Rose Blossums

A/N: Based off a story by Patricia Wrede in The Book of Enchantments. Hope you guys like this I wrote like a year ago and i wasn't originally going to put it on this site, but i kind of like it so here it is. Please review... and the next chapter of My Secret should be up within a week or so i hope I've written it, but I've been so busy with school and all my golf matches that i haven't had time to type it... again please review and with no further adieu here it is...

Rose Blossoms

Light and music spilled out the doors of Hogwarts. There in the shadow of a frosty weeping willow sat Hermione Granger, her date to the winter ball was somewhere though she didn't know where. He probably left with some Ravenclaw or a cute little Hufflepuff like Leslie Rune or Kaitlyn Stanley. She didn't really care. She never wanted to go to the ball with him anyway.

What she really wanted was to go with Harry, one of her two best friends whom in her first year had saved her from a troll. (With Ron, her other best friends help of course)

When the teacher found them in the girls bathroom with an unconscious troll on the floor she had taken the blame and they had been best friends ever since. They were inseparable until around the middle of last year when Ron had finally told Lavender that he loved her. (We all knew it would happen eventually) They now spent every waking second with each other, hardly leaving Harry and me any time to hang out with them.

Thus, our trio had turned into a duo and has stayed that way, though I fear I will be the only one left soon. Harry and Ginny have been friends for a while, of course she was always my best girl friend, but we never really have time to hang out I' m not really sure how long Ginny has liked Harry, I thought she got over her crush in the second year but I guess not. She practically went crazy when he accepted her invitation to the Winter Ball. I'm not really sure Harry wanted to go. He didn't look very excited about it. He doesn't really like large parties, which is kind of strange because he is The Boy Who Lived and should be used to that kind of stuff by now, but oh well.

I am really surprised Ginny actually got up the nerve to ask him, if it had been me I would have been scared to ruin our friendship or scared of him saying no. She likes him a lot though.

It is as plain as my two front teeth, which aren't as big as Malfoy says, especially since Madam Pomfrey sawed them down to normal size.

He probably likes her a lot too, she's beautiful, athletic, funny, and good at everything she does. She's everything I'm not. Why would he every want me when he can have he?

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Later that night…

Hermione lay tossing and turning in her bed.

She had restless dreams of her mother who had died about a year ago in a death eater attack on their house. Her mother didn't say much only that she should sit outside and wait for a friend of hers. She also said constantly to choice wisely or she would be sorry.

Hermione kept repeatedly having this dream all night until about 2 o' clock when she woke up sweating, her mother's words echoing in her head.

She got quietly out of bed and creped over to the bathroom, shutting the door silently. She splashed some water on her face to make herself feel better. She was startled to find that she was no longer sleepy and had a strong urge to go outside and sit by the lake, kind of strange when her mother in her dream advised her to do just that.

Hermione wasn't one to believe in dreams though, that was why she had quit divination, (and the fact that Professor Trelawney is a big fake) so she just dismissed it. She put a robe over her orange and red polka dot pajamas, and then went down into the common room.

She decided that if she was to go out onto the grounds at this time of night she should probably borrow Harry's invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map. She started up to the boys' dormitory after all she'd been there before on several occasions and it's not like any of the guys would be awake. After rummaging through Harry's trunk for a while she came upon the cloak and put it on, making sure that the marauder's map was securely tucked in her pocket then made her way down to the common room and out the portrait hole.

The fat lady was snoring very loudly and didn't wake up when she left. Hermione pulled out the marauder's map and tapped it once with her wand while saying, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” She held it in front of her checking first to see where the professors were than to see where Filch and Mrs. Norris were. Finding that no one was out of bed, except Peeves she made her way down to the lake.

When she finally got there she sat down to catch her breath. The lake looked beautiful with the moon light glinting off of it. She watched the giant squid for a while until she saw a golden light up in the sky, at first she thought it was a star, but it was coming in at an alarming speed. It got closer until she could see it clearly.

It was an old lady on a broom, and not just any broom either, but one Hermione had never seen before. It was easily faster than Harry's new Trinity Seven, and it seemed to change colors every few seconds, from hot pink to emerald green and never the same color twice. It was a good broom for the old lady. Her clothes seemed to be every color and shade imaginable. She looked tired and weathered, like she had been flying for a really long time. Her eyes were a bright sapphire blue and seemed to twinkle not unlike Professor Dumbledore's. The only thing normal about her appearance was her plain gray hair bone up into a tight bun.

Finally she landed and took some time to stretch and shake out her clothes before walking towards Hermione and holding out her hand.

“You must be mother's friend,” Hermione said, though she didn't know how she knew it.

She started to shake the lady's hand, but then stepped back abruptly.

This could be a death eater, she thought though she wouldn't suspect an old lady of joining the dark side. There is always polyjuice potion. It's not that hard to brew if you have all of the ingredients at hand and Harry had told me that Voldemort was very skilled at occlumency, so that could explain my dream. Though there is something about this woman that makes me want to trust her.

So, she followed her instincts. “What do you want,” she asked.

“I am here to offer you some choices,” said the old woman, “They may affect your future in fact, they most likely will.”

“What are you talking about,” asked Hermione.

“Come, walk with me through the rose garden,” said the old lady.

“Okay,” Hermione said, “but we don't have any roses.”

Just then they rounded the path and Hermione saw a moon lite path with thousands of roses on each side.

“Where did this come from?” Asked Hermione startled.

“Ask rather of my roses,” said the old lady, “but know that I am not required to answer.

“I don't understand.”

“The roses are different lives, or dreams that you might want to live. I think that soon you will if you look closely,” said the old woman.

The woman's smile made Hermione uncomfortable. She turned back to the roses. The flowers drew her. She reached out to touch a full-blown white rose nodding just beside her head, but the woman's voice stopped her.

“You make take only one rose from my garden and once you do, you will never get this chance again.”

“I understand,” said Hermione, “I'll be careful.”

She leaned forward and breathed in the rose's scent.

She was at her wedding, walking down the aisle towards Harry, her soon to be husband. Suddenly she stopped, she couldn't marry him, it was expected, and she new that Ginny loved him so much. It would be like going behind her back and stealing her man. She couldn't do that, even if Ginny was dead.

Hermione stiffened, and pulled back as she stared at the rose the woman behind her said, “I didn't think you would want that one.”

Unable to think of a response Hermione turned to the other side of the path. She eyed a rose doubtfully for a moment then bent forward and sniffed.

She stood on the porch watching her grandchildren play in the front yard. The littlest one reminded her of Ginny with her bright red hair and chocolate brown eyes; it was a pity that Ginny had died so young.

Hermione recoiled. Was her mind playing tricks on her? She reached among the leaves to touch the thick, thorn encrusted stem, then jerked her hand back with an explanation of pain. Ruefully she looked at the bead of blood forming on her fingertip. She quickly took out her wand and whispered a healing spell. Not imagination then.

“Higher up you'll find fewer thorns,” the old woman said.

Hermione nodded slowly reaching up she found another flower and tugged the stem gently, to be certain not to break it, and breathed in its thick sweet scent.

She walked into her cluttered flat on Diagon Alley - cluttered because Ginny and Harry kept theirs neat and tidy. She went outside and got on her old Nimbus two thousand, its not that she couldn't afford a new one its just that Harry and Ginny each got a new one every year, she wondered bitterly if she had ever done anything in her long life simply because she wanted to and not because Ginny and Harry would have done something else.

As carefully as she had pulled it towards her, Hermione released the flower and sat back on her heels. Hallucinations she told her self, but did not believe it. After a moment she looked over towards the old lady.

“What is the point of all this,” she demanded.

“Are you trying to tell me that the only way I'll be happy is if Ginny is either dead or not around? What have you got against Ginny?”

“I care but little if she lives or dies,” the old woman replied.

“But the roses-”

“The possibilities of my Rose are yours and yours alone. If they show Ginny and Harry it is only because they are on your thoughts tonight. Another night they may show other things.”

“Oh.” It sounded as possible as about everything else she'd been told. Which probably meant it was true.

“Will you choose a flower?” asked the old woman.

“I think I would like to look at the ones farther in,” said Hermione, “before I make up my mind.”

The woman smiled. “You are wise for someone so young. Look all you like. Some find this decision a hard one.”

“No kidding,” muttered Hermione as she turned back to the roses. This time she chose a pale pink one, then bent down and inhaled.

She sat at Harry and Ginny's wedding weeping silently. Why did she even go? She hadn't been told until last night because Ginny didn't trust her. Hermione didn't blame her though with all that she had done. She had known something was going on. They would leave for several hours and then come back sometime later with nothing to show for it. She hadn't believed it at first. She just could not believe that her best friend wouldn't tell her something like this. She should have told him sooner, how much she loved him, but had lost her chance. If she had maybe it would have been her walking down the aisle in a beautiful white wedding dress towards Harry…

Stepping back Hermione stared at the rose. Abruptly she swung to the next bush, not even pausing to look at the rose; she buried her face in its petals.

The hospital room was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of the machinery and her mother's soft weeping she floated in a drugged haze; at least the pain had receded, though breathing was no easier. Her hands were numb and cold. She couldn't even feel her father's grip anymore. Not much longer. Somewhere in the fading distance she heard the doctor talking to Ginny and Harry: “we can't treat her,” said the doctor, “We have orders not to treat anyone in league with He-who-must-not-be-named and we all saw her kill all those people at his command. “Why did she have to join Voldemort?” asked Ginny as Hermione lapsed into total darkness.

She leaped back as if a bee had stung her nose and stood, shaking on the gravel path between the roses. When her shivering stopped at last, she raised her eyes and surveyed the silver- shadowed garden. Surely among the many roses there was one that held neither death nor bitterness. With grim purpose she lowered her head and began methodically working her way along the path.

Auror, healer, curse breaker, headmaster of Hogwarts, wife, mother, teacher- the roses offered a hundred different lives for her consideration some were happy, others weren't. Several times she hesitated, and once she started to reach for a rose stem before she caught herself and moved on.

As she searched Hermione felt the amused gaze of the old woman on her back, but did not turn and look. This is ridiculous she thought stepping over a cluster of miniature roses with pale centers and dark edges. They're just flowers, that's all just really weird flowers.

Shaking off a sudden chill, she bent towards a small bush at the rear of the rose bed. It took her a moment to find a blossom. The leaves were thick, and the flowers hidden among them. She pricked her finger twice trying to push the other stems aside enough to take a good sniff of the rose. This had better be a good one, she thought. Finally she cleared a space and breathed in the rose's scent.

Ginny stood looking out the window as the last funeral guests apparated away, she turned. “Alright Hermione it's just you and me now and I've got something to say to you.”

“Go ahead,” said Hermione.

For a moment Ginny hesitated, as if she could not remember the words or had suddenly changed her mind. Then her shoulders stiffened and she said, “Harry is dead, there is nothing to keep us enemies, we should help each other. I know you are still really mad that Harry decided to leave you, and you have a right to be. To tell you the truth, I'm really surprised e picked me over you. You're the smart one, the pretty one, by all rights he should have picked you. I think the only reason he didn't was because he didn't know how strongly you felt about him. You've built a wall between us Hermione, and Harry has been right in the middle.”

At that Hermione tried to interrupt, but Ginny kept going.

“If he had, had you he might have lived through the duel, but he didn't. You left when he needed you the most and I can't say I blame you, after he hurt you so much. I just wanted to let you know before I left, that I think we could have been really good friends and that if he knew you loved him he would have picked you over me in a second.

“I should have known you would pull something dramatic like this,” Hermione said while the back of her mind whispered. Leaving, she can't leave. She doesn't mean it.

“I'm not making a dramatic gesture, however you choose to interpret it. I just thought I'd explain. If you don't hear it, then it won't be because I didn't say it.' She started towards the door, and then paused with one hand on the knob, “It's your wall Hermione, and you're the one who has to do something about it, if anyone does.” The door swung open then shut, and then she was gone.

While Hermione's mind stuttered over to say before settling at last into the familiar pattern of criticism and anger…

“No!” Hermione yelled, pulling back so rapidly that one of the thorns scratched her cheek. “It's not like that!”

“You need not be upset,” said the old lady, “the roses show possibilities, nothing more.”

“Then why are they all the same?”

The woman's eyebrows lifted. “The same? I don't think so, but there are always things in each one's life that are too late to change. You can but live with them as you endure your height or the color of your eyes.”

“I like the color of my eyes, anyway it's not like that, and I don't believe it's too late, no matter what your stupid roses show.”

The old woman shrugged. “Then search,” she said.

Hermione stared, angry enough to strike, but afraid to do so. Then she turned and plunged into the rose, headless of the scratches. None of them offered what she wanted. She was beginning to despair of ever finding it, when she saw a rose bush, half hidden by a small fountain. Even from a distance it looked different from all the other plants.

Unlike the other rose bushes, it was not covered with flowers. Indeed, when she first saw it Hermione thought there were no blossoms at all, drawing closer she saw tight, pointed buds here and there among the leaves. How am I supposed to smell a flower that isn't open yet?

Attentively, she sniffed at one of the bud, nothing happened. She hunted through the branches for a while before finding a flower- still a bud, really, with the tips of the petals barely beginning to unfurl. She stared at it for a moment then leaned forward.

“Do you think it's easy for me being you friend?” Ginny asked quietly. “Always coming second, being expected to be as brilliant and talented-”

“Don't try and flatter me,” but somehow the words lacked the bitterness they would have held even an hour before. It never occurred to her that their relationship might have made it difficult for Ginny. Ginny was the one who was difficult.

“I'm not. Don't you know that that's what they all think of you, I have to be twice as much as anything to get noticed.”

“Is that why…?” Hermione stopped and smiled. “Look Ginny, I… Well, I'm sorry” She felt as if the words had been wrenched out of her with pliers. “Do you suppose we can do better from now on?”

Ginny smiled suddenly. “Maybe if we both try.”

Hermione rocked back, staring at the bud. Was it that simple? But it hadn't been that simple, even in the brief image. It had seemed … hard. Letting go of anger should be easy, now that she knew how much trouble it would make and how much trouble it would make and how much of it was due to willful blindness. It should be easy, but she could tell it wasn't going to be.

There was a whisper of movement behind her. “Have you unearthed a flower that suits you?” the old woman asked.

“I think… Yes. Yes I have.” But Hermione's hands seemed paralyzed, frozen to the branches they were holding back. She could not move to pick the rose; she could only look.

“If you are sure, than take it.”

The momentary paralysis left Hermione, and she reached for the rose. And paused. If you are given a choice, be careful; be wise. I never thought there might be other dreams…She sat in the garden of dreams, surrounded by possibilities, but to choose one, however much she desired it, precluded all the others. There had been wonderful things in some of those roses. Slowly, Hermione drew her hand back.

“I think not,” she said. “It's only just opened. It ought to have a chance to bloom.”

The old woman's eyebrows rose. “One visit to my garden is all that mortals gain. You will not have a second chance to pick a rose.”

“Then I will make my life up as I go along, the way everyone else does.” Gently, Hermione withdrew her hands, letting the leaves close around the flower. She stood and looked directly at the strange old woman. “Thank you very much for the offer, though. It has been… a real education.”

The old woman winced; then the ghost of a smile touched her lips. “You are wiser than most of those who come to see my roses.”

“That depends on how it turns out, doesn't it?” Hermione looked at the dozens of roses shining in the moonlight and shivered slightly.

“It does. Yet I think that all might be very well for you.” The old woman's smile grew broader. “It will interest me to watch and see.”

“I should really go back to bed, or Lavender or Parvati will notice I'm gone.”

“Good night.”

“Fare you well.” Said the old woman as Hermione walked towards Hogwarts, never looking back until she reached the front door, and by then both the rose garden and the old lady were gone.

I should talk to Ginny, thought Hermione, as she walked through the huge doors into Hogwarts.

A/N: Please review it boosts my self confidence... I'm not kidding it really does... O and i know there is like a change from first to third person or something sorry but i was too lazy to change this, it was one of the first things I ever wrote so sorry if you don't like it...

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