Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 2 - Sex Stories

Goodbye, Miss Granger - Part 2

Under normal circumstances I’m a positive person; despite my emotional misery, I finished school with good marks and was accepted into my chosen course at university: a Bachelor of Science with a major in Pure Mathematics. And I did well, well enough to progress on to my Master’s degree in 2008-09. Hermione Granger didn’t haunt me beyond high school, although I did have one scare when J.K. Rowling published the final book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows , where Hermione’s middle name was revealed in the reading of Dumbledore’s will. You guessed it: Jean! My heart froze when I first read that line lying in bed one night, the paperback still shiny and un-creased. I had visions of undergraduates parading around me in the student union cafeteria calling out “And To Miss Hermione JEAN Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard , in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive." Except every student would name a different book title, each more embarrassing and sexually suggestive than the last. The scars from high school had mostly healed, but they hadn’t faded, and even at age twenty-one they still held a power over me. In a pointless act of defence I dyed my hair, which I didn’t like and dyed it back again; and I changed my name to Jeannie, which I kept. I liked Jeannie; it was a little closer to ‘Hermione’, and that was worrisome, but it was also a little further away from the Jean Granger who had been so traumatised at high school. I started ...

... to move on. I even went to see Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix at the cinema and NOBODY commented on how much I looked like Hermione … although I concede the puffer jacket and baseball cap I wore DID make the feat more challenging. ~~~ I still didn’t have a boyfriend. Boys had asked me out (they didn’t stay nervous 16-year-olds forever, thank goodness) but I never accepted; too risky, too much pain lurking just below the surface. I made friends though, some girls, some non-threatening guys already in relationships. I didn’t share my love of J.K. Rowling’s stories with them and they never commented on my famous doppelganger; it’s not that they never noticed, I think they just didn’t care. I met Belinda in the second year of my Master’s degree. She was a few years younger and was enrolled in a Bachelor of Arts to pursue writing, but for some unaccountable reason she had chosen her one optional unit from the science faculty: Number Theory, of all things! I don’t think she had any idea what she was getting herself into, poor lamb, but maths at university is a big step up from high school and not something to be taken lightly. Certainly not as a solitary unit in a humanities degree. She made it almost half way through the semester before she realised she needed a tutor, and by happy coincidence I had discovered a few weeks earlier that if I wanted to keep paying my rent then I was going to need a job. The stars aligned. I helped Belinda pass Number Theory, and she paid ...