Hermione sat on her bed, crying silent tears that trailed from the corner of her eye to her
chin. She closed her eyes in pain, as she heard the fight going on downstairs. Her mother yelled
something at her father, and there was a deafening slap. Hermione winced in pain, as if she
herself had been slapped. She could hear the cries of her mother downstairs, and burried her
face in the beige pillows on her bed. Her hot tears stinged at her face and Hermione angrily
wiped them away. She put on her favorite CD and put the headphones over her ears. The music
always made her life go away.
"Cut my life into peices, this is my last resort," Hermione nodded her head to the
music, the bass beating through her head, the guitar lifting her spirits high. Hermione's
cell phone vibrated at her side. She paused the music, relieved to hear that the fight was
over. Her father had undoubtedly gone to yet another bar, and her mother was in her room,
tending to her wounds and drinking shots of tequila. It was extremely sad that the fights had
become so routine that Hermione knew exactly what occured after each one.
Hermione checked her cell phone and was, to her chagrin, pleased by the number on her
phone.
"Hey Eric."
"Hey Hermione! Listen, I was wondering if, uh, you might want to, maybe, go to a movie
tonight?"
"Eric, I don't know," Hermione sighed, contemplating her choices. Let's see, stay
home, watch television, listen to her mom's muffled cries, then deal with her little brother.
Hmmm. Tough choice.
"I understand if you don't want to go, I just thought you might want to get out of the
house," Eric stammered.
"Eric, Eric, calm down. I'll go!" Hermione laughed. God, it felt good to laugh. "Come
pick me up at 8, okay?"
"Okay! Great! See ya then!"
Hermione sat laughing to herself. Eric was the latest in a long line of boys who had
fallen for Hermione. Hermione didn't boast when she said she was beautiful. It was the truth.
With soft shoulder length brown hair, and brown eyes much like hot chocolates melting in the
afternoon sun, she was striking. Her high cheekbones accented her face, and her full lips, which
were always glossed and never chapped, lit up her face.
"Okay, what to wear, what to wear?" Hermione scanned her closet. She really didn't give
a damn what she wore. She looked good in anything. She slipped on black hiphuggers and a baggy
grey hoodie. She checked off a list of things she placed in her sweatshirt pockets. Lip gloss,
money, ID, and her cell phone. Hermione put on the diamond ring one of her past flames had
bought her. His name slipped her mind, but that wasn't important. Hermione was working rapidly
but stopped at the silver necklace in her jewelry box. A silver pendant in the shape of a
lightning bolt hung from a silver chain.
Images of her best friend Harry Potter flashed through her mind. For her 15th birthday
he had given her the necklace. "Something to remember me by," he had said. "Oh Harry," Hermione
whispered. Shaking her head of the memories she longed to relive, Hermione Granger walked out
of the room, and never looked back.
chin. She closed her eyes in pain, as she heard the fight going on downstairs. Her mother yelled
something at her father, and there was a deafening slap. Hermione winced in pain, as if she
herself had been slapped. She could hear the cries of her mother downstairs, and burried her
face in the beige pillows on her bed. Her hot tears stinged at her face and Hermione angrily
wiped them away. She put on her favorite CD and put the headphones over her ears. The music
always made her life go away.
"Cut my life into peices, this is my last resort," Hermione nodded her head to the
music, the bass beating through her head, the guitar lifting her spirits high. Hermione's
cell phone vibrated at her side. She paused the music, relieved to hear that the fight was
over. Her father had undoubtedly gone to yet another bar, and her mother was in her room,
tending to her wounds and drinking shots of tequila. It was extremely sad that the fights had
become so routine that Hermione knew exactly what occured after each one.
Hermione checked her cell phone and was, to her chagrin, pleased by the number on her
phone.
"Hey Eric."
"Hey Hermione! Listen, I was wondering if, uh, you might want to, maybe, go to a movie
tonight?"
"Eric, I don't know," Hermione sighed, contemplating her choices. Let's see, stay
home, watch television, listen to her mom's muffled cries, then deal with her little brother.
Hmmm. Tough choice.
"I understand if you don't want to go, I just thought you might want to get out of the
house," Eric stammered.
"Eric, Eric, calm down. I'll go!" Hermione laughed. God, it felt good to laugh. "Come
pick me up at 8, okay?"
"Okay! Great! See ya then!"
Hermione sat laughing to herself. Eric was the latest in a long line of boys who had
fallen for Hermione. Hermione didn't boast when she said she was beautiful. It was the truth.
With soft shoulder length brown hair, and brown eyes much like hot chocolates melting in the
afternoon sun, she was striking. Her high cheekbones accented her face, and her full lips, which
were always glossed and never chapped, lit up her face.
"Okay, what to wear, what to wear?" Hermione scanned her closet. She really didn't give
a damn what she wore. She looked good in anything. She slipped on black hiphuggers and a baggy
grey hoodie. She checked off a list of things she placed in her sweatshirt pockets. Lip gloss,
money, ID, and her cell phone. Hermione put on the diamond ring one of her past flames had
bought her. His name slipped her mind, but that wasn't important. Hermione was working rapidly
but stopped at the silver necklace in her jewelry box. A silver pendant in the shape of a
lightning bolt hung from a silver chain.
Images of her best friend Harry Potter flashed through her mind. For her 15th birthday
he had given her the necklace. "Something to remember me by," he had said. "Oh Harry," Hermione
whispered. Shaking her head of the memories she longed to relive, Hermione Granger walked out
of the room, and never looked back.