#fyi we don't respect jk rowling in this house

[twelvemonkeyswere]

very intrigued by hermione/jaime crack 😳😳

thank you both @halfagod​ and @forbiddenfantasies1​ for asking about this! and sorry it's so long okay so - right off the bat, this isn’t anything romantic or anything, but it is crack.

you’ll likely remember there was some fanfic grrm was writing about his own characters fighting other characters. one of the first ones was Jaime Lannister vs Hermione Granger, and since he hates JK Rownling his descriptions of what a showdown between them would be were very uncharitable to the characters to say the fucking least, especially Hermione.

the whole thing is quite a bad read and it sent me thinking that there were a LOT of variables that would play into it if taken seriously, starting with their personalities, ages at the time of the match, reason why they’re fighting in the first place, etc.

and since I like world building and whatnot, I began thinking how to make their showdown realistic and feasable obeying the laws of their respective narratives, and then I decided it would be even more fun (hah) to make as many scenarios with those variables as possible, because that’s the sort of person i am. and then I realized... well. asoiaf began to be published in the 90s.... 1996, to be precise, when hermione was 17, and facing a war against a madman. and the parallels were right there, and thus I made a timeline to see how things would fit, and then some other ideas sprang up from that.

so now the main idea is that it all starts the year after the war, when Hermione comes back to Hogwarts to finish her studies while everyone else goes on with their lives. she’s alone, she has to deal with everything she saw and everything she had to do, and with everyone else in Hogwarts being traumatized too... so she’s depressed, and trying to get better. and in my idea, one of the things she tries is to get back to the things that made her happy before it all went wrong, reading among them.

particularly, reading muggle books. because since she knows real magic now, well, regular fantasy books must lose some of their charm, right? but what if that was what she loved as a kid, and she’s desperate enough to get away from what reality is now, in real-magic world? so maybe she tries new stories, see what she’s missed in the last couple of years.

and maybe she is afraid of being judged for having some of those books or she just wants some peace and quiet, so she sneaks into the room of requirements and foolishly and naively asks for a room where she can “immerse” herself in the book she’s trying to read that night.

and that’s how she meets Jaime, by going into the world of the book. and the idea was then that she would periodically travel into the books and see Jaime at different ages, and as she gets older and processes what happened during the war, her perspective of the events and her life shifts and changes, not unlike Jaime’s story changes through the books.

anyways i wrote some 2k words about grief and healing and it’s been sitting there, looking at me and threatening to become too long.

here’s the bit where she first meets Jaime in case you’re interested

(be warned, I never read HP in English and I haven’t consumed any media about it in YEARS. also i suck at actions scenes)

come ask stuff about my WIPs if you want!

“Who are you?” The white knight demanded.

Hermione frowned and ignored the question, inspecting the trees behind the man, the grass of the meadow under her feet. She had clearly been portkeyed somewhere, where was the artifact? 

“Answer me!” the man demanded. He shifted on his feet, his armor creaking and clinking. “Who sent you?” 

“He said,” a second voice drawled behind her. “Where did you come from?” 

Jumping to one side, Hermione noticed another knight, much closer to her, but also much younger. He was tall, but had a leaner frame even with the white armor, same as his companion. He didn’t have his helm on either, and she spotted it on the ground, likely dropped so the boy could hold his sword with both hands, the point of which was angled at her throat, even at a distance. His curly hair, golden and sticky with sweat, enveloped two emerald green eyes that moved with the murderous intent of a cat. 

Hermione swallowed.

If velas were male, she blinked in confusion, this is what they would look like.

It was stupid to realize that at a moment like this, given the fact her life was being threatened, but no human being was ever that beautiful. It had to be magic. 

She looked around, trying to remember what had been next to her in the Room of Requirements. Where’s the bloody thing?

“Accio portkey,” she swished her wand in a circle above her head, but nothing happened.

“Get her!” the man ordered the boy, and both stepped forward, closing in. Their swords drew up, the man holding it above his head, the boy raising the pommel to his cheek.

“Whoa!” Hermione reached instinctively into her robes and got her wand out. Her mind raced, trying to recall everything she knew about metal charming, but when the knights were upon her, she disapparated with a faint pop. 

She apparated a couple of meters away, shaking her head off the unpleasant feeling of being vaccumed through space. As she opened her eyes, there was a loud clank from the swords that met where she should have been. The boy trembled below the man’s strength, holding his ground with some difficulty.

“Oi, please!” she called to them, holding a hand out in a placating gesture. “Where am I? Who are you?”

As one, the man turned with fury towards her, and the boy frowned in angry confusion. She had a second to recall Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, and, not without failing to see the irony, felt grateful she had learned forgetfulness spells from the best.

“Witchcraft,” the older knight muttered, and the boy only glanced at him for a moment, returning his eyes to her. “Cut her throat!” 

The boy hesitated a second, but when the older man charged towards her, so did he. 

“Wingardium leviosa!” she yelled at the armors, to no effect. “Shit.” She disapparated again, just before they reached her. She apparated by a tree this time, to their right. She aimed at the clothes they hopefully had below their armors and forced herself to speak through the haze. “Wingardium leviosa!” 

Both knights lifted into the air like they weighed less than feathers. 

“Seven hells!” the older knight screamed, anger and fear mixing as he balanced unceremoniously on his spot. 

Iron, Hermione breathed with relief to herself. It was the iron.

She didn’t know what to expect, she had never tried to charm uncharmed metalwork before. Unless you counted locks. Then again maybe that charmed the air around the metal, or maybe there was more magic in this particular iron, she didn’t have the time to--

“What is this?” the young man demanded, as he waved his sword around, testing if he was being held on the spot like a puppet.

Hermione walked towards them with caution. 

“Gentlemen, please!” she called to them through their grunts and curses. “Where am I? Who are you?” 

“Silence, witch!” the older man ordered, trying to stick his sword to the ground in an attempt to descend.

“I’ll let you down as soon as you answer my questions,” she swallowed, reminding herself of the many times she had fought against enemies bigger than her. “I just want to get home.” 

The boy bore his eyes into hers. “Where is that?” 

“None of your bloody business,” she replied instinctively. 

“She’s not from here, ser,” the boy said to the older knight. “She wears odd clothes, speaks strange words.” 

“Shut up, Ser Jaime, get to--”

But Hermione didn’t get to hear what the man wanted the boy to do.

“Ser Jaime?” the name was out of her mouth before she knew it. She squinted at the boy’s armor, saw the seven swords engraved on the plate, and realization hit her. She looked at the boy, then at the man. I’ll be fucking damned. 

“Jaime.” she repeated, bringing the boy’s attention back to her. “Jaime… Lannister?”

#sorry this is very long #personal #tagged meme #halfagod​ #forbiddenfantasies1​ #jb #halfagod #fyi we don't respect jk rowling in this house #wendy writes