Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Alpha and beta love to: cinnamonbun24 and Postal Ninja. Special thanks to: Tiresias Foresuffering & RedBlackHeart.
This story was written for the Splash into Summer fest - many thanks to the mods for hosting it! It was inspired by my beautiful friend's art on instagram: p / CHsqJZlhdzq and by Mélusine's legend.
This is a one-shot for now - a second part is in the works, it should by posted by this autumn.
Reviews and kudos are loved.
Ondine
"I only fear danger where I want to fear it."
― Franz Kafka
September 2002
"I can't come this Thursday."
Ron looked at her, brows furrowing.
"Why not? It's your birthday."
Hermione tried to think of a clever lie, but she couldn't come up with anything. Except...
"I have a date."
Ginny squealed in delight.
"Is it a hot one?"
"Gin, let her be", laughed Harry, "she's allowed some fun too."
Hermione smiled at him, thankful, while Ginny pouted and Ron looked up at the figure coming towards them.
The waitress brought their orders, with a wide and friendly smile.
"This is the earl grey, this is the orange juice, this is the sparkling water, and this..."
Several voices yelled, and the young woman startled, spilling water on Hermione's lap, who, try as she might, couldn't avoid it.
"NO!"
"I'm so so so sorry..."
But the brunette couldn't find the time to answer the poor and ignorant girl. Hermione bolted to the bathroom, trying to dry herself before the drops touched her skin. Not now, not so soon, not again... Not now, damn it!
She took her wand out and tried every spell she could, but nothing worked; as she had known. She had to go home, and she had better soak it out in her tub.
With a heavy sigh, she apparated on the spot and left. She'd have to send her friends explanations, maybe something about her period - but later. Always later. As usual.
August 1999
"I don't understand why this house isn't fit to your tastes."
"It just isn't, Ron, stop pestering me."
Ron was aggrieved; she could see it on his face. Sometimes her heart would clench, because that was the face she had longed to grow old with, the face she had loved as a teenager, the face with the features she had hoped to look upon on her children' faces.
But it wasn't to be.
"It's the fifth one you don't agree on. Stop being so damn difficult: the bathtub in that one, the pond in this one, the sink is badly-shaped in the other... What's with this frenzy over water? We're wizards, we can change things with a bit of magic."
Hermione threw a sad smile his way.
They really couldn't.
March 2000
"I was so anxious to meet you. Ron speaks so highly of you."
She gave the blonde woman a small smile.
"He really shouldn't. I'm just like every other girl out there."
"Don't sell yourself short. You're his best friend."
She was such a cute girl, and Ron seemed so happy since he had met her.
When Hermione hadn't agreed to date Ron, she had been afraid that he would never want to be her friend again. But Ron, for all his faults, had matured during the war, with his fair share of loss and grief.
"That I am."
In a surprisingly wise conversation, he'd divulged that he'd rather have her as a friend than lose her altogether. She had cried that night, exhausting herself to sleep with her hysteria. That may have been the most painful of it all, that long lost dream before anything could ever happen between them. To be denied being able to act on her feelings, after all that she had gone through.
But she had always known that the price she had to pay wasn't a burden to be shared. And, it was so small for such a great outcome.
"Shall we order drinks then? And no water!"
Hermione's smile was genuine this time.
"Of course, no water."
October 2004
She was so fucking tired of pretending.
She wanted to cry her eyes out and be left alone. Couldn't her colleagues just warrant a guess at her mood by seeing her face and leave her be?
She wanted to live, she wanted to love, she wanted to be happy. And not fucking cry over Hamlet and Ophelia that she'd reread for the nth time in her bathtub.
But she supposed that was to be expected: she had just had a transformation a few weeks earlier and she needed a fucking break.
She needed a breather and to be left the fuck alone. She took a deep breath and focused on the sound of the rain she could hear from her open window.
Deep, slow, relaxing breaths, so she wouldn't be swallowed by the ocean of thoughts and feelings which wouldn't leave her alone.
She swallowed a few mouthfuls of air, trying to compose herself. She was already a fucking godmother, and even if that was the closest she'd ever be to a mom, she shouldn't cry just because her past crush had a son of his own.
"Whatever the hell is wrong with you, Granger?"
Couldn't he tell? Water was not to be trusted. It moved and changed; it was fickle. Just as Hermione had to be now.
"Fuck off, Malfoy."
June 2003
Hermione had made her peace with it all. She really had.
She took a deep breath and cheered on the happy couple.
She shouldn't feel so bad about herself. Especially as she crossed Molly's sorry eyes and closed-lipped smile.
She shouldn't feel sad at all, she repeated to herself as everyone looked her way and didn't comment on the empty space, as usual empty, forever empty, next to her.
What she wanted to do, was to scream bloody murder.
This was for the better. It was okay. She had come to terms with it all. Why couldn't they? Didn't they know it was all for them? For her friends and family?
And when the rain started, she conjured an umbrella for herself as quickly as she could and let tears – happy tears, of course - fall over her cheeks: weddings were always a happy occasion.
September 1998
The first time she had changed, she had cried. She had cried so fucking much.
So many had been inflicted with atrocious scars, were becoming werewolves once a month, or were even left to a much worse fate...
She was crying over some scales and a bloody tail that sprouted on her every once in a blue moon. In the meantime, all she had to do was avoid water on her legs. That was all. Simple enough.
She shouldn't complain.
She closed her eyes when she thought back of her dreams of a white house by the sea, the sound of sand gently crunching underneath her feet, and the laughter of kids, of family...
She shouldn't complain. She was alive. She had found her parents. They had won the war.
That was the path she had chosen for herself.
She shouldn't complain.
July 1997
The tea was just warm, just as she liked it.
She could hear the waves and smell the sea spray. A cool breeze came from underneath them, rustling her untameable hair.
Her broom lay by her side, because desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Do you agree? To all the terms?"
The wizard looked her in the eyes, serious.
"You would never be able to tell anyone. You may never have children. You'll have to give up a normal life."
She could feel her heartbeats quicken, under his stare.
He was not smiling, but she could feel his compassion under his sad face. He was the one to cut the deal, but he hated it as much as she did. Maybe more...
"Are you sure, Miss Granger?"
And he was trying to give her an out.
"Do you agree?"
"Of course, I do."
The war had to be won.
She wasn't afraid.
