Inheritance

A/N-This story will probably be really OOC, and different. This is one of those stories that came to me in a dream, and it haunted me until it just had to be written. I hope that despite that fact, you will enjoy. Please remember to review! This is also just a story I write to get my mind of other things, and so I write it here and there, so expect updates to be a bit slow.

Disclaimer-Yes, I am J.K. Rowling. Not.

Inheritance

Chapter One

“What do you mean I can't get my inheritance!” an eighteen year old Hermione Granger shouted. Hermione was at The Magical Department of Inheritance, otherwise known as MDI, the place where witches and wizards went to when there was a problem with their inheritance, or even just to receive their inheritance.

MDI worker, Sally Davis, winced and pursed her lips tightly, looking as if she had just eaten something sour. She was really starting to dislike her job, with all the witches and wizards yelling at her. It wasn't her fault something was wrong. And all because she didn't take her mother's advice and become a teacher. But the bearer of bad news was always the one who got the blame. In fact, the phrase “shoot the messenger” often ran through Sally's head, just like it was now. Hermione noticed Sally's discomfort, but she was far too angry to care.

It had all started a couple weeks after Hermione's graduation from Hogwarts. She was staying at the Weasley's house until she had enough money to move into a place of her own. Harry had offered her money, but she was too proud to take it. Besides, Hermione had been taught that it was never wise to borrow money from your friends or family, both of which Harry was.

Hermione had been eating a breakfast of French toast when a brown, barn owl flew into the Weasley's kitchen, bearing a letter for Hermione.

Dear Ms. Hermione Granger, it read,

We are sorry to inform you that your parents have died in an attack made by you-know-who. (Hermione burst into tears at this)

There has been a problem with your inheritance. To deal with this matter, we have arranged an appointment for you at the 14th of this month at noon with Sally Davis. If you have any questions concerning this matter, feel free to owl Ms. Davis. Again, we are sorry for your loss.

Sincerely yours,

Virginia Wilding

Head of the Magical Department of Inheritance

“Well, you see your Grandmother's dying wish was that when it was time for you to receive your inheritance, that you must get married within a year, stay married for six, and have at least one child. You will get your inheritance a little at a time.” Ms. Davis wearily said, bring Hermione back

Hermione's jaw dropped. Marriage? Child? She didn't want to get married or have a child, she wanted to stay single and work on accomplishing her dream! Her dream was to create antidotes to all sorts of deadly wizarding illnesses. Unfortunately that would cost money. Lots and lots of it, if she wanted to make a difference, change people's lives.

Grandmother Granger always had a rather odd sense of humor and was rather old-fashioned. She believed women didn't amount to anything unless they married and had children.

Despite what most people would think watching this scene take place, Hermione HAD mourned for her parents' death. For days after receiving the letter she had locked herself up in the Weasley's guest room, weeping like crazy and refusing to talk to anyone or eat. She had stopped doing that yesterday, and it was perhaps because of her lack of sleep, food, and energy that she was having a harder time then usual controlling her anger.

`I will continue grieving afterwards. Mum and Dad would understand.' She had guiltily told herself this morning as she got dressed in a simple black shirt with a v-cut (modest of course. The only reason Hermione wore it was because it had been a Christmas gift a few years ago from her mother), black jean, and a black scarf. So in a way she was grieving, by wearing all black. For now that had to be enough.

Hermione quickly regained herself and closed her mouth.

“Once you have found someone or if you have any more questions, just give me an owl and I'll set up an appointment for you. If you have any other questions or concerns, also send me an owl.” Ms. Davis concluded, handing Hermione a simple, white card with her address on it. Hermione nodded and apperated home, trying to get the appointment off of her mind so that she wouldn't end up ending somewhere else as she apparated. But no matter how hard she tried, one thing wouldn't get out of her mind: how would she get married?

-->

Inheritance

Chapter Two

A/N- just a few things I want to say: first off, the explanations I promised in review responses haven't come yet, but they will soon. Secondly, I tend to do a half-muggle half-Wizard thing. So don't be too bothered when you see Hermione using a cell phone and a car. And third, Constructive Criticism is VERY welcome (though be somewhat polite about it, please). This is a test-run, and I look to improve.

“How did it go?” Ron asked as soon as Hermione entered the house. Hermione glared at him, but then stopped because it wasn't his fault that her grandmother was such a git. She wished her grandmother were still alive so that she could give Grandmother Marilyn a piece of her mind. Then again, if she were alive, Hermione wouldn't be having this problem.

“Horribly,” Hermione muttered before stomping up to her room. Harry started going up after her, but Ron grabbed his cloak. “Are you bloody insane? Do you want to have an early death? You saw the glare she gave me, you should know by now that she's dangerous when angry!”

“I suppose I could let her cool off for a while, but I'll check up on her later, maybe make her a cup of tea.” Harry said, sitting down after a moment's hesitation. There was no need though, because Hermione came out minutes later. Harry was about to ask how she was, but decided against it. Ron was right, and he valued his life too much. Hermione went into the room with a phone in it (Mr. Weasley had insisted, and Mrs. Weasley reluctantly agreed to have one again. After all, it couldn't get Harry in trouble with his Aunt and Uncle any more.), and started dialing a number.

“Shall we get out some of those Extendable Ears Fred and George left behind?” Ron asked quietly.

“Ron, we can't spy on her, she's our friend!” Harry said furiously, though he also whispered.

“Suit yourself, mate.” Ron said, taking the ears out of his pocket.

“You keep them in your pocket?” Harry was horrified at the lack of respect for privacy his friend had, but was also…interested.

“Never know when they'll come in handy.”

“Alright, but if Hermione catches us, I'm putting all the blame on you. Now you're the one wanting an early death.”

Unfortunately, the ears were pointless, as Hermione had thought ahead and put a charm around the room. This just caused more curiosity, because obviously Hermione was making an effort to hide whatever it was she was doing.

As the door to the room with the telephone (also known as Arthur's Muggle Museum) opened, Ron hastily shoved the ears back into his pocket.

“Hermione, what's going on?” Harry asked, seeing the question formed in Ron's brain, but decided to ask instead of him, since Hermione was much less likely to blow his head off than Ron's.

“I'll be going on a date tomorrow.” Hermione asked. Ron was disappointed (all that secrecy just for a date? He thought to himself) but Harry was worried. Not only was Hermione not the date type, her dates usually didn't…end up well. His thoughts seemed to appear on his face, because Hermione sighed deeply and said, “I know. I just hope it'll be different this time.” Harry stopped at that, not wanting to get her spirits any lower than they already were. Besides, his luck wasn't the best either on a date, and he had a feeling that if he pressed any further, Hermione would bring that up.

&&&

It was the next evening, and Hermione was very uncomfortable. She loathed first dates. First, and most importantly, they often included wearing skirts or dresses. School not counting, Hermione never wore a skirt or dress if she could help it. Secondly, it was at the “just getting to know each other” stage, so it often included uncomfortable silences or worrying about saying the wrong thing (Hermione didn't usually worry about the latter, but now she needed a boyfriend). And first dates weren't very fun. They usually were dates at an expensive restaurant, and not things like going to a park, going to the movies, or something like that. But it couldn't be helped.

Yesterday she had called Ginny, doing it before she could come up for a reason why she shouldn't, and asked if Ginny could set her up with someone, and she had readily agreed. Ginny was always going on about how cute all her co-workers at her job were. What had surprised Hermione was how quickly Ginny had set everything up. She had expected more time. Ginny called that afternoon asking if she were free that evening. Hermione had said yes, thinking that Ginny perhaps wanted to hang out with her. Which is doubtlessly why Ginny had waited until after Hermione had said yes to say that she had set Hermione up.

“Bloody deceiving prat,” Hermione mumbled.

“I'm sorry?” Her date asked. Daniel Wilson was certainly nice enough, though he seemed to talk about himself a lot. She didn't mind too bad though, since she new that sometimes first dates did that to people, and he wasn't bragging too much. Though she did find herself spacing out every once in a while she had, fortunately, caught the last thing he said.

“I said that it's very interesting that you worked in Guatemala,” Hermione said, hoping that the sweetest smile she could summon would help cover her lies. She had never been great at lying, but since she didn't know Daniel yet that wouldn't be a problem. So that was one good thing she could think of about first dates.

“Yes, have you been out of the country at all?” he asked, trying to show that he wasn't a total conversation hogger.

“Yes, I've been to France on holiday a few times.” She answered, but just then the food had arrived.

“How do you like your shrimp alfredo pasta?”

“It's pretty good coming from this place,” she blurted out, then blushed. She hadn't meant to be negative about the place her date brought her to, but then decided that if he couldn't handle the fact that she was an opinionated person then it was his problem and not hers.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he asked. He seemed to be a bit offended. A waiter came over, “Mr. Daniel, how do you and your date like the meal?”

“It's very good, thank Chef Andre please.”

“Oh, don't thank Andre. Your parents cooked the meal!”

Hermione was confused. What were Daniel's parents doing cooking the meals? Then she noticed something, the restaurant's name was Wilson's! Her date (or rather his parents) owned the place! And she had just insulted it. But he had been cheap, bringing her to his own restaurant and, in a sense, making his parents pay for the date.

“Please excuse me,” she said, taking her napkin out of her lap and standing up. Hermione decided to do what all girls did after a disastrous date and go to the bathroom where a knight in shining armor would save them. In this case, the knight would be Harry. She whipped out her cell phone (she carried it around even though she knew very few people with one) and dialed Harry's number, hoping that he wouldn't take too long to get there.

-->

A/N- I'd like to reinstate the warning I wrote in the first chapter: the characters are going to be somewhat out of character. I will have some in character moments here and there, but if something puts you off, that's why. I'd also like to apologize for the long wait. I seem to have encountered a brick wall with all of my stories, this one being no exception. Hopefully now that I have taken this small step writing will come easier to me now. Also, the chapter seems to be bolded, even though the actual document isn't, and stays that way no matter what I do. Is anyone else having this problem? If you figure out why, please tell me so I can fix it.

Chapter Three

“You insulted his restaurant?” Harry asked laughingly in his car about half an hour later.

“Oh stop laughing, you prat, before I hit you! It's not like I knew it was his! Besides, it was awfully cheap of him to take me to a place his parents owned and not pay a cent. In fact, I'm rather glad I found out early on instead of being led on.” Hermione snapped.

"Uh-huh. So glad you had to sulk in the bathroom until I came. He didn't even put up a fuss because I'm the bloody boy-who-lived and intimidating!" Hermione snorted. Harry ignored her and continued, "And then while he was talking to me, you then decided to run to the car without even saying goodbye! I'd say I told you so. Or rather, I looked you so."

"Fine, you were right for once. Now stop gloating, and hit the pedal! I want to go home." Hermione was in the mood for a hot bath, a good book, and maybe even a piece of chocolate. Or a whole box. Hermione had self control when it came to a lot of things, but not chocolate.

"No." Harry said simply.

"No?" Hermione growled. Harry was in danger zone, and only the fact that he had rescued her from the restaurant kept her from doing something like strangle him.

"If the half eaten plate and your stomach complaining is any indication, you haven't eaten much. We're going to get you something to eat." They were going out? Hermione wasn't in the mood right now.

"I do have food at my flat, you know."

"Aww, but what's the fun in that? C'mon, how often do you get an intelligent, sexy, brave-"

"And modest."

"man cook for you. See? Even you think that, as your lack of snorting means anything."

"And how are things on planet you wish?"

"You don't know how much that wounds me, 'Mione." he retorted, drawing out the syllables of the nickname she hated so much. Well, actually, she didn't mind it as much when he called her that, but she would never admit as much. Harry's head was big enough as was without Hermione's help.
&&&
Still, Hermione accepted his offer, but only because it involved a home cooked meal and not a restaurant. Even though Harry had a place of his own, he accepted Mrs. Weasley's offer of staying with her for a few weeks. It somehow felt good to keep the tradition going. He didn't want to intrude in Mrs. Weasley's kitchen, so instead of taking her back there he took her his flat.

Hermione sat on the couch taking in her surrounding while Harry banged pots and pans around in the kitchen. Even though this wasn't her first time in Harry's flat, it never amazed her how quickly he managed to make the place look lived in. His enthusiasm made sense though, what with him never truly having a place of his own. Hogwarts was all well and good, but the dormitory wasn't truly his. The décor was simple and comfortable and had a mix of both muggle and wizard objects. He had a leather couch that, if you pushed a button, would pop, allowing you to lie down. Hermione felt tempted to do so now, but resisted. There was a coffee table in front of her littered with various Quidditch magazines, and there was a TV as well as a stereo system (with quite the impressive ever growing CD collection). The walls were covered with pictures: a combination of school pictures of the trio, his parents and the other marauders, and his favorite Quidditch teams.

“Do you need help, Harry?” Hermione called out after hearing him drop something and swear loudly.

“Nah, I've got it completely under control. Why don't you pick out a movie from the drawer and we can watch something while we eat.”

“Well, if you're sure.” Hermione got up and browsed through his movies. Most of the movies were total guy movies, the kind with lots of explosions and action, something she definitely wasn't in the mood for. Unless it was Daniel being blown up. Well no, she didn't mean that. She didn't want anything bad (or too bad, rather) to happen to him, she'd just prefer not to see him ever again.

Fifteen minutes later Harry came over with two steaming hot bowls of…

“Macaroni and cheese?” Hermione asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Judging from your dinner choice you seemed to be in the mood for pasta, and this isn't just any Macaroni and cheese. It's my special home made macaroni and cheese.”

“It's delicious!” Hermione said with a bit of surprise after taking a bite. She knew Harry was a good cook and everything, what with having to cook for the Dursley's, but she still wasn't expecting how good it was. Her own cooking skills were nothing to be proud of, though they weren't anything to be ashamed of either.

“So what movie did you pick out?” Harry asked after a few minutes. Hermione held up Ferris Bueller's Day Off with a sheepish grin, and Harry grinned back at her before popping in the movie.

“When I was a girl, on the few days I had to take off from school because I was sick, I would always watch this movie. Though it's rare, occasionally Americans get something right, movie-wise.” Hermione revealed. “My favorite line was always Pardon my French, but Cameron is so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you'd have a diamond.' Even though that's not really accurate because to create a diamond you need”

“Hermione?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and watch the movie.”

And so they did.

-->