Ballad for the Lost Romantics

BALLAD FOR THE LOST ROMANTICS

CHAPTER 14

It is with a surprisingly sentimental heart that I write these last words. No, you saw correctly, Dear Reader, it did indeed say 'last.' After a solid eight months of wistful, fanciful writing, This Author has decided to turn in her quill.

Although one Mr. Malfoy's challenge of uncovering my true identity was surely a catalyst for this retirement, the blame cannot (entirely) be placed upon that Slytherin's shoulders. Truthfully, the column has sadly grown wearisome of late, less fulfilling to write which implies that it would be less exciting to read. This Author needs change; which, one must admit, is not surprising. Eight months is a long time of writing about oneself.

And, quite frankly, the recent renewal of interest in This Author's identity is somewhat disturbing. The lure of the challenge and the prospect of the great prize has put friend against friend and brothers against sisters- something that completely contradicts This Author's reasons for starting the articles in the first place. Indeed, the column had started because it sounded as if it would be something fun to do; something that would take up my spare time and allow This Author to vent on some things that, under normal circumstances, I most definitely would not have shared with a soul. It was an escape of sorts; the only way I could freely voice my opinions and love freely without worrying about the consequences it might have on my pristine, perfect image.

Certainly, This Author had never intended for her articles to be such the smashing hit they have become. I had never dreamed that they would not only run amuck within Hogwarts, but also spark the interest of the Wizarding World as a whole. But ignite a spark they did, a spark that only grew into a raging fire that hungrily swept across the Wizarding Nation.

But alas, Dear Reader, as most Muggles so eloquently say: 'All good things must come to an end.' It's sad, but in this particular case, entirely true.

But, before this rather distinctive column can come to a complete close, there is still the matter of the quest for This Author's identity to address. I am well aware that my retiring will most certainly not quench this ridiculous need to find out my true name. What's in a name, after all? It's just another word that serves as a label, but, since it is so apparently interesting to you all, I suppose the least that I can do is answer the two questions that have plagued most of Hogwarts for the past eight months: What is Lady Rowena's true identity and who is this man she writes about?

The answers, Dear Reader, are Hermione Granger and Oliver Wood.

I sincerely hope that this satisfies your curiosity and settles Mr. Malfoy's bet (I shall be expecting the 100 galleons within the week, by the bye).

So, I bid you adieu, Dear Hogwarts! I shall cherish the memory of your sure-to-be shocked faces as you read this last article of mine forever in my heart of hearts; This Author is, after all, a very sentimental person.

Lady Rowena's Ballad for the Lost Romantics

~*~

And cherish them, my dear friends, I most certainly did.

Ginny was taking turns between grinning maddeningly and then shooting hell-hath-no-fury-like-a-woman's-scorn glares at Harry and Ron. Parvati looked at me, positively green with envy, while Lavender looked as if she might faint as she cautiously moved towards Parvati with a timid smile. Harry and Ron were practically beside themselves in horror at the thought of their 'ickle Mione-Moe' being so deeply in love with a Quidditch super-star. Draco Malfoy, astonishingly, came over and paid me my one-hundred galleons with a look of grudging respect.

Basically, if I hadn't known any better, I could have sworn that Monty Python's flying circus had paid Hogwarts a visit (I'm sure all of my Muggle-born friends are laughing with me, and Draco, too, given his obsession with Muggle TV and the BBC channel).

But I tried my best to ignore it all as I calmly ate my breakfast (plain old cereal with milk), the morning that the final edition of Lady Rowena's Ballad for the Lost Romantics was released, pretending that it was just another day.

And, I am very pleased to say, I was mostly successfully, which Ron and Harry later told me had surprised them all to no end.

I don't know why that seemed to shock you all. I mean, what were expecting me to do? Did you want me to stand up on my seat and give a pretty speech about how Oliver and I were so in love and how I was so happy that the secret was out?

Because that would have been a lie.

Or, maybe you preferred me to deliver a poetic sermon about how one should always follow their heart, and then proclaim how I was so happy the secret was out?

Because I wasn't happy that the secret was out, I was just relieved. I suggest you should pick up a dictionary if you are having trouble seeing the difference.

What would have made me happy is if I could have seen Oliver's expression while he had read that article, but sadly, Professor Wood was suspiciously absent that morning at breakfast (which had the gossips reeling).

No doubt avoiding me and my treacherous article.

But, he was bound to hear of it sooner or later, unless, that is, he opted to go and live in a cave on one of Jupiter's moons with his fingers plugged into his ears.

I don't really recall much of that day, except the need to get away from the buzzing questions ('Hermione, where's Oliver?'- How should I know? 'How'd you do it?'-The school's owlery, heard of it? 'Why didn't you tell anyone?'- Because it was a secret you twit!), and gossip that followed in my wake.

So, naturally, I went to the only place at Hogwarts that was bound to be deserted on an uncommonly warm, Saturday afternoon; the library.

I sat in the chair at the furthest table away from the door and plucked up the book that had become my security blanket of sorts, Hogwarts, a History, for some nice, safe, non-fiction, factual reading.

Of course, I couldn't really concentrate and was only staring blankly at the pages of the book I was currently holding upside down.

"Hermione?" I heard a voice tentatively call.

Shaking my head I turned to see Oliver, sheepishly edging his way to my table.

I felt my heart quicken pace but I stubbornly remained silent.

"Um, you weren't out for our flying lesson so I thought I'd come to you," he began, taking another cautious step to the empty chair beside me.

I sighed tiredly, turning back to my task of staring intently at the upside down words written in my book (I had already forgotten which book it was). "What do you want, Professor?"

I thought I saw him wince at my frosty tones, but it could've been my imagination.

"Hermione," he pointedly ignored the formalities I was trying to push on us, "I, well, I wanted to apologize for being a bloody idiot."

"As you should," I replied (I was really hurt at the time, you understand, and we all know how it's some sort of defense mechanism to try and push that hurt on the one responsible for it).

"And," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "Well, I just wanted to tell you that- that I'm honored."

That caught my attention. "Honored?" I replied, finally looking up at him with a very confused expression upon my features.

For the first time I realized how nervous he was. "Yes, honored," he quickly sputtered out, "Gods, Hermione, I don't know how to say this without sounding horribly conceited, but, well, I'm honored that you wrote so beautifully about your feelings for me, us. Hell, I'm honored just to know you."

As I let his words and the meaning behind them sink in, I paused for good measure as if I was analyzing what he had said before simply stating, "You're right. That did sound horribly conceited," I concurred solemnly.

Raking a hand through his hair, which was suspiciously already standing out on end as if he had done that anxious gesture quite a few times, (in fact, his hair was beginning to resemble Harry's) he gave a half-hearted laugh.

"So, some week, eh?" he trudged on.

Another sigh from me, "You could say that."

There was a long moment of silence before Oliver queried, "So, three years, eh?"

Gods, how I loved this man.

Laughing, I shook my head in the affirmative, "Yes, three, very long years."

"I guess my three months can hardly stand up to that, no?" he tried.

I shrugged without comment.

"I guess you were right, about me being terribly thick; I mean, contrary to what you might believe, I remember that day that you ran out to place that charm on Harry's glasses. In fact, I also felt a little something, I won't call it love, because I'm not too terribly sure it was, but it was definitely something. I can't believe I didn't see it before," he said the last part more to himself.

I shrugged noncommittally.

Silence prevailed for a few beats.

"Bloody hell, do you forgive me for being a stupid prat, or not?" he rushed out as he perched himself on the library table waiting intently as if the next words out of my mouth would make or break his world.

I studied him for a long moment, letting the silence stretch. Before he could begin to grow too restless, I stood up, placing my book (whatever it was called) on the now vacant seat. I looked at him, savoring one of the very rare moments when I could look down at him.

And then I kissed him.

It wasn't like the kisses we've shared before, which were all great, mind you. This time, it felt more solid, grounded, and more real. It was as if we had lost that we're-a-couple-and-we're-in-love air, and we were just ourselves. It was as if we had quit playing at being in love, and we just, well, we just were.

I guess it's true, what they say about how nothing can bring two people closer together like a good argument.

And, well, Oliver didn't really have to hear that I forgave him after that kiss.

And in that very moment, I was truly happy.

So, at the ripe-old age of seventeen, I was truly happy. That's a pretty big accomplishment, wouldn't you say?

And I still am happy, for that matter. As stated in my first instalment, I am now twenty years wise (for twenty is hardly old, remember). What happened to those three years, you may be wondering?

Well, those three years were rifled with adventures and moments that would live down in history. Let us recap, shall we?

Harry Potter fought Voldemort (gasp!) three more times (poor kid, but hey, he won, didn't he?).

Ginny Weasley founded the now very popular Witches' fashion magazine and moved out into a lovely flat in Diagon Alley with her long-time sweetheart (but Harry did do much apologizing to re-earn that title after that whole Lady Rowena incident).

Ron Weasley became the star keeper for the Chudley Cannons (I told you I followed Quidditch, Ron), and he, too, now resides in a flat in Diagon Alley with one Lavender Brown (soon to be Weasley, if Ron's mum, Molly, has it her way).

Oliver Wood (through some sage business advice from a couple of Muggle dentists that own their own practice) resigned as Hogwarts's Professor of flying to open up Hogsmeade's very popular Quidditch supplies shop, and has recently proposed to his steady girlfriend.

And I, well, I'm still writing articles (as you well know since you are reading them) for The Daily Prophet.

Who would have ever thought? Hermione Granger, the most popular columnist for The Daily Prophet. I certainly never thought it would be possible, or even likely.

But, if we have learned anything throughout this tale, it is that fate works in mysterious ways.

I can't even begin to fathom the popularity my first columns as Lady Rowena have received, much less these current ones. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the owls I am constantly bombarded with from readers hoping that this story will never end...

But alas, as I have said once before, all good things must come to an end.

And thus, we reach our end, faithful readers and dearest friends.

~*~

Oh, and to those of you who may be wondering... Oliver's girlfriend has now officially accepted his proposal (honestly, people, as if I would have said anything but yes).

(A/N): HaHA! So ends the Lady Rowena/Hermione Lost Romantic saga!!!! Well, didn't I tell you that I was going to tie it into a nice little circle for you all? Hm-m?

So, please, please, PLEASE REVIEW, I mean, this is the LAST chapter, after all...

And please note the additions to the disclaimer and authors note from chapter one...

THIS IS FOR ALL WHO HAVE REVIEWED ANY OF MY FICS!!! THANKS YOU ALL FOR YOUR KIND SUPPORT AND EAGERNESS TO READ MY STORIES!!! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!