Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related characters.
A/N: Hey again! A new adventure begins. A few notes:
1. This will be a magical AU in a no-Voldemort universe. Hermione, Ron, and Harry still all grew up together at Hogwarts.
2. Each chapter will begin with a short flashback to the past, although the majority of each chapter will take place in the present.
3. Hermione also grew up in Ottery St. Catchpole with Ron and the two were best friends before they ever went to Hogwarts.
4. This fic is inspired by the rom-com Sweet Home Alabama, and will be told from solely Hermione's POV. This is ultimately her journey, although Ron is a huge part of that :)
Thanks as always to the most incredible beta-team: accio-broom, adenei, be11atrixthestrange, and sm_jl. Go read all of their awesome WIPs and completed fics right now!
Hope you enjoy the angsty ride!
Sweet Home Ottery
Chapter One
I'm losing my self control
Yeah, you start and I trickle back in
But I don't wanna fall down the rabbit hole
Cross my heart, I won't do it again
I tell myself, tell myself, tell myself, "Draw the line"
And I do, I do
But once in a while, I trip up, and I cross the line
And I think of you
Two years, and just like that
My head still takes me back
Thought it was done, but I
Guess it's never really over
Oh, we were such a mess
But wasn't it the best?
Thought it was done, but I guess it's never really over
Katy Perry - Never Really Over
20 years ago
The wind whisks across the rolling hills of the meadow, rustling through the enormous oak trees. The tops of the trees bend and arch from side to side. A faint scent of mildew hangs in the air, mixed with the wonderful smell of life-giving rain, signaling a storm approaching.
An eight-year-old Hermione Granger stands in the middle of a vast field of wildflowers. She's intrigued by the spring blooms that come in all different shapes and sizes. Each one is a little different from the last, displaying a uniqueness that captivates the curious girl with curly brown hair.
"Hermione, what are you doing?" Her best friend, Ron Weasley, calls out to her.
Instead of answering, Hermione focuses with even more intention on the pale yellow petals. They're slowly swaying in the breeze as the dark clouds hanging above start to cast long shadows down the meadow. Her eyes zero in on the circular center of one flower, filled with a sudden urge to reach out and pluck the plant from the masses.
Before she can do so, the stem releases its hold from the ground, allowing a single flower to levitate into the open air. She can't explain how or why, but seeing the flower suspended in mid-air fills her with joyful energy.
"Hermione," Ron gasps, staring at the floating wildflower in awe, "You just did magic. You're magical. I didn't think-"
"Magic?" Hermione tuts, holding out her hand as the flower glides into her open palm. "Whatever are you talking about?"
Ron bounces up and down, a wondrous look of delight spreading across his face. "This is so exciting! We have to go tell Mum and Dad!"
A dazzling blade of lightning streaks across the sky, tinged with hues of red, yellow, and purple around the edges of the crackling light.
"Come on!"
Ron grabs Hermione by the hand before darting across the open field. Thunder rumbles off in the distance, once again rattling the branches of the shivering trees around them. Another flash of lightning illuminates the sky, directly striking an oak tree in front of the two children, followed by a loud clap of thunder. They race towards a fallen tree branch, investigating the burning embers as they approach.
"Ron, we need to get home. My parents will be so worried!"
Ron crouches down, poking at the remnants of the branch with a stick. "Calm down, Hermione! It's just a little storm."
Huge rain droplets run into Hermione's eyes, blurring her vision. Lightning continues to flash from all directions at once, like exploding fireworks in the sky.
"I don't know, Ron…"
Ron stands back up and faces Hermione. "We should be safe here."
She places a hand on her hip that juts out to the side. "And just how do you know that?"
There is a twinkle in his eyes that matches the color of the falling rain. "'Cause lightning never strikes the same place twice! At least, that's what my mum always says!"
Hermione slowly unravels her clenched fist, revealing the small flattened wildflower still resting in her tiny palm. Confusion invades her thoughts, and she has no idea what this flower symbolizes or what Ron could have been possibly talking about when he said magic, but she has a feeling that she is about to find out.
Present Day
Hermione wakes with a start, listening to the incessant blaring of her alarm clock. Sunlight streams through the large open-paned windows, making her blink and groan from the sudden assault to her senses.
What just happened?
It's been a long time since she's had a dream as vivid as the one she just woke up from. For the life of her, she can't figure out why she was thinking about Ron, when she had pushed him so far from her dreams a long time ago.
A ringing disrupts her venture down memory lane. Hermione rubs the sleep from her eyes before reaching over to pick up the mobile phone on her nightstand. "Hello, Mum. You're calling early."
"Hermione, darling! I'm glad I could catch you before you head off to work. How are you, my love?"
Hermione sighs, sitting up to rest her back against the headboard. "About the same as I was when we last spoke. Yesterday."
"Well, we're worried about you, Dear. You work too much."
"Things are busy right now, Mum. We've just finished a round of trials, and we've been given a fresh batch of cases to review."
Hermione grows tired of reiterating the same response to her family's concerns. Work has always been important to her, especially when she feels like she is on the verge of receiving a promotion within the Australian Ministry of Magic in the Law Enforcement department.
"Have you thought about taking a holiday?"
Hermione closes her eyes, trying to hold back her annoyance. Jean Granger excels at pushing her own agenda.
"I'm not sure now is really the best time-"
"Our 30th anniversary is coming up."
Hermione pinches the bridge of her nose. "I know."
"Your father and I — well, we would just love to see you. We are planning on having a celebration. All of your cousins will likely come, as well as our closest friends in Ottery. It would mean a lot to us if you were able to fly in. Or do whatever it is you do in the magical world."
"I know, Mum. I-" Hermione pauses to let out a loud exhale. "I'll be there."
"It's been so long, sweetheart."
Five years, to be exact.
Despite her mum's unexpected lengthy phone call, Hermione still manages to arrive at the Australian Ministry well before she's expected. Her plan for the day consists of reviewing notes for upcoming trials, and she's about to sit down at her desk when a knock on her office door sounds.
"Good morning, Miss Granger!" Harwell Ebonwood, the Australian Minister for Magic, greets her in the open doorway.
"Minister! I-I wasn't expecting you this morning." Hermione sifts through her notes, frantically searching for any indication that she is expected in a meeting that she's unaware of.
"No need to worry. This is a spontaneous visit," he smiles, easing her panic.
Hermione straightens her stance as she stands behind her desk, plastering a welcoming grin on her face. "Oh. How may I help you?"
"May we speak with you in the conference hall for a moment?" he gestures down the corridor, and Hermione's eyebrows crinkle as she considers who we may be referring to.
"Certainly."
She follows the elderly man with short, thinning grey hair and a matching beard, down the corridor behind a set of double doors leading to a large meeting room.
Once inside the room, Hermione spots the current Lead in her department, Adamson Thornheart, seated at the table.
"Good morning, Sir," Hermione nods to him before lowering her trembling body into the nearest chair. She hasn't a clue what this meeting is about, but she silently wills herself to relax, especially given the smiles on the typically stoic faces of the two men in front of her.
"We'll be quite frank with you, Miss Granger," Minister Ebonwood begins, "We would like you to be the next Lead in the department."
Hermione's nails dig into the skin on her hands that are clasped together in her lap. She's floored by the recommendation. Whatever topic of conversation she was expecting to discuss today, this wasn't it. She figured she had a few more years still until a Lead position would open up.
"Really?"
Thornheart nods. "I will be stepping down as the Lead here in just a few weeks as I transition to my new role as Deputy Minister for Magic."
"Congratulations, Sir."
Minister Ebonwood beams with what appears to be pride. "It is my hope that Thornheart will be ready to take over my position once I retire."
"I can't think of a single person more deserving," Hermione acknowledges.
"Thank you." Thornheart bows his head.
The Minister stands, clearing his throat. "Miss Granger, you've shown great promise from the day you stepped into our Ministry. We feel very fortunate to have your brilliant mind at the helm of some of our most high-profile cases. You are hard-working, persistent, and dedicated — all qualities that make you the perfect candidate to take over Thornheart's position."
Hermione's heart rate picks up, and she wipes her sweaty palms together. This is her moment, everything that she's worked towards.
"However, there is just one small piece of information that we are hoping you can clear up for us."
Her stomach drops, leaving her hoping that whatever the Minister is referring to is a minor issue. "Anything."
"Before I begin, I must preface that every witch and wizard is subjected to Curriculo Reprehendo prior to beginning work at the Ministry. This spell identifies whether or not there are any restrictions, laws, or criminal history that may prevent an individual from completing their duties to the fullest potential."
"Criminal history?" she squeaks.
Minister Ebonwood chuckles. "I can assure you we did not find anything criminally invalidating."
A wave of relief washes over her. "Then the matter of concern must rest with a wizarding restriction or a law, I presume?"
The Minister doesn't respond to her inquiry but continues on. "Your marital status clearly states here that you are married to a Mr. Ronald Weasley, pure-blood."
With a flourish of his wand, Ron's face appears on a projection in the center of the table, along with a list of stats.
Ronald Bilius Weasley
Blood Status: Pure-blood
Age: 28
Occupation: Auror
Relationship Status: Married to Hermione Jean Granger, Muggle-born
The color drains from Hermione's face, her heart pounding within her chest. She can't take her eyes off the moving picture, the image of Ron smiling and nodding in what she suspects to be his most recent Auror profile. He looks the same as she remembers, perhaps only a bit older, with a small amount of scruff lining his chin.
What does his blood status have to do with anything? More to the point, why is our marital status relevant?
"Was married."
Minister Ebonwood raises his eyebrows. "Was?"
"Well." Hermione shifts around in her seat. "We're...separated."
"I see," the elderly man murmurs, a pensive look crossing his face.
Hermione remains silent, not really knowing what to say next. She's still perplexed that Ron has managed to weasel his way into her thoughts twice in one day.
"Miss Granger," Minister Ebonwood begins again, breaking Hermione from her stupor, "the magical world has progressed tremendously in relation to blood status and the effect that has had on our culture. Many prejudicial laws have long since been eradicated, including those revolving around the mistreatment of house-elves, who are now free because of your efforts."
Hermione welcomes the warm feeling in her chest that ignites from the Minister's words.
"However, it has come to our attention that there is an old and ancient law that still exists. One that has the potential to impact your promotion."
Her chest tightens as she sucks in an unsteady breath. "Please go on."
"The law, which was established centuries ago, states that a magical person, who is muggle-born, may not hold a position of power in the workforce if they are married to a pure-blood unless explicit permission is given in the form of a dedication. Mr. Weasley's signature is what we need in order for you to become the Head of the Department."
The revelation hits her like a bludger to the stomach. "You're joking."
"Or," Thornheart interjects, "Proof that you two are no longer legally wed under the guidance of magical law."
"That's-that's impossible," Hermione breathes out, "If there were a law as objectionable as this one, I would've realized it sooner-"
"Like we said, Miss Granger," the Minister expresses with a calm demeanor, "This law is ancient. I suspect that our charm almost didn't catch it. But it does exist, and it will prevent you from being properly sworn in during the traditional Lead ceremony."
Hermione inhales a deep breath through her nose, the air she exhales much shakier than she anticipated.
Ron. She needs Ron Weasley to advance her career.
Everything she's worked for all seems for naught now. She closes her eyes, trying to reserve the strength she knows she'll need to get through these next few moments.
"To clarify, if I weren't married to a pure-blood, if I were single, this would be a non-issue."
"Precisely," Thornheart confirms without hesitation. "Many worldwide wizarding laws surrounding pure-blood superiority have long since been abolished, however this one has seemingly slipped through the cracks."
Hermione's lips form a thin line, trying to hold in the outrage bubbling inside of her. "You understand how problematic this law is, correct?"
The corner of Thornwood's mouth tilts up. "We have high hopes that you will be the one to eliminate it."
Minister Ebonwood circles the room, coming to sit on the edge of the table as he fixes Hermione with a sympathetic gaze. "Miss Granger, I can tell that this subject matter is a sensitive topic for you, and for that, I apologize. But for now, unfortunately, time is not on our side. If Mr. Weasley doesn't grant permission, or if you don't settle your affairs before the twenty-first of March…"
He didn't need to finish his sentence for Hermione to know what the end result would be. She would not be able to grow within the Ministry.
Her shoulders sag. "I've worked so hard for this promotion."
The Minister places a supportive hand on her shoulder. "There is still time to get your affairs in order, yeah?"
Thornheart pushes his glasses up on his nose, peering down at a file in his hand. "Let me see here…" His eyes widen as he scans the document. "You've got weeks of annual leave saved up. It doesn't look like you've taken any in the past five years."
"Well, Sir, there's work to do-"
"Take it now."
"But-"
Thornheart holds up a hand, silencing Hermione's protests. "Take three weeks, actually. Use the time to sort out any unfinished business. I must stress that you have only three weeks. After that time, we will, unfortunately, have to pass on the responsibilities to someone else."
Hermione tilts her chin up. "Don't worry, Sir. You can count on me."
A heavy weight falls on her heart as she walks out of the conference hall.
She is going home.
Hermione's feet plant themselves on the firm grass-covered ground, an instant pang shooting through her chest as she stares up at the magical dwelling in front of her for the first time in nearly five years.
The Burrow.
The crooked house held up by magic stands several stories high and remains exactly as she pictured in her memories. The barn and chicken coop are still visible, along with the multiple chimneys perched on the roof of the house. There are plenty of weeds growing among the rolling hills and surrounding meadows.
Hermione's ears attune themselves to the laughter coming from behind the house, and her feet start to move of their own volition towards the fence surrounding the garden. She spots the large green pond full of croaking frogs, and she dodges the pesky gnomes gathering around the hedge.
Her pulse quickens as she rounds the corner, a yard full of Weasleys with vibrant red hair coming into view. Like she expected, they are all there — Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ginny — who is standing surprisingly close to Harry — and…
The bustling commotion seizes as she approaches, and Hermione can feel the beads of sweat pooling on her forehead as she tries to avoid the prying eyes and push away the gasps from the people she's always considered family.
There, in the center of them all, is Ron.
Her husband.
The bright smile lighting up his face falters, instead replaced by a mixture of confusion and shock as he meets her gaze. The expression on his face quickly morphs into a cheeky smirk.
She knows precisely what day it is, too.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't my long lost wife."