New Story: "Beauty", Gryffindors#4
Title: Beauty
Claim: Gryffindors
Prompt: Beauty, Table#1
Rating: PG
Pairings: Ron/Lavender, future Ron/Hermione implied, Bill/Fleur mentioned
Summary: Hermione will do anything to get Ron..., written for hpfanfic10x10
Warnings: AU, post-war, character death, somewhat angsty
Word count: ~550
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
RF's note: All comments appreciated!
It was the last week of classes before the final exams.
The door to the Potions classroom slammed open as Snape strode in, robes billowing as ever.
“Beauty,” he started without preamble, glaring at his seventh year Slytherin-Gryffindor class, “is, as we know, entirely in the eyes of the beholder.”
He tapped the blackboard with his wand. “The potion you are making today, if activated, will make whoever drinks it think you are the most beautiful creature on earth. For no more and no less than a week.” His glare intensified. “Far be it from me to understand why such a substance made it to the N.E.W.T. curriculum and the antidote did not, for I shudder to think that its effects might help some of you brainless morons…” His eyes searched the crowd before him. “…procreate. Nevertheless, you have fifty minutes. Begin.”
In the back of the room, Hermione worked quickly and efficiently, though her heart was heavy. Her eyes filled with tears as she snuck a look at Ron. There was a maturity now to Ron’s posture. The war had not been easy on him, and losing his mother had quickly forced him to grow up. A scar ran down his left cheek, a reminder of the dangers he’d faced.
They were not as close as they had been during their first years at Hogwarts. They were drifting apart.
And Harry was dead, killed in his final mission. He defeated Voldemort, but in the process was lost. The cement holding Hermione and Ron together was no longer there.
She watched as Ron leaned over and kissed Lavender gently. After the initial excitement of teenage hormones had worn off, they had made steadfast companions through the dark times of the war. And during Harry’s funeral, Fleur had held Bill, and Lavender had held Ron. They were engaged to be married.
Hermione realized hot tears were now streaming down her face. She leaned over her cauldron, wondering where exactly her life had gone so horribly wrong. She counted as ten droplets of tears fell from her chin and into the shimmering substance. She watched as the potion turned clear. It had been activated.
Clamping down on the ever-growing sorrow she felt, she filled a vial with the clear substance. It held no smell and no texture, and was, all in all, indistinguishable from water. She transfigured the vial into a small bottle, only large enough for one gulp.
Harry had always said she and Ron were meant for each other, she remembered suddenly. He had always said Ron would come around. He'd been wrong.
Wiping her tears, Hermione straightened out. “I’m finished, Professor,” she called.
Snape strode over, took a glance at her cauldron. “Good work, Miss Granger,” he acknowledged grudgingly. After the war’s end, there was no need for him to play the excessively Slytherin bastard, and only his naturally snarky nature remained. “You may leave.”
As Snape turned away, Hermione surreptitiously sent a nonverbal spell toward Ron. The redhead looked up. “Merlin, I’m so thirsty! Does anyone have any water?”
Clenching her jaw, Hermione thrust the bottle into Ron’s hand, and stalked out of the room.
She would lose him forever after the potion wore off, she knew.
But without it, she would never get to have him at all.
----------------
Please click on the tag for more Gryffindor-centric stories!
Claim: Gryffindors
Prompt: Beauty, Table#1
Rating: PG
Pairings: Ron/Lavender, future Ron/Hermione implied, Bill/Fleur mentioned
Summary: Hermione will do anything to get Ron..., written for hpfanfic10x10
Warnings: AU, post-war, character death, somewhat angsty
Word count: ~550
Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
RF's note: All comments appreciated!
It was the last week of classes before the final exams.
The door to the Potions classroom slammed open as Snape strode in, robes billowing as ever.
“Beauty,” he started without preamble, glaring at his seventh year Slytherin-Gryffindor class, “is, as we know, entirely in the eyes of the beholder.”
He tapped the blackboard with his wand. “The potion you are making today, if activated, will make whoever drinks it think you are the most beautiful creature on earth. For no more and no less than a week.” His glare intensified. “Far be it from me to understand why such a substance made it to the N.E.W.T. curriculum and the antidote did not, for I shudder to think that its effects might help some of you brainless morons…” His eyes searched the crowd before him. “…procreate. Nevertheless, you have fifty minutes. Begin.”
In the back of the room, Hermione worked quickly and efficiently, though her heart was heavy. Her eyes filled with tears as she snuck a look at Ron. There was a maturity now to Ron’s posture. The war had not been easy on him, and losing his mother had quickly forced him to grow up. A scar ran down his left cheek, a reminder of the dangers he’d faced.
They were not as close as they had been during their first years at Hogwarts. They were drifting apart.
And Harry was dead, killed in his final mission. He defeated Voldemort, but in the process was lost. The cement holding Hermione and Ron together was no longer there.
She watched as Ron leaned over and kissed Lavender gently. After the initial excitement of teenage hormones had worn off, they had made steadfast companions through the dark times of the war. And during Harry’s funeral, Fleur had held Bill, and Lavender had held Ron. They were engaged to be married.
Hermione realized hot tears were now streaming down her face. She leaned over her cauldron, wondering where exactly her life had gone so horribly wrong. She counted as ten droplets of tears fell from her chin and into the shimmering substance. She watched as the potion turned clear. It had been activated.
Clamping down on the ever-growing sorrow she felt, she filled a vial with the clear substance. It held no smell and no texture, and was, all in all, indistinguishable from water. She transfigured the vial into a small bottle, only large enough for one gulp.
Harry had always said she and Ron were meant for each other, she remembered suddenly. He had always said Ron would come around. He'd been wrong.
Wiping her tears, Hermione straightened out. “I’m finished, Professor,” she called.
Snape strode over, took a glance at her cauldron. “Good work, Miss Granger,” he acknowledged grudgingly. After the war’s end, there was no need for him to play the excessively Slytherin bastard, and only his naturally snarky nature remained. “You may leave.”
As Snape turned away, Hermione surreptitiously sent a nonverbal spell toward Ron. The redhead looked up. “Merlin, I’m so thirsty! Does anyone have any water?”
Clenching her jaw, Hermione thrust the bottle into Ron’s hand, and stalked out of the room.
She would lose him forever after the potion wore off, she knew.
But without it, she would never get to have him at all.
----------------
Please click on the tag for more Gryffindor-centric stories!