speaks and tells me what he wants to do, I can but promise you I will listen. Oh, wow; on your favorite stories list? Thank you!:)
Deritine: Yeah, I'm not all that good with finances myself, to be honest. And there will still be challenges for Hermione, but her life is turning around. Hey, I think her alter identity is weird as well, but it happened. *shrug*. Glad you don't mind the wait in between chapter, thanks for your comments.
Emma: There's a thought, I've still got to title this one. Depends on how the chapter goes, thoughJ Hey, one of my best friends is a strange Beatle loving person, and I love her to deathJ
V-volatile: you're insane and I love you.
Jana B. : Why, thank you!
Madeleine Jete: No, it's understandable; I messed with the title for the first chapter and put girl instead of man, cause man didn't fit. Oh, no, bet it's gonna get stuck in my head now. Whew, glad that I got Arithmancy rightJ ack, my computer shut down and I had 20 minutes to get ready, so I'm home now and able to finish replying. If I don't get electrocuted from the storm. Glad you like the Beatles songs, and don't think I'm stupid. And yeah, apprenticeship is a word, but I know that your choice is a lot more thought out than Hermione's, and thus will have much better results; good luck to you in that.
Clarity: Glad you liked it, and yes, there probably will be more angst ahead, but I am also trying really hard not to do. I find it damned hard to not give in to the impulse!
Labrisa:P No, I understand the need for fluff, you don't sound like an idiot. I tend to write more serious stuff, but there should definitely be some happy moments in this story; as I've told others, I try not to overdo the angst.
MadAboutHarry: The muses laughed and jumped at the happy dance. Hope you approve of what happens at the wedding, and I'm glad the pity party is done as well, but I cant promise that it is gone forever, since she still has a lot of issues to work through.