In the Least Likely of Places

According to the magazine, Teen Witch, of all the girls in Harry's life, I was most likely to marry him. Even when he had been going out with Ginny, I was second in the running.

It appeared that those voters had been right. For a while anyway.

A few months after my graduation from MU, Ron, Harry and I celebrated at a bar called Dirty Magic. Harry got roaring drunk and confessed to me and the rest of the world that he had loved me for the longest time and always would. You could imagine my surprise at this drunken declaration of love.

The next morning, Harry appeared at my door with a flaming red face, extremely rumpled clothes, and a bouquet of flowers. He apologized for causing me public embarrassment and if I could possibly forgive him, would I like to go to lunch with him? After he cleaned up and got the smell of alcohol off him, of course.

I struggled to calm my hammering heart and as nonchalantly as I could, I said, "Sure."

Four months later we were engaged and I was receiving hate mail from the multitudes of heart broken fans.

Those first few months were the happiest in my life. I didn't even really mind that all the unopened howlers almost burned down my house. I was floating on a pink cloud of happiness and nothing could possibly bring me down.

After the first eight months though, I stopped wondering about the engagement and wondered about the wedding. I know you think I'm moving too fast, but Harry and I had been engaged for eight months going on nine and we hadn't even begun discussing a wedding date.

Okay, so we both led busy and separate lives. He hunted renegade Death Eaters and I was working on my potions, charms, and book. But we still made time to talk to each other every night on the floo, even if we didn't get to see each other in person. We also made sure to meet at least once a week for dinner. And all right, so our sex life wasn't flaming, red-hot passion, but it was good. And a good sex life is.... well... good, right??

It wasn't as if we didn't have plenty of opportunities to discuss it. We had plenty but for some reason, we didn't discuss it. The wedding was like some sort of forbidden subject and I was too worried to bring it up.

But finally, around our ten-month mark of being engaged, I got too antsy and brought it up. We were eating dinner in The Grasshopper's Hop, a new, trendy American restaurant, when I finally brought the wedding up. We hadn't seen each other for a month because he had been away in Bulgaria looking for John Makeroy, a notorious Death Eater who loved to torture muggles. So we had plenty to talk about as we sat and ordered and waited for out food, but once the food arrived we fell into an uncomfortable silence as we ate.

I watched as Harry lifted his beer to his lips, "Harry," I began hesitantly, "How... how.. how was Bulgaria?" I finished in a rush.

Oh God, I had chickened out, I couldn't ask. All my Gryffindor bravery had deserted me in my time of need.

He looked at me puzzled, "Bulgaria was cold... but beautiful, I guess."

"Oh. That's nice."

Oh, that's nice?! That must have been the lamest sentence I had ever before uttered. Come on Hermione, I told myself. Screw up your courage and ask!

Harry, thinking that my sudden burst of curiosity must have been over, had gone back to eating and silence descended like a heavy blanket. I fingered my french fries and poured more salt on them.

"Harry..." He looked up from sorting his small fries from his big fries. Lord, he must have been really bored.

"Harry.. do you think we should talk about the.. wedding..?" His eyes widened slightly, and if I hadn't known him for seven year I might not have noticed that his eyes grew shuttered. But I had known him for seven years so I did see his eyes widen and grow shuttered. My stomach twisted itself in painful knots.

"Well.. We're still young Hermione.. No rush right??"

A lump started to grow in my throat. I had suspected it for a while, but now I was sure. Harry and I didn't talk as much, and we hadn't had sex in 3 months. Harry didn't love me anymore. I felt like sitting on the floor and crying my eyes out.

"Hermione...?" He said uncertainly.

I looked up at him and at their own volition, my eyes filled with tears, "Harry, you don't love me anymore do you?" I asked tearfully.

He started suddenly, "Of course I still love you Hermione!" He grabbed my icy hands and held them in his big warm ones, "I told you Hermione, I'll always love you."

"Are..Are you sure Harry?"

"You silly goose, of course I'm sure."

That night Harry and I went back to my flat and we made love for the first time in three months. The morning after, I woke up smiling but found myself alone in a big bed. It wasn't until that afternoon when I was researching wolfsbane that I realized that we still hadn't discussed the wedding date. I frowned.

The next time we saw each other, we finally put down a date. We'd get married next year on Valentines day.

I know, I know.. Valentines day.. how romantic! But well.. it was an entire year away! I guess I really was impatient to get married, but I had always had a crush on Harry for so many years, I suppose I couldn't wait to get settled down with him. I wanted my life to be perfect because I was supposed to be perfect.

I had to have the respectable life.

Have a successful career. Check. Have a loving family. Almost check. Be respectable. Check.

Well my life was good that year. I made new discoveries in potions. Wrote a new Charms book. Went on a book tour. Discovered a better wolfsbane potion. Made another fat pile of money that I hardly spent.

And now looking back on it, I should have spent that money. I should have spent it on ridiculous things such as getting a new haircut or getting new clothes. I badly needed a makeover.

I'm of average height and of average beauty. I'm five feet five inches, I've got normal maple syrup colored hair and chocolate brown eyes. My nose is a little too flat for my own comfort, my mouth a little bit wider than normal, and my chin just a little too strong and stubborn. I wasn't a striking beauty like Ginny Weasley, but I was pretty, maybe a little bit more than pretty, but I wasn't a beauty. My hips were too full, my waist small, my breasts on the small side, and my legs didn't go up to my ears, but I was comfortable with my body. I just didn't take good care of it.

My hair, which no longer frizzed but curled quite a bit, grew out long and unmanageable, I wore loose fitting clothes with no apparent style, and I never wore a stitch of makeup on my face except for when I went out to a society dinner with Harry.

I suppose I can't really fault Harry for jilting me in the end. What did I have that a million other girls didn't have? I was pretty, smart, and well, I guess that was it. I smiled a lot, but it took a lot for me to laugh. I wasn't very outgoing, and I suppose I didn't pay much attention to Harry's needs. But despite all that, it tore me apart when I found out Harry had jilted me.

When two months before our own wedding I woke up, brushed my teeth, put on my ratty robe, toasted a bagel, and got my Daily Prophet.

And there it was. Right on the front page in glaring, black letter.

HARRY POTTER ELOPES WITH VIRGINIA WEASLEY, DAUGHTER OF MINISTER OF MAGIC.

I think I had been holding a cup of very nasty coffee, since I can't make coffee to save myself, when I read that headline. I think I might have dropped it and broke one of my best china cups. That morning for me was very blurred.

I looked down at the reporter's name and sucked in a huge breath. Rita Skeeter. That couldn't possibly be good. As I scanned the article, I saved the picture for last. When I finally looked at it, I think I might have burst into tears.

There was a picture of Ginny and Harry standing in front of the Registry's office and they were kissing with all the fire and passion that my own relationship with Harry lacked. I went back to the article and read more slowly. I realized that they had actually interviewed Harry.

Daily Prophet: Harry! Congratulations!

Harry Potter: (Smiles broadly) Thank you!

DP: Now we have to get down to business. What possessed you to elope?!

HP: Well as many of my fans know, Ginny and I used to have a relationship back in my sixth and seventh year of Hogwarts, and a week ago we ran into each other at the Ministry. Things just exploded from there I suppose.

DP: Really? Did you just realize what you had been missing out on all those years?

HP: Oh yes, after we saw each other again, it was like fireworks. We just realized what a mistake we had made in breaking up all those years ago.

DP: How romantic! But Harry, I have to ask, weren't you engaged to marry you're old school friend Hermione Granger?

My hands were shaking so badly at this point that I had dropped the newspaper. I had to stoop and pick it out of the coffee puddle on the floor, lay it on the table, and continue to read.

HP: Yes, well, I had realized about a week before I saw Ginny that things just weren't working out anymore.

I gasped, we had had dinner that week, and he had acted just the same as always. True, he had left me on my doorstep with just a goodnight kiss, but I had been tired so I had thought that was why he didn't bother coming in.

DP: Really? So you broke it off with Hermione Granger?

HP: Well...

I could tell he was getting embarrassed now. The bastard hadn't broken it off with me, and he didn't want to tell that to the Daily Prophet. I was beginning to seethe.

Unfortunately, since Rita Skeeter was conducting the interview, she noticed that Harry didn't want to answer since it would make him look like a bad guy, and her real target was me. The bitch.

DP: Oh Harry! I forgot to ask why weren't things working out with Hermione Granger? You had been friends for years, and everyone naturally assumed you'd be getting married.

Stupid me, I had assumed exactly the same thing.

HP: Well you know that I love Hermione dearly, but I came to realize that I only loved her as a friend.

I wanted to pound the bastard's face inside out. Do friends who love each other only as friends get engaged to marry and have sex?! No, I don't think so. What a slimy, stinking prat.

DP: I see.. and what made you come to that realization?

HP: Well Hermione really is a lovely girl..

GIRL!? I was NOT a bloody girl! I AM NOT a bloody girl! I'M A WOMAN!!

HP: But she can be a bit staid at times, and very focused.

Staid?! First he publicly humiliates me and then has the bloody nerve to insult me too!? Oh, I could just imagine Rita Skeeter's malicious smile.

DP: Staid?? What do you mean by staid Harry?

HP: (wink) well you know.. a bit boring.. and she's very focused on her work. Why we hardly ever got to see each other because she'd be working on developing another potion or charm! You can imagine my feelings.

BORING?! FIRST STAID AND NOW BORING?! AND THE REASON WHY WE NEVER SAW EACH OTHER WAS BECAUSE HE SPENT ALL HIS BLOODY TIME CHASING DEATH EATERS ALL OVER BLOODY EUROPE! I COULDN'T BELIEVE HE PLACED ALL THE BLAME ON MY HEAD! I WAS THE ONE WHO GOT JILTED HERE!

DP: Yes.. I see.. well I'm going to let you go now Harry, I know how newly weds are. (wink)

HP: Yes, goodbye and wish me luck!

Oh he'd need luck all right. Lots of luck since that would be all that'd keep me from murdering him. And of course Rita Skeeter would let him go after all, she got everything she needed said about me. She got her perfect revenge. I was publicly humiliated, insulted, and jilted. I didn't see how I could ever hold my head up in the wizarding world ever again.

I was shaking so badly at that time from a mixture of pain and anger that I took a shower to calm myself. I cried so much in there that I might have bathed in my own tears; it certainly felt like I did. I couldn't believe that Harry would do such an awful thing to me. I had been one of his best friends since we were eleven, and he threw it all away on a whim. I meant nothing to him, less than nothing to him, and that hurt so badly. This rejection was one of the worst I had ever gotten in my entire life. No, I corrected myself, it was THE WORST rejection I had ever gotten. I could literally feel my controlled life slipping out of my fingers.

After I got out of the shower, I stood in front of my mirror naked for the longest time. I looked at my reflection and I searched and searched for the flaw in me that made me feel so unperfect. What was it about me that made people reject me? What was it, that made me so unneeded, and so unimportant? Was it my hair? My teeth? My legs? My brain?

I kept looking at my reflection and all I could see were my flaws. My hair was too thick, my mouth too wide, my nose too flat, my brain too smart, my focus too much, my control too strong, my self-esteem too low. Everything about me was TOO much. Too big too small, too strong too weak, too thick too thin, everything! Harry didn't need me, he had the lovely Ginny. My parents didn't need me, they had the beautiful Helena, the world didn't need me, they had the perfect Harry Potter.

And standing naked in front of that mirror, I felt a panic unlike any other. It was worse than the one I felt watching Harry duel Voldemort. I could feel the hysteria rising in me and smothering me.

I didn't know who I was.

Who was Hermione Granger?

My entire life had been shaped by other people. By their needs and wants and desires.

Harry needed a rock, so I had been his rock. Ron needed someone to check his homework and nag him, so I checked his homework and nagged him. Professor McGonagall needed a protégé, so I was her protégé, Professor Snape needed someone to pick on, so I let him pick on me. Professor Dumbledore needed someone to make smart decisions for Harry and Ron, so I made them. Gryffindor needed house points, so I got house points. The wizarding world needed new potions and spells, so I dedicated my entire life to finding new potions and spells.

I was Hermione Sophia Granger, Hogwarts student extraordinaire, brave Gryffindor, brilliant strategist for Harry Potter. I was for everyone else. I pleased everyone else.

Everyone else but myself.

What if in Hogwarts I didn't want to gain House points, but lose them? What if I wanted to break rules? Okay, so I did break rules, but they were always for a good cause, so it took the fun out of it. But what if I wanted to break rules for myself? For selfish purposes? Or what if I wanted to bully and pick on first years? What if I had wanted to snog every single heterosexual male in the school?

Did I ever get to do any of that?

When I think back on it, I led a very boring life at Hogwarts. So except for the occasional save the world adventures I had with Ron and Harry, my life at Hogwarts was very boring. I did my homework every day, I was the model student, and I didn't even really have fun.

Harry, Ron, and Ginny had Quidditch. Neville Longbottom had his toad to chase around the schoool. Parvarti and Lavender had boys to crush on and snog with. Even Draco Malfoy had fun bullying other people and being the school bad boy.

I was Head Girl. With responsibilities. With more rules to uphold. With the reputation to keep.

I was boring and staid. Hell, I AM boring and staid.

I didn't know who I was.

I like my eggs scrambled and slightly dry. Why? Because that was how Molly Weasley made them, so that was how I liked them.

What was my favorite color? Green, because that was the color of Harry's eyes.

What was my least favorite color? Gray, because that was the color of Draco Malfoy's eyes.

Everything that was me was defined by somebody else. Why couldn't my favorite color be red, just because? Why did it have to be green because of Harry?

How come I never got bad grades and did drugs? Because my parents wouldn't have liked it.

I really think the only part of myself that was me, was my ugly clothes and bad hairstyle. And I didn't even like that part!

I didn't know who I was, and I realized that I haven't known who I was for the longest time. I had let my life spin out of my control, and the entire time I had thought I was in control. What a fool! Everyone but me had been controlling my life. I saw that now, and it got me so angry!

I put my ugly clothes on and marched back into my kitchen. With a flick of my wand I cleaned up my mess. I folded my slightly soggy Daily Prophet and threw it onto my coffee table carelessly. I phoned into my office and said I wouldn't be coming in today and I wouldn't be coming in for the next two months. No, I didn't care about any meetings I had with publishers or editors. Yes, reschedule them, and yes it was urgent.

I went back into my bedroom and took out my brown suitcase. Yes! Brown! I know, what kind of successful woman who can afford the best uses an ugly brown suitcase? But it was all right because that was about to change.

I threw in one extra set of clothing, changed my clothes into the brightest colors I had, which were, very sadly, a cream blouse, blue denim jeans I didn't even know I had, and a pale green jacket that must have been fifty years out of date. I also put into my suitcase, my toothbrush, my brush, my toothpaste, some underwear, and necessary things. After that I carried it out into my living room and found my ugly, matron looking purse, which I put in my wallet, the Daily prophet, and some chewing gum.

I think the only bad habit I ever allowed myself was my need to chew gum all the time. I think it might have come from being a chewing gum deprived child, since my parents were dentists. But ever since I discovered gum, I've never gone without it. I chew when I'm nervous, or hungry, or bored, or anything. I could never go without gum for a while.

After that I went to my office and looked around my messy desk. The week before I had gotten a letter from my American pen-pal Melissa Garwood. She had been introduced to me when I was seventeen by my parents' friends. We had kept in touch ever since and had grown quite close through muggle post and telephone calls. She had become a successful actress and I had even watched a few of her films, which were very good. Melanie lived in Los Angeles, California, and last week she had written to me saying I needed a bachelorette party, so why didn't I fly to America and stay with her for a while? I hadn't answered her back yet, because I hadn't had much free time, but now I was writing back.

Dearest Melanie,

Harry and I have broken up. I'm coming to America. I'll be at your house in a month.

Love,

Hermione

I slipped my short letter into an envelope, wrote her address, and put on a ton of postage stamps.

As I was going back to the living room, I saw a head floating in my fireplace. There he was, Ron Weasley, looking extremely uncomfortable and nervous.

"Hello Ron." I said as calmly as I could, which wasn't very calm.

"Er.. Hello Hermione. Did you happen to.. uhh.. get your.." Although I couldn't see his body I could tell that he was fidgeting madly.

"My Daily Prophet? Yes, I did actually."

He flushed, "So then you saw.."

"The article? Yes.." I laughed hollowly, "It WAS on the front page after all.. Hard to miss you know?"

"Hermione I-"

A voice behind him interrupted, "Ron, I've found the bubbly!"

I stiffened at the sound of Harry's voice. When Ron looked over his shoulder, I walked over to my suitcase and laid the letter on top. Ron's eyes widened when he saw the suitcase.

"Are you going somewhere Hermione?"

"Yes. I am." I said frigidly. I couldn't help but feel betrayed by Ron. I had been jilted this morning, and he was celebrating. My heart was broken and I was going through an identity crises and he was going to drink wine and toast my ex-fiance's marriage.

"Where are you going?" He asked a bit desperately.

"To America to visit a friend."

I saw the confusion in his eyes and for some reason, it really set me off.

"Yes, Ron." I said acidly, "I do have friends other than you and Harry. But oh wait, I suppose I can't really count either of you as-"

Ron interrupted, "Hermione I'm sorry, but-"

"No. It's alright Ron. I understand, I suppose." I felt my eyes filling up with tears that I didn't want to shed, "She is your sister after all, and Harry's been your best friend since you were eleven.."

"You've been my best friend since I was eleven too Hermione, but I-"

"But I'm not as important." I finished for him, although that probably wasn't what he was going to say. "Its okay, Ron, go drink wine with Harry."

He looked at me miserably, "I don't want to Hermione. I want-"

"I have to go Ron. I'll send you a postcard." I needed to go quickly, because I was about to burst into tears again.

"Hermione, you can't just up and run to America!"

"I can do whatever the bloody hell I want Ron! Do you think I can stay here?! I can't show my face anywhere after what Harry's done to me!"

"But you don't have to go to America!"

"I need to get away! Don't you understand Ron? Harry's broken me and I need to pick up the pieces, but I can't do it here! I can't do it in front of everyone I know and love or else I'll end up just the same as before! Plain, boring, Hermione who'll probably end up a lonely spinster! I HAVE to get away!" By this time, the tears were rolling freely down my face and I was miserable because Ron was watching me cry.

"Hermione..."

"Goodbye Ron."

He flushed angrily, "Hermione you can't just-"

I flicked my wand at his face, and he disappeared with a slight pop.

I stood there and gazed at the fire for a little bit before I collapsed onto the top of my suitcase. I was going to leave soon, but first I was going to have a nice long cry.