This story that I am working on is also a story I have posted for a challenge on HPFF (harrypotterfanfiction.com). It is called the Greek Gods and Goddesses challenge. My job was to pick a number and get a god or goddes. I pulled the god Hades. Now I have to make a main character who is named Hades, has similarities to the god (but is not the actual god or possesses the powers of the god, just resembles the god) and have a good story. I hope I can meet the qualifications!
WARNING: This story
may contain stronger material for more adult readers. I will edit it from the original HPFF site (which accepts rated M fics) to fit the ToS here on TPF, but it will still have content that may seem upsetting to others. Please be warned!
Summary: "Don't you like it here?" he asked, whispering in her ear and hugging her from behind. "Yes," she said, tears falling silently down her cheeks. "Don't you like me?" he asked again, a tender finger trailing down her face and through her hair. "Yes," she repeated, crumpling in his grasp, her tears turning into instant sobs. "Then forget about him."
Australian Blur
Chapter One
Hermione was standing in the doorway, smiling down at the red head laying on the bed before her. Harry and Ginny just left for the night and Hermione shut the door in Ron's bedroom and made her way to him. At last, since that final day with Voldemort, Ron and Hermione were able to appreciate each others company.
Ron sat up and patted the bed beside him to allow for her to sit next to him. Hermione refused the offer and instead sat on his lap and ran her fingers through his hair. His blue eyes were locked onto her brown ones and his smile was enough for her to believe she was sitting on top of the most gorgeous man alive. It made her suddenly aware of her dirty old blue jeans and, less than flattering on her, top Fleur let her borrow. It was silky blue with black buttons and hems. Something only a part Veela girl could pull off.
"Here we are," Ron said, hands pushing her hair from her face.
"Here we are," Hermione copied with a beaming smile.
"You're beautiful," he said without diverting his eyes from her. Hermione looked down at her hands, which were fumbling around in her lap. Ron lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes once more. Then he leaned in and kissed her, a favorite passing time of theirs. His lips were soft and smooth against hers, but her focus was on his hands tonight. One hand was in the crevice of her back, pulling her closer to him, and the other was still on her chin but conveniently out of the way of the kiss.
At last the kiss broke, but only long enough for Ron to pick Hermione up off his lap and flip her over onto the bed. He smiled down at her before finding her lips with his once more.
"Ron," she said quietly.
"Yes, my love?" he said just as equally quietly as she had been.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
They continued to lay there on the bed until they fell asleep soundly in each others arms. It was their first official time alone together, and she would be leaving first thing in the morning to retrieve her parents.
Typically, Hermione would be the one packing right now in order to make these plans happen, but after a year away from Hogwarts she didn't really have anything suitable to wear now. All she had left were a few tattered jeans and some shirts Fleur let her borrow. Instead, she spent the last week getting things straightened out with the Australian Ministry in order to retrieve her parents. It was going to be a lot longer than she would like, but it was worth it to get her parents back. According to the laws in Australia, any witch or wizard under the age of nineteen is not allowed to perform magic. Luckily, she only had a few months left until then, which was ample time to convince her parents that she was their daughter and they needed to come back home.
“It isn't going to be an easy task, you know that, darling?” Ron asked once they woke up and she was putting on a different pair of jeans that she saved especially for this day. She nodded her head while she slipped another one of Fleur's pale, pink tops over her head. “Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?” he asked, walking up behind her and placing an arm around her waist. She smiled and turned around, pecking his lips and then pulling away from his grasp to grab her wand and tame her hair.
“I wish you could,” she answered, “but my parents wouldn't recognise you and I need to retrieve them as quickly as I can.”
“Well I could stay at your apartment while you are visiting them,” he suggested.
“Ron we've been over this...” she said sympathetically. She would love nothing more than for Ron to join her, but she really needed this time to herself. After the last year of hunting Voldemort's Horcruxes, it was time for some time to herself, along with the time to get her parents back.
“I know, love,” he sighed, putting his own t-shirt on over his wonderful, ginger hair. She knew he understood, but he wasn't making it any easier on her part to say no.
The two of them went downstairs together and met up with Harry, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley clan. Mrs. Weasley put a bowl of porridge in front of Hermione and sat across from her once everyone was served.
“Today is the day!” Mrs. Weasley said, passing the cream to Ginny. “How we will all miss you, Hermione, dear!”
“I'll miss you, too. All of you.” Said Hermione, genuinely sad that she would be leaving all of them, especially Ron. It wasn't like leaving for the summer during school. It was different because now she would be leaving her best friend and her boyfriend. When she left, she would be leaving the love of her life behind even though she just got him.
“Well, maybe we will come up and visit a few times,” Harry suggested, looking at Ginny for confirmation. Ginny agreed and looked at Hermione to see if this would be alright.
“I suppose so,” she said with a small smile. I won't be able to leave at this rate, she thought.
“Well, the Ministry can't be kept waiting, dear,” Mr. Weasley said, looking at his pocket-watch with a rather large grin. “Your appointment is at–”
“Nine,” Hermione answered without thinking.
“Yes, well we have precisely ten minutes. Are you ready, dear?” he was already standing and holding a hand out toward the fireplace. Hermione sighed and finished off her porridge quickly. Ron grabbed hold of her hand and walked her to his father and the fireplace. Everyone gathered round and gave her one last hug.
“We'll see you soon,” Harry said, hugging her right after Ginny. Hermione nodded and smiled faintly at him. She would miss Ginny and him almost as much as she would miss the company of Ron.
“I love you, darling. Be safe,” Ron squeezed her and almost refused to let go before it was time.
“I love you, too,” she replied, hiding the tears forming in her eyes. She would have to get her parents quickly at this rate. She kissed him, more passionately than she had this morning, but not too passionately to embarrass herself in front of his family.
“Well, I've got to go,” she said, giving everyone one last look. Mr. Weasley gave her the floo powder and she took a handful of it. She threw it in and the the flames turned emerald, allowing her to step in. The last thing she saw before saying, “Australia's Ministry of Magic,” was Ron watching as she left him.
This was her least favorite way to travel, and she certainly didn't think of what it would do to her only decent outfit. Hopefully, once she was at the Ministry, someone would be able to clean her off. Because of the age restriction, she wasn't able to apparate in the middle of Australia.
Even though her eyes were shut tight and she never opened her mouth, soot still managed to get all over her and in her mouth. At last the spinning stopped and she was able to stumble out of the fireplace, coughing and sputtering around. She didn't realise an extremely sharp, pointed woman was watching her get soot all over the room. When she finally got the soot out of her eyes, she noticed the woman and stopped moving instantly, noticing the mess she was making.
“Hi,” Hermione said sheepishly.
“I see,” said the woman, pointing her nose down at Hermione and taking note on her clipboard (which was shortly taken over by the quill itself). “Miss Granger, I presume?”
“Yes,” Hermione answered, realising that this woman reminded her too much of one Miss Rita Skeeter. “Is there someplace I need to register?” she asked once the woman didn't say anything else.
“Not looking like that, you won't,” she said, pulling her wand out. Hermione flinched as the woman cast a nonverbal spell, but when she looked down she noticed there was no more soot on her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, not sure the woman would care if she appreciated it or not.
“Follow me, Miss Granger.”
Hermione followed behind the unknown woman and looked around as they walked. The Ministry was not as mystical as their own, but it still had a bit of a magical quality to it. Instead of stone and brick all over, most of the walls seemed to be made of a dark, red wood. There were windows all over, peering into offices with people talking to fireplaces and others doing paperwork. It was truly fascinating how things were here compared to the Ministry back home, but she was already missing home because of it.
“This way,” the woman said, looking over her glasses at Hermione, who seemed to be awestruck by her surroundings. Hermione looked and noticed that they were ready to enter in the room with big, golden letters reading: Minister's Office.
“I have to talk to the Minister?” Hermione asked, not thinking something like this would be that important. The woman didn't say anything, but lead the way inside to give Hermione the idea she should follow.
When they entered the room (and the woman snapped at Hermione to close the door behind her), an emerald fire started in the fireplace and all of the sudden a rather large, bald man came into the room. His robes were a magnificent pink, and he wore a purple flower of some sort on his right breast pocket. Hermione could only assume this man was the Australian Minister. He, unlike Hermione, had no soot on him. She assumed it was because his fireplace was chained to a line of fireplaces used explicitly for floo, so there would be no real soot to ruin his clothing.
“Ah, Mrs. Bertsong! I see you have brought Miss Granger along with you. Just sit her down and I will get to her once I've gotten some refreshments. I just finished my meeting with the Minister in Scotland, crazy man he is!” said the bald man happily, turning to what looked like a liquor cabinet.
Mrs. (Hermione couldn't believe someone like her could be married) Bertsong glared at Hermione and pointed at a vacant seat for her to sit in. Without hesitation, Hermione sat down and watched as Mrs. Bertsong hustled out the door, not particularly careful in not slamming it.
“Miss Granger?” the Minister finally turned, raising an eyebrow at her as he offered her an empty glass. She shook her head politely and he turned to put it back before sitting in his chair behind the desk before her. “Well, you are right on time!” he sounded almost surprised and Hermione didn't know if she should take this comment offensively or if that was just how the Minister was. “I am the Prime Minister of Magic here of this great, great continent known as Australia! My name is Jon Tellers.”
“Hello, Minister Tellers,” Hermione said humbly, but Minister Tellers shook his head vibrantly, his cheeks flailing around his face as he did so.
“Oh no, no, no! Please, call me Jon,” he said excitedly.
“Sorry, Min – er – Jon. I'm sorry,” she said, “but what exactly am I doing here? Did I do something wrong?” She bit her lip, not exactly sure of what she could have done.
“Wrong?” Jon asked, surprised yet again and raising his thin, blonde eyebrows at her. “Why heavens no! I just need to read you the terms of your stay here and remind you about our laws while you are here.” He said, chuckling at her ignorance. Apparently what Australia considered important and what England considered important were two different things. “Really, it isn't as bad as it sounds, but there are rules you must follow, as you must know.”
Hermione nodded her head, deciding that staying quiet would help her get to her parents that much faster.
“How old are you, dear?” Jon asked. Do they not have the files I worked so hard on? Hermione thought, a little aggravated about the paperwork she bothered to fill out that was obviously of little importance to them.
“Eighteen,” she said quickly, sitting at the edge of her seat.
“Your birthday?”
“September,” she said impatiently. Really! My files!
“Oh, so right after the summer finishes then? How wonderful! You will be staying here for the remainder of the summer, correct?” he asked, and Hermione noticed he didn't even bother to record her answers once! She nodded her head yet again.
“Please, sir, but I filled out a file before I came...” she said, her patience running low.
“Miss Granger, please answer verbally. This room is recording our entire conversation so we can confirm that everything you say matches with your file,” he said, a wide grin spreading on his face.
“Oh,” she said, her temper rising slightly. Shouldn't they warn her if they were going to record her? “Yes,” she answered at last.
“Do you agree that you cannot use magic legally until the age of nineteen?”
“Yes.”
“You are here to gather your parents in hopes of restoring their memory of you?”
“Yes. Minister, if I may be so bold –”
“Yes, dear?” he said, his hands folding beneath his fat chin.
“Why could the Ministry not restore my parents for me? Maybe return them for me?” she asked. It was a subject she had been meaning to ask Mr. Weasley back at home, but she was afraid she knew the answer.
“Well, dear, that would cost quite a bit,” he said, too cheerfully for Hermione's taste with the subject at hand, “and we're not the ones who took some of their most precious memories away. Speaking of which, that was an incredible bit of magic, dear. Have you ever considered a career in the Ministry of Magic at home? You would be of excellent use!”
“No,” Hermione said curtly.
Jon waved his hand in front of his face as if he were brushing off the entire discussion about her parents' selective memory loss and her working with the Ministry.
“Back to business,” he said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. “Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, admit to having performed a specialised obliviation charm?”
“Yes.”
“Are you aware that is illegal here in the continent of Australia?” he asked. This caught Hermione off guard.
“Illegal?” she asked, shock and horror in her voice. Would they do something to her? Throw her into Azkaban maybe?
“Fortunately enough for you, the spell was not preformed here and we cannot do anything to you, but you will agree to do nothing of the sorts again while here. Correct?”
“Y-yes.” Hermione faltered. She wasn't used to the way he was confronting her.
“Excellent!” he beamed. “Now for my last question. Do you promise that no magic will be used to undergo the spell you used on your parents and you will not speak of the magical world until you have reached the age of nineteen and have returned them safely home?”
“How am I supposed to convince them of what happened to them while I'm here if I can't explain the magic I used?” Hermione asked, really beginning to miss home and the simplicity of her parents having their full memory of her.
“As of right now your parents have no idea that magic exists, therefore they do not remember having a witch for a daughter. If you tell them about the magical world, it would be just like telling any other Muggle about magic. It is mandatory procedure, Miss Granger. Surely you recognise this law?”
Now Hermione understood. That meant her prior plans were going to do her no good and it would take even longer to convince her parents than she thought. Having been the daughter of two Muggles, she didn't think about how she wouldn't be able to tell them she was a witch. How was she going to convince them that she was their daughter? Hermione meant to come up with a counter spell for when this time would come, but it took so long to come up with a safe and proficient way of altering the obliviation spell so it wouldn't wipe out their entire memories of their life, just her, that she didn't have time before running off to find Horcurxes. At least she had something to work on before her birthday. But where would she work on it?
“Miss Granger? I'm waiting on a reply,” he said, not impatient at all.
“Oh,” she said, thinking for a moment before answering. Maybe it would be best if I went home and worked on the spell. I could always come back once I'm done, she thought.
“I'm waiting,” he said, chuckling at her hesitancy. She really didn't like this man.
“Yes,” she said at last.
“Splendid! Mrs. Bertsong! She is ready!” Jon stood up and poured another glass of what looked to be firewhiskey.
Mrs. Bertsong came in as if she had been listening at the door the whole time (which she probably was) and stared pointedly at Hermione as if she should know to be up and out by now.
“Good day, Minster,” Hermione stood and nodded her head at him slightly. He laughed and waved her away without another word. At last, she was ready to see her parents.
Feedback!