Warnings: Contains Twilight. You have been warned. No slash. One-shot.

Disclaimers: Harry Potter belongs to Joanne Kathleen Rowling and associates, of whom I am not one. Twilight belongs to Stephanie Meyer and associates, of whom I am (thankfully) not one.

High Noon

They were the talk of the town, which in Forks, Washington, really wasn't saying much. But they were still the hottest gossip around and had been for the past month when the generously proportioned house on the one real road in town, with stop lights and all, had been purchased. Everyone noticed when the For Sale sign vanished, but no one knew who purchased the place. Even the construction workers who were hired to do some remodeling didn't know.

Everyone was rather curious, and that only spiked when they saw that the front portion of the downstairs was being turned into a dentist's office. The front window, which looked into what was apparently going to be the waiting room, had calligraphic letters painted upon it stating that the Granger Dental Practice would be open weekdays at normal business hours and Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons. Another sign, laminated and taped to the rather attractive iron fence that had been put up, stated the office would open on September first.

Still, no one knew who the people moving in were. Rumors raged, because even dentists were somewhat interesting. Scary, yes, but interesting.

Some said that the dentists were murderers, others that they were rich.

One observant person pointed out that they were probably British, because of the word "practice", but they were promptly ignored.

On the day the moving van arrived, much of the town waited to see the people who would be living there, but only the moving men exited the truck and placed box after box in the house. The furniture was normal enough, not too stuffy but not ragged at all either. The town sighed in disappointment.

A week later, a car pulled into the drive. It was a simple sedan, painted a shiny beige, and while obviously new it too was somehow... odd.

However, it was the people who left the car that were, understandably, the most interesting.

Well, alright, the pair getting out of the sedan were rather boring, though not unattractive. A man and a woman, their ages guessed from between forty-five and fifty, looking every part like they were dentists. The woman had dark brown hair that frizzed, tightly curled, though the rain quickly wet it down; her skin was tan and her face handsome. She wore spectacles, bifocals, and her style of dress was practical and conservative in mostly shades of dark reds and browns. The man, presumably her husband, had half-gray-half-blond hair, slicked back, and was rather reedy. His skin held a similar tan to that f his wife, though his tone was more pink, and his features were slightly pointed, making him more striking than handsome. His blue suit looked tailor-made, which would later earn some gossip.

As stated, they were boring, normal people. Not too uninteresting, but not terribly interesting either. The woman across the way was planning to bring over a plate of cookies to welcome them and get information, as were many others – though they took into account that dentists probably wouldn't want to be inundated with sweets and thought up other schemes – but they weren't desperate about it.

People went about their business, but not twenty minutes later another car pulled up, a rather beat-up looking Ford Anglia painted a rather striking shade of blue. Despite looking as though it had been through a monster truck rally, it seemed somehow healthy and vibrant. Then the little blue Ford's doors opened, and that was what really got attention.

From the drivers' side stepped a young woman, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, whose medium-brown hair was curled in a way that let others know she had recently discovered that curly haired people were not meant to towel dry their hair, or indeed let it dry any way other than naturally. The curls bounced as she stood from the car, straightening a gray pleated skirt and a matching sweater vest. Her skin held the same tan as both of the adults who had previously entered the house, drawing the conclusion that this girl was their daughter. She was taller than the average girl, perhaps five foot nine or so, with long legs made longer by her no-nonsense Mary Janes.

When the teenaged boys of the town heard about her through the usual channels, they couldn't wait for school to start.

However, when the passenger side opened, many forgot about the girl, simply because the person exiting the car was so... well, ridiculously tall. He had to be six and a half feet! Wavy red hair was worn in a shaggy cut, and while his attire matched the girls – gray pants with a matching sweater vest over a cream colored collared shirt – anyone could tell he was a sporting type. Not lean enough for basketball, despite his height, but not built like a brick for football either.

He was also quite obviously not the child of the dentists, a fact made more apparent when he slid an arm around the girl's waist as they walked up to the front door of the house, laughing about something the neighbors couldn't hear.

No one noticed that neither teenager was wet, despite the summer rain.

The Granger Dental Practice had several appointments scheduled over the course of the week preceding them actually opening shop. All of those who had their appointments on September first were pleased to have such nice dentists around, but disappointed they hadn't actually learned anything about why they had suddenly uprooted themselves from England – the accents gave the family away – or who the red-headed lad was.

It was the duty of the teenagers of Forks, therefore, to discover just what was up with these Granger folk, one they all anticipated. School began the day after labor day, on the fourth, and all of the students of Forks High waited with bated breath as the little blue Ford Anglia pulled into the student parking lot, looking perfectly at home amid the rest of the teens' cars. It parked next to another beat up looking car, blending right in with the rest, and both the boy and girl who were the talk of town exited, the girl having again been the driver.

Not that Hermione would ever let Ron drive. Perhaps holding it against him that he had driven the same car they were now using as their personal transport into the Whomping Willow was pushing it, but he didn't have a license. With the strings Harry pulled for her, all Hermione had to do was pass the driving test to get licensed before they ever even arrived in Forks. Passing the test had been easy after spending the better part of a week flying the damned thing over the ocean. (1)

"Honestly Ron, you could at least try to blend in," Hermione sighed. Two days ago they had attended the Freshmen Orientation to familiarize themselves with the muggle facility, though they would be "seniors" rather than "freshmen", both wearing their Hogwarts uniforms, sans robes or house crests, and learned quickly that they were expected to wear casual attire. Ron, unfortunately, had decided to wear a Chudley Cannons shirt that morning and barely remembered to suspend the animation on it.

"I am trying Hermione," he grumbled. He walked around the car and slung an arm around her waist before they started heading for the building they knew to contain the front office, where they had dropped off their forged school records the day they arrived in Washington. "But I'm not exactly, y'know, Muggle-y."

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm quite aware," she admitted, "but you do need to try. What about all those shirts Harry bought for you? Couldn't you have worn any of them?"

Ron blushed and mumbled something unintelligible that also contained the name Harry.

And really, everything about their situation boiled down to Harry. Harry had purchased the house that now doubled as a dental office. Harry had purchased their tickets. Harry had packed up all their things and sent them ahead before informing Hermione and Ron that he was sending them to the States where they would be safe.

They had, of course, tried to fight it, but Harry had apparently got someone to work out his argument with him. He might not be able to make the entire Weasley clan leave, but ever since Ginny's death in the attack on Hogwarts, killed by a rogue curse from the Death Eaters fleeing the scene of Dumbledore's murder, he had been figuring out how to get his friends away. Ron and Hermione could easily be used against him, so he took away that option. Sending their wands ahead might have helped a bit too, though how Harry had taken them she still had no idea.

In the end, Harry had given the Granger-Weasley household of Forks enough funds to back them for ten years even without the funds from the practice, and was keeping his friends out of the war.

Hermione was unendingly grateful. She wanted to bash Harry's head in, but she was still grateful.

After retrieving their slips from the secretary, something about all transfers needing to prove that they will in fact attend class, Ron and Hermione had to separate. They had half their classes throughout the day together, but only half. Hermione's forged grades showed her as a four-point-two grade student, due to the inclusion of college credit courses that had a higher worth than regular classes, while Ron's grades were given as being average. Hermione ended up in the "Advanced Placement" for French, English, and History but would be taking the rest of her classes with Ron.

How Harry had convinced the school to do that was also unknown.

Hermione was barely spared a glance by the AP European History teacher, and ended up seated next to a girl who was Fleur-level on looks, though her hair was golden rather than white-blonde and she was curvaceous rather than willowy. Hermione rather thought that she looked like a model, even if she wasn't of the "size 0" variety. Nowhere near plus size, but rather "not anorexic" modeling. Modeling for women who were honestly gorgeous and human. Or, at least, humanoid.

After the seating chart was arranged – the girl Hermione sat by was "Hale, Rosalie" – class began, and Hermione soon realized that she would be completely and utterly bored. The syllabus mentioned things she knew about of course, but there would be no talks of goblins, no mention of the witch hunts in a practical sense nor anything that was truly important to European History. Hermione would have to hold her tongue or look like a maniacal idiot.

At least she could be thankful that this Hale girl wasn't intent on asking her any questions. It spoke well for the rest of the school, that she wouldn't need to be explaining herself or answering questions all the time. Still, Hermione caught on immediately that Hale was not so hale as she appeared... a bit too undead for that, really.

Following history, Hermione walked swiftly to French, where she passed Ron. He looked so entirely relieved to see her – it took Hermione a moment to discern why.

"Please tell me you didn't break any computers," she sighed. Ron was blushing as he approached, but shook his head fervently. His morning class was about computers and how they worked, a simple elective where it was okay for him to be utterly clueless while also helping him to blend in in the long run.

"No, we didn't touch any today, thank Merlin, just a bunch of "get to know you" stuff since most of the class are all in different years," but he still didn't seem at ease. "Everyone's so nosy though! I guess this is how Harry must feel all the time, with people questioning about everything and looking to see if he puts a toe out of line." He had a face to illustrate his point.

Hermione frowned. "Really? No one said anything to me all last period," then she smiled. "Were they flirting with you?"

"Merlin no! It's all blokes in there, though one kid, can't remember who, bit of a ponce, he was rather over friendly, like he thought we were best mates or summat," Ron stuck out his tongue. "Creepy's what it is."

"You'll manage," Hermione shook her head. "Maybe the younger students are more curious... I mean, most of the students in our year will be heading off to University in a year's time. Perhaps not the same pressure as NEWTs, but –" the warning bell rang and Hermione jumped. "I'll see you in math, Ron!" She trotted quickly, horrified at the idea of being late.

Hermione was, thankfully, near fluent in French, a process that began when she was a child, progressed over summers during her Hogwarts years, and was advanced significantly due to one Fleur Delacour and the preparations for the Delacour/Weasley wedding. (2) Unfortunately, she realized upon sitting in her latest seat – not assigned because the only French teacher in the school naturally knew everyone's names – that perhaps Hale had given her a rose-tinted view of her peers.

The girl on her left wouldn't stop asking her the stupidest questions, several about Ron and her relationship, and the boy in front of her kept turning around and trying (not to mention failing) to flirt with her in French. As if speaking in what Americans dubbed "the language of love" when she spoke it better than him would somehow woo her!

Rather indignant, Hermione half stomped from the room when the bell rang and met up with Ron for maths.

Ron seemed just as annoyed as she was as he slipped in the door, and upon seating himself at her side – math was, apparently, also a "no chart class" simply because the teacher didn't care what their names were or if they talked so long as they did their work – regaled her with the annoyance of being talked at so much in Spanish. And what was the use of Spanish, anyway? They lived in England for crying out loud! And what was the use of it here? It was so far from any Spanish speaking countries! Even French would be better, since they were close to Canada, even though Canadian French and French French were more different than American English and British English.

They sat through math together, Hermione feeding Ron information as needed; he'd never learned much past addition and subtraction, hadn't required it being a wizard and all, and he hadn't taken Arithmancy to learn anything mathematical. It was only because Harry had sent them a crate of Wit Sharpening potions that Hermione suspected Ron would pass any of his classes. Well, that and the translation charm he wore on his neck in the shape of a cross.

Part of the class involved a pretest, to see what review would be required, and to that end Hermione graciously thanked the student passing out calculators. She handed one to Ron, who stared at it blankly.

"... Hermione... what is this thing?" He asked after a moment. Several chattering groups in the class stared at them, silencing abruptly.

"It's a calculator; you use it when solving mathematic equations to make it go by faster," she explained patiently, quite used to it by this point. "Sometimes you can program a calculator to do an entire function for you. A standard is to program in the Quadratic Equation, a common fixture in mathematics."

"Oh..." Ron stared at it some more. "Um..."

"I'll teach you to use it later," Hermione patted his hand absently and set about figuring out quickly how to work it before the tests were passed out.

"How do you not know what a calculator is?" The boy on Ron's other side was looking at the Weasley as though he'd grown two extra heads, both of which were autistic and reciting the abcs in the wrong order to the tune of Tiptoe Through the Tulips. Ron, naturally, flushed a rather impressive shade of scarlet and looked to Hermione pleadingly.

"It's quite alright, Ron," Hermione smiled at him and then leaned forward to address the intruder. "Ron is ex-Amish. He only left the settlement fairly recently and he isn't very accustomed to any technology yet. You should see him try to use a phone!" (3) Ron's blush intensified a little, but he sent Hermione a thankful look anyway. He still hadn't learned to trust that the gadget would pick up his voice at a normal level and transmit it at that same level across whatever distance there was.

There was a lot of talk after that, but everyone was so busy gossiping about the couple right in front of them that they didn't bother talking to them at all. Hermione wondered how she had gotten through first period without being given the third degree... perhaps a natural aversion to Hale? Were the students frightened of her? Creatures often had that effect on muggles, after all, so it wasn't surprising, and the muggles would probably chalk it up to being intimidated by how unnaturally attractive she was.

Half of the senior class had physical education during fourth period, right before lunch. Before the class had even begun, inside the locker rooms, both the boys and girls' sides learned some things about the new students in their class.

On the boys side, the got their first exposure to Ron Weasley. He was very nonchalant in taking off the bright orange long-sleeve t-shirt that bore the legend "Chudley Cannons" and a bat, but all the boys who happened to see knew immediately why his shirt was long-sleeve on what was only an overcast day.

Ropy purple scars wound up both arms from just above his wrists, ending at the bottom of his left deltoid and the middle of the right deltoid. The best analogy any of the boys could come up with was that it looked like a squid, dripping acid, had wrapped its tentacles around his arms; none of them could think of a realistic reason for those scars, but they saw them, and continued to see them when the black uniform shirt was pulled on. (4)

Ronald Weasley was entirely nonchalant as he revealed the terrible looking scars, some of the nastier parts being eyelevel on the shorter boys. He simply shook out his shaggy hair, stretched, and jogged out of the locker room to the gymnasium as if nothing had happened.

In the girls' locker room, a similar revelation took place, though the girls weren't so quiet about it.

What the nearer girls immediately noticed about Hermione Granger was that despite wearing a modest blouse all day, she wasn't as flat as they suspected, the bookish girl just wasn't flashing her cleavage as many of them did. What they noticed immediately after was that in the flatter area between the top of her cleavage and her collar bone was an ugly scar that was very white against her tanned skin. It was prominent, and the girls immediately understood that it wasn't because Hermione was modest, she just didn't want to show off such a hideous scar. (5)

In the far corner of each respective locker room, Jasper and Rosalie Hale didn't so much as glance at the new students, quickly changing and heading out for the first day of PE for the year.

When PE actually started, it was with a one mile run, something the majority of the class bemoaned. The new students, strangely, were not among them, and complied. What was more, they actually finished without more than one pause apiece, and quickly at that. It could perhaps be expected of the redheaded boy, as he was apparently ex-Amish and they did basically everything by hand, so he could be used to running a lot, but the girl had little trouble and, with the exception of Rosalie Hale who was perfect at everything was the first girl to finish the run. When asked, she admitted that at her previous school, it wasn't uncommon to need to go a mile and a half between classes, from the far edge of the grounds to the tallest tower or some such.

A whole new respect was built up for the girl, and she got more than a few appreciative looks, but she didn't acknowledge them and just leaned up to kiss her boyfriend on the cheek before the next part of class started.

The cool down exercise was a game of soccer – the Brits were confused for a moment until the girl said "oh, football!" to the confusion of the rest of the class. When teams were divvied up, Ron ended up being the goalie, or as he said, "keeper" and proved just what his long arms were for – catching a ball at high speeds and sending it back onto the field so perfectly that the other team never once scored a goal. Hermione wasn't very good at soccer and seemed more inclined to pass the ball away than actually do anything. More helpful than the girls who just stood on the "field" and gossiped, but she obviously was no athlete.

On the field adjacent, Rosalie and Jasper Hale worked in tandem, pretending to be human, but still better. The brother and sister dominated the other team, but not so much as to cause anger, and in a manner that didn't make it seem like they did all the work, though they did.

PE ended, and the class thanked their lucky stars that they had lunch next because what better way was there to wind down from a grueling period under the Coach's watchful eyes than to eat, chat, and have fun?

Ron met Hermione outside of the girls' locker room and they headed for the cafeteria, pulling their sack lunches from their bags as they did so. The other students were a little confused, since the Forks High hot lunches were actually pretty good due to the small number of students, but they went on.

Several groups of seniors attempted to flag down the pair to sit with them in the lunch room, only to be ignored as the couple sat side by side at the very end of one of the long tables, placing noticeable distance between themselves and their peers. More than slightly insulted, several members of the injured parties decided that, if they had more classes with either of the pair, they would not be talking to them that day. Maybe some ostracization would show them how the other students felt, being ignored so easily. They just wanted to get the latest scoop, after all!

Predictably, both the redhead and brunette noticed the Cullens and Hales' table not ten minutes into the lunch hour. Both said something, then the boy seemed to ask a question, which the girl seemed to answer as the boy's "oh" face implied. They both looked rather amused.

Just as many of the students decided it really wasn't worth it to try and fish for information again that day, the strangest thing happened. A loud voice, which only some students recognized as belonging to Weasley, called out "FOOD FIGHT!" and food was flying through the air. It was all-out, not holds barred, chaos then, as many freshmen took up the call, and then older students in anger at getting applesauce or some such thing all over their clothes.

The only group spared from this was, naturally, the Cullen-Hale table, though not for lack of effort. Any food that was heading their way always seemed to hit someone else or would go wide; Rosalie was sneering at the display, predictably, and while some girls wanted to take her down a peg (being pretty didn't mean she could be a bitch), it simply wasn't going to happen.

The perfect table with the perfect people present was immune to the food fight going on in the rest of the cafeteria.

Or so everyone thought.

Out of nowhere, a pumpkin – a complete pumpkin which had no business being in a school in early September – flew toward the table. All the teens there dodged as best they could without giving away their facade of humanity –

And yet the pumpkin hit Edward Cullen dead on the side of the head. He was forced to go with the movement of give himself away, but thankfully his brother was there to act as a good reason for him to not fall off the bench. Emmett was certainly big enough to give the illusion of stopping the progress.

While Edward was forced to go to the nurse's office, just to make sure he wasn't too injured from the Freak Pumpkin Incident as it would be known in the town for weeks to come, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger made their respective ways to AP English and regular English 12, one laughing silently to himself while the other was fighting amusement with annoyance.

The rest of the day passed quickly, and when students returned home for the day, their parents were slightly disappointed by the lack of information gathered through the day. In a small town like Forks, everyone knew everything about everyone else, and it grated on their nerves to be so terribly... out of the loop!

The next morning, the Ford Anglia pulled in a bit earlier than the day before, arriving just behind a shiny silver Volvo that was very new and made the Anglia look even more wrecked. In fact, some students would even say that in the rain the car looked feral, like some sort of wild beast... of course, that wasn't true. Cars couldn't be feral. It was just an illusion caused by the lines of rain and the inch of haze around the car where the water bounced off. Nothing more, nothing less. Really.

The Ford also happened to take the space directly next to the Volvo. As expected, two figures exited the Ford, and five from the Volvo. However, when the occupants of the Volvo, the Cullens and Hales, made to head for the nearest covered part of the school, the pair from the Ford actually stopped them.

Edward's eyebrow twitched, rather annoyed at them. First the redhead started a food fight, which somehow ended in Edward being hit with a pumpkin of all things (thankfully, it had exploded on contact, and was strangely easy to get out of his hair), and now the pair was getting in the way of him and his family? Their thoughts were a little quiet too – like they had "indoor voices" or something, and sounded more muffled so that, sometimes, he couldn't hear what they were thinking exactly.

How annoying.

"'Lo," the redhead, Ron, greeted amicably. "Wanted to apologize for yesterday. I probably shouldn't have thrown a pumpkin at you..." Edward zoned out ever so slightly. Wait. The ex-Amish guy was the one who threw a pumpkin at him? He would get the bit he missed from one of his "siblings'" minds...

"Here, as an apology, please accept these," the girl, Hermione Granger – age 17, almost 18, very smart, too smart – handed a brown paper bag to Alice. "They're for your entire family, and if you want more later I can get you in contact to the supplier. Have a nice day!" She smiled at them, something very few humans had the guts to do, and walked off at a normal pace with her boyfriend's arm around her waist.

"Get them in contact"... did she give them drugs or something? Edward bemoaned not looking into her mind to find out and instead glanced over his sister's shoulder to see inside the bag.

It was full of lollipops, red wrapped in black plastic, with the words "Vampire Pop" written in drippy red script.

Collectively, the Cullens and Hales stared into the bag, completely forgetting that it was raining elephants and giraffes, and mostly just wondered what the hell?

After what seemed like forever but can't have been more than half a minute, Alice reached a hand into the bag and pulled out one of the suckers. She pulled off the wrapper, and Edward was immediately assaulted by the scent of blood. Alice popped it into her mouth, made and appreciative sound, and offered the bag to her siblings.

From that day on, though the vampires of Forks rarely communed with the Wizard and Witch residing there, they were considered in a "good working relationship" and none of the Hale or Cullen "children" was ever seen without a little white stick in their mouth, sucking on the suckers as though they were the best sweets on the market and off of it.

Author's Note: Yes, I'm weird. Yes, I actually wrote a Twilight/HP crossover. Semi-seriously-ish. Only, this time I actually have read Twilight (read it in November... many brain cells dead or injured, with an equal amount in critical condition – the most wasted 7 hours of my life). I have also completely read 3 HP/Twilight fics, all but one of which sucked, even though they were some of the more popular ones. The good one? Araceil's spoof. Admittedly, they WERE better than the book, if only because they didn't have stupid sentences like "I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me." (pg 190) I also tried reading another three, on suggestion or judging by reputation... but they were just retelling Twilight with Harry as Bella, and I'm sorry but that just doesn't fly with me.

(1) Ron doesn't trust planes and refused to take one. Harry ended up having the Anglia dug out of the forest, fixed up (a little), and then Hermione drove. Her parents took the plane though.

(2) Totally just realized... so, my dad's best mate lives in London. This summer he's marrying a frenchwoman... who came to London to improve her English. Harry Potter parallels? I think I'm a dork.

(3) Y'know, I've never ONCE seen this excuse used, and I really don't get why not. I mean, it makes SENSE, right? I dunno, maybe I'm just crazy.

(4) I know Ron does not canonically keep the scars from being attacked by the brains, but I'm of the opinion that magic can't fix EVERYTHING, including damage from a tank full of evil brains.

(5) I do NOT know if Hermione actually got a scar from the spell that hit her in the DoM, but I thought she ought to. Also, this is the girls of the school rationalizing that Hermione is just like them, self conscious and just as willing to be anything other than conservative, but obviously embarrassed of her scar (not that she is, she just doesn't care) (this is not me putting down people who show off their boobs, etc etc, I'm a teenager, I've obviously stopped caring what other people do).