OKAY!! Here we go....this is Percy's perspective on the entire madness of Two Prefect Badges, etc...I
hope you like it! GO BOOKS AND QUILLS!! w00t! w00t!
Disclaimers apply. I don't own any Weasleys (more's the pity....)....or any other HP character...
REVIEW REVIEW!!
* * *
My first memory of her was of an eleven-year-old girl with masses of honey-brown hair and wide,
wonder-filled eyes, shy yet bold. She looked around the Gryffindor table at the sea of unfamiliar faces,
and her gaze lit upon me, and my Prefect badge. A look of relief filled her face, and she immediately
headed towards me as Professor McGonagall called the next student to be sorted. She sat down next
to me at the table and asked, in that sweet, serious way of hers, "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. You're
one of the Prefects for Gryffindor House, aren't you?"
I was quite flattered that she had noticed, and answered in the affirmative, introducing who I was
and asking her if I could help her in any way. She answered that as soon as the sorting was finished,
would I mind if she asked me questions about various classes here? She had read about them, but did
not know really what they were like. I gladly agreed.
And so it was, that my acquaintance with the woman whom I would later marry, started. I'd always
seeked perfection, and finally, I had found it.
I would be seeing more and more of Hermione. By Christmastime in my fifth year, she would be best
friends with Ron and Harry Potter. No longer the hesitant yet eager little girl who had, despite her
lack of experience and the fact that she was a first-year, had been a more intelligent, knowledgeable
and stimulating conversationalist about the academics than most of my classmates who were four
years older. Now, she had a purpose: to use her intelligence to protect and aid the Boy Who Lived, and
be friends to him and my younger brother.
Oh, we still greeted each other cordially whenever we met in the hallways, and time to time, we would
still talk in the common room about classwork and such, while Ron, her new best friend, would roll his
eyes and laugh at our bookishness. But our paths had separated, and would not truly cross for another
four years.
In my sixth year, I got my first girlfriend. Ravenclaw Prefect Penelope Clearwater, smart, amenable,
easy enough to get along with, we had met during Prefect meetings. We were each other's first kiss,
first boyfriend/girlfriend. It wasn't an intense, life-altering relationship, but it was good and steady
and comfortable enough. And then, on one same day, both Penelope, my girlfriend, and Hermione, that
sweet little girl who was so incredibly smart, were petrified. I was horrified. The two of them were both
wonderful girls, they did not deserve such a thing! Even Ron and the twins noticed how agitated by the
occurrence I was, but just pegged it to be shock that such a thing would happen to a PREFECT. I'd
roll my eyes at their beliefs...did they think that I was stupid? I knew that the Dark Lord would not
hesitate to attack someone just because he or she was a PREFECT! Honestly, did they really think that
I believed that a silver badge would be able to stop an Unforgivable curse? Give me some credit! They
don't understand...no one does...but her...and she was petrified...
Later, after the entire ordeal was over and done with, Penelope would tell me that on that fateful day,
Hermione had met her in the bathroom, a wild look in her eyes, a piece of parchment clutched in her
hand. Penelope, as a Prefect, had tried to calm the younger girl down, asking what was the matter.
Hermione had breathlessly but confidently voiced her suspicions about what was causing the students
to become petrified. Penelope had grasped the basic gist of Hermione's words at once, and was at
once all for running to Dumbledore and telling him, so that the school could be put out of danger as
soon as possible. Hermione, however, stopped her, before Penelope could run out of the bathroom, and
handed her a compact mirror, saying that they should use it when going past corners and such, just in
case. Then, the two girls set out towards the Headmaster's office, though they never made it there.
I was more impressed with Hermione's brilliance than ever, and all the way up to my graduation from
Hogwarts, that was the entirety of my feelings towards her: respect, admiration and friendship. Still
entirely platonic. At the end of 7th year, Penelope and I broke up. It was a mutual decision, mainly
because I would be out of Hogwarts, and we would be hard-pressed to keep in touch. We both knew
that we were not meant to be, and in the following year, when I saw Penelope again at the Yule Ball,
we were quite able to share a dance for Old Times' sake without bitterness or undue awkwardness.
And speaking of that Yule Ball, that was when I KNEW that things, specifically, things having to do
with Hermione, had changed.
Despite our differences in age, and our scarcity of contact, I'd always considered Hermione something
of a chum. Nothing more, nothing less. But at that ball...Oh Great Merlin!
She looked so lovely...so very lovely. There were plenty of beautiful girls there that night. Everyone
there was in their dress robes, makeup and hair done in the most flattering way possible. There was
Fleur Delacour, the part-veela girl, looking like a Goddess. I don't deny that she was, and still is, quite
magnificent. But her beauty was too...unapproachable, too removed from this Earth, for me at least.
Simply and heartbreakingly lovely in pale blue robes, with flowers in her golden brown hair, dancing
gracefully with that Bulgarian seeker...Penelope noticed me staring, and smiled, whispering that, if it
worked out, both of us were very lucky individuals indeed, and teasingly remarked that our robes even
matched. Me in navy, Hermione in periwinkle. Of course it was unintentional, but I blushed anyway, and
barely noticed what transpired for the rest of the evening.
I did not see Hermione again until the end of the summer before her fifth year. I had been working in
my room, reading some new correspondence from Dumbledore, when she had come in, beautiful and
lovable, chewing on her lower lip, dark brown eyes full of worry. And she had poured her heart out to
me, talking of how she worried about those gits of best friends she had, of how Harry was now in more
danger than ever, now with Voldemort back, of how she was excited but afraid at the same time about
being made Prefect...how was it that this little slip of a girl, just beginning to become a woman, voiced
all the same fears and concerns, past and present, that I had lived with? I think that I came to this
realization at the same time as she did, for we just started talking about anything and everything, all
of the sudden glad for the presence of each other, not even noticing the passing time.
At the end of that summer, I was sad to see her go, more sad than I'd ever been when my parents, my
older brothers and I saw the lot of them off at the station. But I thought it was just as well. There was
an upcoming war, and better to not fall in love at this time. It would be a distraction that I did not
need. Dumbledore was counting on me, and I would not let him down.
Little did I know that despite my high respect for him, I had actually underestimated Dumbledore.
When the lot of us, a large but dedicated group ranging from Hogwarts Professors to seasoned aurors
to noted prisoners to resourceful students, met for Order of the Phoenix assignments, Dumbledore
grouped us. The man obviously knew more than he let on, grouping us together the way he did. I
wonder if he knew that no less than three marriages, my own included, would result from such simple
machinations...probably did.
It was a surprise to both Hermione and I when, instead of her being paired with Harry or Ron, she was
paired with me. We were assigned to researching, and thus found ourselves together in the library
every weekend. Reading and doing our assignment earnestly, similar dedication and determination in
our minds and hearts. And talking about life and goals and feelings and thoughts and whatever else we
thought of, for we were the closest of kindred souls. And so it was, that despite my determination not
to fall in love and get distracted, I fell in love, deeply, genuinely, irrevocably in love, with Hermione.
And I found that, instead of being a liability, it only made me a better person. Still dedicated to work,
but more open, more receptive to the beauty of the good things in the world, and the beauty of one
very special young woman in particular.
But, she was so young, just turned sixteen the past autumn. What was I doing, falling in love with her?
She was unattainable, well, at least I thought so. So, I hid my feelings for her as best as I could, just
continuing to work with her, hoping that, perhaps one day many years later, she might love me at least
a fraction as much as I do her.
And then, one perfect, glorious, memorable day, in the middle of our research session, she slammed
her book down, her face flushed with emotion, her eyes full of fire and warmth and passion, and she
had simply let it out. And in her hurried flood of words, I discerned the important ones. Somewhere in
that heartfelt, hasty confession, I heard the words, "I love you."
I reeled back with shock, joy gradually starting from the center of my soul and slowly spreading through
my entire body. And then, I realized that as soon as she'd finished saying those fateful words, she'd run
out, frightened and embarrassed. Well, I'd be damned if I let her run away from me, not now, not when
I'd found her at last! So I went out after her, finding her crying softly in the courtyard, snow blowing
around her. And I put my arms around her, holding her, reveling in how perfectly her slender form fit
against mine, as she let it all out.
In time, she calmed down enough to look up and see who had been holding her. Her brown eyes had
widened, but before she could say a word, I answered her confession with one of my own, just as
hurried, and I saw her blissful smile the moment before our lips met for the first time. And then, all
thought disappeared except one...one word. "Perfection".
The years would pass, and this perfection would never cease or fade. Despite the odds, or perhaps
because of them, we grew ever closer, married after her graduation, lived in love and harmony and that
wonderful understanding.
She's sleeping now, a small, beautiful smile on her face, her silky brown curls tumbling all around her on
our bed. Next to the bed is a cradle, in which slumbers a baby girl, with Hermione's eyes and fuzzy red
hair. I smile as I watch them. My own little bit of perfection. I only hope that I'll always be worthy.
* * *
What think you?
Review! HOWEVER, people who oppose this ship, do NOT flame me!
hope you like it! GO BOOKS AND QUILLS!! w00t! w00t!
Disclaimers apply. I don't own any Weasleys (more's the pity....)....or any other HP character...
REVIEW REVIEW!!
* * *
My first memory of her was of an eleven-year-old girl with masses of honey-brown hair and wide,
wonder-filled eyes, shy yet bold. She looked around the Gryffindor table at the sea of unfamiliar faces,
and her gaze lit upon me, and my Prefect badge. A look of relief filled her face, and she immediately
headed towards me as Professor McGonagall called the next student to be sorted. She sat down next
to me at the table and asked, in that sweet, serious way of hers, "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. You're
one of the Prefects for Gryffindor House, aren't you?"
I was quite flattered that she had noticed, and answered in the affirmative, introducing who I was
and asking her if I could help her in any way. She answered that as soon as the sorting was finished,
would I mind if she asked me questions about various classes here? She had read about them, but did
not know really what they were like. I gladly agreed.
And so it was, that my acquaintance with the woman whom I would later marry, started. I'd always
seeked perfection, and finally, I had found it.
I would be seeing more and more of Hermione. By Christmastime in my fifth year, she would be best
friends with Ron and Harry Potter. No longer the hesitant yet eager little girl who had, despite her
lack of experience and the fact that she was a first-year, had been a more intelligent, knowledgeable
and stimulating conversationalist about the academics than most of my classmates who were four
years older. Now, she had a purpose: to use her intelligence to protect and aid the Boy Who Lived, and
be friends to him and my younger brother.
Oh, we still greeted each other cordially whenever we met in the hallways, and time to time, we would
still talk in the common room about classwork and such, while Ron, her new best friend, would roll his
eyes and laugh at our bookishness. But our paths had separated, and would not truly cross for another
four years.
In my sixth year, I got my first girlfriend. Ravenclaw Prefect Penelope Clearwater, smart, amenable,
easy enough to get along with, we had met during Prefect meetings. We were each other's first kiss,
first boyfriend/girlfriend. It wasn't an intense, life-altering relationship, but it was good and steady
and comfortable enough. And then, on one same day, both Penelope, my girlfriend, and Hermione, that
sweet little girl who was so incredibly smart, were petrified. I was horrified. The two of them were both
wonderful girls, they did not deserve such a thing! Even Ron and the twins noticed how agitated by the
occurrence I was, but just pegged it to be shock that such a thing would happen to a PREFECT. I'd
roll my eyes at their beliefs...did they think that I was stupid? I knew that the Dark Lord would not
hesitate to attack someone just because he or she was a PREFECT! Honestly, did they really think that
I believed that a silver badge would be able to stop an Unforgivable curse? Give me some credit! They
don't understand...no one does...but her...and she was petrified...
Later, after the entire ordeal was over and done with, Penelope would tell me that on that fateful day,
Hermione had met her in the bathroom, a wild look in her eyes, a piece of parchment clutched in her
hand. Penelope, as a Prefect, had tried to calm the younger girl down, asking what was the matter.
Hermione had breathlessly but confidently voiced her suspicions about what was causing the students
to become petrified. Penelope had grasped the basic gist of Hermione's words at once, and was at
once all for running to Dumbledore and telling him, so that the school could be put out of danger as
soon as possible. Hermione, however, stopped her, before Penelope could run out of the bathroom, and
handed her a compact mirror, saying that they should use it when going past corners and such, just in
case. Then, the two girls set out towards the Headmaster's office, though they never made it there.
I was more impressed with Hermione's brilliance than ever, and all the way up to my graduation from
Hogwarts, that was the entirety of my feelings towards her: respect, admiration and friendship. Still
entirely platonic. At the end of 7th year, Penelope and I broke up. It was a mutual decision, mainly
because I would be out of Hogwarts, and we would be hard-pressed to keep in touch. We both knew
that we were not meant to be, and in the following year, when I saw Penelope again at the Yule Ball,
we were quite able to share a dance for Old Times' sake without bitterness or undue awkwardness.
And speaking of that Yule Ball, that was when I KNEW that things, specifically, things having to do
with Hermione, had changed.
Despite our differences in age, and our scarcity of contact, I'd always considered Hermione something
of a chum. Nothing more, nothing less. But at that ball...Oh Great Merlin!
She looked so lovely...so very lovely. There were plenty of beautiful girls there that night. Everyone
there was in their dress robes, makeup and hair done in the most flattering way possible. There was
Fleur Delacour, the part-veela girl, looking like a Goddess. I don't deny that she was, and still is, quite
magnificent. But her beauty was too...unapproachable, too removed from this Earth, for me at least.
Simply and heartbreakingly lovely in pale blue robes, with flowers in her golden brown hair, dancing
gracefully with that Bulgarian seeker...Penelope noticed me staring, and smiled, whispering that, if it
worked out, both of us were very lucky individuals indeed, and teasingly remarked that our robes even
matched. Me in navy, Hermione in periwinkle. Of course it was unintentional, but I blushed anyway, and
barely noticed what transpired for the rest of the evening.
I did not see Hermione again until the end of the summer before her fifth year. I had been working in
my room, reading some new correspondence from Dumbledore, when she had come in, beautiful and
lovable, chewing on her lower lip, dark brown eyes full of worry. And she had poured her heart out to
me, talking of how she worried about those gits of best friends she had, of how Harry was now in more
danger than ever, now with Voldemort back, of how she was excited but afraid at the same time about
being made Prefect...how was it that this little slip of a girl, just beginning to become a woman, voiced
all the same fears and concerns, past and present, that I had lived with? I think that I came to this
realization at the same time as she did, for we just started talking about anything and everything, all
of the sudden glad for the presence of each other, not even noticing the passing time.
At the end of that summer, I was sad to see her go, more sad than I'd ever been when my parents, my
older brothers and I saw the lot of them off at the station. But I thought it was just as well. There was
an upcoming war, and better to not fall in love at this time. It would be a distraction that I did not
need. Dumbledore was counting on me, and I would not let him down.
Little did I know that despite my high respect for him, I had actually underestimated Dumbledore.
When the lot of us, a large but dedicated group ranging from Hogwarts Professors to seasoned aurors
to noted prisoners to resourceful students, met for Order of the Phoenix assignments, Dumbledore
grouped us. The man obviously knew more than he let on, grouping us together the way he did. I
wonder if he knew that no less than three marriages, my own included, would result from such simple
machinations...probably did.
It was a surprise to both Hermione and I when, instead of her being paired with Harry or Ron, she was
paired with me. We were assigned to researching, and thus found ourselves together in the library
every weekend. Reading and doing our assignment earnestly, similar dedication and determination in
our minds and hearts. And talking about life and goals and feelings and thoughts and whatever else we
thought of, for we were the closest of kindred souls. And so it was, that despite my determination not
to fall in love and get distracted, I fell in love, deeply, genuinely, irrevocably in love, with Hermione.
And I found that, instead of being a liability, it only made me a better person. Still dedicated to work,
but more open, more receptive to the beauty of the good things in the world, and the beauty of one
very special young woman in particular.
But, she was so young, just turned sixteen the past autumn. What was I doing, falling in love with her?
She was unattainable, well, at least I thought so. So, I hid my feelings for her as best as I could, just
continuing to work with her, hoping that, perhaps one day many years later, she might love me at least
a fraction as much as I do her.
And then, one perfect, glorious, memorable day, in the middle of our research session, she slammed
her book down, her face flushed with emotion, her eyes full of fire and warmth and passion, and she
had simply let it out. And in her hurried flood of words, I discerned the important ones. Somewhere in
that heartfelt, hasty confession, I heard the words, "I love you."
I reeled back with shock, joy gradually starting from the center of my soul and slowly spreading through
my entire body. And then, I realized that as soon as she'd finished saying those fateful words, she'd run
out, frightened and embarrassed. Well, I'd be damned if I let her run away from me, not now, not when
I'd found her at last! So I went out after her, finding her crying softly in the courtyard, snow blowing
around her. And I put my arms around her, holding her, reveling in how perfectly her slender form fit
against mine, as she let it all out.
In time, she calmed down enough to look up and see who had been holding her. Her brown eyes had
widened, but before she could say a word, I answered her confession with one of my own, just as
hurried, and I saw her blissful smile the moment before our lips met for the first time. And then, all
thought disappeared except one...one word. "Perfection".
The years would pass, and this perfection would never cease or fade. Despite the odds, or perhaps
because of them, we grew ever closer, married after her graduation, lived in love and harmony and that
wonderful understanding.
She's sleeping now, a small, beautiful smile on her face, her silky brown curls tumbling all around her on
our bed. Next to the bed is a cradle, in which slumbers a baby girl, with Hermione's eyes and fuzzy red
hair. I smile as I watch them. My own little bit of perfection. I only hope that I'll always be worthy.
* * *
What think you?
Review! HOWEVER, people who oppose this ship, do NOT flame me!