Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Chapter ONE - he loves you
Dear Miss Granger,
We would like to say that we've enjoyed reading your short work of fiction, The Maiden's Bequest. However, we are sorry that we will not be able to publish your work. Thank you for taking interest in our publishing.
Sincerely,
Sandra Parish
Ladies' Home Journal
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It was a breezy afternoon, and though not yet autumn, Hermione Granger could feel the beginnings of the autumn wind piercing through her cardigan. Soon, summer would be over, and she would be back at Hogwarts, teaching her second year as the Transfigurations professor. Her best friend, Harry Potter came over earlier for lunch, and now they were strolling down the lane in the forest by her home.
When they reached the bridge that overshadowed the creek, Hermione touched his arm. He looked at her and understood. The two of them leaned against the bridge and gazed out into the horizon. For a few minutes, they remained there, until Hermione spoke.
"My story was rejected. Again."
"Their loss," he replied simply. "You're an excellent writer."
"You're my best friend. You have to say that."
"And I'm supposed to tell only the truth right? As your best friend, of course."
"Really, Harry. Tell me. I've sent The Maiden's Bequest out to wizard AND Muggle magazines. No one wants to publish my story. There must be something horrendously wrong with my story! And you're really the only one who knows about it, so please! Tell me! Honestly."
"Are you sure?" She bobbed her head quickly.
Harry sighed. "All right. Just remember, this is really just my opinion, so don't get too worked up over it, okay?" She nodded again. "You don't have to make Alexander DuPont talk in thee's and thou's. It's so archaic, and no one talks like that anymore. Don't you think that the tall, dark and handsome mysterious stranger rescuing a damsel in distress story line has been slightly overdone?"
After taking in every word that he had said, she had felt herself grow livid in anger. "Archaic? Overdone? Alexander DuPont is indeed the dashing handsome gentleman, and any woman would give up everything just to be in Adele's shoes! And what would you know? I couldn't ever get you to read anything other than Quidditch Through the Centuries while we were at Hogwarts!"
Harry had shrugged. "You got me there. But, `Mione, I just think that you should write something that touches closer to home. You could always write about Hogwarts. Those were some of the most brilliant years ever, weren't they?"
"Yes, they were, Harry. But it's just not, well, right. Hardly anything romantic about Hogwarts at all. You're not expecting me to make a romance novel out of being nearly ripped apart by a three-headed dog, would you?"
"Well, true. But the Great Hall was magnificent, wasn't it? I was so awed by the floating candles and the indoor night sky."
"But it's just the dining hall. Anyone with imagination would want to charm the brick ceiling of a hall just so that it looked magnificent."
"How about the Astronomy Tower? You know how it was, hearing Ron's stories. Couples were always trying to beat others for loft. That sounds pretty romantic."
"Shagging each other in an empty classroom?" She rolled her eyes irritably. "I don't think so. Romance isn't all about shagging, you know. Oh, just forget it, Harry. Writing was really a silly hobby anyway. Not much of a loss there, isn't there? And besides, fall term is coming soon, and I'm sure I'll be by far too busy grading Transfigurations papers and keeping students from causing mischief to be writing."
Harry pulled her into his arms and gave her a friendly peck on the forehead. "Now, `Mione, I wouldn't give it up totally. You really are a wonderful writer. Just need to focus on some of the more realistic things instead of mumbo-jumbo and silly romantic notions."
Suddenly, Hermione pushed him away, her eyes flashing with anger. "Mumbo-jumbo? Silly romantic notions? Is that what my writing is? Harry Potter, I cannot believe that I came to you! You're just as daft as Ron! And I wish I had never trusted you with my writing!"
And after slamming him a hard whack in the face, she ran back down the bridge and across the lane, and when she reached her house, she slammed the door behind her and ran all the way up the stairs to her room, only to throw herself onto the bed and dissolve in tears.
Jane Granger had poked her head from the kitchen when she heard the door slam shut. She sighed as she pulled the baking pan from the oven and turned off the switch. She pushed the curtain to the window in the living room and saw Harry's stooped shoulders as he walked back to the forest, probably to Disapparate. Pulling her apron off, she quickly climbed the stairs to her daughter's room.
"Hermione," she cooed as she gently pulled her daughter into her arms.
"I know, Mum. I just can't seem to stop taking criticism to heart. And of all the people, I just can't take Harry's criticism any easier. I trusted him and he had said that he liked it, but how could he say that it was, unrealistic? Does he think all of my writing is horrible?"
Jane rocked Hermione slowly. "Sweetheart, you know that isn't true."
"I know," she said between sobs. "It's just that it's Harry. I wanted to hear real encouragement. And he was trying to help. I did ask him to tell me the truth."
"Harry would never do anything to hurt you purposely, Hermione. You're much too precious to him to do that."
Hermione wiped her tears with the handkerchief her Mum had handed to her. "Precious? I'm just his best friend, Mum, bookwormish simple Hermione."
Jane laughed softly. "Oh, my dear sweet girl. You really have no clue do you? That boy holds you so close to heart. Look at you! You've grown so much since you first left for Hogwarts! He sees as I see you, beautiful, intelligent, passionate, kind, and loving. He treats you as if you're Austrian crystal, beautiful but delicate. You make Ginny Weasley, Cho Chang, Parvati Patil and Lavender look like unpolished silver. He loves you."
Hermione was surprised. Harry, in love with me? But how could that be? "But, Mum, we've been best friends forever. I mean, I love him too. But not in that way." She was still dazed.
"Surely, darling, that you've seen how he acts around you."
"But, we were best friends since first year at Hogwarts! Harry and Ron never really treated like a girl."
Jane chuckled. "You don't truly believe that, do you?"
Hermione shook her head. "No. It's just not feasible, Mum. Harry had a huge crush on Cho Chang back in fifth year. And Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, they were all chasing after him. He really deserves to be with a beautiful woman who would love him and remain loyal to him all her life. And he's not exactly the tall, dark, mysterious handsome stranger that I've always imagined myself with."
"Hermione, one of these days you'll clear your mind of notions you call romance and actually see the world around you in a different light. And I'll reserve my rights to say `I told you so' when that day comes." She smiled fondly at her daughter. "Come, let's go downstairs. I've made treacle tart earlier. Have some while it's fresh from the oven."
"Sounds wonderful, Mum."
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Harry buried his head in his hands, sitting on the edge of his bed. He had run after her after she had hit him square on the cheek, and after watching her storm into her own house, he turned back and headed for a clearing in the forest, where he apparated back to the Burrow. Molly Weasley had seen the swollen bruise and offered to heal it for him, but he had gently declined and vouched for a pack of ice that he held against his cheek.
Why did he have to insult her like that? He wanted to help her, not to get her mad. But every time she asked for his opinion on her writing, he seemed to always trigger the right switch in her, and that was for her to rave at him for the next few days. It didn't help that he had been in love with her since he had met her on the train to Hogwarts. Though he didn't know it at first, after a few years of growing up, he finally saw her as the woman he loved, when she stood at his side, fearless and brave, loyal to the end, as he faced Voldemort in the last battle. His heart broke when Voldemort threw a Crutiatus Curse at Hermione, causing her to crumble by his side. The love he had for his best friend suddenly overwhelmed his entire being, and using that love, he was able to vanquish Voldemort from the Wizarding Community forever.
He loved her, so much that his heart breaks every time he thought of her. Most of the time when they were together, he wanted to feel her existence, hold her in his arms, and whisper his love to her in her ear. Instead, he drank in her presence every time she talked, smiled, laughed, and even when she cried. During those years at Hogwarts, he had learned to appreciate the beauty in her when she sat in front of the fireplace in the Common Room of Gryffindor Tower. Even while she read her books, she still had the time to scribble on pieces of parchments, vividly imagining a whole new world.
And for the past two years, he had tried to make his feelings known to her. Hermione took up teaching Transfiguration at Hogwarts, after Professor McGonagall decided to head up a school in Canada. Harry decided that he would take up Auror training, until he found something that suited him better. On weekends, he would travel up to Hogsmeade and have dinner with Hermione at the Three Broomsticks while she chaperoned students on their weekend trips. Other days, he would write novel-length letters to her, sometimes including small gifts that he knew she would appreciate. Special days such as Valentines' Day, he would personally deliver her favorite chocolates and single stemmed rose. As much as he tried to show her how much he really cared, she never seemed to understand, even with her intelligence quotient.
During their dinner dates at Hogsmeade, Hermione would bring her latest work of fiction with her. She would sit anxiously in front of him while watching him read her story. When he put the parchment down, she would hold her breath until he broke out into a grin and told her that he thought the story was great.
However, as great of a writer Hermione was, he always felt that she should write from her heart. The seven years at Hogwarts they spent together was to him more valuable and endearing than a great romantic epic telling the story of a peasant lady who captured the heart of a lonely duke. He understood how Hermione's imagination could lead her up into the skies, but all he ever wanted was to pull her back down to earth and have her planted by his side, so he could nurture and bask her in his love.
His other best friend, Ron Weasley, had told him many a times just to tell her how he truly felt. Ron and Hermione was a well-known bantering couple back in Hogwarts. And though nothing romantic ever came between them, Harry sometimes wondered if Hermione secretly was in love with Ron, who at that time had already met and fallen in love with Lauren Flockhart, who was two years younger than they were. Ron, however, had assured him that they acted just like a brother and sister would, fighting and arguing over the least sensible things, unlike Hermione's relationship with Harry, which was always laminar and smooth. Ron also had admitted that he was once jealous of the trusting and secure relationship that Harry and Hermione had.
There were only two weeks left of summer vacation. Soon, Hermione would be going back to Hogwarts, and he would be leaving on his new job training. And the day before, Ron and Lauren would be getting married at the Burrow. As Ron's best man, he would be busy running pre-marital errands, throwing Ron's bachelor party, and placating his best friend as he prepare to commit his life into marital bondage. Two weeks left to tell Hermione how he truly cared for her.
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Hermione sat by the kitchen table while forking treacle pie and watching her mother prepare the evening meal. She toyed with her fork quietly, appreciating her mother's gentle beauty that radiated from her movements across the room. Her mind drifted off to the days when she was a child. She and her mother had spent many summers in the kitchen, baking chocolate chipped cookies and eating left-over cookie dough. Her mother had a nice collection of cookie cutters, and after they spread the batter out over wax paper, Hermione would begin pressing the cutter onto the batter, foraging shapes hearts, stars, and various animals. Her mother would remove the rest of the batter, smooth them out and she would start over again. After the cookies were done, Mum would take out all the icings and candies, and she would spend the rest of the afternoon decorating the cookies.
"Honey, what are you thinking about?" her mum's voice broke through her train of thought.
Hermione glanced up and saw Jane's amused look. "Oh, nothing, Mum. Just thinking about my childhood, that's all."
Jane laughed gently. "You're thinking about the cookie cutters aren't you?"
"How did you know, Mum?"
"Oh, anyone would know, after watching you drool while staring off into space."
Hermione laughed quietly, but her expression fell quickly. "Mum, I've been thinking. Remember Professor McGonagall's letter that came in last week?"
"Hmm, she offered you a position in her school up in Prince Edward Island, didn't she?"
Hermione nodded. "I think it might be a good idea to go. I've already written her my answer. And Professor Dumbledore, of course."
Jane washed her hands in the sink and dried them off with a towel that hung on the refrigerator door. She pulled a chair out beside Hermione at the table and sat down. "Honey, you're sure? Prince Edward Island is quite a ways away from England."
"Mum, I want to go. Even for just a year. I love Hogwarts very much, but it's time that I did something new for myself. I can't be a Hogwarts professor all my life."
Jane patted her daughter's hand gently as she smiled fondly at her. "I know. I'm really proud of you. It must have been difficult for you to decide. You do whatever you want, Hermione. And your Dad and I will be behind you no matter what."
Hermione smiled back at her. "Thanks, Mum. You've always been so understanding. And this treacle tart is delicious!"
Jane chuckled. "Why, thank you! Molly Weasley sent me the recipe a few months ago. Your dad had gained two inches around his waist because of it." She stood up and began to clear away the plate in front of Hermione.
Hermione stood up and turned to head back to her room again. She paused when her mother called her back.
"Hermione, did you tell Harry about your new job?"
Hermione froze, her eyes hazy with thought, and shook her head. Turning, she left her mother alone in the kitchen, deep in thought.
Author's Note: The idea for this story came while studying for a midterm last night. I decided to pen it down before I forget, and this is what came out of it. I don't really know if I should classify this as an alternate universe, but it is definitely a post-Hogwarts story, with a few minor changes to characterization.
Part of my inspiration for this story was from the Anne of Green Gables videos. So, even though Hermione is still the brainiac extraordinaire, she will also have the Anne Shirley elements of being imaginative, "wild", bold, and outspoken. And though most of the story will be in Hermione's point of view, I will also include Harry's POV somewhere somehow. :P
For those who have been kind to read my other story Touch, it is still in the works and I will continue working on it. Now that I've finished my examinations for the moment, I'll have more time to think about it before finals begin.
Thank you all for reading. Please, take the time to review. Any thoughts would be greatly appreciated.