[HP Spring Fling 2011] A Muggleborn in France - A gift for cinnamonselkie
Title: A Muggleborn in France
Author: purple_ladybug1
Recipient: cinnamonselkie
Pairing(s): implied Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1678
Warnings: None
Summary: Hermione takes time to rediscover herself. Her friends are less than pleased.
Author's Notes: Big thanks to the mods for working with me! Cinnamonselkie, I hope you like it. I enjoyed the challenge of getting all your prompts in. Finally, translations are at the end of the story.
Wring. Rinse. Wring. Rinse again. Shake out. Hang up. Repeat.
A loose tendril of hair fell in her face, blocking her vision, and Hermione attempted to blow it out of her eyes. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her laundry back in her tub, dried her hands on her towel, and tied her hair up yet again. Usually she felt fairly readjusted to living without magic, but she hated hand-washing all her clothes. Her tiny French apartment did not include a washer or dryer, and the laundromat down the street charged an obscene four euros to wash a tiny load of laundry. Hence the dreaded chore of hand-washing everything.
Her hair once again out of her face, Hermione quickly finished washing the rest of her socks and knickers. She yawned widely, tired from a long day of teaching, and reached her hands up over her head, stretching out the kinks in her back from leaning over the tub.
Pop! Someone had apparated into her apartment!
Despite the war having been over for several years, Hermione never lost the caution she had learned fighting alongside Harry and Ron. Immediately her wand was in her hand, her back was against the wall, and her senses were on high alert. Slowly she crept down the hallway towards the kitchen where she could hear someone muttering.
“Expelliarmus!” she shouted, ambushing the intruder. The stranger’s wand flew at Hermione, who caught it neatly in her left arm. Her own wand steadily pointed, she demanded, “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“Bloody hell, Hermione!” a familiar voice responded from within a dark hood. “After all the work I did to track you down, this was not the welcome I expected.”
Only her training stopped Hermione from lowering her wand in surprise. Could it be…? But she had to be sure. Even post-war, one could never be too careful.
“Why did you send Harry a singing Valentine your first year?”
“What? You know that wasn’t me! That was Fred and George!” She lowered the hood on her cloak, fiddling with the fastener. “When did you first admit you liked Ron?”
Hermione smiled at her best friend. “At Grimmauld Place, before my fifth year and your fourth year.” Ginny grinned back, and then suddenly, both girls were embracing.
Hermione thought back to the last time she’d seen Ginny. The last time she’d seen anyone from the wizarding world. The last time she’d even been in the UK.
“I’m leaving,” she had announced without any preamble.
Ginny had looked up from the letter she was writing, probably to Harry while he was on a field assignment. “You just got here.”
Hermione had shaken her head. “I mean, I’m leaving London. I need a break from it all. I’ve forgotten who I am besides a war hero, an activist, and whatever other title The Daily Prophet likes to use.”
Ginny had nodded in understanding. “A holiday would do you some good. How much time were you able to get off from the Ministry?”
Hermione had smiled sadly. “I’m not taking a holiday, Ginny. I’m taking an indefinite leave-of-absence.”
“Will you at least tell me where you’re going?”
“I’m sorry, Ginny. I just need to get away from it all. I need to clear my head. And I need to do it alone. I just came to say good-bye and…” she had hesitated. “And to leave these letters with you. Will you give them to Ron and Harry for me?”
Ginny had accepted them wordlessly, not really understanding, but trusting her friend’s judgment. The girls had hugged good-bye, and then Hermione had left, willing herself not to look back.
That had been six months ago. Since then, no one else had hugged Hermione. She would faire les bises with her French friends, but it wasn’t the same. “It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, finally pulling away from the smaller girl.
“It’s good to see you too,” Ginny replied, crossing her arms across her chest. “But I’m not the one who left all her friends behind, without any indication of where I was going.”
Hermione grimaced at her honesty. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just really needed this.” She wrung her hands nervously. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Without waiting for an answer, Hermione filled her electric tea kettle with water and set it to boil. She couldn’t look Ginny in the eye, so she continued to bustle around the kitchen, finding mugs and tea bags and a packet of biscuits. Ginny watched with grudging interest as Hermione prepared everything without magic.
Once the two witches were settled at the small rickety table in Hermione’s kitchen, Ginny spoke. “So what have you been doing, exactly? Finding you wasn’t easy, by the way.”
Hermione blew on her tea, hiding a smile. “That was sort of the point, Ginny.” She took a sip, thinking of what to say. When the French asked her the same question, the answer was quite simple. “Je suis assistante d’anglais.” But she knew that Ginny was interested in more than just her job title. “I’ve been reconnecting with my Muggle roots,” she said finally.
“In France?” Ginny’s tone was dubious.
Hermione laughed. “Yes, in France! I loved traveling here with my parents when I was in school, and I already spoke a bit of French. It seemed like the perfect escape.”
“There are translation charms, you know.”
Hermione gave a little half-shrug, a gesture she had picked up in recent months. “But that would defeat the purpose of living like a Muggle. I always have my wand on me for protection, but I haven’t used it since I moved here in September. Besides, it’s been a wonderful intellectual challenge to learn a new language!”
“Why am I not surprised?” Ginny said with a grin. “But seriously. Why couldn’t you just live with your parents for awhile or something?”
Hermione struggled to find the right words. “I think I just wanted to get away from everyone who knows me as a witch. Everyone who knows me as a war hero. Everyone who knows me as one of Harry’s best friends. And moving to a small town in France just seemed like an easy way to do it.” She sighed happily. “I had no idea I would love it so much! I thought I was just escaping the wizarding world, taking some time to reevaluate my life. But, Ginny, honestly, I love living in France. I love the people. I love the culture. I love the food.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I love the wine.”
“Hermione Jean Granger!” Ginny said in mock outrage. “Don’t tell me you’ve become a lush!”
Hermione shook her head, laughing. “No, no, but I do enjoy a glass of Bordeaux with dinner every night.”
Hermione painted her a picture of the cultural landscape of France. She described all the châteaux: Versailles, overwhelming and extravagant; Vaux le Vicomte, elegant and simple; Carcassonne, imposing and secure; the Loire Valley, all beautiful and romantic. She confessed to knowing little about art, but to learning to appreciate the quality and quantity that France’s many museums had to offer. “But the Mona Lisa is a bit overrated.” Her eating habits had changed. Lunch generally consisted of bread, cheese, and olives. She ate dinner later in the evening and usually just had a yoghurt for dessert. “But I still prefer tea to coffee,” she clarified quickly. Cooking the Muggle way had been a bit of a struggle at first too, but now she was fairly comfortable in the kitchen. Her eyes lit up as she described her students, mostly teenagers in their final three years of school. She smiled guiltily as she explained all the lies she had had to tell her students and her colleagues about her life in England. “They think I’m in uni, studying international affairs.”
The more Hermione talked, the more Ginny sensed something very different about her best friend. She was smiling more, laughing more. Her hair was lighter, and her skin was darker. Her posture was relaxed, and her eyes sparkled. Ginny’s eyes widened and her heart lightened as she realized the change in Hermione.
She was happy. She was calm. She had slowed down to smell the roses and had discovered how beautiful life could be.
Hermione took a deep breath, pausing in her monologue, and Ginny jumped on the chance to interrupt. “You’ve learned how to be happy, haven’t you,” she asked softly, already knowing the answer.
Hermione surprised Ginny by jumping up and pulling the smaller girl into a hug. When she finally released Ginny, there were tears brimming in Hermione’s eyes. “This is the first time in so long that I’ve done something for myself, something just for me, and it’s been the most freeing experience. Yes, Ginny, I’ve learned how to be happy.” She took Ginny’s hands in her own. “I’m just so glad you understand.”
Ginny thought about everything she had planned on telling Hermione. About how upset Harry and Ron had both been when she had left. About how much time she had spent looking for Hermione. About how much they all missed her and wanted her back.
Standing in front of Hermione, though, she did understand. She was no longer hurt or angry. “Do you promise to come back once you finish teaching?” Hermione nodded. “Then your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone else I found you. Everyone will still be upset with you at first when you return, but I know they’ll come to see what I see.”
“Tu es la meilleure,” Hermione said with a grateful smile. “You’re the best, Ginny.”
“So how much French do you think you can teach me in a short amount of time? I still have a few hours until I’m cleared to apparate back to London.”
“You only really need to learn one phrase?”
“What’s that, then?” Ginny asked.
“Je t’aime,” Hermione smiled.
Ginny had never studied French before, but she understood perfectly. “I love you too.”
---
Translations:
faire les bises = the French way of kissing on both cheeks instead of shaking hands or hugging.
Je suis assistante d’anglais = I am an English teaching assistant.
Tu es la meilleure = You are the best.
Je t’aime = I love you.
Don't forget to leave a comment for our writer! :-D ( Comment Policy)
Author: purple_ladybug1
Recipient: cinnamonselkie
Pairing(s): implied Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1678
Warnings: None
Summary: Hermione takes time to rediscover herself. Her friends are less than pleased.
Author's Notes: Big thanks to the mods for working with me! Cinnamonselkie, I hope you like it. I enjoyed the challenge of getting all your prompts in. Finally, translations are at the end of the story.
Wring. Rinse. Wring. Rinse again. Shake out. Hang up. Repeat.
A loose tendril of hair fell in her face, blocking her vision, and Hermione attempted to blow it out of her eyes. With a frustrated sigh, she dropped her laundry back in her tub, dried her hands on her towel, and tied her hair up yet again. Usually she felt fairly readjusted to living without magic, but she hated hand-washing all her clothes. Her tiny French apartment did not include a washer or dryer, and the laundromat down the street charged an obscene four euros to wash a tiny load of laundry. Hence the dreaded chore of hand-washing everything.
Her hair once again out of her face, Hermione quickly finished washing the rest of her socks and knickers. She yawned widely, tired from a long day of teaching, and reached her hands up over her head, stretching out the kinks in her back from leaning over the tub.
Pop! Someone had apparated into her apartment!
Despite the war having been over for several years, Hermione never lost the caution she had learned fighting alongside Harry and Ron. Immediately her wand was in her hand, her back was against the wall, and her senses were on high alert. Slowly she crept down the hallway towards the kitchen where she could hear someone muttering.
“Expelliarmus!” she shouted, ambushing the intruder. The stranger’s wand flew at Hermione, who caught it neatly in her left arm. Her own wand steadily pointed, she demanded, “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
“Bloody hell, Hermione!” a familiar voice responded from within a dark hood. “After all the work I did to track you down, this was not the welcome I expected.”
Only her training stopped Hermione from lowering her wand in surprise. Could it be…? But she had to be sure. Even post-war, one could never be too careful.
“Why did you send Harry a singing Valentine your first year?”
“What? You know that wasn’t me! That was Fred and George!” She lowered the hood on her cloak, fiddling with the fastener. “When did you first admit you liked Ron?”
Hermione smiled at her best friend. “At Grimmauld Place, before my fifth year and your fourth year.” Ginny grinned back, and then suddenly, both girls were embracing.
Hermione thought back to the last time she’d seen Ginny. The last time she’d seen anyone from the wizarding world. The last time she’d even been in the UK.
“I’m leaving,” she had announced without any preamble.
Ginny had looked up from the letter she was writing, probably to Harry while he was on a field assignment. “You just got here.”
Hermione had shaken her head. “I mean, I’m leaving London. I need a break from it all. I’ve forgotten who I am besides a war hero, an activist, and whatever other title The Daily Prophet likes to use.”
Ginny had nodded in understanding. “A holiday would do you some good. How much time were you able to get off from the Ministry?”
Hermione had smiled sadly. “I’m not taking a holiday, Ginny. I’m taking an indefinite leave-of-absence.”
“Will you at least tell me where you’re going?”
“I’m sorry, Ginny. I just need to get away from it all. I need to clear my head. And I need to do it alone. I just came to say good-bye and…” she had hesitated. “And to leave these letters with you. Will you give them to Ron and Harry for me?”
Ginny had accepted them wordlessly, not really understanding, but trusting her friend’s judgment. The girls had hugged good-bye, and then Hermione had left, willing herself not to look back.
That had been six months ago. Since then, no one else had hugged Hermione. She would faire les bises with her French friends, but it wasn’t the same. “It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, finally pulling away from the smaller girl.
“It’s good to see you too,” Ginny replied, crossing her arms across her chest. “But I’m not the one who left all her friends behind, without any indication of where I was going.”
Hermione grimaced at her honesty. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just really needed this.” She wrung her hands nervously. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Without waiting for an answer, Hermione filled her electric tea kettle with water and set it to boil. She couldn’t look Ginny in the eye, so she continued to bustle around the kitchen, finding mugs and tea bags and a packet of biscuits. Ginny watched with grudging interest as Hermione prepared everything without magic.
Once the two witches were settled at the small rickety table in Hermione’s kitchen, Ginny spoke. “So what have you been doing, exactly? Finding you wasn’t easy, by the way.”
Hermione blew on her tea, hiding a smile. “That was sort of the point, Ginny.” She took a sip, thinking of what to say. When the French asked her the same question, the answer was quite simple. “Je suis assistante d’anglais.” But she knew that Ginny was interested in more than just her job title. “I’ve been reconnecting with my Muggle roots,” she said finally.
“In France?” Ginny’s tone was dubious.
Hermione laughed. “Yes, in France! I loved traveling here with my parents when I was in school, and I already spoke a bit of French. It seemed like the perfect escape.”
“There are translation charms, you know.”
Hermione gave a little half-shrug, a gesture she had picked up in recent months. “But that would defeat the purpose of living like a Muggle. I always have my wand on me for protection, but I haven’t used it since I moved here in September. Besides, it’s been a wonderful intellectual challenge to learn a new language!”
“Why am I not surprised?” Ginny said with a grin. “But seriously. Why couldn’t you just live with your parents for awhile or something?”
Hermione struggled to find the right words. “I think I just wanted to get away from everyone who knows me as a witch. Everyone who knows me as a war hero. Everyone who knows me as one of Harry’s best friends. And moving to a small town in France just seemed like an easy way to do it.” She sighed happily. “I had no idea I would love it so much! I thought I was just escaping the wizarding world, taking some time to reevaluate my life. But, Ginny, honestly, I love living in France. I love the people. I love the culture. I love the food.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I love the wine.”
“Hermione Jean Granger!” Ginny said in mock outrage. “Don’t tell me you’ve become a lush!”
Hermione shook her head, laughing. “No, no, but I do enjoy a glass of Bordeaux with dinner every night.”
Hermione painted her a picture of the cultural landscape of France. She described all the châteaux: Versailles, overwhelming and extravagant; Vaux le Vicomte, elegant and simple; Carcassonne, imposing and secure; the Loire Valley, all beautiful and romantic. She confessed to knowing little about art, but to learning to appreciate the quality and quantity that France’s many museums had to offer. “But the Mona Lisa is a bit overrated.” Her eating habits had changed. Lunch generally consisted of bread, cheese, and olives. She ate dinner later in the evening and usually just had a yoghurt for dessert. “But I still prefer tea to coffee,” she clarified quickly. Cooking the Muggle way had been a bit of a struggle at first too, but now she was fairly comfortable in the kitchen. Her eyes lit up as she described her students, mostly teenagers in their final three years of school. She smiled guiltily as she explained all the lies she had had to tell her students and her colleagues about her life in England. “They think I’m in uni, studying international affairs.”
The more Hermione talked, the more Ginny sensed something very different about her best friend. She was smiling more, laughing more. Her hair was lighter, and her skin was darker. Her posture was relaxed, and her eyes sparkled. Ginny’s eyes widened and her heart lightened as she realized the change in Hermione.
She was happy. She was calm. She had slowed down to smell the roses and had discovered how beautiful life could be.
Hermione took a deep breath, pausing in her monologue, and Ginny jumped on the chance to interrupt. “You’ve learned how to be happy, haven’t you,” she asked softly, already knowing the answer.
Hermione surprised Ginny by jumping up and pulling the smaller girl into a hug. When she finally released Ginny, there were tears brimming in Hermione’s eyes. “This is the first time in so long that I’ve done something for myself, something just for me, and it’s been the most freeing experience. Yes, Ginny, I’ve learned how to be happy.” She took Ginny’s hands in her own. “I’m just so glad you understand.”
Ginny thought about everything she had planned on telling Hermione. About how upset Harry and Ron had both been when she had left. About how much time she had spent looking for Hermione. About how much they all missed her and wanted her back.
Standing in front of Hermione, though, she did understand. She was no longer hurt or angry. “Do you promise to come back once you finish teaching?” Hermione nodded. “Then your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell anyone else I found you. Everyone will still be upset with you at first when you return, but I know they’ll come to see what I see.”
“Tu es la meilleure,” Hermione said with a grateful smile. “You’re the best, Ginny.”
“So how much French do you think you can teach me in a short amount of time? I still have a few hours until I’m cleared to apparate back to London.”
“You only really need to learn one phrase?”
“What’s that, then?” Ginny asked.
“Je t’aime,” Hermione smiled.
Ginny had never studied French before, but she understood perfectly. “I love you too.”
---
Translations:
faire les bises = the French way of kissing on both cheeks instead of shaking hands or hugging.
Je suis assistante d’anglais = I am an English teaching assistant.
Tu es la meilleure = You are the best.
Je t’aime = I love you.
Don't forget to leave a comment for our writer! :-D ( Comment Policy)