Chapter I – Last Paycheque
"Well, there you go," The Author sighed, signing the cheque with an extra flourish, "I hope to work with you again, Hermione."
"Maybe on Book Eight?" Hermione replied with a smile, knowing full well what The Author would have to say about that.
"Godammit Hermione!" she spat, ripping the cheque out of the book with vehemence, "If one more stupid reporter even mentions a Book Eight, I'm going to tear their filthy hearts out with a butter knife!"
Hermione laughed, and took the cheque from the woman's hands. She gave her one last smile, before walking out the door of the office.
Now what would she do? Selling her story had been her only source of income for seven whole years. Her, Ron and Harry hadn't had to work a day of their lives since graduating, which had been when the cheques had come in. Sure, she had graduated top of her class, but that was seven years ago. Did she even remember half the things she had learned?
"Hermione."
She turned to see The Author holding a large volume out to her. "It's the First Edition Book Seven, Hermione, signed and everything. I want you to have one."
"Oh Author, you know my rule," Hermione scolded. "No reading the books, or watching the Movies. All of us gave you free reign on our lives, and I don't want to get wrongfully mad at what you did to them."
"It was your life, Hermione," The Author said, rummaging around her desk, until she produced an entire stack of books. "You have a right to know what I did to it. Take the entire series. I want you to read them, and watch the movies too, if you wish. I'd consider it a personal favour."
Hermione looked at the colourful stack of books sitting on The Author's desk. She could never resist books. And these were large ones at that, thick and heavy. She walked back, and stroked the first one with her hand, admiring the art.
"Hey," she squinted, inspecting the picture more closely, "Harry doesn't wear glasses!"
"I felt the need to make him more……geeky. Give him an ounce of pity from the readers." The Author pulled out the second one, and pointed at the flying car. "I know, it wasn't a Ford Anglia, neither was it blue. These are all just minor changes I made." She eyed Hermione pleadingly. "Read the books, Hermione."
"Those are only minor changes? What else did you do?"
The Author cleared her throat. "I am only going to tell you if you promise to read them, Hermione."
She nodded.
"Okay. You know Crabbe, and Goyle?" The Author paused for effect. "I made them Draco Malfoy's brainless goons."
Hermione's eyes widened, but she bit her lip, and stayed quiet.
The Author motioned for her to sit down. "The Dursleys are now anal retentive Muggles, and they DON'T try to figure out ways to get rid of Harry. They just sit in a corner and be afraid. Ummmm…Pansy Parkinson is only minor character, I KNOW Hermione!" The Author scolded her, as she was viciously chewing her lip, "I KNOW that Pansy was vital in ridding the world of the Dark Lord, but still, too many characters would confuse people. Oh, and speaking of the Dark Lord," The Author now began to look a bit nervous, "I changed his name to Voldemort."
Hermione snorted. "Sounds like a wart remover."
"Ah, yes, speaking of warts…..I changed The Academy of Magical Unity and Wellbeing to……uh…..Hogwarts."
"HOGWARTS!" Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. "I'm an alumni of Hogwarts?"
"It gives the story a much more fantastical air," The Author justified. "And in the…ahem….relationship section." Hermione immediately sobered up. "I took the liberty of making Ginny Harry's companion."
Choke. "But…but….Ginny is Ron's wife!"
"I assure you that it was not an easy decision to make! Instead, I made Ginny Ron's sister!"
"That's disgusting."
The Author scoffed. "Millions of readers don't share your opinion. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back to work."
Hermione stood. "I'm sorry," she apologized to The Author. "I must seem so ungrateful. But please, tell me, what did you make me like?"
The Author smiled. "I made you a stuffy, brown eyed, bushy haired bookworm."
Hermione was taken aback. "But, that's exactly what I was like!"
"You were already perfect." The Author pointed at the clock, and remarked, "Hermione, aren't you going to be late at picking up your son?"
Hermione gave a little look at the clock, and shrieked.
"Oh Lord! Tommy will be out in 5 minutes!" She grabbed her bags, and shot a longing look at the books. "Will it be okay if I send a house elf after those?"
"Of course. I haven't had a chat with Dobby in ages."
"He's been remarkably busy decorating Katrine's room, but I'll send him anyway. Thanks for the books."
The Author gave a curt nod, and called after Hermione's retreating back;
"Thanks for the memories."
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"………and we sang songs, and played Play-Doh, and folded pretty paper cranes, and painted, and read nice books, and….."
Hermione suppressed a groan, clutching her son's hand tightly. He was just as talkative as she had been at that age, and so curious and inquisitive. She released his hand, and stroked his sandy-brown curls a bit. They were heading towards the library, one of Hermione's favourite places, to borrow a few books, and drop Tommy off at Story Time.
"………….and then we were at Circle Time, and Billy told us about a story his mommy had read him, and it was called Harry Potter, just like Uncle Harry! Isn't that funny, Mummy?"
Hermione's hand stopped through his hair. "Did you tell him about Uncle Harry, Tom?"
Tommy shook his head. "No. You told me that wasn't his real name anyways, remember?"
Hermione exhaled softly. "And what's his real name, hun?"
"Henry. But you said that in the olden days, people used to call Henrys Harry, because they though funny, or summin."
The Author had suggested false names a while ago, before the books were even published. After all, not all of them were Dean Thomas, and could hide under the cloak of a popular name. Draco Malfoy, for example. Not a lot of those out there.
"But Dorian McIsaac?" she muttered under her breath. He had, of course, chosen his own name, stupid arse. How many Dorian McIsaacs were there? Probably the same amount as there were Draco Malfoys.
"Why do you and Uncle Harry, and everyone else call each other funny names sometimes, Mummy?"
"You already know why, sweetie. They were our nicknames when we went to school."
"Oh, right."
They entered the library, and Hermione steered Tommy into the side room, where a sizeable group of children were already gathered. The woman who normally led the group was away, and replaced by two teenage girls.
"And who is this?" the blonde one said, holding a name tag. Tommy wrinkled his nose at her, and Hermione gave him a little nudge.
"Tommy," he mumbled.
The girls gave each other a look, then began to giggle. Hermione looked at each of them, the blonde and the brunette, and cleared her throat.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked.
The brunette shook her head no. "There's just this actor we like, from the Harry Potter movies, and his name is Tom, that's all."
The blonde handed Tommy his name tag, and he ran towards his friends. Hermione gave him a last look, then walked out the door into the library.
A rock seemed to have fallen into her stomach at the words "Harry Potter Movie". She was still a bit shocked by The Author's changes to her story, but still. The name of one of the actors sparked a curiosity in her that couldn't be suppressed. She cleared her throat, and sat down at an available computer.
She went to Google.com, and clicked the little, blue, "Images" button. Hands trembling a slight bit, she typed in "Tom".
The first image that popped up was one of a smiling bald man, then a bug-eyed baby, and a few comic book strips that had been scanned in. No wizards.
She mentally cursed herself. Specifics, Hermione, specifics. She went back up to the search bar, and typed, "Tom Harry Potter."
Cringing, she clicked "search".
This time, the first picture was of a blonde boy, lying on the grass, in green Slytherin robes. Her heart beating furiously, she clicked it.
"Gateway timeout?" she hissed, reading the screen. "What the hell is that?"
She clicked back, and to her dismay, they pictures had totally rearranged themselves. Finding another picture of the blonde boy, who was this time looking quite demented, she clicked it, and gasped at what she saw.
"This has to be the creepiest thing that I have ever seen," she whispered. Indeed, it had to be, children dressing up like you and your friends. She scrolled down, enthralled, staring the mini versions of her, Harry, Ron and Draco.
The Author must have helped with casting she thought, shaking her head in amazement. They have uncanny likenesses.
Feeling a bit bold, she typed in "Hermione Granger."
She is a very beautiful girl She thought, as she scrolled down. Something caught her eye, and she paused.
"Hermione and RON?" she choked, suppressing the urge to gag. Is THAT what The Author did, one of those majour changes? A bit unnerved, she furiously typed in "Hermione Malfoy".
Boring pictures. And how DARE she? First making Ginny Ron's sister, then making me his…..She shuddered.
"I would suggest 'Draco Hermione' instead."
Hermione jumped nearly 3 feet in the air. Behind her stood the blonde from Story Time, who was looking over her shoulder at the searches.
"Wh….what?"
The blonde stared at her. "You're a Draco/Hermione shipper, right?"
"Ah….uhm….I guess, yeah."
She squealed. "Excellent! Do you write fanfics?"
Hermione was flabbergasted. "Fan-what?"
The girl's eyes widened. "You don't know what FANFICS are? All D/H fans are pro at fanfics! We practically OWN ff.net!"
"Uhm," Hermione pointed at the door, "Aren't you supposed to be in there?"
The girl rolled her eyes. "I guess. Sorry for pouncing on you, its just so exciting to meet someone with the same tastes as you. Here's my email," she said, scrawling it on Hermione's arm. "Chat with me or something."
Hermione rolled her own eyes as the girl gave a little wave, and headed towards story time.
"Mudbloods."
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Crack!
Draco Malfoy looked up from his paper, only to see his house elf Dobby suddenly appear, loaded down with books. Dobby swayed slightly back and forth, before crashing to the ground, one of his ears pinned down by a purple copy of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.
"What…the….hell….are you doing in here with those……things?" Draco spat, his heart beating triple time. Dobby whimpered, his master got so angry when things weren't done right.
"The Mistress, sir, she commanded Dobby to bring these home, sir," he explained, wrenching the book off his ear, and throwing it across the room.
Draco caught it deftly, and examined the cover. "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban," he read dryly. "If I recall correctly, it was Sirius Black who caught the prisoner of Azkaban, not Harry."
Dobby nodded, finally free of the giant volumes. "It was indeed, Master, such a wise and wonderful deduction."
Draco gave him a snarky look, then laughed at his pathetic comment. "You crack me up, Dobby," he said, tossing the book back to the elf. "Hand me the first one."
Dobby tossed the red book to him, and he glanced at the cover. "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Hmm, shouldn't it be Hermione Granger and the Philosopher's Stone?" he shrugged, then opened the book and began to read 'Chapter One, the Boy who Lived.'