Not In Kansas Anymore

Chapter One: Not to Cherish and Not to Hold

Carefully Hermione examined her features in the small hand mirror her father had given to her on her sixteenth birthday. Tilting her chin up she ran her finger over her lower jaw line, liking the oval shape it made rounding the bottom of her face. Her eyes were heavy brown and her black pupils could barely be seen inside of her iris, these eyes, often called soulful, were framed in thick curling eyelashes that, to her, looked a blotted mess of mascara. Ginny reassured her that that was how her eyelashes were intended to look.

Playfully she wiggled her nose at her reflection; people had told her that they had the same nose. A button nose. Funnily enough that was a feature she never felt that she and Ron shared, he had always had a hawkish nose, and she the twitching nose of a curious rabbit.

Hermione pushed a strand of escaped hair behind her ear and as she did so her left ring finger glinted in the light, refracting harshly off the mirror. Settling the mirror down gently on the vanity table she spread her fingers out and contemplated her engagement ring. It was small, a fine gold band engraved with wild flowers around a delicately cut diamond. Ron had told her that it had been his grandmother's wedding ring as well.

Wryly she twisted the scarce gem around on her slim finger, and nervously she lifted her skirts off the ground and walked to the tall floor length mirror. Again she took to looking herself over, her very slight figure was draped in plain white fabric that flowed over a torso that was barely there, over tiny twig like legs, and brittle feet. It was not the wedding dress of her childhood dreams but it was simple and inexpensive, all her soon to be family could afford.

The top was white satin, it revealed two nearly non-existent collarbones, and the skirts were a rough and abrasive material that's only occupation was to glisten in the lights. Carefully she nestled a veil trimmed in pink lilies on her head, but she kept it from covering her face just yet. This was the last time she was going to be seeing herself as Hermione Granger and she wanted to cherish that.

"Hermione?" came Ginny's tentative voice from the door.

"I'm--I'm ready," she said, more to reassure herself than anything else.

Ginny smiled a true warm smile and stood on tiptoe to hug Hermione properly. Ginny glowed in the basic pink dress that Hermione's two bridesmaids were wearing, but she was still Ron's little sister and she didn't tower like her brother's did. Grabbing Hermione's had she lead her out into the short hallway where the bridal procession was crammed in...waiting.

Shakily Hermione took her position between Fred and George. Loosely they linked arms with her, at almost the same time they ran their thumbs in comforting tattoos over her twitching hands. "You'll be fine," George said, his voice dripping with what he prayed was comfort.

"Yes, fine, so long as you don't trip over your dress," added Fred, giving her arm a little extra squeeze.

"I wish Mum and Dad were here," she muttered, and instantly she felt Fred and George wrap her in an impenetrable hug.

"They are here."

*

It was raining that night, but Hermione really couldn't care. She didn't have time to care about such a petty thing like rain. Her robes were heavy with water and she struggled out of them, continuing down the deserted Muggle street in jeans and a short shirt. Lightning crackled menacingly in the distance, reflexively she counted, "One, two, three--BOOM!" Three miles, the center of the storm was three miles, and she barreled on through the flak of water droplets.

Harry and Ron had both begged her not to go, even Malfoy had tried to clutch at her upper forearm and tell her that it was a stupid thing to do. But still she had left, and now she ran.

Up another hill, through fields of weeping grass, her heavy boots splashing in muddy puddles. People were peaking out of parlor windows at her, scarcely lifting the corners of the curtains to see her. To see her--a girl, no older than sixteen, running madly through the rain, soaked to the skin, mud mingling with the warm tears, and her matted hair whipping out in angry tendrils behind her.

She was still two blocks over when she saw it. Hovering in the black sky, indifferent to the rain drops belting through it. For half a heart beat she stopped to gape in morbid awe at the deadly symbol. Then, her moment of rest over, she began to run with a renewed fervor, she jumped obstacles, ripped the bottoms of her jeans to shreds, and she did not stop until she saw it.

The thing that used to be her home, her real home, not the false home that was Hogwarts. The small cottage on the outskirts of the Forest of Dean--in shambles, the roof caved, beams staking the moist ground, and the green acrid halo floating above it.

The three tall Death Eaters standing in front of it didn't have a chance; they were gone before they even knew she was there. A strangled cry then left her and she knew...knew whom the two other still bodies belonged to.

She had tried to take a step closer to them, but her knees caved before she could reach her parents. Her common Muggle parents. She never knew how long it was she sat saturating in the dirtmud, but it was Fred and George who pulled her out of it, out of her state.

It hadn't been the brave Harry, the loving Ron; it had been Fred and George, whom she barely knew. At the time she didn't know how much they would come to mean to her, she just cried into their shoulders as they exchanged concerned glances over her shaking head, worried. Worried about everything...about the funeral arrangements that they would end up helping with, about the reaction Hermione would muster. A reaction that would haunt her though every tragedy.

But as the rain began to calm and the stars graced the sky with their presence the twins could only hold her as the tears followed the rain.

*

"I know," she choked out, and immediately felt the tears wiped away by gentle fingers.

Changing tact completely Fred said. "Now, should we be nervous about our little brother, he's not going to have his heart broken is he?" he teased.

Grinning up at the twins Hermione said, in a voice seriously lacking conviction, "No."

Then the Bridal March began.

*

Ron looked so peaceful lying next to her; he looked serene with the moon slashing violently across his face, paling the freckles. Snores racked his body and Hermione knew that if she left his side he would never be any the wiser. So with little trepidation she slid off his bed, her bare feet touching the icy ground, she pulled on his boxers that were far too big for her concave stomach, and she topped that with a white shirt that she found littering the floor of the dormitory. She didn't even know if it was his, it was just to hide her small breasts and prominent rib cage.

She was confident she wouldn't get caught, actually she just couldn't spare thought to worry about getting caught. Her thoughts were mingled and confused and she jumped a mile when her thumb touched on the cold metal of the wedding ring.

Her feet lead her to the kitchens, though she didn't know why. Unconsciously she smiled as she walked into the warm room with its usual fire roaring in the grate.

"Breaking the rules Granger?" he asked from the shadows.

"Not now Draco," she sighed, making herself a meager half a sandwich, shooing away the house-elves when they wanted to do it for her.

"You'll never survive on that," he said, walking out into the light, he was wearing boxers too and a pair of robes that hung carelessly open in the front, revealing his moonlighted chest.

Looking at her pitiful sandwich she shook her head. "I'll be fine."

"I mean that you'll never survive on false love," he sipped at his mug of steaming liquid. When she didn't answer he added, "But Hermione, starving yourself will never help you find that love."

"I'll be fine Malfoy," she breathed, savagely biting into her sandwich, letting her tongue savor the peanut butter.

"Good night to you too," he replied leaving his now empty cup in an industrial sized sink.

Bitterly Hermione shook her head and sat down on top of one of the long tables to finish her midnight snack. But her stomach still flamed for more...and that was the night Hermione Granger started to eat again.

*

From all around her people smiled happily, many teary eyed, sniffling as she tread carefully down the isle, minding the hem of her dress so she did not trip. On either side of her Fred and George supported her weight, because she didn't seem quite capable of walking alone.

When the rather imposing form of Dumbdlore came into view and he asked, "Who gives this woman to this man?" Fred and George answered, "We do." Carefully they untangled their arms from hers, and gave her a gentle push on the small of her back. So it was alone that she made her way up the shaky steps to Ron.

She passed her two bridesmaids, Ginny and Lavender, both trembling with happiness and nerves. Parvati should have been there too, and it pained Hermione that she had to fall ill at the last moment. Then she saw, out of the corner of her eye Seamus and Charlie acting as groom's men. For a long moment her eyes lingered on the Best Man, the wizerding world's most eligible bachelor, Harry Potter. Across from him was the Maid of Honor, a Muggle girl Hermione had grown up with, the last little reminder of her parents and the world she was born into. Her name was Hope.

Precariously she turned to face Ron, their hands met and he clasped tiny shaking ones in his rough stable ones. He mouthed 'I love you', with a lopsided smile and Hermione knew he did, knew that he was honest and true and that he made good match for her.

That was the moment when it crashed into her. When it finally settled on her mind what was happening, that this was forever, and that forever was an awful long eternity.

*

The paper hadn't made a big deal out of it, for which Hermione was grateful. There was just a small announcement running alongside the other dozen or so square inch announcements. Next to it was a shrunken wizerding photo of them on Graduation Day, Ron with his arms tossed lightly around Hermione, he was grinning broadly, but Hermione could tell her eyes were looking off into the foreground.

The announcement was brief and nothing uncustomary, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger are to be wed in Hogwarts Great Hall on July 17, 1997. Hermione supposed it would be more sentimental if their first ceremony had gone as planned, but you can't stop nature and she'd rather do this before she had to try on the charm of the third time.

Sighing Hermione crudely cut the square out and pinned it on to the section of her wall where other photos and reminders were scattered; she pinned it, not noticing where the pin pierced the word wed.

She checked her watch and immediately saw that she was late, scurrying out of her flat. A gust of wind penetrated through the door, tossing books and loosed papers on the floor. The only thing it managed to yank off the wall was the marriage announcement.

*

She gazed through her veil at Ron, his face was hazy through the cloth and he couldn't notice the tears threatening to pool over her face. Perhaps he felt her sharp intake of breath and mistook it for nerves because he mouthed 'I love you,' a second time.

Hermione read his lips as clearly as she could, but she couldn't say anything back, couldn't do anything save draw a shaky breath. People had always said they were so perfect for each other, had always said they fought...

*

"Honestly Hermione, you two fight like you're already married!" said Parvati exasperatedly, smacking the tabletop, making the glasses and silverware rattle.

"She's right," agreed Lavender adjusting her wide brimmed straw hat to a jaunty angel over her corn silk blond hair.

Hermione sighed and took another sip out of her Coca-Cola Light. "Really? It's always that he wants to do something the easy way and I want to do it the right way. I mean...is that really arguing when I am right?"

Parvati rolled her eyes skeptically. "But are you really right?"

"Of course I am!" replied Hermione, turning in her chair and crossing her arms huffily.

"Sure you are," intoned Lavender sarcastically.

Uncertainly Hermione turned back to her companions; they were in a Muggle bistro enjoying a sunny afternoon of shopping and lunching in an area where they had little chance of running into anybody they knew. "Am I just overreacting?"

"Yes!" they replied in heavy unison.

"Are you sure this is perfectly normal? This squabbling constantly over the little things in life?"

"Perfectly normal."

"Positive?" she asked anxiously.

"Okay, if you're so unsure that you two are not normal then just tell us what you fight about so often," suggested Lavender, gesturing with her fork.

"Okay..." began Hermione shyly, "um...well really its just the little things like yesterday we had a big row over place settings for the reception, and the day before we couldn't agree on the size font for the invitations--"

"You're having them printed?" interrupted Parvati, her eyes wide.

A blush crept into Hermione's face. "Well, yes...we thought it might be cheaper than having them done by hand...why is something wrong with that?"

"No, its all the rage in Paris right now!" crowned Parvati loudly.

Shooting her friend a reprimanding look Lavender said to Hermione, "You were saying dear?"

"Oh...yes," though Hermione looked as though she would have rather they forget the previous topic. "Then we argued about the flowers, and then the wall paint for our flat, and then...well...there was something else...but I'd rather not talk about it now," by this time her eyes were red from holding back tears.

Lavender changed chairs in one swift movement so she was sitting directly next to Hermione; she wrapped a long arm around her back and patted her shoulder heavily. "Its okay." Parvati joined them, holding Hermione's hand and tucking her hair behind her ears. "Yes, just breath sweetie."

"Lean on us."

"You can tell us about it."

Hermione didn't say anything, just buried her face in Lavender's perfumed shoulder, and for a moment nobody said anything despite the fact that they were making a scene in the Muggle bistro. "He wants children!" Hermione wailed into Lavender's shoulder.

"Oh! Well...don't you?"

Sitting back up Hermione choked out, "Well, yes, eventually, but not now, not yet, I'm only seventeen and Ron want them now!"

"Goodness...that's not a little argument. Did you talk to him about it?"

"Of course! But you've seen his family, it's huge and he wants one just as big! I just don't want to be wearing maternity robes on my eighteenth birthday! I'm not made to stay at home with children and bake cookies!"

"He'll come around," coaxed Parvati, stroking her hair, and then handing her the Coke.

Taking a grateful sip of her soda Hermione looked up at the two round, concerned faces, " I hope so."

"He will," said Lavender, "he has to, because you are just meant to be. Can you actually bake cookies?"

*

But what if, she thought to herself, we're not meant to be? What if we're not perfect? What if my true soul mate is just blundering around in the world?

But what if it was Ron?

She swayed ever so slightly on the spot and Ron gripped her hands tighter in his own masculine ones. Dumbdlore droned on with the ceremony, but Hermione didn't really hear him. She followed Ron up to the altar where they lit a Unity Candle, but in the process Hermione was so distracted that she trailed candle wax over her hands. Ron shot her a sideways glance, but she missed it through her haze.

Ron lead her back to the spots on the platform where there were two Spellotaped X's instructing them where to stand. Hermione repeated her vows listlessly and with a heavy tongue, she jumped a bit when the heartless wedding band was slipped right up next to her engagement ring, but nevertheless she managed to fumble the band on to Ron's left hand.

By this time Harry was shifting worriedly behind Ron, his now empty hand opening and shutting nervously as he watched Hermione struggle through the ritual, part of him wanted to stop her, make sure she was okay. From the first row Fred and George watched, they too were troubled, every second or so their eyes would slid back to meet, confirming with each other that they weren't imagining the little shakes in Hermione's steps.

A fine, elegant quill pen was pressed into Hermione's shaking palm, there was one last step to the process, all that lay between her and matrimony was a flimsy marriage license. Her pen had barely dipped into the ink when her doubts and confused thoughts came to a sudden and startling halt...

She fainted and her frail body tumbled down the stairs, collapsing dully on the hard stone floor of the Hogwarts Great Hall. Overhead the sky clouded over and people stood up all along the Hall to see the bride limply lying on the floor, her veil tossed back, tracks from dried tears scaling her cheeks, her curling hair sprawled over the stones, and her breathing dangerously shallow.