Lilac Wine by Beth Brown

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 4
Published: 19/11/2006
Last Updated: 15/01/2007
Status: Paused

I lost myself on a cool damp night. I gave myself in that misty light. Was hypnotized by a
strange delight. Under a lilac tree




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*Disclaimer: Any characters from the Harry Potter universe do not belong to me. The only
profit I gain is your review.*

*Author's notes: This was inspired by Jeff Buckley's* *rendition of* *“Lilac
Wine”.* *I hope that wherever I take this, it'll be satisfying, and possibly interesting,
and remotely inspiring, and perhaps entertaining. I write because I like to, and I post just to
please.*

******

*“**Hello Harry.**”*

He was drinking again. The smooth liquid burned a path down his already raw throat, making him
cough and sputter. He squeezed his eyes shut, embracing the momentary pain with every swallow. He
needed this. He needed to feel again. Feel something. Feel anything. The glass was cool against his
lips and he welcomed its kiss. A heavy shoulder brushed against him roughly, causing the soothing
liquid to spill from Harry's tipped glass. His tongue reached out to catch the falling liquid,
but it only drenched his chin and the front of his shirt.

“Sorry, mate,” the owner of the shoulder called out.

“S'okay,” Harry mumbled.

*“**Hello Harry.**”*

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced. A hand grasped the half empty bottle and clutched it
to his chest in a possessive manner. Harry shuffled to the fireplace and took a handful of floo
powder from the chamber pot that sat on the bar. He stumbled into the hearth and with two words he
was spat back out into his living room. He lay sprawled on the soft carpet, the bottle still
clutched tightly to his chest.

After a beat he rested his cheek on the floor, pressing his nose to the carpet, and he inhaled
deeply. He could still smell her. She had chosen this rug just two days after they had moved in and
at first sight he had instantly hated it. But she loved it, and he loved her. So he took it in and
welcomed it with open arms.

The golden band glinted in the firelight as he raised a trembling hand from the bottle and let
it rest gently on the surface of the rug. His lips parted, he took another breath, and he shut his
eyes.

*“**Hello Harry.**”*

She was smiling at him. So he smiled back.

“Hey, Hermione,” he murmured.

There was a sharp knock on the door and his eyes darted open. Harry held his breath. A moment of
silence.

Knock

Knock

Wonderful. Harry made no move to get up and only tightened his grasp on the bottle.

Knock

Knock

Maybe if he waited they would go away.

Knock

Knock

He wondered if he should chance getting a bite to eat from the fridge.

Knock

Knock

He was a little hungry.

Knock

But then that would entail standing.

Knock

And he wasn't going to move from that wonderful spot on her rug.

“Mate, I know you're in there. Now open up!” Ron's not so muffled voice shouted from
behind the closed door. Quite a persistent best friend, wasn't he?

There was another loud rap on the door and Harry grit his teeth. “I'm not home,” he
muttered.

“You clearly are, you daft drunken git! Now let me in!”

The pounding was incessant now and didn't even bother to wonder how in the world Ron managed
to hear him. These days it seemed like the man could read his mind. Yet Harry refused to get up and
instead glued his eyes to the carpet. Ron was a wizard. No locked wooden door could keep him out. A
moment later it seemed that Ron had managed to figure it out, for Harry soon found himself being
pulled to his feet and dragged from one room to the next. He was mildly aware of Ron's voice
and of his own legs which were somehow managing to knock things down in their path.

Ron dragged him through the doorway and onto the smooth floor of the bathroom. Harry's eyes
dully inspected the floor, which was oddly swept clean. He'd have to ask Ron about that later.
Right now though, Ron seemed to be too busy filling up a bucket of water.

“You'll thank me when you're sober,” Ron said.

Then Harry was drenched from head to toe.



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3. untitled
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Disclaimer: The Harry Potter World isn't mine. Neither is National Geographic. Wish I owned
a Panda though.

SUMMARY: Post Hogwarts. Hermione has been missing for five years now and everyone has given up,
save for Harry and Ron. Now the only chance they have of seeing her is by going back in time, these
many trips though don't give them much information on her whereabouts, but Harry seems content
in just watching his wife. Then as if by chance Harry stumbles upon a woman at a grocery store who
has a similar resemblance to Hermione and is, strangely enough, even named Hermione. But is this
really Hermione? Or is Harry's yearning for her just making her seem to be? Even Hermione
isn't sure. Living as a Muggle and tired of her endless slag of day to day events, Hermione
yearns for something different; something exciting, and it seems that Harry and his world are just
the keys to that excitement. It's like a fairytale come true, but with the confusion of
Hermione's real identity, the fairytale turns out to be just all in her mind. Head aches,
visions and awkwardness, time travel, opened eyes, coming of age, acceptance, and discovery, soul
merging with body, Prince Charming and Mystery Men, all topped off with a dash of firewhiskey at
night makes a quite interesting recipe.

There will be a sequel.

Author's Notes: Hello to all, I hope the summary at the top provides you all with an idea of
where I'm thinking of taking this. Thank you to all for the excellent reviews and let me know
what you think so far of the ideas I've thrown out. Hope you enjoy this little one.

****

She lived with her sister and a friend in a town home not far from the main street. If you were
to walk two blocks in one direction, you'd be faced with bumper to bumper traffic. A step in
the other direction led you to a large span of green dotted with various trees. This was the park.
A little beyond that were more homes, more shops and of course more traffic.

Every morning she would go for a run around the winding path of the park, her dog trotting at
her side. The sounds of Mozart, Chopin, Strauss, and yes perhaps even Beethoven would pour through
the silver headphones stamped with Winnie the Pooh stickers, one on each side. As she ran,
she'd hum along with the string concertos, the preludes and even the many waltzes; her fingers
absentmindedly conducting the cacophony of sound filling her senses.

A quick shower, a short lift on the bus, and she'd be downtown where she'd stop by
Arnold's caf? for a little hello with a muffin and a coffee on the side. Then it was off to
work; a desk job involving paperwork, quick decision making and a call or two. She had a lovely
view of the city from her window, and often when she had the time, she'd gaze fondly off at the
darkening sky as the sun made it's way down.

Today however her weekday schedule was to be interrupted by a trip to the doctor for a friendly
check up. She had hopped off the bus, and took the lift up to the seventh floor just only fifteen
minutes ago. Now she was mindlessly flipping through one of the old magazines that sat on the
table.

She hated the doctor's office with its green walls adorned with corner store paintings; its
round clock, big enough that it nearly took up the expanse of the far wall; its semi comfortable
chairs lined up against the wall and people sitting with one chair in between them if they could
help it.

She hated the thick smell of disinfectant that somehow managed to soak up her clothes and
saturate her thick hair. Easy listening filtered gently through the speakers so as to fill the
silence, the smooth beats often punctuated by hacking coughs, and it all annoyed her to no end.

There was never anything good to read, and hardly any books. What made for passing the time were
random magazines: life magazines, fashion magazines, magazines that'd tell you how much weight
one could loose in just two weeks if you'd dial the 1 800 number right away; food magazines
equipped with the latest chocolate mousse cake big enough to serve up to eight people; spiritual
magazines enriching the mind and cleansing the soul; teen magazines showing step by aching step of
how to apply the proper amount of make up. There was the lone National Geographic magazine with a
picture of a rather sad looking panda on the cover, and many, many, many tabloid magazines showing
the faces of celebrities gone wrong.

“Miss Jardin-Rourke?”

Hermione looked up from the magazine that sat on her lap.

“The doctor will see you now.”

Hermione smiled politely and left the magazine on the seat. Taking her purse in her hand, she
followed the woman into a room and once the door shut she slipped off her jacket and sat in the
chair. There was a wide window in the room overlooking the city and she contented herself in
looking out at the buildings and little dots of people scurrying around.

The door opened. “Hermione, good afternoon.” The doctor stepped in tucking a pen into his coat
pocket.

“Afternoon, doctor,” Hermione said, standing to meet him.

They shook hands and he gestured for her to take a seat, to which she obliged.

“So what can I do for you today, dear?”

Hermione folded her hands in her lap and then scratched the back of her neck. “Well I've
just been getting these headaches lately. They're sharp, you know? Lighting quick. I'm not
sure if it's really that big of a deal, but it's been happening far to often recently.”

The doctor leaned forward in his chair slightly. “How recent?”

“Erm, the past four days?”

The doctor nodded and scratched something onto the paper. He asked her a series of the usual
questions then got up and said, “Right, so let's have a look at you then.”

They ran through a series of the usual tests and once finished, the doctor smiled shook his
head. “You're right as rain, dear. Nothing seems to be the matter with you. I suggest you take
some aspirin and have a lie down. Sleep is what you need, but if the headaches continue come back
and see me.”

****

Hermione pushed open the door and shoved her keys back into her purse. There was a loud bark and
a large black lab trotted up to her in greeting. She scratched him behind the ears and he panted in
response.

“Hey there, Holden. Miss me?”

“Is that you, Hermione?” a voice shouted from the kitchen.

Hermione hollered back an affirmative and hung her jacket in the closet. She rolled her
shoulders back and stretched her arms. “Take out?” she said eyeing the boxes on the counter.

“I just came home,” the woman at the stove said. She was steaming vegetables in a large pot.
“Get the plates will, you?”

“Will Darcy be here on time?” Hermione asked while she washed her hands.

“Nah, said she had a dead line and we shouldn't wait up.”

Hermione pulled out two plates. “More for us then.”

“Did you pick up my magazines?”

“Ugh, yes. There's a horrid article on some actor having a torrid affair with someone or
other.”

“You read it?”

“Only the headline. Honestly, Maddy, how do you stand that rubbish?”

Madeleine spooned the vegetables onto a serving plate and smiled. “With great inner strength,”
she said.

They fed Holden and took a seat at the table.

“So what did the doctor say?”

“Oh, he said it was only stress. I should just pump myself full of pills and get some rest.”

Madeleine's fork paused on it's way to her mouth. “Well. How much did you say he was
getting paid again?”

“Too much.” Hermione got up to pour herself a glass of wine. “So how was your day?”

“Oh so productive. There was something wrong with the computers so we had to wait for the IT guy
to come in. Took hours.”

“Hmm.”

Madeleine took a sip from her glass. “Holden caught a bird at the park today.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me you buried it in the garden.”

“No, I nailed it up on the wall above my bed. Of course I buried it. I gave it a name too.”

“Now why ever did you do that?”

“I thought it would be nice. It was such a sweet little thing.”

“So what did you name it?”

“Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Yes. What's wrong with that?”

“Well it's not very bird-esque.”

“I think Harry is a fine name.”

Hermione put her fork down and dabbed at her lips with the napkin then said, “It is, but
that's the sort of name you give to sweet little boys not dead birds.”

Madeleine raised a fine eyebrow. “What would you have named it then?”

Hermione paused in thought. “Lucky?” she said with a hint of a smile.

“Cold. Absolutely horrid.”

“Alright, no, erm, Flyer.”

“Flyer?”

“Chirpy then.”

Madeleine let out a laugh and swallowed some wine. “Do you have any imagination whatsoever?”

“I have plenty.”

Madeleine only smiled into her napkin and decided to switch gears. “So do you remember that
fellow we met earlier today?”

“The one at the grocery store?”

“Yes that's the one.”

“What of him?”

“I spotted him today.”

Hermione looked up from her plate and across the table at her friend. “Really? Where?” she
asked.

“At the park. I took Holden for a walk right when I came home, and he was just walking a little
ahead of us, hands in his pockets, his hair oh so deliciously messy. He's definitely the tall
dark and brooding type,” said Madeleine with an air of excitement.

Hermione spooned more food onto her plate. “You followed him didn't you?”

“Naturally.”

“Oh, Maddy.”

“Well, what else was I to do? He was so strange this morning, calling out your name and all, and
when you told him to no he just looked so terribly sad. So you see, I had to follow him.”

“Lord, I cannot believe you.”

“It was some investigating, Hermione. I was doing it for you, dear. You must know that. I mean,
if you two were ever to run into each other again imagine what could only happen.”

Hermione shrugged. “I'd think that there'd just be some little eye contact then we'd
be off on our merry way.”

Madeleine sighed and sank back into her chair. “Oblivious. She is completely oblivious.”

“Oblivious to what?”

“To him. He is a very fine specimen of the opposite sex that was positively throwing himself at
you-”

“He thought I was someone else,” said Hermione now having forgotten the food on her plate and
not feeling very hungry.

Madeleine waved her hand away. “We could work around that,” she said

“We?” Hermione repeated laughingly.

“Oh, darling, you haven't been out with a gent in decades.”

Now Hermione looked slightly miffed. “It hasn't been *decades.* Only a year, and
anyway. I'm perfectly happy being single.”

Madeleine nodded in a comforting manner and patted her hand. Hermione only snatched her hand
away and laughed. “You're a raving lunatic, Maddy. Now how long did you follow this poor
man?”

“Not long. Holden was getting hungry so…”

“Poor guy,” she said glancing at the dog who was busy gnawing a ball.

“He doesn't live that far from here, you know,” Madeleine said as a-matter-of-fact-ly.

“Sorry?”

“Well, I did see him step into a home so it either could have been his or a friend's.”

Against her will, Hermione's interest was piqued though she still felt somewhat
uncomfortable and quite surprised that her friend had followed a man home. “Where?” she asked.

“Just a block down from here. He was stepping into 1182.”

“The one with that dodgy looking garden gnome in the front yard?”

“That's the one.”

“I can't believe you've done all this in one day.”

“I did say it was productive.”

“You forgot to mention slightly creepy.”

Madeleine got up and placed her dish in the sink saying, “I'm going to pretend I didn't
hear that little not so nice comment. Are you done?”

“Just about.”

“Good, hand me your dish and I'll take care of the washing.”

“Yes, mum.” Madeleine swatted Hermione with the dish cloth. “Ow. Right I'm going to
bed.”

“Night!” Madeleine called amidst the running water. “And remember 1182!”

Hermione rolled her eyes and called back, “The door is shutting now!” And the door did just
that.

Once in her room turned and paused in front of the mirror. She stared at her reflection and
pulled back her hair. It quite long now and she often wondered what she would look like with
shorter hair. She could never bring herself to go to the nearest salon though. “It's fine just
the way it is.” she said aloud to no one in particular. Then she washed up, her bottom lip curling
as she attempted to wash out the stench of disinfectant from her hair. She never really took baths
at night, but this little break in routine didn't hurt. Then she brushed her hair with exactly
32 strokes, took off her father's necklace and hung it on it's usual spot; the bed post on
her right. Pulling out her journal she quickly jotted down the events of the day, listing them as
if she were making a shopping list. Then she placed her pen inside the book and made to shut it,
but something held her back. Idly, she leafed through the book of mindless events until she came
upon a little note that caught her eye.

**Grocery shopping with Maddy. The strangest thing. A very attractive man approached me. Nearly
got hit by a car. Ran, I think. Knew my name. “Sorry, thought you were someone I knew.” It happens.
What was exceedingly strange was his reaction. Sad. Put out. Really wanted me to be this Hermione.
Wonder who he was. Hope I see him again.**

Hope I see him again. She had actually written that. Well, he was attractive. Very Mystery Man.
Very Prince Charming. Hermione's face broke into a smile and she allowed herself to drift into
a faint daydream with her Prince Charming calling at her door. She would laugh and he'd bring a
hand to her now short, wavy locks.

“You cut your hair,” Prince Charming says.

“Do you like it?”

“It looks fantastic.”

Then he would pull her along and out into the cool night air they'd go. Images swirled of
the two of them walking hand in hand in the park beneath the trees and the half moon. Then they
were in a caf?. Now he was holding her close as they swayed together on the dance floor.

Hermione's head ached slightly, and she massaged her temples with one hand and shut off the
light with the other. A final image in her head before she fell asleep was of her and Prince
Charming seated by a roaring fire.



