Chapter one: The Real World

Hermione entered the church with a familiar sense of panic. She hated family gatherings, however little she and had in the way of immediate family when compared to- say- the Weasley's. Usually it was she, her parents, her grandparents, and her aunt's family. Occasionally her aunt's mother in law would be in town, or one of her grandmother's many siblings. She supposed she was lucky, though that wasn't exactly the right phrase, that it wasn't a sit down dinner- but her little cousin's seventh birthday. Instead of having to awkwardly sit at the dining table in her grandparent's home- trying to avoid talking lest she offend someone- the gym of her aunt's church was overrun with small children. And small children happened to be one of the many things she was good at.

She dutifully followed her family to a table of adults – specifically her grandparents. Her aunt was both supervising the wild children and talking to another mom- possibly about whatever new casserole dish her aunt Ella had recently tried, or how she used the vegetables from her own garden. Her uncle Liam, was most likely talking sports with another father who'd been roped into attending. Hermione's little sister, Evie, had already expressed her greetings and was now off with the birthday girl to play. Hermione envied her, and would rather be sitting through Divination than here playing perfect family.

"Hermione."

Her head immediately snapped to attention at her grandmother's voice, somewhat husky from forty years of smoking. She was looking at her expectantly and Hermione stepped forward for the customary embrace and kiss on the cheek, though, bending to do so strained her recent injury from the end of the previous school year. She'd been very careful about keeping that event from her parents, knowing they'd use the excuse to pull her from school.

"It's good to see you, Ooma," she lied.

Her grandmother's eyes were cold and calculating, as they always were, and again Hermione wished she'd been more successful in convincing her mother to let her stay home.

"We missed you over the school year. You weren't here for Christmas, and last summer. Meredith told us you were staying with friends?"

Yes. She'd spent Christmas holiday learning how to defend herself and her family if need be. At her mother's name, Hermione looked over to find that her parents had abandoned her in favor of sports and organic casseroles. Resigned to her fate and not feeling overly argumentative, she sat at the table- next to her grandfather who smiled and made her feel a bit better.

"That's right," she told her grandmother. "My friend's family offered for I and another friend of our to spend summer holiday with them."

"Well," the woman said with her usual look of distaste, "I can't imagine what Hugo and Meredith were thinking when they agreed to that."

Perhaps, Hermione though bitterly to herself- her tongue caught sharply between her teeth, they thought that they were my parents; not you. But if you want to dispute that...

"... and poor Evie," her grandmother was saying, oblivious to Hermione's decreasing patience, "I'm sure she misses you-"

"Hermione! Hey, kiddo, how've you been?"

She'd never been so happy to hear her aunt's voice, watching the slow, prideful smile of favoritism spread over her grandmother's face. Ella had always been the favorite to Hermione's grandparents, Hermione had gathered from her mother's stories, and that hadn't changed when they grew up. Ella had had a career early, went to church, waited until marriage to have children, had the perfect family with her garden and her book clubs. Whereas Meredith had Hermione at the tender age of 20, and not to the man to whom she found herself currently married. She was a free thinking, a free spirit. And dentistry was not Hermione's grandmother's idea of a proper career. Nevermind that her mother was happy.

Was Hermione the only one to notice Aunt Ella trying too hard to be perfect? Or her dark circles around her eyes that make up did nothing to hide? The smiles in their perfect family portraits were forced- Ella and Liam's only marginally more believable than their daughters'. Did no one notice the marital problems they were having, that seemed glaringly obvious to Hermione? Or Liam's wandering eyes?

She tuned back in and heard words between Aunt Ella and Ooma like "tomatos" and "sewing patterns" and realized they'd gone off into their world. She wasn't sure which she rathered; being questioned endlessly and being found wanting, or being completely ignored and having no one to talk to and nothing to say. She felt a vague nudge and looked over to find her grandfather smiling at her.

"If you run now, you can be safely hidden before they realize you're gone."

Hermione grinned at him and carefully went off to find a quiet place.

"Evie, go to your room," was the first thing her mother said when they entered the front door.

Hermione hadn't meant to start a religious dispute. She hadn't meant to raise her voice or make Aunt Ella cry. The biggest thing she hadn't meant to do, was get Evie in trouble. It had started with her reading. She found a quiet hallway where the bathrooms were and happily sat down on the floor to read her book- the book on wizard healing that she'd charmed before leaving Hogwarts to look like a random maths text. She'd been deep into the rare art of touch healing when her uncle came through the hallway to the bathroom, giving her a glare that she returned. They'd never gotten along.

And sure enough he'd come back out and not five minutes later Hermione's grandmother was standing there, looking down at her with a disgusted look and her arms crossed. "Hermione, what are you doing on the floor? Get up. Now."

"Actually," Hermione said as politely as she could, "I really need to read this and it's a bit loud out there."

She knew she should have found a different spot. Maybe she should have wandered to the main part of the church, and everyone else would still have been in the gym. But she had been trying to keep out of trouble. Ironically she probably would have gotten into less.

"Hermione," her grandmother said warningly. "I told you to get up and you're going to do what I said."

It was a phrase anyone who knew her grandmother was familiar with, but Hermione wasn't six anymore. Her injury from the Battle of the Department of Mysteries was flaring, like Madame Pomfrey said it would, and sitting in the position she was made it hurt less and standing was agony.

"Ooma, I'm happy sitting right here and reading my very necessary book. My back is hurting and I really don't want to stand."

Then came the facial expression Hermione was personally very familiar with; the I'm-losing-my-temper-you-difficult-child face. Hermione had always been the child to argue why. At bedtime it was why did she have to go to bed at exactly eight. Why not seven fifty nine, or eight o' one? At breakfast it was why did she have to eat the sausage? And, did it hurt the animals to be killed? Why did they have to be killed? Why did she have to stand and be social with people whom she disliked and who disliked her when she was doing no one any harm by staying out of the way.

Her grandmother stepped forward, making Hermione tense, and grabbed her by the arm to yank her onto her feet. Blinding pain shot through her chest at her curse wound and she cried out, ripping her arm out of her grandmother's grasp and somehow shoving her grandmother in the process. The other woman stumbled back a few steps and her eyes widened, looking at Hermione who was grabbing at her chest where it felt like it was on fire. She had been lucky it was only a wound. If she hadn't...

"Hey!" A small voice said. Hermione looked down at her little sister, Evie, who was looking up at her as well. "What's wrong?"

People were starting to come over to the bathroom hallway and Hermione's grandmother glared at Meredith, pointing. "Meredith, control your daughter. I'm not going to sit here and let her be disrespectful."

"I wasn't trying to be disrespectful," Hermione tried to protest, knowing she should have refused harder to stay home. It was this or fight with her mother, and now she was wishing she'd fought with her mum. "I was just reading."

Meredith looked with dread, but surprised Hermione by asking, "Mum, surely it's not a big deal for her to just read her maths."

"It's not maths, Mum," Evie corrected. "It says The Art of MediWizardry."

And everything sort of went downhill from there. None of their other family knew about magic, and Hermione knew Evie shouldn't have been able to read the true subject of Hermione's book. She knew she hadn't miscast the charm either, as her mum hadn't rightfully known what it was. It had been charmed so that muggles wouldn't be able to properly read it. Evie was like her.

"Evie, go to your room," was the first thing Hermione's mother said when they came in through the front door. And Hermione sighed, knowing that she wasn't done quarreling with people for the day. Which was a shame.

The girl obediently went to the stairs, and they heard her steps going up. Hermione walked towards them as well, stopping to sit on the second stair. She could see up the stairs where Evie was creeping back down, but her parents couldn't.

"Mum," she started- silencing herself at the hand her mother raised to stop her.

"No," she said. "We've humored this long enough. You will not be returning to Hogwarts this year."

This had been a going argument since the end of Hermione's first year. At first, her parent's had been proud- if a bit skeptical. But hearing about Hermione's school year, minus the Stone, was enough to make them bitter about it. It was too different, too wrong to them. Evie had delighted in hearing stories, though Hermione told her much more than she told her parents.

It started with them asking her not to talk about such things at supper. Then at meals. Then at all. None of her friends were allowed to come over. She wasn't allowed to have her wizarding books out of the house. Then out of her room. Then, at the end of third year, they began keeping her books in the attic and only allowing her what was necessary to her work- one subject at a time.

"Mum!" Hermione whispered, her voice shocked and she was on her feet in a second. "You can't-"

"We can," her father interjected. Then he looked guilty, the look he always had after he yelled and then took her out to ice cream to apologize. "Hermione, it isn't just this. Your mother and I have been thinking about doing this for sometime. It's this whole magic thing. Really, how is your school going to help you get a job in the real world?"

Hermione recoiled as though she'd been slapped. "The real world," she echoed. "I-I've been looking into teaching. I want to teach Ancient Runes, or maybe Transfiguration."

"He didn't say the Wizarding world, Hermione," her mother said sharply, surprising Hermione with its vitriol. "He said the real world. Our world. We've talked to Ella and her friend is a teacher at Saint Catherine's- my old school. The deadline is past, but Ella's sure her friend can get you in. No more talks of potions and robes and wands."

Hermione shook her head. "No. I-I have to go to Hogwarts. You don't understand. Hogwarts is my home. Harry and Ron need me. Vo-"

"We don't want to hear anymore of this."

"And what about Evie?" Hermione asked desperately. "Are you going to deprive her too? You know she's like me. You know she belongs in my world."

There was a creak on the stairs and the three turned around to see the small blonde headed seven year old who'd been eavesdropping. Hermione'd forgotten she was there at all and felt bad for bringing it up and cornering her parents, bringing Evie into the middle of it.

"I want to go to Hogwarts," she said quietly.

Her mother's face went red. "No," she snapped. "No one is going to Hogwarts. Hermione- your wand. Now."

Hermione's stomach dropped. "What? No!"

"Hermione," her father warned, "Hand over your wand."

The wand in her back pocket, shrunk so she could take it anywhere, suddenly felt heavy and warm. Like it was trying to remind her it was there; though to offer itself to be handed over or be used to get away, she wasn't sure. Then her necklace began to shriek.

She'd gotten the idea from Harry's Sneakoscope in third year, and charmed a necklace at the end of fourth after Voldemort's return. To warn her. To help her escape if able, thanks to Hermione's study of magical transportation after their portkey to the Quidditch World Cup. Her eyes went wide, as did Evie's who'd been told the story. Who had thought of them as her sister's wonderful adventures.

"What is that?" Her mother demanded.

"We have to go," Hermione whispered. Then louder. "We have go now. Evie."

Without argument, the girl went to Hermione's side and took her hand. Her parents only argued more, by the door while Hermione and Evie were near the stairs on the other side of the room. The necklace hadn't stopped- a beaded one that Evie had made for her.

"Mum, Dad, get away from the-"

WHOMP!

The front door exploded and her parents catapulted against the stairs next to Hermione and her sister with a wet, sickening sound. She could feel wood shards embedding themselves in her skin as she angled, trying to shield her sister- who screamed. Hermione looked back over, and saw six hooded figures there, walking through the destroyed opening. Hermione backed up a few steps, pulling Evie with her. Why weren't her parents moving?

Hermione grabbed her necklace and pulled Evie close, vaguely able to recognize white blond hair before feeling the pull at her navel. And they were gone.

A/N: I can no longer promise or keep any previous promises that I would not start any stories before I finish my current ones. I'm sorry. I just- I get flooded with ideas. I don't mean to. It just happens. And when I'm not writing, I'm reading... which only adds to my plot ideas. I am NOT, however, giving up on any of them. Even my older ones like Drowning By FIre, that I've been thinking about more lately. I may start adding stories to this account that are on my other, just so I have them all together.

I really hope you like this. I really like this. I am currently writing chapter four on it, and it will be a Snape/Hermione romance. But you won't see them interact, obviously, until next chapter. then not until chapter five or six. Not sure yet. Please let me know what you think and if you'd like to see more, or what you'd like me to concentrate on for my next update.

Dasvidanya, Mia.

PS. I didn't mean to kill her parents. It just sort of happened. Really. And, her family are mine. That's all I did was write a family gathering with my own family. When I was a kid, I just called my grandmother Grandma, but when my brother and sister were born, they started calling her Ooma. Yes, it really is that awkward. And yes, they really are that awful. And I can say that with confidence they won't see it because the only person who's ever really cared about my writing is my husband, and they hate him almost as much as they do me. Anyway... Review!