(Untitled)

[madeofstories]

In the rec room today, there's a girl who has seemingly settled in for the long haul. Her shoes, dainty ballet flats, are neatly beside each other on the floor near the sofa, and she's folded her legs underneath her, hidden under her skirt. She's got several bowls of fruit next to her, a few sandwiches she's grabbed from the kitchen, and she's

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[honestlyrubbish]

Even though the memories are so faint that Hermione wonders if they're true at all, she knows this much: as a toddler who hadn't even reached the age of two, she had watched Princess Diana's wedding avidly from her parents' television screen. Dresses, to a child so young, were nothing more than pretty patterns and flowing movement, but still she had loved them, had loved the flowers that she watched cross her screen, had gathered up as many white linens as she could in the house and draped them over herself, dragging a long train behind her in the house for days to come. She had watched the recorded ceremony in the years following, of course, but there was never anything quite as magical as watching a royal wedding for the first time.

So when it quickly becomes clear, after a few seconds, that the projector is showing another royal wedding, one from an entire generation later, Hermione can't help but gasp quietly, quickly rounding the sofa and seating herself slowly down.

"Oh, Merlin," she breathes. "Is this Prince William's wedding

[madeofstories]

It still hasn't gotten old, the fact that she can be doing something as ordinary as sitting round, watching reels of BBC coverage and it's possible for Hermione Granger to come and sit down next to her. It's one of the more amazing things about the island and she's certain that the novelty of it will still manage to brighten her day even if she's stuck there for several years, like some people have been.

"It is," Grace answers, with a bright grin in Hermione's direction, "I was sorry I'd missed it back home, but then the bookshelf just happened to have reels and reels of it."

Of course, it's nothing when compared to the fact that she might have been able to go to London to try and get a glimpse of it all in person. That is, if she could manage to get away without her parents knowing. And if Mini or Liv would have gone along with her.

[honestlyrubbish]

Although Hermione herself never quite fell victim to the nation's obsession with Prince William in recent years, she'd certainly seen pictures floating about among the younger years before leaving Hogwarts. And it wasn't hard to see why- there's a certain charm that the older brother carries himself with, the type that leaves girls hoping to be swept off her feet. (He leaves a similar sort of impression as Cedric Diggory, perhaps. Benevolent, intelligent, talented.) Hermione chews her lower lip thoughtfully as she gets a closer look at him on the screen, shocked to see how much he's grown, and feeling her heartbeat quicken at all of it.

It's so romantic.

"Sometimes the clothes box and bookshelf do decide to be kind," she says quietly, thinking about her own interaction with the shelf. It hasn't been too fun of an experience on the whole. "But goodness, this is... William was only fifteen when I saw him in photographs. He's all grown now." Her gaze turns to Grace, expression slightly overwhelmed