~Loving the people (or person) who is currently reading this authors note. This is not necessarily my first story, but I'd appreciate as many reviews as you will give me. Thank you and good night … or morning … or afternoon~
~Chapter One~
I guess I should start from the beginning. And then I think to myself. When exactly did this all begin? What exactly is all of this? I wouldn't know. I gave up thinking things through a long time ago—when I stopped being smart and making everyone look at me expectantly every time a teacher asked a question. I craved the attention at first. I remember my first year well; I made everyone else look like dimwitted fools, since I managed to read all of my schoolbooks before the year began. Now, I don't feel it's necessary. I think it's nice to do your homework, and know just a few things than the others, but I don't feel it's nice to show them up—okay, I love it, but people don't love me for it.
Well, back to my incredibly enthralling story. It won't be as detailed as it's supposed to be, because I feel I was drunk half the time, but I will try my best. After all, I was enjoying my final year at Hogwarts. I didn't half as many responsibilities because I requested that I would not be held under the Head Girl duties. I do believe—and I am sticking by this—that is was the smartest decision I have ever made. Including when I decided not to go home with the man who called himself 'The Terminator'.
Yet again, I have gotten off track, and you may think I am procrastinating. I'm not. I've just become incredibly forgetful. And now I will remember—my story begins now. I will press the 'Enter' twice button on my incredibly good looking and expensive laptop. I will press the 'Space Bar' three times. Then I will begin. I promise.
I was seventeen years of age. Note the of age. I could Apparate and Disapparate. I could perform spells without receiving warnings from the Ministry of Magic. I was finally free. I had a plan. After Hogwarts, Ginny and I were planning on moving into London and purchase the most expensive apartment, while making livings as professional models and actresses who star in ridiculous movies but still end up famous all the same. My Auror dream had been dashed. Not because of the fact that I could not possibly become one, but because I was extremely tired. I was tired of the wizarding world, and of the spells and such. I missed my old life, and I'd dragged Ginny along with me. But she said time and time again that she let herself be dragged.
Most of the seventh years have grown out of the groove of dropping insulting comments whenever they saw you. I had even had a conversation with several Slytherins who had not found it necessary to call me a Mudblood every chance they got. I was impressed. Dumbledore had made it quite clear he would not put up with their rubbish and I was glad. My friends were glad. Everyone in the entire school was glad—except for Draco Malfoy.
For example, a conversation between us would go like this:
"Hello M—Hermione."
"Hello Draco."
"Your hair looks good." This was said with his fist in his mouth.
"Thank you. Yours too."
"No it doesn't."
"No, you're right. It doesn't."
"I'll have to report you now—my hair looks fine. Anyone can see that."
"And then I'll have to recall all those names you called me. If you don't believe me I have my diary as proof."
Snort. "Diary."
"Yes. Do you have a problem with that?"
Fist in mouth. Long pause. "No."
"I'm sure you don't. Goodbye, Draco."
I loved it. Every minute of it. He didn't, which made it so much better. And then, Professors around the school decided a union was to be created between houses. No one liked the idea, especially when Malfoy and I were nominated as the leaders and advisors of the union. I wouldn't know the first thing about uniting people—the only time I've done that was when I introduced Lavender to a half-naked Ashton Kutcher poster. But it was our responsibility, so we were forced to, and we did. We made Crabbe and Goyle hang out with Harry and Ron for at least an hour. It was great. The funniest hour of my life, and that was before Crabbe set Harry's robes on fire. And then the union idea was dashed. Everyone had such a problem with it, we had to. It was fun while it lasted, however.
And then Dumbledore came up with the great holiday gig. The smart kids, the good kids, whoever got on his good side was sent to a holiday destination, where they were meant to study. Well, I pfft at the studying idea. I spit at the studying idea. I get absolutely hammered at the idea of studying. Did I mention I was going there to do absolutely anything but study?
Of course, I was sent with the usual suspects. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Parvati, Lavender, Pansy and—of course, to make it even more interesting they add the odd Draco Malfoy into the mix.
So, I'm seventeen years old. I'm about to head somewhere in the centre of alcohol and sex, but no one does anything about it? So, I'm a confused seventeen year old, going to the centre of alcohol and sex. Dumbledore isn't that stupid. He may let a lot of stupid people get away with stupid things but he's not stupid. So, I say so again, and I'm glad because it's making me feel better. And then I realise something: maybe Dumbledore realises that we are students, who have five weeks of school left and exams on our heads. Maybe we need some excitement in our lives. Maybe we deserve this, because we do.
I'm packed. I'm excited. I'm about to be transported to the best place in years. And then someone ruins it all. Someone says that the place is absolutely deserted from anywhere else, and it's too late for us to find spells to conjure up alcohol or any other substances we might need. So, I conjure up the things we need to conjure up the things we drink. I'm ready. I'm about to leave. I'm seventeen. I'm young. I see Ron smuggling Playboys into his suitcase.