American Pie

American Pie

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, I don’t make any money writing about them. I merely enjoy getting to dictate the fate of fictional people from time to time. And any song mentioned is the property of said musician and is getting a nod from me because I obviously like their music, and still making no money. Spending it perhaps.

Author’s Note: I can’t promise that the timeline is correct at this point. I’m going to go back and double check it. I don’t have a beta as of yet so please bare with me. The prologue is short I know but it sets up the next chapter and this will not be all journal entries or first person. This is a DM/HG pairing that will be Rated NC-17 in later chapters. I will warn in the chapter heading. While death will be heavily addressed in this fic, it’s more about healing. I will try to post when it deals with character death. Reviews are welcome, even negative ones. Preferably constructive ones as this is how we learn and grow. As for the rest, enjoy.

Prologue:


Journal entry: July 4, 1997

I often ponder the statement that “only the dead have truly seen the end of war.” While that may be very true, I sometimes think they got the easier sentence. It’s the living that have to cope with the horrible realities that are left in it’s wake… and for what. What changed? Well that’s not exactly accurate, much has changed… and many things have not. You kill a man; no scratch that, a monster but you can’t kill the ideology. Not with war at least. It’s like the mythical beast the Hydra. You cut off a head and a new one pops up to replace it. No matter how many times you swing the sword of justice and virtue you cut down an evil and spout two more.

I would know, I’ve seen it. I’m part of a backlash. Nothing really changed for me. I’m still disliked by those who opposed us. Actually it’s worse. Although I fought to save the lives of people who I really didn’t know, our kind is blamed for the death of loved ones. In the end I really think he won. He created a scapegoat to gain power: muggleborns. It worked. He gained enormous influence over others with similar thoughts. They formed together and worshipped him. He died but his ridiculous beliefs and lust for revenge lives on. The people who sympathized with us, fought for us, and lost people they loved for us are left bitter about the whole thing. No one asked to get drug into the middle of something so terrible. No one wants to see loved ones die. Hell I can’t blame them, I’m bitter too. I lost people I loved too.

I can almost see why they detested us so much. We were changing their world. We could easily navigate through both worlds. We brought new ideas and we were excelling. I think part of the real hostility came from the number of squibs being born into pureblood families while marriages between purebloods to halfbloods or muggleborns were producing magical children, and not just one but many. Most pureblood marriages were only producing one heir with magical ability. Any siblings being reported were squibs and most marriages never produced more than one offspring to start with. They were having high miscarriage rates. It’s no surprise to me, perhaps if they had studied muggle science they would have realized that when the blood is not dispersed it stagnates and creates birth defects. I’m sure there are more reasons that they hated us, but I really don’t have the time or the inclination to head any further down that road. Bottom line be it muggle or wizard, man resists change.

Everything changes, me included. I was surprised how much those final days changed me. We buried the dead and started licking the wounds. All of sudden the eyes of the whole community turned to me and my friends expecting that we would have the answers to everything. Maybe I did… but to be perfectly honest, I didn’t feel like giving them anything else. I was not willing to give one more inch of myself to anything. I think they expected more. I could care less. Maybe I was suffering from battle trauma, or burnout. Either way I was done. I thought I would devote the rest of my life to my friends, family and championing the fight for the underdog and what was right. I was wrong. In a moment of weakness I did the unthinkable. I left and decided to devote the rest of my life to me. I left it all, my friends, my family, and my identity all ditched in one moment of clarity.

It hasn’t been that long since I left. I almost laugh at my abrupt decision to get the hell out. I had cried myself to the point where I had no more tears. I got up and looked at the map of the world that I had hung up on the wall at headquarters. I had so carefully marked with pins each of the places in the world I wanted to visit. It was my little escape when things were getting to me. Despite what everyone thought, books were not my only passion. I went over and touched it thinking about all those places I might never get to see. A sudden steel went through my veins at that very moment. I grabbed a dart off Harry’s dart board and closed my eyes and threw. It soared through the air, a cheap metal object that cost no more than a sickle was deciding my fate… and I allowed it to.

Fate: a cruel and strange mistress she is. As fate would have it, or dictate more precisely it landed on none of the places I had chosen to visit. Instead it landed smack dab in the middle of the United States. Although I did eventually want to travel the states it was not on my top ten list. I had already sealed the deal with myself however and agreed to honor it. That is how I found myself in Florida. Truth be told I was excited at getting so far away from my troubles and starting my life where I could be whoever I wanted. That’s just what I did. I packed up all my stuff, including my world map and the dart that decided my fate, cleaned out my Gringotts account, created some fake muggle id’s and passports and was on my way. I told no one. I left without a single goodbye. While that was probably wrong and a little childish I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t say goodbye after everything that had happened. If I were completely honest I was too scared, and so for the first time the Gryffindor lioness ran away.

So that finds me here at a local pub, I mean bar in Daytona. While this is not where I live I have really enjoyed coming here over the last couple of weeks. American sandwiches are fabulous, I have discovered a wonderful musician named Jimmy Buffet who’s songs are mellow and leave me with a happy feeling. That feeling is very welcome. I have also heard a song by this Don McLean guy called American Pie. It’s strange, music can speak in every language and to every situation. While I have never experienced the things in the song, it speaks volumes to me. I think when it boils down to it, it’s about accepting the end of era. A point where things will never be the same and the bittersweet feelings that are left. I know that feeling all to well… And while I might go back and face the music someday, for me the music had died. I wasn’t going to let it take me with it.

So this is the last time I will be writing in you dear journal. I’ve got a new life, a new job, a new identity. But surprisingly I am finding that it is more me everyday. And for now that is enough. Besides it can be fun meeting someone new. To the end of an era, Miss American Pie - Hermione Jane Granger.


A/N: Please read above author’s note as it addresses a few issues with this fic. If you are interested in being a beta please let me know if a review how to best to contact you. Hope you all have a good weekend.