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sparkysparkyTitle: Seven Year Itch
Pairing(s): Ron/Harry, Harry/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ron/Hermione
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparkysparky
Rating: NC-17 (This chapter only PG)
Chapter: 1/8
Warnings: Highly graphic sex, het and slash, threesome, bondage, light D/s, spanking
Summary: Harry and Ron are happy. The sex is great. They've been in a committed, fulfilling relationship for years and see no need to change anything. Until they realize they've falled into a rut and need something to nudge them out of it. And then Hermione stumbles back into their lives. Fresh out of a painful divorce, she needs some comfort and excitement. When she seeks out her two best friends who she hasn't seen or spoken to in seven years, she gets more than she bargained for. They all do.
Disclaimer: I have to deal with the fact that these characters do not belong to me. *SOB*
Word Count: 2,455 (5,398 total)
Updates: Every Tuesday
Chapter Two
“Ms. Granger?”
“Yes?” Hermione turned sideways to face the flight attendant who crouched beside her. She was a cute little thing, with curly blonde hair and guileless blue eyes. She seemed so innocent, so young.
Hermione shuddered. Since when did someone in their twenties start looking young?
“We’re on approach,” the girl said with a solicitous smile, “and I need you to do up your belt.”
“Right.” Hermione reached for the belt and snapped it together. “Of course.”
The girl nodded toward the empty seat beside Hermione. “Your husband has been in the washroom for quite awhile. Do you think I should check on him?”
Hermione blinked. “Husband?” and then she realized the mistake and laughed. “Oh God, no. That man’s not my husband. I don’t even know his name. We just got to talking and realized we had some business interests in common.”
The stewardess, who's nametag read Sidney, straightened and Hermione followed her glance toward the first-class washroom stall.
“I think he’ll be fine,” offered Hermione. “He just had a little too much to drink.”
The flight attendant nodded. “I see. Well, I’ll check on him anyway.” She turned to go and then seemed to think better of it. “Is there anything I can get you before we land, Ms. Granger? A glass of water perhaps? It’s been a long flight and we left Paris very early.”
“No, thank you,” said Hermione, turning back to the window. “I’m fine.” She shook her head in self depreciation as the fight attendant left.
Who as she kidding? She wasn’t fine. Hadn’t been fine for almost two years now. She’d descended into hell two years ago, and had been struggling to fight her way out of it ever since. Her husband had betrayed her, had lied to her and used her, and it had taken her too long to figure out the full scope of his offenses. She’d wanted to believe in him, had wanted to believe in their marriage vows and the sanctity of that trust, but in the end all her illusions had been shattered.
The divorce had been final three months ago, and it had taken her almost that long to figure out it wasn’t enough. She’d hoped the finality of the divorce would help her put the whole revolting experience behind her, help her get on with her life. But int eh end she’d realized it wasn’t enough. She still had to see him every day at the Ministry, had to pretend to ignore the scathing gossip around the office. Had to watch him fawn all over his new wife. The ink hadn’t even been dry on the divorce papers before Philippe had married his mistress. Had announced they were having the baby Hermione had ached to have for years.
Bastard, she thought.
And so, she had left. Quit her job as the British ambassador to the French Ministry and run home. She needed the two best friends she had left behind seven years earlier, needed their love and support. Needed them to talk to and laugh with. Needed to share the experiences life had shown her since they’d parted, needed to share in their experiences as well.
Thanks to her hectic work schedule and antisocial husband, she hadn’t made many friends in Paris, in the city she’d wanted to call home. She’d decided to come back to England. Permanently.
As the airport runway grew closer she considered all those she’d left behind and wondered if they’d still be here waiting for her. She thought of all her old friends from Hogwarts, who she’d fought alongside in the war, and lost touch with afterwards. She thought of her parents and how much she missed them, and of their senseless deaths at the hands of Voldemort and his minions.
Her years at Hogwarts and the three years of the war were both the best and worst times in her life. She’d learned to be a witch, and had found two men who were her soul mates, but had left them behind to further her career. She’d promised to keep in touch with them when she’d moved to Paris, but she hadn’t kept that promise.
Her seatmate staggered back down the aisle and flopped into his seat. She tossed a wary glance his way to assure herself he wasn’t going to vomit or do something equally as offensive.
After she’d satisfied herself she was quite safe from her seatmate’s bodily fluids, Hermione returned to her thoughts.
Would Ron and Harry be glad to see her? Or would they be angry she hadn’t so much as sent an owl in all the time she’d lived in Paris?
Maybe she’d give herself a few days to get reacquainted with London, and with the British magical world. And then, when she was more comfortable, she’d look them up.
Yes, that was what she’d do, Hermione decided. She at least needed to let them know she was back in the country, and after that, it would be up to them if they wanted to reaffirm their friendship.
She would fortify herself with a snifter or two of forty year old cognac, and take the plunge.
These weren’t men to be taken lightly.
***
Harry tapped his quill on the blotted and stared outside at the sun-washed landscape. This was the best thing about working for the Ministry. All the “windows” in his office were charmed to show him any sight he wished to see. This week he’d chosen to look upon the rolling hills of Ireland. The bright green grass danced in the wind and several fluffy white sheep stood, grazing now and then. It was peaceful, and Harry often found himself staring out the window to calm down, when what he really wanted to do was wring Scrimgeour’s neck.
A flash of brown caught Harry’s eye and he managed to make out a thoroughbred stallion streaking across the hills, a study in grace, strength and beauty. Horses were a particular favorite of Harry’s, though they didn’t have the power and magesty of Hippogriff’s or even Centaurs, they were certainly easier to tame and easier to ride. He himself kept three at the Potter family estate.
“Mr. Potter, Sir,” said a voice from the doorway.
“Yeah, Colin?” he asked, tamping down his irritation. Colin was Harry’s administrative assistant, but Harry really wished the younger man would refrain from from calling him sir. They’d gone to school together, and had indulged in a weekend affair years earlier, before Harry had committed himself to Ron. Colin’s calling Harry “Sir” was not only ridiculous, but insulting.
Since Colin was fairly new to his position, having been with Harry for just under a month, Harry was willing to give Colin time to become comfortable.
“Minister Scrimgeour has requested a meeting with you this afternoon. Are you free?”
Harry frowned, and glanced that stack of paperwork on his desk. His job as director of the Muggle Relations and Magical History department at the Ministry sounded much simpler than it was. The MRMH department had been Harry’s brain-child, a result of his own shock at suddenly being told he was a Wizard, and having to rely on Ron’s Pureblood knowledge and Hermione’s book knowledge for everything he knew about the Wizarding world.
Over the seven years since the Second War with Voldemort had ended, Harry had lobbied long and hard for Muggleborn Wizards to be made aware of the Magical world at the time of their first incident of Accidental Magic. He’d cajoled, and bullied and played on his fame until a second school had been established, where Muggleborns and their familes could learn about the Magical World and become comfortable with the history and customs of the world in which their children would be educated. At the same time, he’d pushed through legislation that required all Pure and Half-blood students be educated in Muggle Studies before starting school.
The programs were entering the fifth year of their conception, and so far, there had been only a few major problems. The largest of which was the current Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour had never fully forgiven Harry for proclaiming himself Dumbledore’s man and refusing to be a pawn of the Ministry in the fight against Voldemort.
“Mr. Potter?” Colin asked again. “Are you free for the Minister?”
“Colin, please consider calling me Harry. We’re friends, as well as co-workers, and I think we’re beyond surnames at this point.” Harry pulled open his personal organizer and consulted his schedule. It was, as he had already known; open for the rest of the afternoon, in anticipation of catching up on paperwork and perhaps inviting Ron over for a…meeting. But, if he wanted to push through his new bill for non-magical werewolf rights, he needed to keep the minister placated. “Let Scrimgeour know I have an hour between two and three today, if that’s convenient for him.”
“Thank you, sir…er Harry. I’ll let him know.” Colin gave an awkward half bow and backed out of the room.
Harry shook his head in discouragement. Colin was bowing, now? What was next, genuflection down on one knee?
Turning his attention to the files on his desk, he missed the flare of the fireplace and was taken by surprise when a tentative female voice called out, “Harry? Harry Potter, are you there?”
Harry blinked. That voice. There was something familiar about it, but…”Yes, I’m here. Who’s calling?”
“Harry! I can’t believe I actually caught you! It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“I’m sorry, but you seem to have me at a disadvantage.” Harry stood from his desk and walked over to the fireplace. “Should I know you?”
The woman laughed, a light and breezy sound that tumbled out of the hearth and sent Harry back in time seven years. “Oh honestly!” she said. “Hold on, let me put my head through.”
Harry watched in anticipation as a head bobbed in his fireplace. The bushy hair, the slightly off-center mouth was exactly as he had remembered. “Hermione!”
“Hi, Harry.” Even through the flames, Harry could see the faint apprehension in Hermione’s hazel eyes.
“Hermione, it’s so great to hear you, to see you. How’ve you been?”
Hermione gave a slight laugh, not nearly as airy as her last. “I’m fine. I’m back in England, you know.”
“Really? How long?”
“Just a few days. I’ve been visiting my parents.” She was silent for a moment. “I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They were very beautiful.”
“It was Ron’s idea. He went every year. We both did.” Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been killed shortly after Hermione’s 18th birthday. Harry Ron and Hermione had been in Germany at the time, searching for Horcruxes.
Hermione sniffled and Harry knew she was blinking back tears. He knew more than anyone that you never really got over losing your parents. “Thank you.”
“So, France didn’t agree with you?”
“No, it did. For awhile. But I needed to come home. Sometimes home is the best place to be, after all.”
Harry hesitated to break the silence that followed. “So, what’s going on, Hermione? What brings you back to the land of bangers and mash?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got the rest of my life.”
She laughed again, and he was glad. “Well, it’s too long to discuss on a Fire Call. How about we meet for tea or something.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t Ron and I take you out to dinner? Where are you staying?”
“I’m at a little bed and breakfast, near the Leaky Cauldron, but not in the Wizarding district. It’s a charming place really, and near enough to Diagon Alley, should I wish to venture there.”
“Wonderful. Neville and Seamus run a great little pub in Diagon Alley, fancier than the Leaky Cauldron, but still casual. They have the best—“
“Actually, I’d rather go someplace Muggle, if it was alright with you and Ron. I don’t know as I’m ready to see everyone quite yet. I don’t need anything fancy, fish and chips will do.”
He smiled. He would have loved to treat her to something special, but knew better than to argue. This was one woman who knew what she wanted, and had never bothered to hide it. “Fine, it’s a date. We’ll meet you there, say at seven?”
“Great.”
“Good, I—“
“Oh, and you’re welcome to bring Ginny, if you’d like. I’d love to see her!”
“Ginny? Why would you bring her up?”
Hermione glanced down at his finger, where the simple gold band silently proclaimed his married status. “So, seven?”
Harry nodded; too shocked to correct her assumption that he’d married Ginny, of all people. Luna would have his balls if he’d ever even thought about it. But Hermione couldn’t know that.
“Wonderful. I can’t wait to see you all! Good-bye!” Hermione’s head disappeared from the flames, and left Harry still staring wide eyed at the empty space.
Harry tossed a glance at Ron’s picture perched discreetly on a shelf in the corner. Picture Ron glared in his direction and stomped angrily out of the frame. “We’ll tell her tonight,” Harry said to the photograph. Picture Ron’s hand appeared and flashed the two fingered salute in his direction. “God, you’re such a drama queen,” Harry grumbled. But he knew Real Ron would be more understanding than Picture Ron. Afterall, Picture Ron was just that—a picture. And Real Ron could reason and debate where Picture Ron could just communicate with rude gestures, and the occasional wink.
Harry shook his head and turned his thoughts to Hermione. Good, old Hermione. The smartest, most powerful witch of their generation. And the loveliest. Although her hair was bushy and a non-descript shade of brown, and her features were a little too off-center to be considered classically beautiful, Hermione had always shone with an inner brilliance that had drawn people to her like a moth to a flame. She was beautiful from the inside out, self-assured and ambitious. She was the best of them. Always had been.
He could alredy imagine Ron’s reaction to the news. A huge smile would spread across his face and his jaw would drop open. And then he would say two little words.
And those words would be, “Bloody brilliant!”
Sneak Peak of Next Week’s installment:
Ron sat back in his chair and watched her. She was smiling and laughing now, no doubt thanks to his and Harry’s banter and antics. They’d very deliberately not asked her about the outburst, focusing instead on more happy topics.
Ron had related some of his more spectacular moves as Keeper for the Chudley Canons, and Harry had her laughing over some of Scrimgeour’s more ridiculous actions as Minister. They’d told her about Neville and Seamus’ shocking romance, and Dean’s wife and children. No mention was made of the War, or of their Hogwart’s days.
Harry hadn’t yet told her he wasn’t married to Ginny, and was in fact, involved with Ron. They’d agreed to wait until after dinner to make that announcement. They only hoped their relationship wouldn’t cause her to rethink rekindling their friendship. They’d both missed Hermione terribly, and wanted her in their lives.
But they wouldn’t give each other up for her. That wasn’t in the cards.
Pairing(s): Ron/Harry, Harry/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ron/Hermione
Author:
sparkysparkyRating: NC-17 (This chapter only PG)
Chapter: 1/8
Warnings: Highly graphic sex, het and slash, threesome, bondage, light D/s, spanking
Summary: Harry and Ron are happy. The sex is great. They've been in a committed, fulfilling relationship for years and see no need to change anything. Until they realize they've falled into a rut and need something to nudge them out of it. And then Hermione stumbles back into their lives. Fresh out of a painful divorce, she needs some comfort and excitement. When she seeks out her two best friends who she hasn't seen or spoken to in seven years, she gets more than she bargained for. They all do.
Disclaimer: I have to deal with the fact that these characters do not belong to me. *SOB*
Word Count: 2,455 (5,398 total)
Updates: Every Tuesday
Chapter Two
“Ms. Granger?”
“Yes?” Hermione turned sideways to face the flight attendant who crouched beside her. She was a cute little thing, with curly blonde hair and guileless blue eyes. She seemed so innocent, so young.
Hermione shuddered. Since when did someone in their twenties start looking young?
“We’re on approach,” the girl said with a solicitous smile, “and I need you to do up your belt.”
“Right.” Hermione reached for the belt and snapped it together. “Of course.”
The girl nodded toward the empty seat beside Hermione. “Your husband has been in the washroom for quite awhile. Do you think I should check on him?”
Hermione blinked. “Husband?” and then she realized the mistake and laughed. “Oh God, no. That man’s not my husband. I don’t even know his name. We just got to talking and realized we had some business interests in common.”
The stewardess, who's nametag read Sidney, straightened and Hermione followed her glance toward the first-class washroom stall.
“I think he’ll be fine,” offered Hermione. “He just had a little too much to drink.”
The flight attendant nodded. “I see. Well, I’ll check on him anyway.” She turned to go and then seemed to think better of it. “Is there anything I can get you before we land, Ms. Granger? A glass of water perhaps? It’s been a long flight and we left Paris very early.”
“No, thank you,” said Hermione, turning back to the window. “I’m fine.” She shook her head in self depreciation as the fight attendant left.
Who as she kidding? She wasn’t fine. Hadn’t been fine for almost two years now. She’d descended into hell two years ago, and had been struggling to fight her way out of it ever since. Her husband had betrayed her, had lied to her and used her, and it had taken her too long to figure out the full scope of his offenses. She’d wanted to believe in him, had wanted to believe in their marriage vows and the sanctity of that trust, but in the end all her illusions had been shattered.
The divorce had been final three months ago, and it had taken her almost that long to figure out it wasn’t enough. She’d hoped the finality of the divorce would help her put the whole revolting experience behind her, help her get on with her life. But int eh end she’d realized it wasn’t enough. She still had to see him every day at the Ministry, had to pretend to ignore the scathing gossip around the office. Had to watch him fawn all over his new wife. The ink hadn’t even been dry on the divorce papers before Philippe had married his mistress. Had announced they were having the baby Hermione had ached to have for years.
Bastard, she thought.
And so, she had left. Quit her job as the British ambassador to the French Ministry and run home. She needed the two best friends she had left behind seven years earlier, needed their love and support. Needed them to talk to and laugh with. Needed to share the experiences life had shown her since they’d parted, needed to share in their experiences as well.
Thanks to her hectic work schedule and antisocial husband, she hadn’t made many friends in Paris, in the city she’d wanted to call home. She’d decided to come back to England. Permanently.
As the airport runway grew closer she considered all those she’d left behind and wondered if they’d still be here waiting for her. She thought of all her old friends from Hogwarts, who she’d fought alongside in the war, and lost touch with afterwards. She thought of her parents and how much she missed them, and of their senseless deaths at the hands of Voldemort and his minions.
Her years at Hogwarts and the three years of the war were both the best and worst times in her life. She’d learned to be a witch, and had found two men who were her soul mates, but had left them behind to further her career. She’d promised to keep in touch with them when she’d moved to Paris, but she hadn’t kept that promise.
Her seatmate staggered back down the aisle and flopped into his seat. She tossed a wary glance his way to assure herself he wasn’t going to vomit or do something equally as offensive.
After she’d satisfied herself she was quite safe from her seatmate’s bodily fluids, Hermione returned to her thoughts.
Would Ron and Harry be glad to see her? Or would they be angry she hadn’t so much as sent an owl in all the time she’d lived in Paris?
Maybe she’d give herself a few days to get reacquainted with London, and with the British magical world. And then, when she was more comfortable, she’d look them up.
Yes, that was what she’d do, Hermione decided. She at least needed to let them know she was back in the country, and after that, it would be up to them if they wanted to reaffirm their friendship.
She would fortify herself with a snifter or two of forty year old cognac, and take the plunge.
These weren’t men to be taken lightly.
Harry tapped his quill on the blotted and stared outside at the sun-washed landscape. This was the best thing about working for the Ministry. All the “windows” in his office were charmed to show him any sight he wished to see. This week he’d chosen to look upon the rolling hills of Ireland. The bright green grass danced in the wind and several fluffy white sheep stood, grazing now and then. It was peaceful, and Harry often found himself staring out the window to calm down, when what he really wanted to do was wring Scrimgeour’s neck.
A flash of brown caught Harry’s eye and he managed to make out a thoroughbred stallion streaking across the hills, a study in grace, strength and beauty. Horses were a particular favorite of Harry’s, though they didn’t have the power and magesty of Hippogriff’s or even Centaurs, they were certainly easier to tame and easier to ride. He himself kept three at the Potter family estate.
“Mr. Potter, Sir,” said a voice from the doorway.
“Yeah, Colin?” he asked, tamping down his irritation. Colin was Harry’s administrative assistant, but Harry really wished the younger man would refrain from from calling him sir. They’d gone to school together, and had indulged in a weekend affair years earlier, before Harry had committed himself to Ron. Colin’s calling Harry “Sir” was not only ridiculous, but insulting.
Since Colin was fairly new to his position, having been with Harry for just under a month, Harry was willing to give Colin time to become comfortable.
“Minister Scrimgeour has requested a meeting with you this afternoon. Are you free?”
Harry frowned, and glanced that stack of paperwork on his desk. His job as director of the Muggle Relations and Magical History department at the Ministry sounded much simpler than it was. The MRMH department had been Harry’s brain-child, a result of his own shock at suddenly being told he was a Wizard, and having to rely on Ron’s Pureblood knowledge and Hermione’s book knowledge for everything he knew about the Wizarding world.
Over the seven years since the Second War with Voldemort had ended, Harry had lobbied long and hard for Muggleborn Wizards to be made aware of the Magical world at the time of their first incident of Accidental Magic. He’d cajoled, and bullied and played on his fame until a second school had been established, where Muggleborns and their familes could learn about the Magical World and become comfortable with the history and customs of the world in which their children would be educated. At the same time, he’d pushed through legislation that required all Pure and Half-blood students be educated in Muggle Studies before starting school.
The programs were entering the fifth year of their conception, and so far, there had been only a few major problems. The largest of which was the current Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. Scrimgeour had never fully forgiven Harry for proclaiming himself Dumbledore’s man and refusing to be a pawn of the Ministry in the fight against Voldemort.
“Mr. Potter?” Colin asked again. “Are you free for the Minister?”
“Colin, please consider calling me Harry. We’re friends, as well as co-workers, and I think we’re beyond surnames at this point.” Harry pulled open his personal organizer and consulted his schedule. It was, as he had already known; open for the rest of the afternoon, in anticipation of catching up on paperwork and perhaps inviting Ron over for a…meeting. But, if he wanted to push through his new bill for non-magical werewolf rights, he needed to keep the minister placated. “Let Scrimgeour know I have an hour between two and three today, if that’s convenient for him.”
“Thank you, sir…er Harry. I’ll let him know.” Colin gave an awkward half bow and backed out of the room.
Harry shook his head in discouragement. Colin was bowing, now? What was next, genuflection down on one knee?
Turning his attention to the files on his desk, he missed the flare of the fireplace and was taken by surprise when a tentative female voice called out, “Harry? Harry Potter, are you there?”
Harry blinked. That voice. There was something familiar about it, but…”Yes, I’m here. Who’s calling?”
“Harry! I can’t believe I actually caught you! It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“I’m sorry, but you seem to have me at a disadvantage.” Harry stood from his desk and walked over to the fireplace. “Should I know you?”
The woman laughed, a light and breezy sound that tumbled out of the hearth and sent Harry back in time seven years. “Oh honestly!” she said. “Hold on, let me put my head through.”
Harry watched in anticipation as a head bobbed in his fireplace. The bushy hair, the slightly off-center mouth was exactly as he had remembered. “Hermione!”
“Hi, Harry.” Even through the flames, Harry could see the faint apprehension in Hermione’s hazel eyes.
“Hermione, it’s so great to hear you, to see you. How’ve you been?”
Hermione gave a slight laugh, not nearly as airy as her last. “I’m fine. I’m back in England, you know.”
“Really? How long?”
“Just a few days. I’ve been visiting my parents.” She was silent for a moment. “I wanted to thank you for the flowers. They were very beautiful.”
“It was Ron’s idea. He went every year. We both did.” Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been killed shortly after Hermione’s 18th birthday. Harry Ron and Hermione had been in Germany at the time, searching for Horcruxes.
Hermione sniffled and Harry knew she was blinking back tears. He knew more than anyone that you never really got over losing your parents. “Thank you.”
“So, France didn’t agree with you?”
“No, it did. For awhile. But I needed to come home. Sometimes home is the best place to be, after all.”
Harry hesitated to break the silence that followed. “So, what’s going on, Hermione? What brings you back to the land of bangers and mash?”
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got the rest of my life.”
She laughed again, and he was glad. “Well, it’s too long to discuss on a Fire Call. How about we meet for tea or something.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t Ron and I take you out to dinner? Where are you staying?”
“I’m at a little bed and breakfast, near the Leaky Cauldron, but not in the Wizarding district. It’s a charming place really, and near enough to Diagon Alley, should I wish to venture there.”
“Wonderful. Neville and Seamus run a great little pub in Diagon Alley, fancier than the Leaky Cauldron, but still casual. They have the best—“
“Actually, I’d rather go someplace Muggle, if it was alright with you and Ron. I don’t know as I’m ready to see everyone quite yet. I don’t need anything fancy, fish and chips will do.”
He smiled. He would have loved to treat her to something special, but knew better than to argue. This was one woman who knew what she wanted, and had never bothered to hide it. “Fine, it’s a date. We’ll meet you there, say at seven?”
“Great.”
“Good, I—“
“Oh, and you’re welcome to bring Ginny, if you’d like. I’d love to see her!”
“Ginny? Why would you bring her up?”
Hermione glanced down at his finger, where the simple gold band silently proclaimed his married status. “So, seven?”
Harry nodded; too shocked to correct her assumption that he’d married Ginny, of all people. Luna would have his balls if he’d ever even thought about it. But Hermione couldn’t know that.
“Wonderful. I can’t wait to see you all! Good-bye!” Hermione’s head disappeared from the flames, and left Harry still staring wide eyed at the empty space.
Harry tossed a glance at Ron’s picture perched discreetly on a shelf in the corner. Picture Ron glared in his direction and stomped angrily out of the frame. “We’ll tell her tonight,” Harry said to the photograph. Picture Ron’s hand appeared and flashed the two fingered salute in his direction. “God, you’re such a drama queen,” Harry grumbled. But he knew Real Ron would be more understanding than Picture Ron. Afterall, Picture Ron was just that—a picture. And Real Ron could reason and debate where Picture Ron could just communicate with rude gestures, and the occasional wink.
Harry shook his head and turned his thoughts to Hermione. Good, old Hermione. The smartest, most powerful witch of their generation. And the loveliest. Although her hair was bushy and a non-descript shade of brown, and her features were a little too off-center to be considered classically beautiful, Hermione had always shone with an inner brilliance that had drawn people to her like a moth to a flame. She was beautiful from the inside out, self-assured and ambitious. She was the best of them. Always had been.
He could alredy imagine Ron’s reaction to the news. A huge smile would spread across his face and his jaw would drop open. And then he would say two little words.
And those words would be, “Bloody brilliant!”
Sneak Peak of Next Week’s installment:
Ron sat back in his chair and watched her. She was smiling and laughing now, no doubt thanks to his and Harry’s banter and antics. They’d very deliberately not asked her about the outburst, focusing instead on more happy topics.
Ron had related some of his more spectacular moves as Keeper for the Chudley Canons, and Harry had her laughing over some of Scrimgeour’s more ridiculous actions as Minister. They’d told her about Neville and Seamus’ shocking romance, and Dean’s wife and children. No mention was made of the War, or of their Hogwart’s days.
Harry hadn’t yet told her he wasn’t married to Ginny, and was in fact, involved with Ron. They’d agreed to wait until after dinner to make that announcement. They only hoped their relationship wouldn’t cause her to rethink rekindling their friendship. They’d both missed Hermione terribly, and wanted her in their lives.
But they wouldn’t give each other up for her. That wasn’t in the cards.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 04:59 am (UTC)"She thought of her parents, who had retired years ago and had decided to travel the world. They’d come to Paris for a few days every year, but Hermione had always been too busy with work for more than a quick dinner."
"Mr. and Mrs. Granger had been killed shortly after Hermione’s 18th birthday."
Are they dead or retired?
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 04:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 05:37 am (UTC)Can't wait for next week.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 04:32 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 05:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-16 11:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-17 07:15 am (UTC)And I've started reading your other one...Fate's Follies...I think. Anyway, it's great. I really like your stuff. *grin* Can't wait for more.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-17 03:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-19 04:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-19 01:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-20 11:36 pm (UTC)absolutely! it's soooo friggin annoying!
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Date: 2006-08-19 08:17 am (UTC)This was great, I loved Hermione’s introspection on the plane, and when it turned out she didn’t know about Ron and Harry I laughed out loud, despite it being 4.a.m and nearly waking everyone on my house.
oh, and I really loved picture Ron, very funny.
One question:
"The stewardess straightened and Sidney followed her glance toward the first-class washroom stall."
Who’s Sidney? Is that a typo or did I miss something?
Really looking forward to the next chapter!!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-19 01:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-25 12:28 am (UTC)I don't know if the boys would be so forgiving right away if she hasn't contacted them at all in that long of a time.
But I totally agree about the soulmate thing--I have this personal fascination with the whole concept. She's really lucky to have found two! ;)
Going on to read the next part...