The Dangers of Hermione Granger

Hermione Granger believed herself difficult to surprise.  After nearly ten years of being best friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, not to mention countless duels and an entire year of fleeing from the Death Eaters, she thought she had seen it all.

She realized just how wrong she was in mid-September, when she stumbled upon a most unwelcome sight.

Only one key to her flat existed, and her mother held that safely in case of emergencies.  Her parents, however, were on a vacation to Australia and wouldn’t be home for another day or so.  A few more people knew the password to get through the protective barrier that kept it safe from magical hands, but all of them were supposedly busy: Ginny was at a training week with the other Harpies and Harry and Ron were still on the same Auror mission they’d been on for months.

The fact that Hermione could account for every single person with access to her flat didn’t sit with the fact that someone had been inside it.  The blanket on her couch had been shifted.  One of her lampshades was tilted.  A dirty footstep marred her carpet.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sakes,” she grumbled, throwing her bag on her coffee table and setting about searching the apartment, wand at the ready.  A silent homenum revelio proved fruitless, so she began the search for clues on foot.

Picture frames were skewed sideways all down the hall, and she stopped to straighten the photo of Ron that was nearly off its hook.  Her bathroom door stood at a different angle.  The books on her bedroom’s bookcase were in utter disarray.  A single book sat on her pillow, one that she had never owned, and she bristled at the sight of it.  “The Dangers of Hermione Granger!  How did that Skeeter woman’s book get in here?!”  She tried to Vanish it, but the only response she got was a cheeky wink from her own portrait.  She tried light it on fire with similar results, and banishing it through her window got her two broken panes as it crashed right back through to land on her pillow again.  Her eyes filled with bitter tears and her chin wobbled in frustration as she tried every charm, spell, jinx, and hex she could think of.  Nothing worked.

Obviously, some witch or wizard with a grudge or a terrible sense of humor had somehow gotten access to her home, and whoever it was had serious magical ability.  She thought about calling the Aurors, but as nothing seemed to be missing and there was no sign of an intruder still present, she simply repaired her window, strengthened the wards set about the premises, and set about making dinner, trying her best to ignore the book.  Surely she would be able to come up with some way to rid herself of the book once she had some sustenance.

Nothing came to her during her sandwich, nor during her slice of treacle tart.  Even a strong, post-meal coffee did nothing to bring her rattled mind to a suitable conclusion.  It was with much disdain for her problem-solving abilities that she returned to her bedroom an hour later, glaring venomously at the book.

“Now look here,” she chided herself.  “It’s just a book.  It can’t hurt you.  Just put it in the back of your closet and forget about it.”

The moment her hand touched the book, it flipped open to the table of contents.  Whoever had placed it there had obviously charmed it to respond to her touch.  Hermione furrowed her brow as she scanned the sections of the book.

For such a thick volume, it was surprisingly sparse in content.  “Section I: Dangerously Granger Past; Section II: Presently Dangerous Granger; Section III: Endangered Granger Future.  What in the bloody…”

She flipped to the first section, only to discover it full of her past exploits bathed in a badly-written but basically positive light.  Watching Harry and Ron defeat a troll, turning into a cat, dancing with Krum, punching Ron upon his reappearance at the tent…every big moment in her life seemed to be expounded upon.

The second section was only a few pages long, and a quick scan identified it as an exploration of her current position in life.  Her job, her friends, her family, how she felt about all of them…it was all here, in more detail than should have been possible.  It was apparent that this particular copy of The Dangers of Hermione Granger was not written by Rita Skeeter, who didn’t know a thing about Hermione and certainly would never have written of her in such glowing terms as “genius”, “beautiful”, or “loving”.

When she turned the final page of the section, her fingers slid over the next section’s title.  Something hooked her navel and tugged her forward, and she fell screaming through what she knew to be a well-charmed Portkey.  She was in total darkness when she landed, and her chest filled with the certainty that the darkness was not empty.

“’bout bloody time you got here,” said a familiar voice.  A wand lit in front of her to reveal Ron’s smiling face.  “I was beginning to wonder if you’d managed to outsmart our charms on that book.”

She squealed and threw herself at him, reveling in the feeling of her arms around his neck.  “When did you get back?!”

“Earlier today.  We’ve been tying up loose ends up in Ireland for the last few days, but we’re back home for a while.”  He leaned down to kiss her, and she returned the favor for a moment before a thought struck her and she pulled back.

“What’s going on, Ron?”

He grinned and flourished his wand.  The darkness was illuminated by every lamp and candle in the Burrow’s living room, and people on all sides clapped and laughed.  “Happy Birthday, ‘mione.”

“Wh-what?”  She laughed and buried her face in Ron’s chest.  “I completely forgot the date!”

“But what would your birthday be without presents?”  Ron took the book from her hands and stepped back a bit.

“Well, the book’s a nice gift, but I think just having you home again is good enough.”  She looked around until she spotted a familiar head of black hair and laughed again.  “Both of you.  I’m glad you’re safe.”

Harry grinned, and Ginny chuckled from beside him.  “They’ve known they’ll be home for a month now.  Keeping this secret was so hard, honestly, especially during our missing-man-moping sessions.”

“A month?  And all of you knew!”  She rolled her eyes as nine heads bobbed up and down.  Teddy and Victoire giggled loudly from their playpen as she turned back to Ron.  “And I suppose you had some help getting all the proper charms cast on that book?”

“Bill and Percy know nearly as much about Charm theory as you do, and George’s pranking abilities came in really handy,” he said.  “In fact, you haven’t even seen everything this book can do.”  He opened it to the last section and wiped his thumb over the title.  The blank page fell open right down the middle, and he knelt before her with a loving grin.  She threw her hands over her mouth as he began to speak again.  “Hermione Jean Granger, you’ve been one of my best friends since we were first years, and I’m not sure when I fell in love with you, but it can’t have been too long after that.  I know I was a bit stupid about everything for a while there, but I think I’ve got it straightened out.  In fact, I’m looking to endanger your family’s surname by replacing yours with Weasley.  Hermione, will you marry me?”

Everyone laughed at the line about endangering her name, including Hermione.  She was still giggling when she nodded yes, and everyone clapped and whooped as Ron produced a ring from the book and slid it onto her finger.  She knelt down to his level and kissed him as soon as it was in place, the cheers fading into the background as he became the center of her world.

Ron had certainly disproved Hermione Granger’s belief that she was difficult to surprise.

As she and Ron broke apart only to kiss once more, she fleetingly wondered if Hermione Weasley might be more so.