Summary: Edward stumbles upon an author writing a Harry Potter fanfiction and gets a glimpse inside of a writer's mind. Post-Breaking Dawn and post-Deathly Hallows. HP story is Fred/Hermione. Full HP story in HP section is "The Things I've Noticed".

I hope that all of the writers out there like it. Either way, I'd love to hear your thoughts about my story.

Thanks to my betas Johnathan and John.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Harry Potter. But at least I get to play with the characters sometimes.

Avril Lavigne owns her song "Contagious", which I have borrowed a few lyrics from.

Anne Rice owns Lestat and the Vampire Chronicles. (please see the note at the end)

I only own the unnamed author-girl in this story.

An Author's Vision

The food court at the mall was unusually crowded, even for a Saturday. Every line was at least 10 people deep except for the carousel line that was twice the length of any other. Carousel music, children's squeals, and general loud chatter filled the large open area.

Edward and Bella glided into the last empty table at a slightly faster than human speed. Bella took a deep breath and settled into her chair. Even after living as a vampire for over a year, the burn in her throat persisted when she was surrounded by this many humans.

Edward, on the other hand, hardly seemed to notice the scent of humans. He was too busy rubbing circles on his temples. Bella sacrificed a breath to laugh at her husband.

"Would you like some aspirin?"

Edward's eyes found her smirk. "Remind me again why we agreed to meet Alice and Nessie here after they were done renewing Nessie's entire wardrobe?"

"Because," she leaned over and softly kissed his waiting lips, "you cannot deny our daughter anything. Not even a carousel ride in the middle of a crowded mall."

Edward groaned and began the arduous process of blocking out all of the mental voices around him. Starting at the far side of the court he eliminated every foreign voice after hearing only a few words.

"Oh. My. God.—" Another voice gone.

"Are you sure my butt looks good in this?—" A flash of blue jeans, then silence.

"Did you see her!—" The sight of an attractive young blonde, then blessed quiet.

"Do you want fries with that?—" A plate of human food, urgh.

As he was closing in on the carousel, only a handful remained.

Edward froze as something else took over his mental eyes. A vision, hazy around the edges, and reminiscent of his Nessie's abilities.

A red-haired young man was lying on the ground in a grassy field. His eyes were shut while a groan escaped him. A young woman sat close by writing on a piece of paper.


"Hmmm…" he continued studying this startling picture.

"Your eyes are moving strangely."

Bella's fingers encircled his hand. The electricity that had always flowed between them interrupted his vision. His eyes met his wife's and saw the concern within her golden irises.

"I was watching something," he began. "While I was tuning out everyone around us, I caught an image from someone. Two people were in a grassy field."

"But I thought that some sort of visual normally accompanies the thoughts you hear."

Edward lowered his voice below that of a human's hearing range. "I've never seen anything like this with a human's thoughts. The images were similar to Nessie's, only less clear."

"What do you think?" Bella's eyes began shifting around the crowd, searching for someone distinctly non-human.

Edward discretely turned his gaze turned the carousel and Bella's followed. "I think that I want to know more."

After sifting through a few more voices Edward once again found himself in the grassy field with the red-headed man and young woman, whom he now saw had brown, slightly bushy hair. He quietly relayed this description to Bella just before the speech began.

The girl spoke, it seemed, to the man.

"Fred, the Quidditch match ended almost an hour ago. And besides, laying stationary in the grass is only going to stiffen your muscles and make the soreness worse. Let's go back to the house."

After this the scene abruptly stopped, as if someone had pushed a pause button.

Edward repeated the girl's speech, adding that she had spoken with an English accent. "Quidditch? Why does that word sound so familiar?"

Bella leaned her head on her hand, a human habit. "That would be because Renesmee has recently been reading those Harry Potter books and Quidditch is the sport that they play. Do you see any tall hoops in the background?"

Edward returned his attention fully to the paused vision. "No. I can't see much beyond the two people. It's as though the edges trail off and then disappear. This is not a memory or what someone is currently seeing."

An American girl's voice spoke above, or perhaps overlaying on top of the scene.

What was that idea I had earlier for this next part? It was something that happened to me last week. Right, right, the sneeze. Now, how can I get him to sneeze? Ooo! I know!

The vision began again, just as suddenly as it had stopped. Edward continued describing everything to Bella.

The man made no move to rise from the ground. The girl's attention, however, was now focused solely on the man as they spoke.

"Hermione, it hurts to breathe deeply." His chest rose and fell with a groan to emphasize his point.

Hermione gracefully covered her laughed with a cough.

She folded the paper and walked over to him. She bent down over him to block the sun from his eyes.

"Fred, the others went back to the Burrow ages ago. I bet they've even left for Diagon Alley by now. Come back to the Burrow and I'll get you fixed up."

The American voice stepped in: "A rare breeze for the June afternoon stirred the grasses around them." Edward watched a breeze appear and move the grass.

"Ah…ah…ahchoo," replied Fred.

Hermione reached a hand out to Fred. After taking a moment to wince, Fred slowly accepted her hand.

The voice spoke over the scene again: "Once he was standing, it seemed to Hermione that Fred held onto her hand a few seconds longer than necessary, but perhaps this was merely for balance."



"When I sneezed just then, even that hurt."

Although Bella's laugh did not disrupt the flow of this vision, her "Oh" certainly did.

"Edward," she said with a smile, "I believe that you are listening to a story."

"What are you talking about?" he replied. "Images that spring from the books I read are much fuller then these."

"But they are also dimmer, aren't they?"

Edward reflected on what he had witnessed. There seemed to be a spark in every aspect of the vision. He could actually hear the laughter around the joke, coming from both the girl and the American voice.

Seeing the confirmation in Edward's eyes, she pointed him towards a perfectly ordinary girl sitting at a table next to the carousel. An empty plate sat across from her, in front of the chair she had placed her feet in. Headphones rested over her ears, clearly playing loud enough music to create her own little world. One hand held a pen to her mouth, which she absent-mindedly chewed on. The other hand rested upon an open notebook.

"While you were whispering to me before, she was scribbling in that notebook," Bella explained. "I think she was imagining and writing what you were seeing and hearing."

"A writer?" said Edward, mulling the idea over in his mind.

"Have you ever listened to an author who was actively writing?"

"Apparently not," he replied with soft amazement.

The girl returned the pen to her paper. "Hurry," Bella insisted.

She wrapped a cautious arm around his waist and started moving him towards the house. After a few steps she felt an arm lightly fall on her shoulders. And after another step the fingers attached to that arm curled around her shoulder.

Edward observed that the writer's voice and his vision of the scene were somehow interacting to form one continuous narrative.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione unconsciously leaned into Fred's open arm. But, of course, the instant her body touched his, she nearly jumped trying to recover an inch or two between them. Fred's hand never moved.

"Fred and Hermione, huh?" Bella wondered.

"Are they not together in the book?" Edward mused.

"No, Hermione is with Fred's younger brother Ron," she replied without a thought.

Edward raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Bella defended. "I have a lot of free time on my hands now, and I enjoy reading what Renesmee is reading. Besides, it's kind of nice to read about someone else who is constantly fighting for their life against evil people."

Before Edward could begin the teasing that would surely ensue, Bella redirected his attention. "She's starting again."

Immediately Edward turned his mind back to the girl.

"Well, Fred, when was the last time you played Quidditch?" She popped up the feet of the recliner so Fred could stretch his legs.

"Before Bill and Fleur's wedding, so nearly a year." He cocked his head. "Are you implying that I am out of shape?"

Hermione commanded her eyes not to sweep over Fred's physique at that moment. Though her eyes briefly shifted, she seemed to have won that battle.

"Not out of shape, just out of practice. To play Quidditch you have to use your whole body, especially as a beater. And George isn't sore because he was playing chaser for your team."

Bella watched Edward's head tilt to the side as his eyes refocused on her. While keeping one ear on the writer's story, he asked, "Were you ever this sore as a human?"

Bella sighed. "Well, Edward, gym class can be difficult for those without perfectly toned, immortal muscles. Add my old clumsiness to that, and yes I was sore. Luckily though, you always made an excellent ice pack."

Edward took a breath to respond, when the writer suddenly grew exponentially louder in his mind…apparently singing.

"…So I walk out in silence. That's when I start to realize what you bring to my life. This guy could make me smile.

It's so contagious; I cannot get it out of my mind. It's so outrageous…"

"Argh," he cried loud enough to make a few heads turn.

Bella laughed, "She's singing. It's not even her voice, is it?"

"No," was Edward's strained reply. "How can you tell?"

"I can hear the music through her headphones from here, and I'm watching her mouth the lyrics."

Edward turned to glance at the girl. "Yes, that voice from the headphones is the one singing in her mind. She's remembering the singer very strongly."

Bella started tapping her foot in time with the beat. Edward glared at the foot. "What?" she grinned, "it's a catchy song."

Edward turned back to the girl, willing her to end the internal singing and return to writing.

He was so focused on her mind that he didn't notice she was returning his stare until the singing stopped. Bella kicked him under the table when the girl's breathing stopped too.

"You're dazzling her," Bella said in hushed tones. "Look away now!"

Once Edward had broken the spell, the girl wasted no time taking a deep breath. She shook her head, in some attempt to clear it. Edward waited a few moments before entering her thoughts once again.

The girl stole another glimpse of him. It's crazy, I know it is, but something about him reminds me of Lestat. And he doesn't even have blonde hair. I really should take a break from rereading Anne Rice."

Edward couldn't contain his laughter. He relayed the comments onto Bella. "She thinks that I'm a fictional vampire."

Bella raised her eyebrows slightly and grinned. "Like the Volturi would ever allow a vampire to write a series of best-selling novels that give away all of their secrets."

The author's voice appeared once again and Edward was transported back to the room that held Hermione and Fred. He watched while the scene was quickly replayed, as the girl went over what had just been written.

"Okay, yes, right, this is where I was heading…" said the writer's voice over the paused image.

"Okay, no pills for you." Hermione now gladly allowed herself to look Fred over with the excuse of a necessary examination. "That means the only question is: hot or cold?"

She smirked at his confused response. "What do you mean?"

"Simple," she replied. "Dad always said: ice for swelling and heat for muscle aches."

"Your Dad said that?" His eyebrows fully raised.

"Yes. So, are any of your joints starting to swell? Your knees look okay, so I think you're fine. That means we go straight to heat."

Fred leaned towards her. "Your Dad was sore often?"

"Yes, he used to play cricket all the time with his friends, and tennis sometimes too." Ah yes, babbling, always a good fall back for a new and possibly exciting situation. "And really, when you think about it, playing beater is a lot like a cross between cricket and tennis. Both sports are hard on the entire body, but especially the arms, shoulders and torso. Mum used to get the heating pad for Dad and he would lay in his recliner rotating it between his back and shoulders. Of course, he also took painkillers, but I think that even just the heat would help you some. Do you know a spell for heating an object, like a towel maybe? But it can't get too hot either. Maybe a mild Calidum would do the trick. What do you think?"

Hermione stopped to take a breath and Fred placed two fingers on her mouth to prevent the flood of words from starting again. Hermione's eyes grew large, staring at him with more than a little wonder.

After Fred's brain caught up with his ears, he replied, "I'm not sure what kind of sport you would play as a cricket and I don't know what the number ten has to do with anything, but I think that spell would work fine."

Edward stepped out of that world for a moment. "She was just thinking very fast for a human," Edward commented with slightly wide eyes.

"You should have seen here trying to write it all down," Bella said with a beaming smile. "If she was a vampire, the paper would be on fire."

"I hope that she finishes soon, because Alice and Nessie will be here in two minutes and thirty-four seconds, according to Alice."

"Start listening then," Bella pushed, "because I don't want to miss the end."

"Well, I…" Hermione looked away and played with her jacket hem. "I'm surprised that you even noticed, Mr. Weasley."

"Well, my dear 'Mione, let me see if I can further astound you with my great powers of observation."

He moved to sit next to her on the couch, only wincing once.

"I have noticed that your eyes are the color of a melted chocolate chip inside a warm cookie."

Hermione's cheeks warmed, and she wondered just how visible this blush was.

The game continued.

"I would hope that the color of my eyes would be obvious to anyone."

"Bella, I think I have finally found a dress that you would be willing to wear, and I know that Edward would love to see you in it." Alice joined their table. "And Nessie is already standing in line for the carousel."

"Shhh," was the only reply Bella gave her.

"And just what are we listening to?" Alice inquired.

"There is a girl sitting over there who is writing a story as we speak. Edward is listening to her write as she imagines everything. And I think she's almost to the end of the story."

"I noticed that your eyes have been on me quite a lot lately and that you enjoyed having my arm around you."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed again.

"And I believe that if you give me a few more moments, I will have noticed that you enjoy kissing me."

And, of course, she did.

"Why I had no idea that you two were such romantics," Alice said, thick with playful sarcasm.

"Yes, we're just a pair of love-struck fools," agreed Bella.

Edward reached around and quickly pulled Bella into his lap. "And that's how we intend to stay," he whispered before kissing her.

Nessie cleared her throat. "Momma, Daddy, come on. It's time to go home now; Jacob's waiting." An uncontrollable grin lit up her face at the thought.

As they left the mall, Edward looked over at Alice with raised eyebrows. She answered his future question. "No, Edward, I will not take up writing."


*Author's Note/Disclaimer

Anne Rice owns Lestat and the Vampire Chronicles. I have not based this story on any of her characters, I just mention them once. So I do not feel like I am breaking the guidelines of posting fanfiction on this site. If the curators of this site feel like I should remove this mention of Anne Rice, please let me know and I will remove it without argument.