LeeFields
Standard disclaimer.
HG/SS, possibly, eventually, maybe.
RATING: PG
…
There is a village of quite some age on the outskirts of London, which has the decency to remain true to small town delights and prejudices. In this village, or rather pressing upon it, is a hill.
On top of this hill there is a house of some acclaim, wild and dark stories told at camp side fire's in the dead of night are whispered about it, and in that house is a magnificent chest of drawers. Protected by things the people of the village no not of. In these drawers lye's a book. And in this book are the words of one woman's, though the villagers did not refer her to as a woman, life at a certain point in time. The first words of this book are where we begin.
I wish I was someone else, anyone else, for just a moment, a second, of time…Chapter one
She struggled under the load of her parcels and bags as she lopsidedly walked up the cold stone steps. There had already been offers of help from those who surround her to lift the burden, but she shrugged them off. She didn't want help, and the weight of what she carried reassured her, slightly.
Hermione gazed up at Hogwarts, an imposing and cold looking building, indifferent to the hot heady air of summer. She had never thought of Hogwarts as imposing before, perhaps it was the wrong-ness of seeing it in this high summer light, being in its presence in this heat, being here at the wrong time of year. A point in time when she should be at home, her mother tittering about her hair and her father yelling at Crookshanks for chasing the budgies around the room as she giggled to herself…She quickly stamped out the memory of what her life should be like, and cast a look of trepidation at the building. She had never wanted to be at a place less than she wanted to be here now.
…
Professor McGonagall accompanied Hermione to her new room, the other teachers had decided that Hermione should not be left alone in Gryffindor tower, and had made up a room in the middle of the teacher's block. She put her bags down by the door and took inventory at her new space. It was well sized, containing a fireplace with a sitting area, her four posters, a little dining table and an adjoining bathroom. Crookshanks was lying by the bay window dozing in the afternoon sun. Hermione had yet to say anything to Professor McGonagall.
"So…well I do believe this room is quite acceptable for the summer Professor. Please thank the other teachers for recommending it." Hermione said quickly, trying to get McGonagall to leave so she could...well she didn't know what she would do, just that she wished to do it alone.
"Oh you can tell them yourself at tea Miss Granger, I'll see you in the teachers lounge at 5:30 sharp." Hermione was slightly aghast at the prospect of having to make conversation wit her teachers, let alone anyone right now. She didn't think she could stand to stay in the room with anyone for even a small period of time.
McGonagall was looking at her tersely, as if daring her to try to get out of supper. Hermione raised her chin resolutely. "I'd be delighted Professor, I'll see you at 5:30…sharp." Herman lied threw her teeth; it would be far from a delight to spend at least an hour with pitying looks of her superiors. McGonagall, knowing this as well, swept from the room and left Hermione to herself.
…
Hermione was quite shocked to find herself waking up. For, indeed, she could not remember falling asleep, or lying down on her bed for that matter. For a second upon waking, she had thought she was in her room at her parent's house, and then quite suddenly realized she couldn't be. Shock, pure shock at her own thoughts betraying her, if she could not depend on her memory to remember the details of her life how was she to manage? She collected herself, afraid that thoughts of this kind could lead to some emotional and irrational breakdown, and changed into fresher clothing. She sighed discontentedly, would everything be with discontent now? The dress was wrinkled when she pulled it from her bag; a quick spell would iron those out. She pulled her wand out of her jeans pocket, waved it in the air…and stopped. Suddenly sick with the idea of doing magic so easily, without thought. She put her wand in her nightstand, and did her best to smooth out the wrinkles in the deep-plum coloured fabric.
She decided to put her things away, the muggle way, hoping to waste a little time. It was odd seeing everything she owned in this alien place, muggle and magic co-mingled, with her telescope and cauldron, sneakers and school robes. It was disconcerting rather than reassuring to see her life spread out so neatly in this small castle room. Hermione shuddered, put on a cardigan, pulled her hair back into a barely controlled ponytail, and stalked out of the room.
…
Hogwarts was slightly eerie in the silence of summer, colder with the lack of children. The corridors were empty of ghosts and teachers alike as she slowly wandered through the castle. It was too quiet; one could hear their own thoughts to crisply. She would not think. Not about the happy times, or arguments, and definitely not about the charred remains of her childhood home, coming down the street and seeing the dark mark in all its ugliness, laughing at her loss.
Hermione blinked back angry tears, she would not let her emotions rule her, she would be calm, detached, logical. She counted to ten, breathing heavily as she leaned against a cold stone wall. This was too much, and it hurt, gods it hurt, all the time. She was suddenly shook from her revere by the loud clicking of boots coming towards her. She tried to calm her face, and school herself as whomever came closer.
"Miss Granger," Said Professor Snape as he rounded the corner, his robes swirling around him.
Hermione was slightly shocked to see her Professor; it was alarming to see his cruel face and greasy hair outside of the potions classroom. Though she suspected it was quite silly of her to assume he wouldn't leave the dungeons, especially in the summer months. It was just…alarming for some reason; something was off to his manner, to there meeting that she couldn't quite get a handle on.
"Oh, er, hi! Professor… are you having an agreeable summer?" She was babbling as bad as Neville Longbottom. She needed to get a grip, not give Snape and excuse to belittle her.
He looked at her with mild disdain. "My summer has been uneventful, per usual." He seemed annoyed with the entire encounter. He probably hated the idea of a student on the grounds at this time of year. As she nodded to his statement, Hermione slowly tried to back away. Perhaps if she could just leave quickly and quietly he wouldn't assign her detention. Could he give her detention? They weren't in term, so it was logical to assume that he had no power over the situation, or her.
Still, best to just keep backing away.
"Miss Granger, I am here to escort you to the teacher's lounge for supper, Professor Dumbeldore," and he grimaced at this. "Insisted I come fetch you." Clearly implying that she was some unruly dog that must be kept on a short leash.
"Oh, well I guess I'll just follow your lead then Professor." She said in a slightly chastised voice.
They walked quietly through the halls together, Hermione slightly behind his large step, as she watched his billowing robes. How did he do that? Enchantment? She was still puzzling out the finer points of a mobillius charm on garments when the entered the teachers lounge. A sort of buffet table had been set up, with an array of different dishes and, surprisingly, alcoholic drinks.
The teachers were sitting around a large wooden round table, all talking amicably at this or that, interrupting themselves to acknowledge Hermiones and Professor Snapes entrance, some has watery eyes upon seeing her.
"Hermione do come sit with us old bats!" Called Professor Sprout from across the table, as herself and Madam Pompfrey made space.
"Thank you Professor," Hermione said slightly nervously, she had never spent and 'alone' time with either witch before.
"No trouble at all my dear!" Said Professor Sprout, "Have you settled in nicely?"
"Oh yes, its quite agreeable Professor, thank you."
"Good, good, we all want you to be comfortable." Continued Professor Sprout, sharing a glance with Madam Pompfrey.
…
Dinner went on casually enough, her teachers, after consuming a large amount of the laid out drinks, trying to out shock her with outlandish story after story. She laughed until she nearly cried as Madam Hooch recalled trying to give Professor McGonagall flying lessons, and how McGonagall had ended up in the boys lavatory right before bed.
The dishes were fabulous, and the conversation enjoyable and challenging as each of her professors loaded work on her for the summer. Citing that idle hands be the devils playground. She was stilling giggling to herself as she cleared her own plate and called good nights threw the door on her way to bed.
…
She was walking through the stone passages to her rooms when Professor Snape caught up to her.
"Yes Professor?" She asked inquiringly.
"Professor Dumbelore thought it best if I escorted you to your rooms Miss Granger." Not elaborating as to why Dumbeldore would think this necessary.
"If you don't mind Professor, uh, why do I have to be followed everywhere?" tentative of his reply.
"Miss Granger I do not try to attempt to understand the reasoning behind anything that goes through the headmasters brain. I can only speculate that he's worried you'll go off the deep end after the death of your Muggle parents." He stated blandly, as if reciting the list of his groceries. She was shocked that Dumbeldore would think this, he had smiled benignly at her all threw dinner.
Hermione gapped at him, "How dare you!" incredulous that he'd so casually speak of her parents…murder. "You, you, I can't believe that he would think that I would need supervision…I..." there were already angry tears in her eyes.
"I don't know why your so upset Miss Granger. Its not as if you were particularly close with your parents these last couple of years. I've seen it a hundred times before, witches and wizards slowly losing touch with their muggle parentage, as they slowly have less and less in common. I mean its not as if you've really lost anything, is it Miss Granger?" He looked down at her stricken face, a slight look of triumph on his.
Hermione was so enraged, her whole body was ringing the tension of not knocking him down where he stood. Her fists were balled, her legs shaking, with the need to hurt him. She could feel the desire in every bone in her body, insistent, telling her to reach for her wand, pull out; two words and he'd never say anything again.
She blinked back tears as she realized what she had just been willing to do, thankful that her wand was in her nightstand, safe, from her. " You bastard," She breathed, between clenched teeth.
"Really Miss Granger, that kind of language is not acceptable in front of a superior," His eyes flashed menacingly.
"What are you going to do? Dock me house points!" She was practically begging for him to strike, to do anything. So she'd have an excuse. Just let him say another word, she thought, just one more thing and I'll…
She turned abruptly, and ran the rest of the way down the hall to her rooms. The door slammed behind her as she entered; though she hadn't touched it. She threw herself down on her bed, and began to cry in earnest. He'd been right about her losing touch with her family that's why it hurt, because it was true. But she still wanted to punish his smug face for saying it.
…
Flashes of the night came back to her as magic rocked her grieving mind and body. Papers blew around the room as she howled in pain.
Running up the drive of her family home as she noticed the Mark in the sky.
The broken door, the dead birds, the mish-mash of broken furniture as she slowly entered her home. The acrid smell of smoke, and blood and death filling her nostrils, making her want to retch.
Pictures and knickknacks broke in her Hogwarts rooms, Crookshanks quickly ran from the room, bolts of energy emanating from Hermione, sweeping the room. Blues and gold's and reds, destroying, the little possessions she had left.
Entering the living room, there bodies, not intact, the look in her mother's now dead eyes. Falling to the carpet into a pool of cold blood, dry heaving until she thought she was hollow.
She could feel the energy in herself rising as her room was quickly dismantled a dark, beetle black-green light in her clenched fists. As she struggled for some semblance of control.
Her father, hanging from the exposed beam in the kitchen, slowly swinging back and forth, bloodied, clearly tortured for what must have been hours. The confusion, not knowing why, or what was happening to him etched into his features.
She unfurled her hands, the raw power leapt from them as she felt murderous rage to those who had, who had…killed…The energy hit the opposite wall, melted the hard stone into molten burning rock. And Hermione, left hollow from the force which had emanated from her, drained her, claimed her, lay weeping at them memory of her lost childhood.
Her diary lay ripped and open at the foot of the bed, and unbeknownst to Hermione, it began to fill with her thoughts.
I wish I was someone else, anyone else, for just a moment, a second, of time…
Hermiones world faded to black.
…
Author's NotesThis is the first Chapter in a story I truly hope to continue, when I first began to write it I had intended to write a story about Hermione's grief at the loss of her parents and how Snape helps her threw it.
Now as I've finished the first chapter I've realized that I need to take this in a very different direction, in short it's a story about power, who has it, who wants it, and what your willing to do to get it.
p.s. yes this is, obviously, un-beta'd, if your willing to help give a shout out, thanks.