The Fortune Teller's Tent

The Fool

Author's Note:

Heyo this is just a little taste of my fanfiction which will be posting over on A03. If it does well over here I might consider posting it here as well ;)

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If there was one thing Hermione hated more than heights it would be Divination. Nothing irritated her more than looking into misty glass balls and watery tea leaves. Like looking into either of those somehow provided answers from unworldly and unknown forces. It seemed irrational. A bit idiotic. She held no hate to anyone who believed in the more ridiculous notions of Divination or to actual seers. Calling upon the veil for a glimpse of the future wasn't reliable.

Time from what she understood of it was malleable and concrete. It's why thousands of prophecies came and pass siting on a shelf collecting dust. Every action or thought could diverge you off course to the very future you had wanted or had been avoiding. So, knowing the future hardly mattered. Going back in time and giving a simple high five to someone in the 18th century could cause multiple bloodlines to cease to exist. So, the past had to be safeguarded. But some events couldn't be changed or altered. They happened regardless of meddling with time.

But the most disgraceful thing any wizard, witch or muggle could do was claim to have a power or knowledge they didn't otherwise possess to garner fame and fortune. Those horrible people prayed on the ignorant and gullible. It's why she couldn't take Divinization. Not from someone like Trelawney. She was a one hit wonder for prophecies and a quack. Ginny being the absolute loveable menace she was knew this truth about Hermione and quickly disregarded it with a click of her tongue.

"There's no harm in a bit of fun." the red head had shared a knowing smile and what Hermione swore was a mischievous gleam to her eye. Being related to the twins... it tracked.

But had she known that Ginny was just going to crash through her fireplace and drag her to a muggle mystic, she would have cut access to her floo immediately. And maybe as an extra precaution, knowing the redhead's stubbornness, warded her flat too. Hermione would have rather completed her peaceful afternoon reading. A new edition of Hogwart's a History just released and she had intended to enjoy it with a nice cup of tea. With her cat on her lap snuggled into her reading nook.

Instead, Ginny had tortured her for nearly over an hour yanking at her tender head and nearly taking her eye out with mascara. Only after her hair was in a tight updo at the top of her head and her face covered in makeup did the Weasley let her up from her toilet. In battle of wills no one could beat a Weasley. Especially not Ginny. So, Hermione played dress up and let the witch drag her across Britian to go to a carnival.

And Ginny being the absolute bloodhound for sniffing out trouble, had found the fortune teller's tent within the first few minutes of being on the grounds. Hermione of course refused to go in on principle alone. But her best friend being the ever so patient saint had waited approximately three seconds before dragging her through the satin curtain.

Stumbling into the tent, she felt her legs sway uneasily under her from the abrupt stop. But the old soothsayer in front of her seemed unfazed. With a flourish of her weathered hand, she waved over the velvet covered table to the seats across from her.

"I've been expecting you. Come forward so we can glimpse into your future and uncover the past." A broad smile from the woman invited them in. Ginny skipped forward her red hair swaying behind her and an unbridled giggle passing her lips. Hermione couldn't help the small smile as she sat down.

This could be fun I just have to allow it, Hermione thought.

"You may call me Madam Rose." Hermione took a careful look at the woman in front of her. She had long black hair greying at the roots that was adorned with a coin headdress. With every slight movement the coins jingled. the sound pleasant enough. Her thin lips were a deep red like the inside of a dark cherry. The fine wrinkles of her eyes were smoked with a bright green shadow. But as Hermione looked closer, she noticed the fortune teller wasn't looking at them. The woman's gaze unfocused and glassed over.