Well, here we are. I remember posting the last chapter of Fawkes' Gift on the day of the release of HBP...let us all pray for better luck this time around. Unless a miracle happens in Book 7, I think we all have a feeling as to how it's going to turn out. I can't tell you when, or if I'll be able to bring myself to write something after this. So I'm going out with a bang. This is going to be the sugariest, fluffiest, most sickeningly sweet chapter I've written to date. I'm also wearing a t-shirt to the midnight release with my 'parting words,' so to speak, printed on it, slamming R/Hr shippers as hard as I can. I'll post the rant , and the rest, at the end.
Ficlet Challenge #7: Anything you want (as long as it works in Book 7)
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Together in Paris
"Alright everyone, listen up!" yelled Harry, over the din of the excited chatter in the theater. "The portkeys are set to go off in five minutes...does everyone remember which one they're assigned to?"
Calls of assent came from the crowd as everyone sorted into their various groups for transportation to Paris.
"The sets have been shrunk down and are safe for transporting?" called out Ron to the crew. More nods and affirmative answers.
Harry was standing with Ron, Hermione, Ernie and McGonagal going over last minute details.
"Three minutes to nine," he said.
"We're lucky we got everything ready in time," said Ron. "I knew getting an early start was a good idea, even with a nighttime portkey."
"Now remember, the four of you are the officers of the Company," said McGonagal. "You are the chaperones here. I will stop by once a day though to make sure everything is going well."
"Alright," nodded Harry, holding onto the kettle that he and the others were taking.
"I will most certainly be there for the performance," nodded McGonagal. "I wish you all the best of luck."
"Thank you," smiled Hermione.
"Thirty seconds!" called Harry.
"Are you ready?" she asked him, smiling.
"Oh save the mushy stuff for when we get there," groaned Ron.
"I'm sorry," laughed Harry. "Weren't you the one who assigned your room to be next door to Luna's?"
"Touche," muttered Ron, turning red.
"Here we go!" laughed Harry. "Five...four...three...two...one..."
The familiar sensation grabbed him behind the navel, and he was whisked off into the whirling abyss before crashing to the ground a moment later inside what looked to be a large, empty tavern.
"Oy, you're late!" yelled a familiar voice from behind the bar.
"Like hell we're late," said Ron, getting up and dusting himself off as the other members of the company began to appear around them. "You two set up the portkeys."
"Did we now?" asked Fred, coming out from behind the bar with his twin. "I suppose you've got us there, Ronnikens."
"Fred, George," said Harry, walking forward and shaking their hands. "I didn't know you both were going to be here."
"We do own the place," laughed George.
"You forgot to mention that," said Hermione, looking at Ron.
"Yeah, well, I just thought that this might one of those cases where having plausible deniability might help us avoid some red tape," he mumbled slightly.
"Have you been reading the dictionary, Ronald," quipped Hermione. Ron rolled his eyes but bit back any retort that might have been coming.
"Now then," said Fred. "The entire place is yours for the week you're here. We've stored and locked all the alcohol so there's no need to worry about the midgets getting into it."
"Thanks," laughed Harry.
"Ronnikens and Ernie here can show everyone where they're staying," said George. "We'll give you two a quick tour of the place so you have no questions later on."
"Alright," said Hermione.
"We'll bring your stuff up," said Ernie, grabbing their bags.
"Thanks," nodded Harry, as he and Hermione followed the twins through a door behind the bar.
"This leads down into the basement," said George. "I assume you know where the competition is held?"
"There's a large area beneath the Eiffel Tower that only wizards can reach," said Hermione. "I heard they turned part of it into a grand theater specifically for the competition."
"You're quite right," nodded Fred. "Being underground also gives it the unique acoustic advantage of not having any sound escape...it's quite brilliant, actually."
"Sounds interesting," remarked Harry as they reached the basement, filled with aging barrels of mead and wine.
"Not at all," laughed George. "Muggle stuff, that is. Anyway, the reason we're down here, is because if you open this door here," he said, reaching for the handle of a nearby door, "you can see there's a nice little passageway that will take you straight to the theater."
"Oh this will make everything much easier," said Hermione, looking down the hall, which was very nice for being underground. A hard wood floor, paintings hanging on the walls, and several candles gave the passageway a very welcoming feel.
"We agree," said Fred. "Anyway, who's going to the drawing?"
"Drawing?" asked Harry.
"The drawing to determine what order the schools perform in?" asked George. "It's starting in twenty minutes."
"Bollocks, I completely forgot about that," cursed Harry. "You go and get everyone settled in and assembled, I'll attend this and we can have a quick meeting before settling in for the night."
"Alright," said Hermione, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips. "See you in a bit."
"So I just head down here?" asked Harry, as Hermione went back upstairs.
"Just go as far straight as you can," nodded George. "You'll end up in the lobby."
"Thanks," nodded Harry, setting off down the corridor.
It wasn't a long walk, and he soon heard the chatter of people talking ahead of him.
"Everyone!" someone called out in a Russian accent as Harry entered the lobby. "My name is Nicolas Dimitrovich, and I am the chair for this year's competition. If you'll all follow me into the nearby conference room, we can begin the drawing."
Harry quickly counted himself and fourteen others, each representing the other schools attending. He didn't recognize anyone as they filed into the room.
"There are fifteen schools competing this year," said Nicolas conjuring a top hat as everyone sat down at the large round table. "And in this hat there are the names of each of those schools. Whoever is drawn first will perform first, second will go second, and so on. There will be three performances a day, for five days, and each will be judged by the panel of ten judges. The highest score will win. Are there any questions?" No one spoke, and he reached into the hat and pulled out a slip of parchment. "Very well then, the school performing first is...the Sydney School of Magic."
The drawings continued on for another ten minutes, and with only two names left, Hogwarts still hadn't been chosen
"Only Hogwarts and Beauxbatons left now," said Nicolas, drawing from the hat again. "Performing fourteenth is...the defending champions, the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, which means Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will perform last. Thank you all for coming, and we will see you on the stage."
Everyone filtered out in relative silence, Harry hurrying back down the corridor towards the pub to share the good news. He reached the basement quickly and took the stairs up to the main floor two at a time, where everyone was sitting around sipping various drinks, from butterbeer to muggle pop.
"Everyone!" called Harry, causing the room to go silent. "We're performing last."
"Is that good?" asked Dennis Creevey.
"Of course it is," said Hermione, getting up. "Aside from the extra few days of rehearsal, we'll get to know right away if we've won or not."
"There's a panel of ten judges grading each performance," said Harry.
"Yes," nodded Hermione. "Each from different countries, if I remember correctly."
"Since we're performing last," said Harry. "We're going to have a few days to relax...that doesn't mean we're not going to practice," he added quickly, seeing a few faces light up. "But we are in one of the greatest cities in the world, so it'd be a shame not to see any of it."
Cheers went up from the Company at this, as people raised their drinks in a toast.
"Not tonight though," said Harry. "It's almost ten, and we should all be getting to sleep." A few people groaned. "Plan for rehearsal at two in the afternoon, that should give you all enough time to sleep in, explore the city a little, and have lunch."
"We have a great big room you can expand to rehearse in," offered George. "Not as good as a theater, by any means, but it'll get the job done."
"Great," smiled Harry in thanks. "Now off to bed!"
Harry and Hermione watched as everyone filtered out, not bothering to hide their smiles as Ron and Luna walked hand in hand up the stairs.
"Where are our rooms?" asked Harry, as he and Hermione walked up the stairs once everyone had gone ahead.
"We're right next to each other," she smiled. "We have a door the connects the rooms."
"Excellent," he grinned. "I can come and bug you with my presence."
"I was actually thinking about something else," she said softly, stopping to face him properly.
"What?" he asked. "What do you...oh. Oh," he said, eyes widening with the realization.
"If you don't want to," she started.
"I want to," he smiled. "Very much...you're not worried about the example we might be setting?"
"That's why we have the door that connects the rooms," she smiled, leaning close to him. "And besides...breaking the rules from time to time can be a bit...exhilarating."
"I love you," whispered Harry, kissing her softly.
"I love you too," replied Hermione. "I'll meet you in your room in ten minutes?"
"Sounds perfect," he smiled, as they parted ways for the time being.
Harry entered his room and smiled when he saw it had a perfect view of the Champ de Mars, and the Eiffel Tower glowing golden in the background.
"Have you seen the view?" gasped Hermione, whipping open the door between their rooms.
"What happened to ten minutes?" laughed Harry. "Yes, it's gorgeous."
"I haven't been here since I was a little girl," she said, walking over to him at the window. "It's so much more beautiful than I remembered."
"It's a hundred times better because you're here," smiled Harry, nuzzling her neck.
"Harry," she whimpered. "Oh sod it all." And she spun around and tackled him onto the bed.
=====
Five days later...
"Beauxbatons Academy of Magic final score is 92.4," announced Nicolas, as the audience applauded. "There will be a thirty minute break, and the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will perform The Wizard of Oz."
"That puts them in first place," said Hermione as the company began hurrying towards backstage to begin setting up.
"Alright everyone," called Ron, wearing his traditional headset. "Get it set!"
Immediately everyone began enlarging pieces of the sets they had brought with them, and started setting them up in the appropriate places.
"Wardrobe is ready," said Lavender, hurrying over to Harry.
"If you're in the cast, follow Lavender and get yourselves ready!" yelled Harry. "You're going to be great, Hermione."
"I hope so," she said nervously, giving him a quick kiss. "I've never had a role this big before."
"Everyone agreed you should be Dorothy," he said. "You'll be fine."
"Thanks," she smiled, hurrying off with the rest of the cast.
"Do you think we're ready for this?" asked Ernie in his tuxedo, coming up to Harry.
"I think so," he nodded, putting on the Director's headset. "You just make sure the orchestra sounds like the bloody angels."
"I can handle that," smiled Ernie.
"How's setup coming, Ron?" asked Harry into the headset.
"Good," came the reply. "I'm a little concerned about the monkeys though."
"You leave the monkeys to me," said Harry. "I'm a master of illusion, remember?"
"I hope so," laughed Ron. "Are you going to be up here with me?"
"I think so," nodded Harry, as the cast started to come back from wardrobe.
"Do I look alright?" asked Hermione in a light blue and white dress.
"Fabulous," smiled Harry. "Where's Biscuit?"
They had been able to borrow a very well-trained terrier from the witch who ran the Magical Menagerie to play Toto.
"Right here," grinned Luna, brining the dog over. "He's such a sweetie."
The dark barked at her playfully and licked her face.
"Ten minutes," said Ron through the headset.
"Final spots, everyone!" called Harry. "I'm on my way up, Ron."
"Alright everyone," called Ernie, as Harry climbed the ladder up to the catwalk. "Let's show them why we belong here!"
=====
"There's no place like home..." mumbled Hermione, the set having changed back from Oz to the house on the Kansas prairie.
"I found Dorothy!" called Draco. "She's in the house!"
"Dorothy!" exclaimed Ginny, running into the house followed by Justin Finch-Fletchley, Neville, and Dean Thomas.
"Auntie Em? Asked Hermione weakly. "Uncle Henry?"
"Shhh...we're here," said Justin, kneeling over the bed.
"Where...I'm back in Kansas..." she said.
"Of course you are," nodded Ginny. "Where else would you be?"
"I was in a magical world called Oz," she explained as the orchestra began to play the finale. "There was this mighty awful witch that I had to deal with...and you, Hunk, you were the Scarecrow!"
"Me?" asked Neville.
"Yes, you needed a brain...and you Hickory, you were the Tin Man and needed a heart!"
"Now that's not very nice," scoffed Draco.
"And Zeke...you were the Cowardly Lion!"
"Just because I get a little jumpy, that don't mean you should be calling me a coward," said Dean with a slight frown.
"Dorothy, I think you were just dreaming," said Ginny gently.
"It was real," said Hermione, with a smile. "But...there is no place like home."
The crowd applauded as the curtain descended, and Harry, Ron, and the rest of the crew in the catwalk climbed down to the floor backstage.
"How'd we do?" asked Hermione, coming up to them.
"We'll find out in a minute," smiled Harry. A couple minutes passed before Nicolas spoke up.
"The scores for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are as follows," he said. "The Russian judge gives a score of 9.2."
Applause.
"The German judge gives a score of 9."
More applause.
"The Irish judge gives a score of 9.4."
"We're almost right on par with Beauxbatons," said Hermione.
"The English judge gives a score of 9.3...the French judge gives a score of 8.6..."
"Favoritism!" exclaimed Ron over the continuing applause. "That's bloody fair!"
"The Japanese judge gives a score of 9.3...the Indian judge gives a score of 9.2...the Mexican judge gives a score of 9.2...the Spanish judge gives a score of 9.3..."
"Eighty-two and a half," said Hermione with a slight frown. "We need a perfect ten to win."
"And finally, the American judge gives a score of...ten, giving Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry a 92.5, and first place!"
Harry was in shock as cheers erupted from the group.
"We did it!" bellowed Ernie, jumping up and down in an embrace with Justin.
"We have to go receive our award," said Hermione, pushing Harry out onto the stage, as everyone else followed, McGonagal coming forward to congratulate them.
=====
There were no toasts in the pub that night, just constant cheers and celebrations. Harry and Hermione were sitting at a table in the back, smiling as they watched everyone in the company celebrate along with Fred and George.
"I can't believe we won," said Harry, the massive trophy sitting on the table in front of them.
"I can't believe the American judge gave us a ten," said Hermione. "Who do you think it was?"
"A friend," said a familiar voice to their left.
"Greg!" exclaimed Hermione, jumping up and hugging him.
"You were the judge?!" said Harry in shock.
"They asked me right after we performed Phantom," he laughed. "They had no idea you guys were going to compete...and I knew that French twit was going to underscore you, so I had to make up for it."
"So how did we really perform?" laughed Hermione, sitting back down.
"Nine and a half, in my opinion," he smiled. "Which, if you think about it, probably gets you the win if he scores you at least a nine instead of that bollocks 8.6."
"You must stay and have a drink with us," grinned Hermione.
"Unfortunately I can't," he frowned. "There's still another week of judging to do for the Adult Division and there's a large meeting in a few minutes to discuss it...but I definitely wanted to stop by and congratulate you all."
"It's good to see you again, mate," smiled Harry, shaking his hand. "Don't forget to keep sending owls."
"Of course," he smiled, before heading back down the door behind the bar, Fred holding it open ceremoniously for him.
"Hey," whispered Harry. "Let's get out of here."
"And go where?" grinned Hermione impishly, wiggling her eyebrows.
"Get your mind out of the gutter," he laughed. "Follow me."
They walked in silence to a small, deserted alley out behind the pub.
"Out here?" asked Hermione. "Isn't it a little dirty?"
"You are such a pervert," laughed Harry. "That isn't what I have in mind."
"What do you have in mind then?"
"Hold on tight," he smiled, lacing his fingers with hers.
The familiar compression of apparation overtook each of them, and a moment later they were standing on top of the Eiffel Tower.
"Fred and George said that the lift closes down at eight, so there's no one to bother us," smiled Harry, as the night lights of Paris glittered up at them from far below.
"It's gorgeous," breathed Hermione, looking over the edge. "Harry, it's beautiful."
"I know," he said, looking at her. "I also brought," he added, pulling something out of his pocket. "A little celebration, compliments of Fred and George." Tapping his fist with his wand, a bottle of champagne enlarged into his hand along with two flutes. "Cheers," he said, pouring her a glass.
"This is by far the most romantic thing anyone has done for me," smiled Hermione, taking a sip.
"Good," he said. "I'm glad."
"I don't think this night could get any better," she smiled, leaning into his arms.
Harry hesitated. He had brought along something in case the moment presented itself, and it certainly had right at that moment. His apprehension didn't go unnoticed by Hermione, who turned and looked at him.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing," he smiled. "I just...when you said this night couldn't get any better..."
"Yes?" she asked.
He sighed and placed his glass on ground next to them.
"Hermione, I love you," he said.
"I love you too," she smiled.
"How much?"
"With everything I have," she laughed. "You know that."
"Then maybe," he said, getting down on a knee and pulling a velvet box from his robes. "Maybe you'd want to be my wife?"
"Harry," she gasped, covering her mouth.
"Will you marry me?" he asked hopefully, opening the box to reveal a beautiful platinum ring with a simple, yet elegant diamond set in the middle of it.
"Yes," she said, a lone tear running down her cheek. "Yes!"
He grinned as he slipped the ring on her finger, before standing and picking her up and spinning her around in glee.
"Stop it!" laughed Hermione. Harry put her down and grinned at her.
"You said yes," he pointed out, smiling like an idiot.
"I know," she laughed. "It's a perfect ending, isn't it?"
Harry saw the opening and couldn't resist.
"No," he laughed. "It's a perfect beginning."
"Prat," she laughed leaning up and kissing him passionately, the city of Paris glowing beneath them, the stars twinkling away merrily above.
---------------
And now........the end is near.
And so I face, the final curtain....
My friend, Ill say it clear,
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain.
I've lived a life that's full.
I've traveled each....and every highway...
And more.......much more than this,
I did it my way.
I started reading Harry Potter when I was twelve, right after the second book came out. I have never once put Harry with any girl in the entire series other than Hermione, even at that young age. How could you? He was the only one who treated her with respect, aside from Neville. I'll be honest, when it comes down to it, I could deal with Hermione/Neville. Just NOT Ron/Hermione. My rant goes as follows:
I ship Harry/Hermione, and I know it's not going to happen in Book 7. Letting two people like Ron and Hermione get together isn't considered wrong in our age, hell, it's not even considered out of the ordinary. Two people who insult each other to their faces AND behind the other's back, two people who yell and scream at each other in front of an audience, two people who probably wouldn't even be friends if it weren't for a third party. But they can be lovers. Yeah. I'm sure. Fastest divorce ever. Does anyone else NOT see the folly in this? Hell, even EMMA BLOODY WATSON said in an interview "It's going to happen. They're completely wrong for each other, but it's going to happen." Let's use our heads for once people. I, for one, would rather see our poor, trodden, hero get some love from the person who has been there the most for him (it would've been 'been there always' but someone decided to make Hermione stupid in Book 6). I mean hell, even the directors of the past two movies have been kind enough to throw in a couple H/Hr moments just for the poor bastards like me who know in their hearts it's never going to happen in canon even though it should. It doesn't matter that it's not going to happen, really. Because there will always be people like me, reminding the R/Hr shippers why they're morons and deserve to be weeded out by natural selection (::cough Emerson and Melissa cough::). And in the end, as long as I still have Portkey.org, I can always write it the way it should be. I am a Harry/Hermione shipper. I am crazy, I am militant, and I am delusional. And I wouldn't have it any other way.
My friends, we reach the end of a long journey. No longer does it matter to me who lives or who dies. The last book will not exist in my mind unless some really strange miracle happens and JKR recovers the flair for writing that she had during the early books. No matter what happens, Harry/Hermione will always live on in our hearts. We are the people who can bring some light to this world, and we cannot ever forget that. If you've learned nothing from my writing, at least do your best to help people understand why Hermione and Harry really do love each other, even if it's not written that way. To all my readers out there, I thank each of you dearly for the support you have given me over these three and some odd years. I will never forget the days of happiness or the hundreds of thousands of words we've shared together, for they have been some of the best of my life. Let the thousands upon thousands of pages of fanfiction be a testament to our beliefs, and may the words still ring as loud and true to our ears in a century as they do now.
Your devoted author,
Greg S.
a.k.a., TheGreatFox2000