I have the chapter for Saving You, if you're reading that, almost done. But my computer with that document broke, so I'm on my netbook, and it might be a few days. Anyways, here's my newest addition to my ever growing workload. I wanted to try my hand at one of those parenting stories.

Disclaimed: If Harry Potter was mine, Fred and Sirius would be alive, Hermione and Draco would be together, and Pansy would be nice. Alas, it's not meant to be.

~}-{~

"Mi, stop it. I thought I said you weren't allowed to cry."

The young child startled, nearly falling backwards off the swing she was seated on. She ran her sleeve over her eyes and sniffled before grinning up at the boy standing before her. She launched off the swing, wrapping the dark haired boy in a tight hug.

"Loki! You're back! What happened? Why did you leave? I was alone." She cried, pulling back and looking at him sadly.

"Your parents don't want me playing with you. They don't want us to be friends."

The girl scowled, a brief flash of anger lighting her hazel eyes. "My parents don't care about me. All they do is lock me in my room and take away my toys and tell me what to do. But you like me, right? You like me, don't you, Loki?"

Loki gave the frowning girl a smile, patting her head gently. "Of course I do, Mi. You're my best friend."

The young girl squealed, her eyes shining with happiness. She threw her arms around Loki once again, hugging him tightly as she buried her head in his chest. "And you're mine. Don't leave me again. Please, don't ever leave."

Loki grinned at the girl in his arm, running his fingers through her hair. "Never."

"Loki, no!"

She turned and ran, pushing the door open as hard as she could, bolting down the steps, tearing down her street and into town. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran, trying to put as much distance between her and her home. The image she had just witnessed burned fresh in her mind, searing the back of her eyelids as she tried desperately to get away from it.

Turning around a corner, her foot caught the curb and sent her body crashing into the pavement, tearing the skin of her hands and knees open. She drew in a sharp breath, the pain causing her to stop focusing on the last few hours and instead on the blood dripping from the cuts on her body. Hastily, she rubbed her hands on her jeans leaving trails of red, ignoring the stinging, and stood up.

With a careful glance around, she began to run again, when someone stepped in front of her and she crashed into them, falling backwards onto the pavement once more, catching herself on her raw hands.

"Where are you going, Mi? We aren't done playing yet."

The young girl's body shook as she crawled backwards away from the boy standing over her, her eyes staring up at him wide with terror.

"I don't want to play anymore," She whispered.

Loki knelt down beside her and took her hand into his own, inspecting the bloody scrape. His finger traced the cut, drawing a pained gasp from the girl. Loki glanced up at the tearstained cheeks of the girl, and smiled as he looked back down at blood that was now on his finger.

"You can never stop playing. We're going to be friends forever."

The girl tore her hand from him and stood. "No! I won't! I'm done! You don't know how to be friends! You're the worst friend ever! I-I… I hate you! Leave me alone! Don't ever speak to me again!" She screamed before turning and running off the direction she had come.

Loki stood and watched the girl go, a light smile playing on his lips, the breeze ruffling his hair. He glanced back down to the drying blood of the girl on his finger before turning his eyes back on the disappearing girl.

"Silly girl. It's not that easy."

"Are you her parents?"

The woman looked at her husband and he nodded encouragingly. Nervously, the woman stood. "Yes, that would be us. How is our little girl?"

The doctor led them down a long hallway and through a set of high security doors, which required his card to get into. He took them down another hallway and ended at a door. He stepped aside. "I'm sorry I can't let you in. She's been sedated; after her recent events, we can't risk contact quite yet. However, if you would like, you can be notified of when visitors will be permitted. Until then you may follow me and I will explain to you what we believe happened."

The woman was only half listening. She was too busy staring through the small window of the door into the tiny room where her daughter sat huddled on a bed, curled as far into the corner as possible, staring blankly out into the room. Her hair was unwashed and unbrushed, only held back in a ponytail. Her skin was pale and her beautiful hazel eyes were dead and lifeless. She could faintly see the bruises and cuts lining her daughter's body, and had to look away.

"Has she said anything?"

The doctor flipped through his notes, mumbling. "It appears she was kicking and screaming when they brought her in, and when she was questioned by the counselors and nurses she kept repeating the same thing. 'I don't want to play anymore. I don't want to play with him. He's mean. I'm not playing with him anymore.' After that she stopped speaking to anyone. Does that mean anything to either of you?"

The woman glanced at her husband who shook his head discreetly. The woman flitted her eyes back at the doctor and once again her husband shook his head. Don't, he mouthed. But the woman turned to the doctor and said the one thing that the doctor had been dreading.

"Our daughter has a friend…"

"Hello child. Hermione Granger, I presume?"

The young girl stared up at the woman in awe. She was dressed in an emerald robe, a similar colored hat upon her head, one which reminded Hermione much like the ones she'd read in books of witches, square little glasses on the bridge of her nose, and despite the stern expression on her face, Hermione saw the curiosity and anticipation in the woman's eyes.

"Yes, Ma'am. That's me. Can I help you?" Hermione asked politely.

The woman gave her a small smile. "I'm Minerva McGonagall. I'm a professor at a school that I believe would do well to have you attend. May I come in?"

The eleven year old smiled grandly up at the older woman, and stepped aside, allowing her to come in. She shut the door after the woman had stepped through, leading her into the sitting room, calling out to her mother and father.

When they had all gather in the sitting room, Professor McGonagall handed Hermione a letter, which she opened cautiously.

"Hermione, you've been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes, that means you are a witch. No, your parents are not magical. You are special, Hermione. And I, as well as the others at Hogwarts, would like for you to come learn magic."

Hermione stared at the woman once again, this time in shock. "You mean, I can do spells? And make potions? And… and… and fly on a broomstick?"

"Yes, and many other things, which we will teach you, along with the rules of magic and how to properly control it and what you can and cannot do. There is an entire world available to you, if you choose to accept," Professor McGonagall told the eager child, who's eyes lit up.

"Oh, mother can I? It sounds like so much fun!"

Mrs. Granger looked at her husband, and a thought passed between the two that was lost on both the excited child and the professor who was answering her questions with a patience the parents had never before seen.

"Of course you can, dear."

The child squealed in delight, hugging her mother tightly. Then she turned and hugged her father. In the heat of the moment, she jumped up and hugged the woman sitting across from her, who was too startled to do anything before the child let go.

"Yes, well, there are some things we must discuss before school starts. Then I'll be on my way."

Thus began Hermione Granger's life as the third part of the Golden Trio, and her adventure's at Hogwarts.

~}-{~

This will be one of those parenting class stories. But as you can see, this will be much different. So please don't just knock it without even giving it a try.

Anyways, review and whatnot. *virtual cookie*