Paper Faces on Parade

Section 6:

“No! Don’t put that there!” Hermione ordered, trying to keep her balance on the ladder while directing Leo and Ben from across the room. “We can’t have any jack o’lanterns in that corner. That’s where I’m putting the fortune-teller, and she’s terrified of pumpkins.”

“Scared of pumpkins?” Ben repeated incredulously. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” Hermione replied, grinning. “Just put them on this side of the room, will you? With any luck, she won’t even be able to see them around all the people.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ben answered, saluting crispy. Hermione and Leo shared a wink at Ben’s antics before getting back to work. When Hermione had the banner on the wall as straight as she could get it, she descended the ladder, stepping back to admire her work. It looked pretty darn good, she decided, smiling her approval. This night would be perfect; she just knew it. A triumph for Georgia Hope Children’s Home and Miss Paulina Farmer.

She smiled a bit at the thought of her new identity. Paulina Farmer, had been created in the span of one week in a cheap hostel in Manhattan when she first arrived in the States. Remaining Hermione Granger, even in a foreign country, was not a possibility. Her name was simply too well known. The majority of the furor over her disappearance was centralized in Britain, but there were still stories in most of the major wizarding publications around the world. There was *less* chance of being recognized in America, but there was still a chance. She could have disappeared into the muggle world, but she had no intention of giving up the magic that had become such an integral part of her life just to avoid the chance of being found. No, she would stay in the wizarding world, but she would make some subtle changes, just enough so that she wouldn’t be noticed.

The bushy brown hair had been the first thing to go. It was without a doubt her most recognizable feature. But not for nothing was Hermione a Charms master. Ages ago, she had learned a spell that would render her hair perfectly straight. For most people, the charm only lasted for a few hours, but Hermione’s charms were always more durable than most, and she could hold the charm in her hair for over twenty four hours, leaving her hair straight all the time if she remembered to made a habit of renewing it every morning. The only reason she had kept her bushy hair was that Harry liked it that way. She just wouldn’t be his Hermione, he had told her, with that unrecognizable straight hair. Well, she wasn’t his Hermione anymore. So it was time for the bushy hair to go.

She lightened it while she was at it, trying different shades in front of a mirror until she settled on a platinum blonde. When that was done, she spent over an hour in front of the mirror casting charm after charm to alter the shape of her nose. When that was done, she looked at the mirror in triumph. With only two superficial changes, she had managed to completely alter her appearance without changing so drastically that she’d have to spend hours renewing glamour charms every morning. The two small changes were enough to make the difference. Even someone who knew her would have to look twice before recognizing her, and strangers didn’t stand a chance.

Her next decision was a new name. She had wanted somethfamifamiliar, something that still felt like her and still tied her to her memories of her parents and family, but something that anyone looking for her would never think to guess. Paulina Farmer came to mind fairly easily. Paulina was the secondary lead in Winter’s Tale, the Shakespeare play for which Hermione had been named. When the queen Hermione was falsely accused of infidelity (ah, the irony), her best friend Paulina helped her to fake her death, and hid her for years until her name was cleared. Farmer, likewise, was a variation on her real name. The British word ‘grange’ was usually translated by Americans as ‘farm,’ so the British Miss Granger became the American Miss Farmer.

With a little practice, she was able to switch her accent convincingly from British to Australian. She slipped up on occasion, especially in the beginning, but quickly discovered that most Americans couldn’t tell the difference between the two accents anyway, and didn’t even notice that her intonation changed slightly when she was especially excited. Switching her identity to Australian made it very easy for her to create a backstory for herself that would be believable and inconspicuous. With her new identity in place, Hermione Granger/Paulina Farmer set out to find a new life.

She had arrived in Atlanta on Halloween with her new identity, her altered appearance, and absolutely no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Going to Atlanta was a whim. She had heard about the Georgia Hope home while she was in London. It had begun around her seventh year at Hogwarts, when prominent anti-Voldemort families started to realize just how much they were in danger. Many adults wished to fight against the Death Eaters, but feared the consequences for their children. Jim Stander, a muggleborn wizard and philanthropist in Atlanta offered a solution.

He had recently commissioned the restoration and renovation of a beautiful, massive mansion in a pleasant, residential part of wizarding Atlanta. Now that the work on the house was complete, he said, all it needed was to be filled. The Georgia Hope home was created from his generosity. Just as Jewish children were sent to different countries to protect them from the Nazis in the days of World War II, so were children of anti-Voldemort families sent to America, to protect them from the possibility of Voldemort’s wrath. At the peak of the war, the house held nearly a hundred children ranging from infants to teenagers.

When the war ended, the house turned into an orphanage for those whose parents had not survived the conflict. Supported by Stander and donations from the community, the Georgia Hope Children’s Home became a symbol of optimism and a promise of a new beginning for the new generation, now that the Dark Lord was defeated. When she was trying to think of somewhere that she could go to get away and start over fresh after leaving England behind, the house came readily to Hermione’s mind. Hermione arrived on a whim two weeks after parting company with Harry, and had stayed there ever since.

Teaching had always been a dream of hers, and the Hope House had given her a chance. Once they reached the age of eleven, the children were sent to Southern Star School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but from five years up, they took classes in the house in reading, writing, arithmetic, science, basic history and geography. Having a purpose to her life that was blissfully lacking in the politics, celebrity, and deception that had defined her previous existence was a dream come true. The longer she stayed, the more convinced she became that she had made the right decision.

And now the chance had come to pay back the Hope House for all that it had done for her. Hermione had arranged the event for that night with meticulous detail. All the most important wizarding personages in the Southeastern district would be attending the combination fund raiser and gala event. If everything went as planned, they might even be able to expand, buying the lot next door that was currently for sale, and broadening the home to be an orphanage for all wizarding children in need.

Hermione was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of something tugging on the end of her robe. She looked down to see a solemn little face attached to a body dressed in a large, round, green costume.

“Miss Paulina, do you like my costume?”

Hermione immediately dropped down into a squat so that she was eye level with the little girl. Of course, as instructor for the children, she couldn’t show any preference, but she had to admit in her heart of hearts that Cordelia Plackett was her favorite. The five year old had been one of the first arrivals at the Hope House, when she was nothing more than a baby. She had no memory of her parents, and the Hope House was the only home she had ever known.

“I love your costume, Cordelia.” The girl beamed with pride. [Now,] Hermione thought to herself, [how do I ask her what it is without hurting her feelings?]

“Why don’t you… tell me about it?” Hermione suggested diplomatically.

“I’m a pumpkin that’s not fully ripe,” Cordelia explained very seriously. Hermione fought back a giggle. Though she was only five years old, Cordelia was quite exceptionally bright and *very* serious about any subject she undertook to study, (not surprisingly, reminding Hermione quite a bit of herself at that age). Hermione had taught a lesson about pumpkins in science class to some of the younger children a week or so earlier when they first started to get excited about Halloween. Apparently, Cordelia had been paying attention.

“And a perfect pumpkin you are, princess,” a deep voice announced from behind them before Cordelia was swept off the ground. Hermione blushed a bit when she looked up to see that Leo had joined them.

Leo had arrived at Hope House early in May, to take over the position of financial director. The man had an indisputable knack for numbers and an instinctive understanding of how to stretch each dollar to do the most good, not to mention his much-vaunted talent for charming elderly dowagers into making sizeable donations. He had been a considerable asset to the Hope House. He had also been a considerable distraction to Hermione.

A few of the staff members were Hope House alumni like Ben, who stayed on at Hope House after they turned eighteen to help run the place and maintain the friendships they had made. Other than them, most of the staff consisted of middle aged friends and associates of Jim Stander’s who had enough money and free time of their own to volunteer, like Adam, the former financial director, who gave up the position when he and his wife decided to retire to Florida. Surrounded almost exclusively by small children and middle aged associates, it had been easy for Hermione to isolate herself from men her own age. Many of the patrons of Hope House tried their hand at matchmaking for her. Hermione tolerated it all with good humor, knowing that their matchmaking attempts were proof of their approval of her, but none of the attempts had any real impan hen her until Leo arrived.

Hermione couldn’t ignore Leo. A blind, deaf-mute couldn’t have ignored Leo. The man had a charm, vitality, and charisma to him that drew attention and admiration to him everywhere that he went. Part of it, of course, could be attributed to his undeniable good looks. With tawny golden brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a sleek, tan, leanly muscled figure to appreciate when you managed to drag your eyes away from his dazzling smile, Leo was the poster child for eye candy. Add on to that keen intelligence, a quick wit, and a genuinely warm-hearted nature, and it was no surprise that all the witches involved in Hope House immediately decided that he and ‘dear Paulina’ were absolutely made for each other.

‘Dear Paulina’ was somewhat close to reaching that conclusion, herself. She had to admit, she found Leo very attractive. Aside from his appearance, he was a genuinely good man. He was fun to be around, with a terrific sense of humor. The children adored him. He made her laugh so easily, but was capable of being fully serious and understanding whenever anyone needed a shoulder to cry on. He was the first man she had met since leaving Harry that she honestly thought might be able to make her happy.

Moving on from her past had been quite a bit more difficult than she expected. She had been surprised that it was so hard to let go. Harry had hurt her, and her friends had lied to her. Why should she be sorry to leave them behind? But in spite of their actions, Harry, Ron and Ginny had been her friends through some of the most essential years of her life. If it weren’t for them, she’d still be the humorless, bossy know-it-all who hid behind books because she didn’t know how to deal with life. Her friends brought out the Gryffindor in her. She was a stronger, better, and ultimately happier person for having known them. Friends like that weren’t easy to forget.

But just as their friendship left its mark on the person she had become, their betrayal also had an undeniable impact on who she was. In the past, her trust had always been easily won. Her friends lectured her about it time and time again, particularly once she became friends with Malfoy, telling her that just because he was nice to her (for whatever undoubtedly twisted reason of his own) didn’t mean that he was suddenly a good person. She had argued back that she couldn’t just not trust someone without any reason. That had changed. She was as reluctant to trust people now as she had been reluctant to distrust them before.

It took months for the people at Hope House to truly work their way past her shell. Even now, she kept several of her secrets very closely guarded. It was difficult to let people in when she had been so badly burned before. But the more she opened up, the more friendships she made, and the more she allowed herself to care about the people around her, the easier she found it to let go of her memories of England and Harry. She had gotten over the worst of it. She had a new life now, and the injuries of the past didn’t hurt so much anymore. Even thoughts ofry dry didn’t ache like they used, because she wasn’t in love with him anymore. She had truly moved on.

The only ghost from her past that still caused a size twe twinge was Draco. She still didn’t know which of her friends had known about Harry’s affair, but she never doubted for a moment that Draco had had no idea. His loyalty had always been to her, not Harry. She knew that if he had found out, he would have told her, no matter how much he’d have hated the thought of hurting her, because he’d never betray her by keeping something like that from her. It had been hard, especially at the beginning, to fight the urge to send him an owl and let him know where she was. She knew he’d come to her immediately if she asked him to, and that he’d help her through all her pain and doubt as she built a new life, and that he’d never breathe a word of it to Harry. But she also knew that the only way she’d ever really be able to get past it was if she put it all behind her. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to fully forgive her former friends, but she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt thamedameday, when the memories truly didn’t hurt anymore, she’d renew her friendship with Draco. Until then, she’d just keep missing him desperately, and hoping, selfishly, that he might be missing her, too.

One of the maddening aspects of Leo that enabled him to get so completely under her skin was the way that he reminded her so strongly of Draco. They had the same sarcastic sense of humor, and the same smooth charm that enabled them to talk their way out of any situation. But Leo was so very much more relaxed than Draco had ever been. At all times, for as long as she had known him, Draco was constantly aware of the burden and responsibility of being a Malfoy. Even in the time they spent with no one else around, he wasn’t able to completely relax. Watching Leo, she found herself wondering if this was what Draco would have been like if he hadn’t been born a Malfoy.

Of course, another trait that he shared with Draco Malfoy was that he was an incorrigible flirt. He did it charmingly, always knowing exactly what to say to make every girl he met blush and stammer and feel exceptionally special without ever toying with anyone’s affections or making anyone feel used. He flirted with Hermione constantly, paying her endless compliments and delighting in making her blush. Really, it was this flirtatiousness that made Hermione doubt whether the prophesizing would ever come true, causing ‘dear Leo and dear Paulina’ to join together in love-struck bliss. Yes, Leo constantly pouted and condemned her as a cruel-hearted maiden for not putting him out of his misery by accepting his love… but he said the same thing to sixty year old Mrs. Higgins who did their bookkeeping, and six year old Missy Smith who giggled uncontrollably whenever Leo started teasing her. Did he really want her, or was he just being his normal, charming self? Was she blowing their interactions out of proportion, just because she wanted to believe that she was special to him?

“Mr. Leo, what are you going to be for Halloween?” Cordelia asked, resting her head on Leo’s shoulder. Hermione drifted into dreamland for a moment, imaging what it would be like if *she* was the one resting her head on his shoulder. Leo had, after all, *quite* nice shoulders. She snapped out of her daze just in time to hear the tail end of his answer.

“… and will you be scared of me, Miss Pumpkin, when I’m a fierce and terrible pirate?”

Cordelia considered the matter for a moment, before shaking her head. “I couldn’t be scared of you. You’re not scary.”

Leo pouted adorably. “I could be scary. Couldn’t I, Miss Paulina?”

Hermione cocked her head to the side thoughtfully before making a small circuit around him. “Nope,” she said cheerfully when she was facing him again. “I don’t see a single scary thing about you.”

“I can too be scary!” he insisted, putting Cordelia down to stand with his hands on his hips. “Watch this!” Hunching over in what he, no doubt, considered to be a classic ‘pirate’ stance, he started growling at them nonsense about a pirate’s life and a bottle of rum and making them walk the plank. When their only response was to start giggling, he broke into a *very* pirate-like grin himself before focusing in on Cordelia.

“Laugh at me, will you, little missy? I show you something to laugh about! Shiver me timbers and… and… tickle me pumpkins!” He reached out to grab Cordelia but she squealed and ran away, leaving him to chase behind her, very slowly so that she could think she was outrunning him.

Watching Leo chase after Cordelia, Hermione mentally decided that tonight was the night. She’d put extra care into her costume for the masquerade ball, and when she found him that night, she’d make her move. He was wonderful and desirable and she wanted him, so badly it hurt. If all his teasing and flirting really was purely platonic, then she’d accept that, and continue to value and appreciate his friendship. But if he meant it… oh, if he meant it, then perhaps for the first time in almost exactly a year, she wouldn’t be going to sleep alone.

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