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Hermione And Her Husband: Chapter 1, Goblet of Fire
🕑 Added 2023-10-14 12:17:29 +0000 UTC"Harry Potter," Dumbledore said calmly, standing in front of a burning goblet and holding aloft a small piece of singed parchment.
The great hall fell silent with a hush for only a moment before the students of the three schools broke out in loud conversation, some shouting, trying to be heard over the sea of voices.
Hermione Granger was one of the only students to remain silent. She stared at the boy sitting next to her who was frozen in fear and shock. His lightning bolt scar barely peeked out from under his long hair, emerald green eyes flashing uncertainly behind his round glasses.
Five minutes prior, Hermione may have pushed him to go to the Headmaster, but now she only had one thought running through her head as her gaze remained locked on her best friend.
Holy shit, that's Harry Potter.
In the brief span of a single second, Hermione had remembered the memories of her previous life, where her current life was a series of books and movies. Her genius mind was short-circuiting as she tried to process a lifetime's worth of memories, however cut short it may have been. She'd died young, and now that she had a second chance, she wouldn't waste it or settle for mediocrity.
Harry looked different than she was expecting. That was to be expected, considering they started Hogwarts at fourteen, rather than eleven.
His hair was still the same unruly mop that he'd worn in the fourth movie, but that was where the similarities ended. He was taller, reaching just over six feet tall. He looked a little too skinny to be healthy, but he was fit from his years of playing quidditch.
His lithe seeker muscles strained against his Hogwarts robes, but they only distracted Hermione for a moment before she was entranced by Harry's eyes. His emerald green eyes were like a deep pool of liquid magic, and she was lost in their depths. Hermione found him to be the most beautiful boy she'd ever laid eyes on. This was no fourteen-year-old Daniel Radcliffe. This was The Chosen One.
She was quickly knocked out of her dazed reverie by the ever-increasing noise of the students of the three schools. Dumbledore shot a blast of magic into the air with a loud bang, shocking the masses into silence. Without a word, he motioned for Harry to come with him and moved to leave the great hall.
Despite Harry's poorly concealed panic, he stood and followed, shooting a nauseous look at Hermione over his shoulder he left.
Hermione ignored Ronald as he shook her shoulder and tried to get her attention. A single glance to take in his slovenly appearance and stained robes was more than enough for her. She could see the animosity he held toward Harry because of his name coming out of the Goblet and decided she wanted nothing to do with the redhead.
She left him without a word and went to sit by the Weasley twins, who were huddled together, whispering conspiratorially. Like it or not, the twins had the biggest voice in the school, aside from maybe the gossips, Lavender and Parvati. When any of those four wanted something seen or heard, it got around.
Rather than the twins spending the year pranking Harry, if she could get them on his side, his year would be much easier. She would talk to them later. Now, she was busy formulating plans to help Harry overcome the hell that his fourth year was shaping up to be. The biggest question that repeated itself in her head was what did she, Hermione Granger, truly want?
Her life's priorities had been rearranged in an instant. Ever since she met Harry's eyes she felt possessed by desire like she'd never imagined. This was Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, The Man-Who-Conquered, The Master of Death. She would make him hers, no matter the cost. He was worth it, even if he didn't see that yet.
Soon enough, the students began to trickle out and return to their common rooms.
Hermione waited for Harry to return in the corridor leading to the entrance of the Gryffindor common room. She conjured a chair to sit on and pulled a book out of her bag to pass the time. An hour later, a subdued Harry Potter nearly walked right past her. He was so lost in his own troubled thoughts that he almost hadn't noticed one of his best friends sitting in such a strange spot.
Hermione hopped up, sweeping him into a hug that was noticeably different from her usual crushing 'Hermy-hugs'. She held him in her arms gently and tucked her head into his chest. He was half a foot taller than her and felt that she fit against him like a piece of a puzzle. His arms automatically came up and returned her embrace.
Harry found that he rather enjoyed this kind of hug. It was soft and comforting in a way that he'd never experienced. It was only after a moment's hesitation that he allowed himself to sink into her arms.
Hermione was hyper-focused and taking note of every one of Harry's micro expressions and movements. Now that she had the benefit of meta-knowledge, it was incredibly easy for her to spot the signs of abuse that Harry tried to hide. When he hugged her closely, she buried her face in his chest to hide her triumphant smile.
She would make the Dursleys pay in blood for whatever they had done to her Harry, and she was suspicious of Dumbledore as well. Whether the old man knew Harry was a horcrux at this point or not, he didn't seem to have Harry's best interests at heart.
Hermione did thank Dumbledore for priming Harry to be easily plucked by the first person to show him love and compassion. She wasn't above taking advantage of somebody else's schemes. Rather than an old man in an ivory tower pulling Harry's strings to his death, Hermione was going to help him achieve his destiny properly. Besides, Harry would become the most powerful wizard in the world if she gave him the proper motivation.
Hermione would get a powerful husband that would love her and protect her from all the crazy racist shit in the wizarding world. Harry, on the other hand, would get a loving, dutiful wife that was mildly obsessed with him already, and would push him to be the best version of himself. She would raise her own badass OP Master of Death Harry!
Hermione felt somewhat manic when she fantasized about all the things she would do for Harry to motivate him. A scarlet blush covered her cheeks and she snuggled deeper into Harry's chest.
Did she have Yandere tendencies? If her past life was any indication, she would say no, but... Harry was perfect in her eyes. She saw in him infinite potential and a compassion that was unmatched by any other wizard she'd ever met.
He was also dreamy. She wouldn't let any other witch steal him away from her. They didn't see him the way she did, not yet, but she knew she'd be beating them off with bludger bats by their seventh year.
To the students of Hogwarts, Harry must have seemed a disappointment and a betrayal to their expectations. They were raised on those fictional stories of Harry's adventures that painted him as a larger-than-life character.
When they were met with the ordinary boy that was Harry Potter, they were inevitably disillusioned. However, they didn't see Harry's adventures. They didn't see him stand up to a dark lord in his first year, slay a basilisk in his second, or drive off over a hundred dementors in his third!
She realized she might be metaphorically sucking his dick a little, but didn't let that bother her as she was going to literally suck his dick as soon as she could get her hands on it!
She looked up at him demurely, noting his completely uncomprehending expression. He liked the hug, but wasn't sure what to make of it. Those damn Dursleys had left him starved for affection and left him emotionally stunted, but she would fix that. She had an age-old cure involving hugs, cuddles, kisses, and dirty, filthy, depraved sex. With her dedication, it would surely have a one hundred percent success rate!
"Come with me Harry," she pulled back, taking his hand in hers and leading them away from the Gryffindor common room. No good would come of him staying there any time soon. Ron alone was going to make his life miserable.
Harry was a little confused, but followed obediently at Hermione's gentle tone. She wasn't bossy like she usually was and she had a twinkle in her eye that made it hard for him to look away. Has she always been this beautiful? he thought.
Whatever was going on with his best female friend, Harry was happy to follow along. Anything to distract him from the mess he'd been dropped into was more than welcome.
His year had been ruined, yet again, by someone out for his life. All the professors agreed that somebody was trying to kill him by entering him in the tournament, but they allowed his participation anyways! Magically binding contract, his pasty white ass.
Harry sighed but was glad for the warmth of Hermione's hand as she guided him through the halls. The feeling of her hand in his grounded him, and some of his worries began to fade. At least he had Hermione.
