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HermioneCrookshanks919
Author of 19 Stories |
Summary: At 21, Hermione Granger abandoned her future for the safe alternative to loving him. Four years later, Hermione has the perfect life: a three-story house, a husband, and plans for a family in the works. But when the past catches up with her, Hermione must come to terms with the fact that she is only the shell of the person she once was. Attempting to reclaim her old life, Hermione joins Harry on one last adventure, only to learn that catching up with her isn't the only thing the past has in store.
My first note on this story…I guess I’m known for writing comedic pieces…especially those of a romantic nature. The only non-comedic piece people really know about (and not that many know of it anyway) is What’s Expected of Me. That’s more of a quick angst story anyway. This fic will be VERY different from my norm. It may have one or two comedic pieces of dialogue, but believe me when I say that this story is not a comedy.
Second…I rated this story M just to be on the safe side. I promise you that there will be no M-rated sexual scenes (sorry to all of you who wanted that, but I’m really too young to be writing anything of the sort). If the M-rating does come out to play, it will probably be for language and vocabulary.
Third, this prologue is probably going to be longer than any of my chapters (ironic, huh?). Mostly because a setup was needed, and believe me when I say that a very long setup was necessary. So don’t get disappointed when you see that my future chapters are one-third of this size.
Hopefully you'll enjoy this story. I know that I definitely prefer it over the original (luckily most of you will never get to read it). And please review! And again, no, I am not giving up on The List. I might be juggling things a bit, but oh well... Don't worry, I promise not to take a year to update.
To tell the truth, Hermione was a bit surprised at the turn out of her relationship with Alan. Hermione had first met Alan the summer of her seventh year. On a spur of the moment decision, her parents had decided that the family would take a two-week trip to the United States. After much persuading on her part, Hermione was able to convince her parents to allow her to enroll in a one-week program at the Salem Witches’ Institute that lasted from ten to two everyday. There those enrolled were able to learn about the differences between the four main wizarding schools, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, and, of course, SWI.
It was at this program that Hermione was partnered with a young man named Alan, who also happened to be entering into his seventh year of school that fall. They had clicked immediately, realizing how much they had in common, and three days later they went on their first date. It was with regret that Hermione ended the relationship and asked if they could remain friends when she had to return home for her final year at Hogwarts. She never thought that she’d hear from him again. But a month later he sent her what she now referred to as, “The Letter.”
Hermione smiled as she remembered the romantic, if not clichéd, letter she received from him that day, professing how he knew he couldn’t just be friends with her, and the rest was history.
As a fierce wind blew, Hermione’s scarf blew off. She ran over to pick it up, but before she could do so, someone else did.
Hermione looked up, and to her disgust, Malfoy was standing above her, holding the scarf above her head. Hermione stood up, glaring.
“Give it here, Malfoy,” Hermione demanded. She held her left hand in front of her so he could put the scarf in it, but at the same time plunged her other hand into her robes, holding onto her wand in case things got messy.
“What?” Malfoy asked, twirling the scarf around. “No thank you for keeping it from getting wet?”
“I would never thank you for anything, Malfoy. Now give it to me!”
Malfoy held it just beyond her reach.
“Only if you do something for me, Granger,” he said, an evil glint in his eye.
“And what could I possibly do for Mr. High and Mighty?” Hermione asked, scoffing him.
“Try the password to the head’s common room.”
Hermione stared at Malfoy in confusion. “What on earth do you need the password for?”
“You’re not that smart, are you?” Malfoy smirked at her. “There are two people who are protected by that password. As much as I hate you, you’re honestly not worthy of my time. Why do you think I need the password, Mudblood?”
Hermione’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she found herself in fits of laughter. “You don’t honestly think that I’d give you the password to our common room so that you could murder Harry, do you?”
“That’s exactly what I think,” Malfoy responded.
“And you said that I was stupid?” Hermione scoffed. “Why would I tell you that information?”
“Because it’s his life or yours,” Malfoy smiled at her, brandishing a wand.
In the blink of an eye Hermione had her own wand pointed at Malfoy. “Come anywhere near me,” she said in a dangerous tone, “and I will hex you off the face of this earth.”
“Are you threatening me?” Malfoy asked her, fixing her with a heated stare.
“I believe I am,” Hermione replied, eyes flashing in retaliation.
“As if you could take me on in a duel,” Malfoy glared at her, slowly advancing. “I happen to know hundreds of curses you’ve never even heard of.”
“Although I don’t doubt the validity of that statement,” Hermione responded, acting calmer than she actually was, “you forget that I’m better trained in defense than you. I believe that we’re evenly matched, and that would be stretching it for you. Now, if you don’t mind, get away from me.” With that, Hermione yelled, “Accio.” The scarf came hurtling at her hand. She caught it and with another flick of her wand she had Malfoy’s wand flying one hundred feet into the air. She turned around, walking away quickly. She could hear Malfoy cursing behind her as she sped up. It wasn’t until she reached the Owlery that she realized it was stupid for her to turn her back on an enemy. And you thought you were clever, her conscious scoffed at her.
Once in the Owlery, Hermione leaned up against the wall, but her legs seemed to fail her as she collapsed on to her knees, breathing heavily.
She was scared out of her mind; she wasn’t going to deny it. Only the naïve ignored their fears. She steadied her hands as she thought about what Malfoy had just revealed to her.
“Me?” she asked herself, closing her eyes. “Me. The object in some…some ploy to get at Harry.” Hermione wondered why she was so surprised. She should’ve counted on someone trying to use her to attack Harry, since they were best friends. She had always assumed, however, that they’d aim for the friend many perceived to be closer – Ronald Weasley.
Hermione realized that the fact that she now shared a tower with Harry made her even easier prey. However, she never thought someone would actually do it…or be so open about it. It took a few minutes before she regained the ability to breathe and walk. She stood up, still holding her wand, and found an owl fit for delivering in the snow. She placed her wand down on the windowsill as she attached the letter to the owl. Giving the owl a little pat, Hermione released it.
Hermione watched the owl until it was out of her view, and then leaned out the window, smiling as she watched the snow pile higher. She felt peaceful now, despite the events that had just occurred. Looking at the scenery, as well as reading, often did that for her.
Her paradise was interrupted however when a pair of hands seized her and roughly pushed her back against a wall. From the corner of her eye, she watched as her wand fell out the window, due to a brush with her elbow.
Hermione turned her attention back to her attacker, recognizing him immediately.
“Get off of me, Malfoy!” Hermione said through gritted teeth, as she tried to push him away from her.
“Scared?” Malfoy jeered, as he increased the force holding her.
“I said to get off of me,” Hermione demanded, as she tried even harder to figure a way out of this. Her attempts were futile, as she was 5’6”, and weighed less than 130 pounds, compared to Malfoy who was 6’2”, and whose bodyweight obviously greater than hers, as was his strength, due to Quidditch.
Hermione felt terror course through her body. She was alone, far away from Hogwarts, and no one would be able to hear any of her screams. However, she continued fighting against Malfoy. After years of fighting with Harry, she knew better than to give up.
Malfoy quickly overpowered her and, knocking her to the ground with his weight, landed on top of her.
“Tell me the password,” Malfoy hissed at her, his ice-blue eyes lit by a malicious fire.
“Go to hell,” Hermione told him fiercely, struggling against his hold on her wrists.
“That’s where you’re headed, mudblood,” Malfoy spat at her, maneuvering so that one hand held down her arms, allowing him to use the other as he wished. “Now tell me the password.”
Hermione remained silent as she fixed Malfoy with a steely glare. How could he ever imagine that she’d give up Harry’s life for her own? Anyone’s life for her own, for that matter?
Seconds later Hermione cried out as Malfoy punched right under her cheekbone. She breathed in heavily, closing her eyes and willing the pain to go away.
“I will have you begging for death,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s much easier to just tell me the password.” When Hermione refused to answer Malfoy reached for his wand. Hermione used this opportunity to elbow him hard in the stomach. In the one second that Malfoy lost air, Hermione pushed him off of her. She ran as fast as possible down the steps and half ran half trudged her way through the blanket of snow.
A second later, she found herself sprawled on the ground, after tripping over a small snow bank she didn’t see. She was fighting to get up when those hands grabbed her by the shoulders once more.
He’s not going to win, Hermione thought fiercely to herself. Of all people in Hogwarts, he chose the wrong one to try and get information out of.
Using all the strength she had, she wrenched herself from Malfoy’s grip, only to have him grab at her blouse and stop her. He turned her around and brusquely placed his hands on her arms. Pushing her up against a tree, he continued to pin her with his body.
Hermione glared, refusing to show any amount of pain or fear she felt coursing through her veins.
Malfoy seemed unnerved by her constant eye contact. He grimaced at her, but a second later aimed another punch at her face. She quickly turned her head so that all he got was hair.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Malfoy growled.
Hermione slowly turned her head so that she was facing him again.
“If you think,” she said in a low and almost threatening voice, “that I’m going to give in that easily to someone as worthless as you, then you’re in for a great surprise.”
“Going to be Miss Rebellious, are we, Mudblood?” Malfoy sneered. He ripped Hermione from her place against the tree and threw her on the ground, going down with her.
“Get off of me!” she screamed, thrashing violently. She tried to repeat what she had yelled, but a second later Malfoy’s hands had found their way to her neck.
“If I can’t get at Potter then I might as well rid the school of a mudblood,” Malfoy jeered at her.
Hermione attempted to pry Malfoy’s fingers off with her now free hands, but they wouldn’t budge. She couldn’t breathe and was certain she would die any second now. She closed her eyes tightly. This was the end. She was going to be strangled, in the middle of the snow, at the age of only eighteen. She had tried with all of her might, but she just couldn’t win.
In what seemed like the far distance, she heard two male voices yelling, “Hermione!” The next thing she knew, Malfoy’s hands were off her neck. Hermione gasped as she breathed in, rubbing her bruised neck.
Hermione opened her eyes and slowly pushed herself up, finding Ron, fuming with anger, holding Malfoy by the collar against a tree, his wand pointed at him. Looking to her right she found Harry next to her, eyeing her worriedly. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as Hermione continued to slowly breathe in and out.
“What are you going to do?” Malfoy sneered at Ron. “You can’t get me expelled, Weasley. My family has too much of an influence.”
“Oh yeah?” Ron demanded. “Let’s see how that turns out, why don’t we?”
“You know you have no power when it comes to my family, you worthless piece of scum,” Malfoy spat at Ron.
Now Harry was quaking with anger as well. From his spot next to Hermione he seethed, “I don’t bloody care. To hell with expulsion. If you ever come near her again, we will kill you, you hear me? We will kill you.”
Ron looked as if he was about to punch Malfoy, but before who could, an invisible force threw him backwards. Malfoy took off immediately, disappearing into the Forbidden Forest.
“Since when can anyone do wandless magic?” Ron demanded angrily, sputtering up grass.
“It wasn’t wandless,” Hermione answered quietly. “He was holding his wand. You were too angry to notice.”
“I can’t believe I let him get away,” Ron said through gritted teeth.
“Let’s just be thankful we got to Hermione in time,” Harry said, although it was clear that he too was upset about Malfoy’s slip.
Hermione refrained from commenting again, instead trying to push herself up. She found, however, that she was too shaken up to do so on her own.
Ron, who had just taken in what Harry had said, raced over to Hermione, as Harry lent Hermione a hand so that she could stand.
“Are you okay?” he asked her. Hermione nodded slowly.
“Did he hurt you?” Harry questioned as he placed an arm around her to prevent her from falling down.
“No,” Hermione replied, almost inaudibly as she tried to find her voice. “I mean, he tried to choke me, obviously, but I’m fine.” Hermione gave Harry a weak smile.
Ron eyed her, almost hesitantly, and then asked, “Did he…say why?”
You know, because I wouldn’t tell him the password to our common room so that he could murder Harry in his sleep, Hermione imagined herself saying, knowing that if she revealed the truth Harry would blame himself. Instead she cleared her throat and replied, “Just because I’m not a pureblood, that’s all. The same rubbish as always.”
Harry stared at her, and it was clear that he didn’t believe her. “You sure?”
Hermione nodded, avoiding his gaze.
Surreptitiously, Hermione slipped out of Harry’s grasp and moved away from her two best friends, now able to stand on her own two feet.
After a momentary silence, she realized her wand was still by the Owlery.
“Guys?”
“Yes?” Harry and Ron looked up at Hermione expectantly.
“I lost my wand near the Owlery, and I was wondering if…”
“Oh,” Harry said, looking slightly disappointed, as did Ron. However, Harry smiled lightly. “No problem. Accio Hermione’s wand!” The three waited for a few seconds, and then from the direction of the Owlery Hermione’s wand came flying into Harry’s hand. He caught it and tossed it over to Hermione.
“Thanks,” Hermione said softly, joining Harry and Ron again as they made their way back to Hogwarts. “For everything,” she added.
Ron gave a short nod and Harry answered, “It was nothing.” The three continued their trek back towards the castle in silence. As they made their way through the mountains of snow, Hermione felt something cold land on her nose. Looking up, she saw that the snow was starting up once more. She was about to comment about this, but Harry spoke first.
“Hermione, why did he attack you?” Harry asked her.
“I…I told you already,” Hermione said in a rushed voice, looking anywhere but at Harry. She found that the snow served as a great distraction, but all the same she could felt his gaze on her. She knew that this was going to be useless. After all, Harry knew her almost as well as she knew him.
Once again, a silence ensued, interrupted only by the cold wind.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Ron inquired finally.
“Yes,” Hermione said stubbornly, gritting her teeth against the cold that had slowly made its way through her cloak and because Harry and Ron’s concern, however sweet, would likely be the death of her. “I’m certain.”
“Should we go to McGonagall about it?”
“No,” Hermione replied firmly, unclenching her jaw and shaking her head. McGonagall would want more answers and more answers would mean pain for Harry, something she simply could not allow. Emotions could get the best of even the cleverest witches. “No, it’s…it’s fine,” Hermione continued, smiling. Clearly the smile was not convincing, as Harry and Ron stared at her expectantly. Sighing, Hermione added, “Anyway, it’s not as if you two aren’t going to follow me everywhere I go from now on.”
The doubt left Ron and Harry’s faces as they broke into laughter. A moment later they finally entered the inside of Hogwarts. Hermione turned right to head towards the Gryffindor (and Head Boy and Girl) tower, but Harry and Ron grabbed her by the elbows and twisted her the other way.
“Guys, wrong way,” Hermione told them, looking back over her shoulder.
“No, right way,” Harry answered. “Madam Pomfrey is over here.”
“I do not need to see Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione bristled immediately.
“Like Hell you don’t,” Ron gawked at her. “Your face is absolutely bruised, you’re frozen stiff, and you look a mess!”
“Thanks, Ron,” Hermione snapped at him, taking back her arms from Harry and crossing them stubbornly across her chest. She turned around and faced a window as an awkward silence followed. All that could be heard was snow pelting at the glass panes and the occasional squeak of shoes against stone as students walked around the corridors.
“We’re just looking out for you,” Harry told her quietly, breaking the calm.
“I wish you two would stop doing that then,” Hermione stated indignantly, her eyes now staring straight ahead of her.
“If this was one of us, what would you do?” Ron demanded.
Hermione fidgeted. She knew exactly what she would do – petrificus totalus whichever one was hurt and wingardium leviosa them to Madam Pomfrey. Anxiously, she bit her lip.
“Exactly,” Harry said, as if he had read her mind. “Now hurry up before we have to immobilize you.”
Sighing, Hermione turned around and offered an arm to Harry and Ron. She just couldn’t win when they combined forces.
“I was attacked,” Hermione answered weakly.
“Attacked?” Madam Pomfrey gasped, quickly motioning Harry and Ron to bring Hermione to a bed. “By who? Not a student?”
“Yes,” Hermione answered, “but I didn't catch his face. He escaped into the Forbidden Forest and he’s most likely long gone by now.” Harry and Ron exchanged shocked looks as they realized that Hermione was covering for Malfoy. Hermione, however, simply glared stonily at the pair, as if saying, "Don't you dare tell anything."
“I’ll alert Professor Dumbledore anyway,” Madam Pomfrey said. "Maybe he can catch whoever it was." She walked away and went off to gather the materials needed to cure Hermione and send an owl to Dumbledore.
A few minutes later, Madam Pomfrey returned to Hermione’s bedside with a pair of pajamas and various potions.
“Don’t tell me I’m staying overnight?” Hermione demanded. She knew that she was being unreasonable, but she just wanted to go back to her own room. “They’re just bruises!”
“Just several bruises,” Madam Pomfrey chided. “It will take good few hours to heal, and I’d feel better knowing that I could look after you. Now put these on.” Madam Pomfrey handed her the pajamas and closed the curtain. Harry and Ron waited outside as Hermione changed. Once done, Madam Pomfrey reopened the curtain and handed Hermione three bottles, each filled with a different type of potion. “Drink up,” she instructed.
Hermione scrunched up her nose, but obliged, ignoring how awful all three tasted. She finally fished the last drop and, as if exhausted by the effort, flopped back on her bed.
“Well, I have the potions test to study for,” Ron told Hermione apologetically. “So I have to go. But feel better Hermione, and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Right,” Hermione replied, giving Ron a small grin. As Ron made to leave, Hermione called, “Oh, and Ron!”
Ron turned around. “Yeah?”
“Don’t forget to reread chapter six in the textbook,” Hermione instructed. “I’m fairly certain that will be a huge part of the test.”
“Right,” Ron smiled. “Night!” Ron left the room, leaving only Harry, Hermione, and a very preoccupied Madame Pomfrey, who was dealing with a student who had just come in with paws for hands and an elephant trunk for a nose.
“Don’t you have to study for the potions test, too?” Hermione asked Harry.
“I already studied this afternoon,” Harry answered. An awkward pause followed, which Harry broke when he gave a frustrated sigh and sat down in a chair next to Hermione.
“What is it?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.
“I wish you would just tell me the truth about what happened with you and Malfoy,” Harry told her. He glanced at her, his eyes portraying how hurt he was in the lack of trust Hermione had in him.
“I told you everything,” Hermione insisted. “Just let it be.”
Harry looked away for a moment, and then faced Hermione once more. “He was trying to get to me, wasn’t he?”
Hermione choked on air. “No, of course not,” she said in a rush. “Don’t be stupid. He just hates me.”
“Hermione…” Harry said warningly.
“It had nothing to do with you,” Hermione reiterated, massaging her left palm with her right thumb.
“You’re lying,” Harry said, almost in a monotone.
“Prove it.”
“You fiddle around with your hands whenever you lie,” Harry told her, glancing down at her busy hands. Hermione followed his gaze and quickly stopped her kneading, a slight blush creeping along her cheeks.
“What did Malfoy really say?” Harry asked once more, his voice severe.
Hermione bit her lip and closed her eyes, slowly shaking her head back and forth.
“Hermione, you need to tell me.”
“What good will it do?” Hermione burst out, tears prickling at her eyes. “What good will it do for me to give you an excuse to separate yourself from me? For me to make you feel guilty? What good could possibly come from making your life worse than it already is? I’m not worth that, Harry!” Hermione’s shoulders began to shake up and down as sobs racked her body. Harry stared at his distraught best friend in utter shock.
“How did you know I would blame myself?” he asked.
Hermione looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy. “Because I know you,” she whispered. “Because I remember what you went through with Cedric and Sirius. All the guilt. I don’t want to be a cause of that guilt, Harry. Your life is hard enough without me complicating it.”
“I’m the one complicating your life, Hermione,” Harry said bitterly. “It’s because of me that you’re— ”
“Don’t say it,” Hermione croaked. “Don’t you dare say what happened today was because of you. What didn’t happen today is because of you.”
Harry shook his head. “When I saw you being attacked by Malfoy,” Harry said, almost in a trance, “I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I would collapse. Like back in fifth year. All I could do was stare.” Harry looked up towards the ceiling. “It was Ron who saved you, Hermione. Not me. I stood there like a coward.”
“You could never be a coward,” Hermione whispered fiercely, her tears having subsided. She sat up.
“How do you know?” Harry asked.
“I told you already,” Hermione said. Slowly, she raised her hand and brought it up to Harry’s face. “Because I know you,” she breathed.
There was a silence as Hermione’s eyes bore into Harry’s. Slowly, without realizing what she was doing, Hermione leaned in towards Harry until their noses were touching.
“You’re the bravest person I know,” she told him, and without thinking, she placed her lips gently on his.
Harry was completely stunned, but slowly, the shock wore off, and he returned the kiss, deepening it.
It wasn’t until Hermione realized that her fingers were entwined with Harry’s black locks that she understood what exactly she was doing. She was kissing Harry. Harry, her best friend. Harry, who wasn’t Alan…
Hermione broke apart from Harry immediately. “I’m so sorry!” she said, not bothering to take in a breath of air. “I don’t know why I did it… I… I was just so stressed by what happened I just acted so irrationally and I – ”
“It’s fine,” Harry told Hermione, hiding his disappointment, although he wasn’t quite sure why he was disappointed.
“Don’t let Alan know about this,” Hermione begged softly. In that moment, pain registered in Harry’s eyes, and Hermione was taken aback. A moment later, however, it was gone, replaced with his normal gaze.
“I won’t,” he promised her, and then he got up.
“Where are you going?” Hermione asked.
“I have to study for potions,” Harry lied, walking away from Hermione and towards the doors that led out to the hall.
“But you said– ”
“I’ll see you later, Hermione,” Harry told her, letting the doors bang shut behind him.
“—you finished studying,” Hermione finished in a broken voice, staring at the space where Harry had just stood. A tear slowly made her way down her face, and she wiped it away, angry with herself for caring.
“You shouldn't feel this way,” she scolded herself. “You’re with Alan.” Yet, she realized, that one, chaste kiss with Harry had meant more than any kiss she had ever shared with Alan.
Hermione lay back in bed, running her fingers gently against her lips, until sleep overtook her.
Her feelings for Harry weren’t simply platonic, and if she was right about the pain that had flashed across his face when she had blown off the kiss, Harry felt the same way.
Hermione felt a lump in her throat at the thought. She knew she had these feelings for him back in fifth year. She had spent many a night wondering if he’d ever think of her as more than his best friend. But he hadn’t. It was Cho who had been the object of his affection, and Ginny the following year. So she had finally met Alan, and settled, albeit happily, on him. She realized that she couldn’t turn her back on this decision. For as much as she knew now that those feelings she had hidden long ago for Harry still existed, she couldn’t just throw her loyalties to Alan away.
Closing her eyes, Hermione finally worked up the courage to open the portrait hole, and she stepped inside.
“There you are!” a voice said – it was Ron’s. “We were worried about you!” Hermione’s eyes traveled over to the fireplace area, where Harry and Ron were seated on a red couch.
Briefly, Harry’s eyes connected with hers, but he quickly looked away, a sullen expression on his face.
I’m sorry, Harry, she said to herself. I’m so sorry. I made my decision long ago. And feeling as if something was clenching at her heart, almost as if she knew she was making the wrong decision, Hermione approached the pair.
I’m sorry.
The only thing was, she didn’t know if she was sorry for Harry or for herself, and as she sat down between Ron and Harry, as she always did, and locked eyes with Harry once more, she realized who she was truly sorry for.
“Harry,” she whispered to Harry, so that Ron, who was busy with his homework, for once, couldn’t hear. “I’m sorry.”
“Forget about it,” Harry said, laughing it off unconvincingly. “Like you said, it was in the moment. Nothing to apologize about.”
Hermione nodded her head slowly, turning her back on something she knew she would later regret.
I’m sorry that I love you.
“Hmm…?” Hermione replied. She stabbed her steak lightly and distractedly with one hand, while her other lightly held her chin. She was staring absentmindedly into the sea of tables, chairs, and couples, completely forgetting her boyfriend.
“Hermione?” the voice repeated.
“Oh!” Hermione replied, snapping out of her reverie and turning her attention back to Alan. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, quickly placing her fork on the side of her plate.
“Are you alright?” he asked her, eyeing her concernedly.
Hermione laughed. “Of course, I am. I just got caught up in a memory, that’s all.” Hermione grinned at Alan to reassure him that everything was fine.
“What memory?” he asked her curiously.
“Oh,” Hermione said, her eyes widening slightly. “It’s…it’s nothing really,” she told him, giving a short and nervous laugh. “Just memories of Hogwarts.”
Alan nodded his head in understanding, and Hermione silently thanked him for accepting her meager excuse.
Hermione returned to her meal, as did Alan, and she used this as an excuse not to meet Alan in the eye. She felt horrible, she really did, but how could she tell her boyfriend of nearly three years that she was thinking about the time she kissed her best friend kissed in seventh year?
They finished their dinners within minutes, and a waitress came by and took it away. While the couple waited for dessert, they made light conversation. Alan discussed the Quidditch team’s plans and where they would next compete, while Hermione told him about how her training as an auror was coming along.
Their dessert finally came arrived five more minutes (they were sharing a slice of chocolate layered cake), and they picked up their forks and laughed as they fought for a piece.
As Alan lightly placed the chocolate cake into Hermione’s mouth, Hermione smiled. Alan leaned in towards Hermione so that their noses were touching.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Hermione paused for a second, frozen, then smiled once more and replied, “You, too.”
Alan closed the gap as their lips met, and he reached across the table and entwined his fingers with Hermione’s.
When the kiss was finished, Alan continued holding Hermione’s hand, massaging it lightly.
“Hermione,” he said softly.
“Yes?” Hermione asked. He really is too sweet sometimes, she thought to herself as she eyed their hands.
“Hermione, we have been together for three years now,” Alan said, still in a gentle voice. “And you mean more to me than anyone in the world. I can’t imagine living my life without you by my side.”
Hermione suddenly felt petrified. She knew all too well what was coming next – little girls didn’t watch romantic movies with their mothers just to hand their mum a tissue as they themselves emitted bored sighs.
Alan reached into his pocket and produced a small black box. He opened it to reveal an elegant ring – a silver band with a ruby placed delicately between two diamonds.
“Will you marry me?” he whispered, holding her hand tightly with his free one.
Hermione tried to speak. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She felt like a fish out of water. She knew that she cared very much for Alan, but did she love him – love him enough to get married? She had said years ago that she could envision spending the rest of her life with him. But that was before that day…
“Hermione?” Alan asked, now looking afraid of rejection. “Hermione? I said, ‘Will you marry me?’”
Hermione looked at the ring and then back at Alan as a small croak escaped her lips.
“Right,” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “Last time I checked, I didn’t need to be here until 9. It’s currently 8:30.”
Harry shrugged his shoulders and laugh. “You’re usually an hour early, Hermione, that’s all.”
“Yes well, something came up,” Hermione replied, strangely flustered. She took off her black robe to reveal a pair of sweat pants and a loose shirt.
“Oh? What?” Harry eagerly inquired of her.
“It’s just…” Hermione hesitated, and then massaged her temples with her right hand. “It’s nothing Harry. Nothing.”
“Alright then,” Harry said slowly, clearly not believing her. “Shall we get to training?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Hermione smiled. Walking a little ways away from Harry, she grabbed a hair tie that she had placed on her wrist earlier that day and tied her hair in to a tight ponytail so that her bushy locks would remain out of her face. “Ready when you are.”
The two opened the door they had been standing next to and opened it, revealing Kingsley Shacklebolt.
“Hey Kingsley,” Harry greeted him brightly.
“Hello, Harry,” Kingsley said genially. “Hermione.” He gave Hermione a grin and a little nod, both of which Hermione returned. Kingsley’s eyes happened to flicker down to Hermione’s left hand, and his eyes widened. “Hermione, when did you— ” But a quick flash of eyes by Hermione told Kingsley to shut up immediately, which he did.
“What?” Harry asked, looking back and forth between the two, confused. “When did she what?”
“Nothing,” Hermione said, placing her hands behind her back.
“What I meant to say is that it looks as if it’s just you two today,” Kingsley exclaimed saving the situation as best as he could, as Hermione mouthed a “Thank you” to him.
“What?” Harry asked, taken aback. “Where’s everyone else?” Thoughts about what Hermione had “done” left his mind completely.
Kingsley shook his head and sighed. “Remember that party the other trainees attended last night that you two didn’t?”
“Yes,” Harry answered uncertainly, looking at Hermione through his peripheral vision to confirm that she was just as confused as he.
“Well it looks as if they all contracted something from some food or another,” Kingsley said with a roll of his eyes.
“Can’t they just give them a potion?” Harry asked immediately. “Like pepper-up or something?”
“They were all given potions, but sadly the potions had side effects and all of them are currently knocked out on their beds.”
“How wonderful,” Hermione commented in a monotone.
“So, it seems that you two will be paired up,” Kingsley said with a clap of his hands. “Now, if we could get to the gym, that would be wonderful.”
“I bet it would,” Hermione snapped at him. Kingsley rounded on her.
“What in Merlin’s name is wrong with you today, Granger?” he asked her, raising an eyebrow at her.
“Nothing,” Hermione sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just…having a tough time right now.”
“You’d think you’d be a bit happier,” Kingsley commented. He turned around, walking out of the room.
Hermione mumbled something under her breath that no one could hear. Harry stared at her strangely, but then asked, “A tough time, huh? Fight with Alan?”
Hermione gave a bitter laugh. “Quite the opposite actually.”
“What does that— ”
“Hurry up,” Hermione interrupted quickly. “We need to start training.”
“But what about— ”
“Training,” Hermione repeated stubbornly. Harry shook his head but followed Hermione and Kingsley to the gym.
“Are you trying to kill me with that hex?” she asked in outrage, jumping up, her own wand at the ready.
Harry rolled his eyes. “What’s with you today?”
“Nothing’s with me,” Hermione sniffed defensively, brushing off her jogging pants.
“Hermione, I’ve known you since I was eleven, so believe me when I say I know that something’s wrong with you. For one, that was a jinx, not a hex. If you were yourself, you’d know that. For two, it was the antler jinx. That’s hardly perilous. Now, what’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” Hermione replied quietly, shaking her head. “Just forget about it.”
“How can I forget about it when there clearly is something?” Harry demanded.
“I told you that nothing’s wrong,” Hermione repeated through gritted teeth.
“Like when you told me nothing was wrong seven years ago?” Harry countered, eyes sparking with anger.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Hermione yelled at him.
“Of course I won’t!” Harry retaliated. “You deceived me!”
“I just didn’t want you to go and kill yourself because of your bloody everything’s my fault mentality!” Hermione screamed.
“I didn’t deserve to be lied to!”
“And I deserve to be harassed for trying to do what was best?”
“And kissing me was part of the plan, hmm?” Harry asked.
Hermione froze. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” Harry muttered. “Forget it.”
“I will not forget it, thank you. Explain now.”
“No.”
Hermione felt her fingers curling tightly around her wand. Her anger getting the better of her, Hermione raised her arm, pointing her wand at Harry, and shouted, “Expelliarmus!” Harry went flying backwards, crashing into the wall.
Hermione’s eyes went wide as she realized what she had done. “Harry!” she shouted, and when he didn’t reply, Hermione raced over to him, only to trip over her feet due to her panic and fall on top of him.
“Ow,” Harry groaned.
“Harry!” Hermione cried out, relieved to hear a response. “Harry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it, I swear.”
“I figured as much,” Harry muttered from underneath her. “And it’s not that I don’t appreciate you sitting on top of me, but I would prefer to be able to breathe without feeling as if my lungs are about to collapse.”
“Oh, of course!” Hermione exclaimed, jumping off Harry immediately and instead kneeling next to him as Harry sat up. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied. “My back just hurts a bit.”
“I am so sorry,” Hermione repeated. Stressed, she raised her hands up to her forehead, massaging her temples.
“Hermione…” Harry said, his voice suddenly cold. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Hermione asked, stopping in mid-massage to stare at Harry.
“What’s that on your ring finger?” he asked her, glaring at her hand.
Hermione’s eyes grew wide as she realized her mistake. Slowly, she let her arms fell down, and looked over at the third finger on her left hand, on which she wore the engagement ring Alan had offered to her the night before.
“Alan…” Hermione coughed, cleared her voice. “Alan proposed to me last night.”
“And you said yes?” Harry asked, his voice flat.
“I…I did,” Hermione whispered, looking down in embarassment, although she wasn't sure of what exactly she was ashamed.
“Why?” Harry asked, almost pleading. “Why did you say yes?”
Hermione stared up at Harry in shock. “Because I’ve dated him for three years,” Hermione answered, as if that solved everything.
“But you don’t love him,” Harry told her.
“How do you know?” Hermione countered.
“Because if you loved him, you wouldn’t have kissed me that day!” Harry said, his voice rising. “And you would’ve told everyone the moment you were engaged!”
Hermione felt as if all the air had been sucked out of her.
“Why are you marrying him if you don’t love him?” Harry demanded.
“I…I do love him…” Hermione croaked, not meeting Harry’s eyes.
“No, you don’t,” Harry repeated.
“If I didn’t love him, why on earth would I have accepted the proposal?” Hermione said, outraged by Harry’s interrogation.
“Because marrying him is safe,” Harry answered, looking at Hermione in disgust.
The silence that followed was deafening. Hermione shook her head, swallowing hard. “You know nothing,” she hissed at Harry. “Absolutely nothing.”
She jumped up and ran, turning her back on Harry, her back on the truth, for the second time in her life.
Blinded by tears, she somehow found her way into Kingsley’s office.
“Hermione?” Kingsley gasped at the woman who looked nothing like the Hermione he knew. “What’s wrong?”
“I quit,” Hermione said through shallow breaths of air. “I’m sorry, Kingsley, I...I just can’t do this…I…”
“Harry found out, didn’t he?” Kingsley asked her, shuffling around some documents.
Hermione nodded, closing her eyes as the tears poured down her face.
“You know, everything would have been a lot easier if you had just broken up with this Alan person the second you realized you loved Harry,” Kingsley told her.
“I don’t love Harry!” Hermione screamed, stomping her foot as if she was a little child.
“Then why didn’t you want him to know about the engagement?” Kingsley asked. When Hermione couldn’t answer, he shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know why you’re making this so hard on yourself.”
“I’m resigning,” Hermione announced once more, ignoring what Kingsley said.
“Hermione, don’t do this,” Kingsley said. “You’re acting irrationally.”
“Just let me resign from this training,” Hermione whispered, hanging her head. “I don't want to do this any longer. ”
“You don't want to train as an auror, or you don’t want to continue lying to Harry every day about the fact that you’re in love with him?”
“I don’t know,” Hermione croaked, and with one last glance at Kingsley, she fled the room and ran out of the building. She stepped into the busy streets of London, never to return there again.
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