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Move Along by the_real_mrs_potter

Format: Novella
Chapters: 8
Word Count: 28,468

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature

Genres: Fluff, Humor, AU
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, OC
Pairings: Harry/Hermione, Hermione/OC

First Published: 02/04/2008
Last Chapter: 11/16/2008
Last Updated: 11/16/2008

:: banner : me ::

Hermione Granger has just been dumped. D-U-M-P-E-D, dumped. Not only that, but by someone who she thought she was going to walk down the aisle with in a few short years! How will she ever cope with this sure sign of defeat? Revenge, that's how. *COMPLETED*

Chapter 1: Comfort


                "There is peace and rest and comfort in sorrow"
                                                     - Soren Kierkegaard

We were at the Three Broomsticks, talking about everything and nothing. This is what most of our dates were like. We had so much chemistry, it was unbelievable. I almost didn’t even take it into perspective until about the second or third date we had a year ago. But thank Merlin I realized it. We were soul mates.

I loved the way his sandy blonde hair fell into his face, and how he always had to tilt his head to get the strands out of his perfect blue eyes. His cheeks were always rosy; no matter what the weather and it made him look like an innocent schoolboy; another reason to love him. 

But looks weren’t everything. Oh, no. He always knew how to make me feel special. He would leave little notes by my desk in the classes we had together, telling me how much he loved me. He would always sit with me, Harry, and Ron at supper. And he always could surprise me. He even had the Harry and Ron stamp of approval.
I was going to marry this boy. I’m sure of it.

“Herms?” I heard him call, as if an echo in the distance. “Herms?” he repeated. I then realized that I was staring off into space, not even paying attention to our conversation.
“Oh, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

He narrowed his eyes at me suspiciously, “I was saying that there was a reason I asked you to lunch today. We need to talk.”

“Ok, shoot.”

He took in a deep breath and reached for my hands that were resting on the table. This is it, I thought, he is going to propose to me! After a year of pure bliss and romance he is finally going to–

“I want to break up.”

I fell down from my cloud. “What?” I asked, disbelieving his words.

“I want to break up, for good.”

This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening. This isn’t part of the plan. No sir, it is not! “What?!”

“Erm . . . I just said that . . .”

“You’re not supposed to break up with me! You were supposed to propose to me, I would say yes, and you would carry me out into the sunset and we would live happily ever after!”

His brow furrowed once again astonishment and a bit of humor present in his tone, “Wait, what? You thought I was going to propose to you?”

He thought I was neurotic. He thought I was crazy. I’m not! It’s perfectly natural for someone to want to get married, pick out a wedding cake, and have a happy altogether life. “Well of course I did! We’ve been going out for the past year and have excellent chemistry!”

He let go of my hands, “You see Hermione, that’s the thing. All we have together is chemistry. We never snog; we never go out to romantic dinners. All we do is talk and study together. And anytime we do eat with one another it is either at supper with Harry and Ron or in this dingy old place!”

Rosmerta turned her head abruptly at this, a disgusted look on her features. He pretended not to notice and turned back to me, “There is no spark anymore, Herms. Nothing.”

I felt my eyes well up with tears. When he made a motion to speak again I stopped him. “We kiss and we do have romantic dinners. All the time!”

“We do kiss, but not as often as a couple should if they’ve been dating for a year.”
“Are you saying that we should be sleeping together by now?!” I yelled, more loudly than intended. I think the whole pub is looking at us and listening to our conversation by now. But I don’t care. Not one bit.

“Well . . . yeah.”

My mouth opens and I look at him with an aghast look on my face. How dare he! I got up out of my chair and slapped him on the face, earning a collection of gasps throughout the room. He places his hand on his cheek and rubs it to try and sooth the pain. Serves him right. I hope it hurts like hell.

“You’re crazy!” He screams at me as I make my way out of the crowded room, pushing anyone in my way. Tears start to cloud my vision again as I push open the door and run towards the Shrieking Shack.

The grass is soft around my feet as I slow down my run and collapse onto it. I let the sobs overtake me as I bury my face into the palms of my hands. After one year he breaks it off with me for lack of sexual intimacy?! That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard! We did plenty of snogging . . . in the first few months. We did hold hands in the hallway . . . when we saw each other. 


He was right. Our relationship turned from hot and heavy, to dull and boring throughout our sixth and seventh years of schooling. I hardly even noticed with the N.E.W.Ts to study for. I cared more for my grades than my boyfriend. That made me cry even harder. I was the worst girlfriend–well ex now–that had ever walked the planet!

Someone must have heard my sobs, because I felt a hand on my back after what seemed like an hour of crying. The contact of the hand jolted my face upward into the face of Ron, his eyes shining with concern. “What’s wrong, Herms?”

“Herms . . . Terry called me that!” I said as I let another sob escape my throat.

“Terry?” Ron asked, another sob confirmed his question. “What did he do to you?!”

I sniffed and looked up at him; he was now crouched at my side and looking straight at me. “H-he broke up w-with me.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed in anger. I could see his face change to the color of his hair. He was pissed. Big time. “I’m going to kill him!”

Despite my condition, I smiled a bit at Ron’s concerns. Even though I wanted Terry to die a horrible and painful death in hell with little demon monkeys stabbing him with pitchforks made of fire, I wanted to be the one to say the spell and not Ron. It was my problem, not his. “Thanks f-for your concern . . . b-but I just want to g-go back to the c-castle.”

Ron nodded and helped me up and off of the ground. As we walked towards the carriages, he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I felt safe with Ron; he always made me feel better. He was one of the few who could, actually. Him, Harry, and . . . Terry. His name caused my eyes to swell with tears again. Ron saw this and tightened his grip on me. 

When we arrived back to the castle, Ron led me to the common room. Why, I didn’t know. Dinner was soon and I was sure he would lead me to the great hall. I guess not. I heard him say the password and tell me to step up into the portrait hole. 

I vaguely registered what was going on around me. So when I felt someone come up to Ron and me, I paid no attention. But when I heard the familiar voice that was Harry, I snapped out of my stupor. He had the same amount of concern on his face that Ron had when he found me, but when we locked eyes his face immediately went red. I didn’t even have to say what happened; Harry could always read my emotions.

Ron knew of my and Harry’s connection, so when he saw Harry’s reaction, he let go of his grip on me and let Harry embrace me much as he had done. My hands wrapped around his neck and he rubbed my back. He lowered his head and whispered in my ear, “He’s going to die.”

I smiled as I did with Ron, but this time responded with, “Just let me have a go at him first.”

“Deal.” He said as he released me and led the three of us to the couch in front of the fire. I sat in the middle of the two of them and heard them conversing on ways to commit homicide without getting caught. Needless to say, I fell asleep with a smile on my face. 


I awoke the following day with my stomach growling at me. I fell asleep when Harry and Ron were talking . . . I must have been exhausted. Then again, crying your eyes out does result in some sort of exhaustion. I opened my eyes and stared to wiggle around so my body could muster the strength to get up. I felt heaviness upon me and knew that it wasn’t my muscles being sore from sleeping on the couch. Someone put a blanket on top of me. I smiled; I truly had the best friends anyone could ask for. When I propped myself on my elbows, another surprise awaited me. Harry was on the chair across from me with a smile on his face and a tray of food on his lap. 

Correction: I had the best friends in the whole wide world.

Harry got up and placed the tray on my lap, kissing my forehead and muttered a good morning to me. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did, thanks to you and Ron.”

“Oh, Ron had nothing to do with it.” He said. Harry sat down on the carpet in front of me and looked up into my eyes.  “He wanted to wake you up and tell you to go up to your bedroom. I, however, said that you would probably bite his head off considering your day.”

“You know me all too well.” I said as I took a bite out of my pancakes.

“I try.”

As I swallowed I asked, “So wait, you were the one who put the blanket on me?”

“The one and only.” He said.

Correction dos: I have the best friend in the whole universe; and his name is Harry.

We had small talk throughout the time I finished my breakfast-on-the-couch (I couldn’t refer to it as breakfast-in-bed, since that would require a bed and all). I totally forgot about why I was upset the night before until Harry brought up the subject while I finished the last of my pumpkin juice.

“So, any weapons of choice for the homicidal death of Terry Boot?”

I smirked, “Pitchforks made of fire crossed my mind once or twice.”

“Excellent choice, but do you have anything that won’t require a trip to hell and back?”
I rubbed my chin in thought, “Anything that comes to mind had something to do with a long trip down south.”

“Well then we’ll just have to improvise, won’t we?”

“Any ideas?” I ask.

“Not one.”

“Not the sharpest tool in the shed today?” I ask.

“Try every day of my life.” He replies, taking my tray away from its position on my lap and setting it on the coffee table behind us. “Although that shed does sound like a good place to look for a weapon of homicidal purposes.”

I laugh.

“Aha! The first laugh after the breakup of the century! Can I get a round of applause?” He asked the empty tower.

“Don’t sound so proud, you could have easily tickled me and got the same result.” His face brightened; the opposite of my intent. “Don’t even think about it.” He got closer. “Harry . . .” Closer. “Harry, no!”

His hands through the blanked off of me and started to tickle the sides of my stomach. I tossed and turned while squealing for him to have mercy. He never listens to me, he just gets more and more confidant and we both fall to the ground. I am out of breath by the time he slows down his attack. 

“Give?” he asks me as we start to get up.

“I gave up before you even started.” I said, as I stretched and cracked my back.

“I know; that’s what made it more fun.” I playfully punched him on his arm. He started to rub it and clean up the tray from the coffee table. Apparently while he was attacking me, we failed to notice we broke the plate and glass that were atop the tray. He sighed, “Would you care to accompany me to the kitchens?” 

“And why would you need an escort, Mister Potter?”

“So I don’t have to face the wrath of fifty house elves because of the broken plate and glass plus Dobby trying to clear my name.”

I looked at him suspiciously, “Couldn’t you just Repairo it and send the tray back?”

He looked at me and shrugged, “I’m too lazy, and it gives us a chance to talk more and share ideas about those weapons.”

I smiled, “Alright.”

He picked up the tray and I followed him out of the tower. We did uphold his proposition of talking about those weapons. I even brought up Terry’s name once or twice without tearing up. An epic achievement. When we reached the portrait of the fruit basket and tickled the pair we saw the house elves hard at work preparing lunch.
“Harry Potter, sir!” 

We turned around and saw Dobby behind us, a smile on his face. “Hello Dobby.”

Harry said politely. He motioned to the plate in his hands, “We sort of had an accident with the plate and cup.”

Dobby reached up and took the tray from Harry’s hands, “It’s quite alright, and we have plenty more.”

I looked at Harry with an amused look on my face, “I told you it would be no big deal.”
“And I chose to remain ignorant of your concerns.”

I rolled my eyes as we watched Dobby repair the broken items. “Is there anything else Harry Potter and his Mistress needs?”

I blush as Harry replied with a polite, “No.” It wasn’t the first time Dobby addressed me as Harry’s ‘Mistress’, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. I don’t mind, though. At least I am acknowledged in the presence of Harry Potter.

When we reached the common room, it was still empty. “Gryffindor takes it’s time eating.” I mumble.

“Well it is the house of Ron Weasley, isn’t it?” Harry replied as we took seats on the couch. I leaned on Harry and he put his arm around me as we stared into the fire. This was one of my favorite things to do with Harry, just sit with him in a comfortable silence. He was usually the one to ruin it, though, and this time was no exception. “So tell me what happened with you and Terry.”

“We broke up.”

I felt him chuckle, “I mean why.”

I nodded slowly and took a breath. I hadn’t really put the reason we broke up into coherent words yet, so I had to think of the right thing to describe it as. Tragic was too dramatic, Horrid was too unrelated. When I thought I had it, I spoke, “I was confused. I thought we were going great, our relationship was great. But apparently he had other ideas about the definition of great. We just . . . lost our fire, our passion, our reason to continue. I really did love him, but apparently my sexual actions didn’t well up to his expectations.”

“Sexual actions? You mean he wanted to–”

“Yeah, basically.” I said, “When he told me, I couldn’t handle that. I’m seventeen for Merlin’s sake! Apparently a year’s worth of dating adds up to shagging when you’re not ready for it.”

“Hermione,” Harry tilted up my head and made me look into his eyes, “No one can tell you what to do and what you should do. Only you can do that.”

I nodded, “You’re right.”

“I know I am, for I am Harry Potter, God of Wisdom!”

I wrinkled my nose in disapproval, “Needs a different title. It’s too boring.”

“I’ll work on that.”

“And I’ll be looking forward to the result. But for now, I think I should go to the library.”
As I wiggled out of his grip he asked, “You’re studying, aren’t you?”

I straightened my sweater and tightened my ponytail as I answered, “It’s cheaper then therapy.” I heard Harry chuckle as I made my way out of the tower and into the piles of books that awaited me. Ah, the benefits of no money to pay for a proper therapist. 


A/N: Ah, the fateful return of Writerss Block. It seems 'In Fair Hogwarts' couldn't go long without the dreatful monster sneaking up on me. But I've been kicking around the idea for this novel for a while and hope that my attempt proves to be successful. This fic is actually based on the song by the All-American rejects. When I listened to the song one day, the idea for this story popped into my head. So I hope my momentary brain blast makes up for my brain fart for my other novel. Plz R/R and hope that I can balance these two stories well!