Riddle and His Lady

Chapter One: Apple Cake and Lavendar Tea

Hermione Jean Granger was certainly not your average twenty year old woman; in fact, she was rather considered a heroine to some people. And that was just the case; Hermione was so often called the brightest witch of her age, uncommonly clever compared to her peers even, and the best friend of Harry Potter. But since the defeat of Lord Voldemort, she had been rather overlooked to say the least. Harry was currently engaged to Ginny, soon to be married and living in a rather large house in Diagon Alley. Ronald was still half-living with his parents at The Burrow, but also owned a small house in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, very close to the home of the Weasley's. Hermione however, was currently situated in her own little pocket of the wizarding countryside called Painswick in Gloucestershire. It was a pleasant little historical village with a small, but friendly population. Luckily for the wizarding community, it was hidden from the muggle population and had been hardly affected by the Great War, only four years ago. And this was where Hermione found her perfect home, and found herself there today, ignoring the rest of the busy world by hiding away in her kitchen, baking an apple cake.

One might wonder what exactly a famous and accomplished young witch might wish to ignore from the rest of the world. But the truth was, in fact, the other two components of the 'golden trio' had failed to contact Hermione in the last five months. In fact, ever since the war ended, their friendship had gradually waned thinner and thinner. It was not the matter of working that was the problem either; Harry had made certain only three years ago that Hermione and Ron would never need to work again but since the announcement of his engagement to Ginny, they had very rarely seen much of each other.

Hermione mulled over these turn of events whilst mixing her ingredients and soon enough, popped the cake in the oven and made herself a cup of Lavender tea. She then moved into the living room and waited to hear the ping of the egg timer. It soon struck the young witch as odd that any person would be calling at her home at nearly six at night, especially as they were in the time of year where days were short and afternoons were quickly dark. She pondered this, listening to the persistent knocking of her door, a furry cushion pressed to her front and mug of lavender tea fit snuggly in her hands, and considered that perhaps it was Mrs Crabbly again, alerting Hermione of her notorious pet Nunda having escaped again. Sighing with irritation, Hermione tore herself from the welcomed warmth of the fire and forced herself to the door.

There, she discovered a rather dishevelled looking red haired man stood, or rather sagged, against the door frame.

"Ron? What on earth are you doing here?" Hermione exclaimed, placing her hands on her hips. She might not have been so annoyed at the prospect of the boy she had grown up with appearing at her door, if it had not taken him five months to talk to her or even nine months to come and see her. With no word from him at all, she neither knew if he were dead or alive. Although, by his sunken eyes and pale complection, Ron seemed to have been drinking himself into the grave.

Ron sighed irritantly and took his hand off the door frame before speaking with a slight slur, "I need to speak with you, 'Mione. Can I please come in?".

She hesitated with an uncertain look in her eyes before nodding and guiding him into the living room. "Would you like some tea?" She asked, more out of courtesy than genuine concern for him. He nodded, throwing himself into her armchair beside the fire and watching her leaving the room and entering the kitchen.

The house was once again filled with silence, only the quiet hissing of the kettle and crackling of the fire could be heard through the awkward stillness. While waiting for the kettle to boil, Hermione quickly checked the cake and then continued back to the living room once the tea was ready. Ron thanked her for the tea before they both sat down, quietly sipping their drinks.

"So, what did you need me for, Ronald?" The young witch questioned, her eyes fixed on him. She observed him inaudibly whilst drinking her tea which had now grown slightly cold. Yet another thing to be annoyed at him for, she thought. She noticed with slight irritation that Ron appeared to be trying his hardest to avoid eye contact with her and snapped an angry, "well?" at him when he did not reply.

"How have you been?" he asked, fiddling with the handle on the mug, eyes trained it.

"I've been fine. What's the problem?" she replied shortly.

Ron sighed angrily and placed his mug down. "I wanted to speak with you about...something a little personal, Hermione." He still refused to meet her eyes.

"Continue," she replied.

"Well," he breathed, "I know I haven't been to see you in a while-"

"That's an understatement," she muttered under her breath.

"-and that's just it. I can't deny I've been...avoiding you and Harry." he continued, ignoring her little comment. Hermione dismissed the small pang of hurt she felt upon hearing that and once again urged him to get to the point.

"Well, when the war finished I found it difficult to accept that this entire thing...Fred's death...and the events with Bill, were not all because of Harry."

Hermione laughed, "You forget we all lost something in the war, Ronalf. And why on earth would it be because of Harry?"

Ron sighed again, standing up suddenly and pacing round the room. "I can't help how I feel, Hermione. I just can't. It has been so difficult not to blame him, just for being born! I can't help but feel like if he hadn't been here to cause this trouble with...You-Know-Who then-"

"You can say his name, Ronald. He's gone, you know." Hermione snapped.

"-Yes, I know. Anyway, then none of this war would have happened and all those people wouldn't have died."

To say Hermione was shocked to hear these words come from Ron's mouth was an understatement. It was common knowledge that he had always felt threatened by Harry; "the golden boy", but this was taking it one step too far.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing, Ronald. None of this was his fault. He defeated him, for Merlins sake!" Hermione laughed bitterly.

He nodded, "yes, yes, but that wasn't what I came here to say."

Suddenly the ping of the egg timer went off and Hermione used it as a chance to escape the living room to switch the oven off. Ron followed quickly in toe.

She leaned against the work surface with her oven gloves ready and stared at the young man in front of her with a raised eyebrow.

"Hermione," Ron started, taking a step towards her with his hands outstretched, "I want to..give us another go."

Hermione, once again, could not believe what she was hearing. Opening her mouth to argue, she found that no sound would come out. In all her experiences, fighting numerous deatheaters, having a crazy woman carving into her arm, helping to defeat the most notorious dark wizard of all time, she had never been in such an impossible and difficult situation. Once she found her voice, she chuckled and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Ron, but I am not going there again,".

Rons face seemed to sag in responce, but Hermione had no doubt in her mind that starting, yet another, relationship with Ronald Weasley would most certainly not be a great idea. After all, they ended in the first place just months after leaving Hogwarts after finding him in a rather precarious position with one of the Patel twins. Parvati Patel had never struck Hermione as the sort to force herself on any man, although that was what Ron had claimed to be the truth.

"Look, Hermione," he started, disbelief in his blue eyes, "I know I hurt you before, but I thought you'd be over it by now, frankly. We were always supposed to be together, 'Mione. We all know that."

"No, Ronald. That is what your mother envisaged for us. I refuse to allow you to take control of my life, again!" She said sternly, "honestly, I find it preposterous that you even consider it!"

"I've apologised already! What more do you want from me?"

"My best friend, Ron! Ever since the war finished, you and Harry have abandoned me!" She pointed to the oven angrily and chose then to remove the cake from the oven, "why do you think I'm here baking Apple cake?! Because it's the only thing I have left that I enjoy!"

"And how exactly is that my fault?" Ron laughed, taking another bold step towards her. Now he was close enough for her to smell the fire whiskey on his breath. Hermione recoiled, her nose twitching at the foul smell and was close to reaching for her wand. One more step, she told herself.

"Look," she began, and would have held her hand up as surrender if she hadn't been holding the cake, "I'm sorry, but my feelings for you left me long ago. I think maybe you should go home and sober up." she reasoned gently but firmly.

Ron, however, was far from bending to Hermione's wishes and it soon became clear that he had arrived with the intention of trying to force her hand did she not agree with him. Beads of sweat ran down his face and neck as he went to grab her hand, a look of anguish on his twisted face. Hermione immediately went to grab her wand from her apron pocket, shifting the tin into one hand and stabbed it to Ron's chest sharply with a fiery look in her eyes. Ron immediately recoiled in shock.

"Don't make me use this." she warned, but it appeared he would not be deterred or take the particularly worked-up witch seriously.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, woman," he snapped, brandishing his wand in his hand and attempting to perform expelliarmus on his previous love interest. Hermione had already seemed this coming, however, and without a second thought sent Ron flying to the wall of the kitchen. She immediately gasped at what she had done, and Ron arose, rubbing his back with a look of infuriation slapped across his face. Hermione soon realised that she probably should not have even opened the door for him to come him. It was too late for that though as Ron aimed his wand at her again quickly and shouted, "praeteritis", his nostrils flaring and face reddening. As the word tumbled from his lips, a great burst of magic struck the unsuspecting witch as her body absorbed it. A flash of brilliant purple appeared for a moment before disappearing, and taking Hermione with it.

It all happened too fast for Hermione to process what exactly had just occurred as a gust of wind seemed to be blowing and tossing her body about like a doll in the wind.

She soon realised she was no longer in her simple little kitchen, but with a sudden thump was stood in a rather quiet room filled with books and herbs. And not only that, but a rather handsome man was sat in the corner, his eyes peaking over the top of a large book, fixed on the wild-haired woman wearing a "kiss the chef" apron and holding an apple cake in a baking tin.

So here's the first chapter of Riddle and His Lady. Thank you to every one who has taken the time to read this. Some of you might recognise the Prologue as I published this months and months ago and never updated, so I decided to publish it again but tweak it slightly.

I hope you've enjoyed reading this, and please leave me some feedback or ideas? :)

-Buckbeak