Yes it is a Pureblood Hermione story (I can hear the groans from here) however I'm going to try to avoid all the usual clichés (difficult as the whole concept is a cliché!) so that means no dramatic changes to her appearance, no tight green halter-neck tops and black leather minis. And most importantly no betrothal to a certain Mr D. Malfoy, although who knows what will happen later wink
I'm also trying to avoid writing a Hermione finds out she is pureblood-moves in with her parents-goes to Hogwarts chapter which although it moves the plot along has everything happening far too quickly for comfort, so if it is too slow for you I promise I'll get there eventually.
Do let me know if you spot any horrible glaring OOC ness and please R+R people, Reviews brighten my day!
Disclaimer: Not mine, go figure!
Hermione Granger frowned, pushed an escaping strand of brown hair away from her face, and squinted at the computer screen again. Outside a bright flash was quickly succeeded by a crash of thunder, the summer storm which had kept her inside the house for the past two hours was almost directly overhead.
Hermione sighed, she, the cleverest witch in her year, was totally stuck. Moving the mouse again she caught the chicken and then whipped the glass from her Personal Electronic Thing (PET). In theory, when she held the glass under the chicken dispenser nozzle she should get the pureed starlings which were needed by the Bar Bot. In return he would give her Titania's Piece which would allow her to finish the game. Unfortunately the game didn't seem to want to co-operate, Starship Titanic was engrossing and interesting, but when it wouldn't work properly it annoyed Hermione immeasurably. Exasperated she saved the game and exited, switching the computer off. The hum of the fan faded and the room was silent, but for the spattering of raindrops against the window, and the small sounds of her cat, Crookshanks, washing himself on her bed. Another flash and crash combination reverberated around the house as Hermione moved towards the bed and sat down.
The honest truth was that she was rather bored. The weather, which had been muggy and oppressive, had blossomed into the current storm, and while tomorrow would probably be a lovely day that thought was no very present help. Her parents were expecting guests for dinner and, although she would be expected to sit at the table and be polite there was very little Hermione could do in the way of helping prepare. The neat dining room had been vacuumed and a new cloth put on the table and the lounge had been tidied so the guests could be ushered in for pre-prandial drinks and afterwards for coffee and liquors. Glancing at her small wristwatch Hermione groaned, it was still only 12:30, another seven hours until she would legitimately have something to do, even if that something was only answering the door and taking coats.
Hermione allowed herself to flop backwards, her upper body lolling on the bed, eyes gazing sightlessly at the white aertex ceiling. Her room was a pleasant one, with pale apple green walls and a slightly darker green carpet. A pale pink rug adorned the floor and, pink curtains hung at the window. She had decorated it herself when she was 11, at the time she had high hopes of her parents buying her a new set of matching furniture to replace the old, rather mix and match pieces which were there. Unfortunately for Hermione her rather grand dream of having a beautiful apple blossom bower had fallen flat, with her parents refusing to buy the lovely (although, if truth be told, very expensive) bedroom set which she had seen and coveted, so the room retained it's original furniture. A dark pine wardrobe stood in one corner, contrasting oddly with the beech effect desk on which her computer now stood. The oak bed head and the lighter coloured pine chest of draws were complimented by a small (rather drab) white chipboard night table and the ensemble was completed by a black chipboard book case, containing so many books piled haphazardly that the shelves sagged somewhat under their combined weight.
Hoisting herself back upright Hermione crossed the room to the bookcase and knelt down beside it, intending to find something to read. The books it contained were all old friends, most she had read at least 10 times and some were so well worn that they were practically falling apart. Looking at the mess Hermione reached a decision, she would beguile the tedium by mending and patching up as many books as needed it! Beginning with the top row she started to pull books out, making two piles, those which required attention, and those which didn't. Behind the second row of books she discovered one of her favourite paperbacks, a loosely truthful regency history, which she had presumed lost two summers previously and had been unable to find another copy of. Opening it she crossed back to her bed and curled up next to the cat, her previous task forgotten.
She hadn't read more than a chapter when she became aware that the thunder had stopped, and the drumming of the rain had died away to a faint whisper. Minutes later her mother tapped on her door.
"Hermione sweetheart?" Swinging her legs off the bed Hermione stood and crossed to the door. Opening it she asked;
"Yes Mum? Did you want me to do something?" Her mother smiled at her helpful daughter.
"I'm sorry to disturb you darling but we've run out of good coffee and your Dad and I are busy with the cooking. Would you mind awfully going and getting some for me now the rain has stopped? You know the sort we like." Hermione smiled too;
"Of course, the Whittards Arabica one, yes? Anything else I can get while I'm out?"
"Darling, Thank you." Said her mother; "Would you get some fresh flowers too? Freesias preferably, the florist on the corner had some lovely ones yesterday." She looked thoughtfully at her daughter for a few seconds. "You might try to get an appointment at the hairdressers too, you need a trim, your hair is getting rather messy at the ends."
Hermione sighed; "I know, the conditioner doesn't seem to be working very well, it's still splitting and it's so frizzy."
"The humidity hasn't helped." Commented her mother; "See if the hairdresser can recommend anything, I'm happy to pay the difference if it's more expensive than what you are using now. They might even have an appointment for today."
"Oh thanks Mum." Said Hermione happily, her hair was the one part of her appearance that she didn't much like, it was thick and slightly curly and had a tendency towards bushiness. It also split at the ends, lending to the frizzy-ness but was greasy on the top, meaning that washing it every day was a must despite the extra splitting that caused. Apart from the hair though Hermione was quite satisfied with her appearance, at almost 16 her body was developing at it's own pace, her bust, although not massive by any standards was a neat B cup, and her waist was fairly trim, although she still carried a little puppy fat around her hips. Her skin was a pleasant creamy colour, although currently it was dotted with the few spots of adolescence. Hermione however was not concerned enough about how she looked to smother her face with make up to hide almost unnoticeable blemishes, in fact she seldom wore make up at all, contenting herself with a little chap protection to prevent her shapely lips from cracking. A small nose, large brown eyes and white, although not truly even teeth completed her facial features. She wasn't a beauty, but she had a certain charm, especially in her slightly mischievous smile, which lit her expression when it appeared.
Grabbing her jacket from where it hung on a hook behind her door she trotted downstairs, caught her bag up from the hall table, double checked it for keys and money, and swung it over her shoulder. Pulling open the front door she stepped outside into glorious sunshine, and the smell of wet earth.