Bed of Roses

Bed of Roses

By: S'Eleene Paris torres_01@yahoo.com

Rated: PG (Rated K for fanfiction.net)

Pairings: Harry Potter/ Hermione Granger (minor pairings Viktor Krum/ Hermione Granger; Harry Potter/ Cho Chang)

Synopsis: This story is based upon the film by the same name. This is also an alternate universe. It's a romantic story of two complete strangers thrown together by a chance glancing into a window and a mysterious delivery.

Spoiler warning: Since this story is an alternate universe there is no need for a spoiler warning.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all lefts, rights and snitches belonging to the Harry Potter Universe. The movie Bed of Roses and its storyline belong to the parent film company it belongs to. I DO NOT OWN EITHER COPYRIGHTED FOREMENTIONED PARTIES. I AM USING THEM FOR NON-PROFIT SO I CAN USE THEM WITH OUT THE DIRECT CONSENT OF THE COPYRIGHT HOLDERS. The only thing I do own either I would be freaking rich that's for sure. “Merchandizing, Merchandizing that is where the REAL money from the movie is made.”-Mel Brooks from the movie Spaceballs. If either copyright holder wants to sue me, I would more than happy to share the only thing I do own…my debt.

God bless,

S'Eleene Paris

*****

Prologue

“So you see, Mr. Olivander, investing in this opportunity could only benefit your shop. You would only be opening to a whole new market in America.” Hermione Granger concluded as she sat in front of the greatest wand maker of the age; if not of all time.

Mr. Olivander reclined in his office at the back of his shop in Diagon Alley. His antique black walnut desk overtook every other piece of furniture in the room. He went through the pages of the presentation again and deep in Hermione's stomach knew he was stalling. Stalling was never a good indicator of a good ending to an investment pitch. “When did you make Vice President of Investment Affairs at Gringotts?”

Her heart sank a little. Chit-chat was another delay tactic. “Two months ago,” she admitted, “but it's because it is my first deal, I know it so well. If you want to go over the strategy plan once more…”

“There is no need.” Olivander snapped the binder shut. “I am in.”

Hermione's eyes went wide. “You're in?”

The ancient man smiled at her. “That would be what I said.”

Hermione gathered her briefcase and then turned to her client. She offered him her hand. “Thank you for your time. I will have my secretary have the paper work on your desk by Monday.”

A knock interrupted them and Olivander's apprentice, Amethyst Leeds poked her head into the door. “Mr. “Olivander, there is a floo out here for Ms. Granger.”

“Thank you, Ami.” Mr. Olivander stood up and escorted her out where the fire place was.

Before she looked into the green flames, she knew who it was. “Hello, Viktor.”

“I just checked your muggle post office box since you haven't checked it in about a month and there is a letter here from a law firm called Hymens and Robertson.” Deep with in her soul, she knew what the letter contained. She had allowed him to read any official looking documents such since he was practically living with her. “I opened the letter to see what they wanted and it says here they have death certificates for a Julia and Darren Punckle. They had labeled you next of kin. Do you know anything about…?”

Her face went white as a sheet and her body shook, threatening to give under her. As she listened to her boyfriend giving her the bad news, Mr. Olivander stayed close by to make sure she didn't collapse. “Viktor, I can't talk here. I'll give you a floo when I get back to my place.”

“Alright,” He said in his thick Bulgarian accent. “I'll see you later then.”

“Is everything alright?” Mr. Olivander asked her once she turned to face him.

“Yes, everything is fine.” She straightened her robes and put her straight professional face on. She offered her hand again to shake his. “Again, I'll make sure my secretary has the paperwork on your desk by Monday. Good evening, Mr. Olivander.”

“Good day, Ms. Granger.” Mr. Olivander watched as she left his store.

When she appeared at home, it was dark outside as it was in her flat. The sun had long ago put itself away and the full moon shined through the open window onto her fish bowl. Hermione flicked her light to her flat on with her wand and greeted her fish with some food, “Hi, Merlin. Are you hungry?”

Once she made it over to the fish bowl, she realized her pet was swimming upside down. With the range of the emotions she had experienced that day, the death of her pet pushed her over the edge of control. She shook with grief as tears spilled from her eyes.

Unbeknownst to her, a man with emerald green eyes watched her from the street below.

*****

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Chapter One

The Delivery

“No, we don't think the loss is a significant factor. A minor loss like that is to expected when extending your market…Right…” Hermione commented via floo to Mr. Olivander. “If you have anymore questions; don't hesitate to floo back.”

Hermione rotated her neck from keeping in the same position for an hour. Her secretary, Hannah Abbott poked her head through the open door. “Here are the papers you wanted, Ms. Granger.”

“Just put them in my in box. I'll get to them after the board meeting.”

Hannah nodded and did what she was asked. When she turned around to leave, she remembered the other reason she came down to her boss' office. “Oh, wait. There is a delivery for you at reception.”

“What is it?”

Hannah grinned playfully as she left her boss' office, “delivery for you at reception.”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she wiped off the soot off her suit. As she walked toward the reception, her mind raced through the list of things the delivery could be. “Probably it's just more paperwork Griphook wants me to do.”

When she made it to reception, the most beautiful arrangement of sunflowers and iris were poised in a vase like a ballerina on the reception desk. Confused, Hermione went over to take in their heavenly scent and to find out if they were really for her.

“Make sure to put a little 7-up in the water. For some reason they'll last a little longer. It's crazy, but it works.” A masculine voice came from behind her and when she swerved around a raven haired man with emerald green eyes walked over with a clip board, a piece of parchment, and a quill. “Sign here please.”

As she sighed, she asked. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He looked her over before answering. “No, I don't think so unless I saw you around the halls of Hogwarts.”

“No, I went to Salem Academy for Witches.” Hermione then rambled. “It's in the United States.”

“You're an American witch then?”

“No, I am from Oxford shire. I went to school in America.” Hermione finished signing for her flowers.

“Thanks.” The green eyed delivery man bade her good-bye. As he left the building, she eyed him carefully. She was sure she had seen him before. She continued to rack her brain for his name as she carried the vase back to her office. It seem word had spread like wildfire about her delivery because as Hermione made her way back to her office, everyone stepped outside theirs to get a glance at the arrangement.

Once back at her office, she noted the card sticking out of it with the help of a card pick. She opened the envelope, noting the color was the same as the man who delivered its eyes. She broke the seal on the envelope, which bore a simple lightning bolt shape, and opened the card.

Disappointed, she frowned at the blank card. She turned the card over only to find the only printing on the back was the name of the floral shop and their address. Her mind went immediately to the usual suspects. Viktor might have sent them knowing about what had happened to the Punckles. Her best friend, Luna Lovegood, may have sent them as well, but the chances were slim. Even though she was a journalist, she couldn't have. She had a sick father to look after.

Quickly, she jotted down a note to each of them and then handed the notes to her red-tailed hawk named Sekiyah (pronounced: si-KI-YAH). She had learned owls were the common to use to deliver messages here in her home country. In the United States, where their national symbol is a bald eagle, it was the typical to use various birds of pray. When she had come home from her senior year at Salem; she brought Sekiyah with her. “Sky, please bring these to Viktor and Luna for me. You should find them in their offices at the Daily Prophet.”

The bird took the messages with her beak and flew out the window. She looked majestic in contrast to all of the owls. With her wings spread, she glided over the street and to the Daily Prophet building.

Hermione's attention went back over the card sitting on her desk. She sub-consciously went to the only writing on the card at all; the name and address of the floral shop on the back of the card. Potter's Plants was the name of the place and the address was in Hogsmeade. When the responses to her notes were returned, they were both as she had expected:

No, it wouldn't have occurred to me to send you flowers. Maybe Luna sent them. -Viktor.

She highly doubted it had been Luna, but she opened her note anyway.

Flowers?! Who sent you flowers?! Meet me after you `bored' meeting at the Leaky Cauldron and we'll try to figure this out. -Luna

Hermione then noticed the time and quickly gathered what she needed for the board meeting in the board room. The meeting droned on with statistics and strategy planning. Normally, she would have loved this type of meeting, but she couldn't get her mind off the flowers.

Once the meeting ended, Griphook pulled her aside. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I am fine.”

“You looked like you were far away. What's going on?”

“Nothing, I was just trying to come up with something to add, but I couldn't.”

“You've never had a problem before.”

“Lack of coffee I guess.”

“Either way, I want you take a few days off. Better yet, make it a week.”

“But I am fine, Griphook.”

“That is fine, but I am going to need you in top shape for this.” She was going to protest, again, but he pointed one of his long claw-like fingernails at her. “If I see you before next Tuesday, I am going to fire you.”

It had been a gentle warning, especially coming from a goblin as it goes. Not wanting to know what his definition of `fire' was, she nodded in compliance and then headed back to her office. She gathered her personal belongings; including the arrangement of flowers to head home before her lunch with Luna.

As she was locking her office door, Hannah realized she was leaving for the day. “Where are you going? Don't you have another conference this afternoon?”

“Forced vacation; I am not allowed back until next Tuesday.”

“I pity you.” Hannah rolled her eyes. “I take it you want me to revise your schedule and take messages while you are away?”

“Please.” Hermione shifted the vase of flowers as she finished locking the door. “It's Tuesday in the afternoon. What do normal people do?”

“Whatever you want to, I suppose.” Hannah smiled when she noticed the flowers. “Nice flowers.”

“Not like you didn't know about them.”

“Who are they from?”

“I don't know.” Hermione shrugged as she left the office.

“Did you even bother to look at the card?” Hannah shouted as Hermione exited the main doors of Gringotts.

*****

When Hermione arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, it wasn't hard to spot her best friend waving at her from a table in the corner. Luna, in the process of waving at her, knocked over her drink. The waiter, which had just served her and moved on to the next table, witnessed what had happened and rushed over to clean up the mess.

“Sorry and thank you.” Luna called after the waiter as Hermione approached. “I cannot believe how klutzy I am today.”

“Just today?” Hermione chuckled as she claimed her seat across from her.

“Point,” Luna then changed the subject. “Since when has the Leaky Cauldron made everyone check in their wands? Don't you think that is a little ridiculous? What if someone came in here and started throwing spells in every which way direction?”

“Luna, you're so paranoid. Who do you think is going to come in here? Besides, it's now wizarding law to have all wands checked before going into a restaurant establishment. Viktor covered it, remember? It was his first piece that wasn't a sport's article. You work for the Daily Prophet, you should know this.”

“He works for a different department. Viktor works the sports section since he was a Bulgarian Quidditch star before his knee injury. As you know he's been doing a lot of work in other departments.” Luna attacked what remained of her tea. “I guess he's looking at becoming an editor. So what's with the flowers? Did you find out who sent them? Was it Mr. Popularity?”

“Viktor said it wouldn't have occurred to him to send me flowers.” Hermione admitted.

“Ouch.”

“But it's really not that kind of relationship. We basically keep each other around for…”

“Moonlighting purposes, yea I know.” Luna pondered the situation. “Could anyone back at Salem Academy know about the Punckles? Maybe they sent…”

“No, I don't think they would have.”

“Hmm…” Luna thought about it for a moment. “Well, if I didn't send them and we know for sure Mr. Thoughtful didn't send them either, there is only one other explanation.”

“What?”

“Somebody fancies you.”

“No way.”

“Come on, Hermione. Perhaps your prince has finally come for you.”

“You're mental.”

“Okay, just listen to me just for a second. There is no one on this planet that deserves a happy ending as much as you. So, why not?”

“It's probably some clerical error in the floral world. I'm not the type of person these kinds of things happen to.”

“Fine, if you don't want to believe me I'll let you. Mr. Prince charming would have probably turned out to be a bloody bastard anyway. I'll keep the fantasy, though. An anonymous delivery, I could go years on that.” Luna sighed. “When you got stuff like that, who needs the truth?”

*****

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Chapter Two

Potter's Plants

After lunch, Hermione appeared back home to do the one thing typical people do at home at two o'clock in the afternoon. As she flipped on the wizarding wireless network channels, nothing struck her fancy. “How on earth couple people listen to such nonsense?” She asked herself out loud a she went to shut off the radio.

She began walking over to her kitchen to go through her pantry to make a shopping list for groceries when her eyes followed the counter to her quark board where the card she received with the flowers was tacked. As she went to take it off the board, she tripped over her new cat, Crookshanks. “Sorry.” She apologized to the cat.

As she ran her fingers over the texture of the parchment card, she knew if she didn't find out who sent her the flowers, she'd go mental. She turned over the card to the back where the address of the floral shop was printed. Chaucer Road in Hogsmeade was where the shop was located.

Hermione grabbed her traveling cloak and headed over to her fireplace. She took a handful of floo powder and stepped inside of the hearth. “Hogsmeade,” She commanded loud and clearly and once she threw down the floo powder, she was enveloped into the brilliant green flames of the floo network.

Having never set foot in the town before, she wasn't sure if she had spoken clearly enough because when she landed it was in a pub. A witch manned the counter of the bar, drying and dusting the insides of shot glasses and beer mugs while trying to keep busy. When she realized she was no longer the only witch over the age of twenty, she went and greeted her. “Hello, welcome to the Three Broomsticks, can I get something for you?”

“No, I'm just a little turned around. I thought I was supposed to be in Hogsmeade.”

The witch chuckled. “You are in Hogsmeade. I take it is your first time here?”

Hermione nodded.

“Please, sit down and I'll give you a drink on the house.”

“No, thank you. I really must be going, perhaps on my way out.” Hermione turned to leave the pub, but then she turned back to the witch when she realized she didn't know here she was going. “Maybe you could help me though. Do you know where Chaucer Road is?”

“Chaucer road? Why on earth would you want to go there? Most people stick around here.” Hermione showed her the card. “Potter's Plants, oh yes, that quaint little apothecary. I knew they delivered flowers. Chaucer Road is down this road as far as it will go then hang a left. Potter's Plants is the very last building on that road. You'll see it.”

“Thank you…”

“Madame Rosemarta and you are?”

“Hermione Granger.” She took Madame Rosemarta's hand to shake it. “Nice meeting you.”

“Take care.”

*****

Hermione came to find out; there weren't many businesses down Chaucer Road besides Potter's Plants. It was mostly a residential neighborhood and like Madame Rosemarta said, she found the store at the end of the cobblestone street.

It was a very quaint store and it was as if it had popped out of a story book. The store looked as if it had been a café in it's lifetime with the cast iron awning covering the sidewalk, but the roof had been replaced by climbing plants. The door to the shop, oak by the looks of it, was already open with an open sign hanging in the front window.

Once inside, she was surrounded by plants both magical and muggle alike, a fountain also greeted her upon entry as it trickled down into a large basin where Koi fish swam merrily. Her attention from the detail was brought back by a stout, plump man wearing a green apron with “Potter's Plants” scrolling across the breast. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi, I'm Hermione Granger. I received a bunch of flowers earlier and whoever sent them didn't sign the card. I was curious if you could look through your records and find the name of the person who sent them.”

“Hey, Ron, did you take an order for a Hermione Granger?” The man shouted into the back section of the store where there was a large refrigerator.

“No, why?” A skinny red haired man came out of the back carrying a large pot of hydrangeas and wearing a duplicate apron.

“This customer received some flowers from our store and wanted to know who sent them because they didn't sign the card. I thought you took the order. You worked earlier today in the back. Which means you probably arranged them.”

“No, I didn't. Didn't you, Neville? I thought you were manning the phones earlier.”

“If I did, I wouldn't be asking you now, would I? Oh, wait…” Neville glanced down at his watch. “Yep, he should still be there…”

“Who?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

*****

As Hermione climbed the stairs to the upper level of Flourish and Blotts, back in Diagon Alley, she thought Ron and Neville at the floral shop were putting her on about the man she was needing to talk to being at `Story hour' at the bookstore. “Maybe he's reading to the kids.” She had reasoned.

Once she was completely up the stairs, her reasoning was flung out the window as the sounds of a female voice were coming from the back corner of the store where the story hour was usually held.

The story teller was telling the legendary tales of Merlin and his ascension in becoming the greatest Wizard of all time. The children were enraptured by the tale and were listening intently than any other children she had seen before.

Sitting in the back was the delivery man from earlier. “This man must have some serious mental issues.” She thought as the story came to a close and the children clapped their hands in approval.

This had been the cue for the parents in the surrounding area to gather their children to continue their shopping. She approached the man from before and greeted him. “Hi.”

“Hermione Granger, right. Small world this is, isn't it?” he flashed her a smile. “How are the flowers?”

“That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Well, there is somewhere I need to be. You can walk with me, though.” He said as he gathered his cloak and the duo exited the building.

“Do you go to story time often?” Hermione asked as they began weaving their way down the road.

“I haven't been lately. She's been sick.” He chuckled after he said it. “That made me sound stupid, wow. You see, there is nothing like a good story read out loud. She's just an excellent story teller. I enjoy listening to her voice.”

“Oh.”

“So, about your flowers…”

“Right,” Hermione was business again. “I was wondering if you could tell me who sent them. I talked to your boss and he said you would know.”

The man smirked, before he drew a cleansing breath. Hermione guessed she said something humorous. “The thing about it is the person who sent them made it clear they wanted them sent anonymous. It just seemed really important to them, so why not just enjoy them?”

“Because, if I were to send someone flowers, I wouldn't drive them so crazy by not signing the card, they wouldn't be able to enjoy them.” Hermione and he stopped outside a store called Weasley Wizard Wheezes. “Are you sure you won't tell me?”

“I can't.” He sighed.

“Alright, then, thank you for your time anyway.” Hermione turned and stormed away annoyed.

*****

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