Monica stared out of the car window, remembering her high school English teacher talking about mise en scene- the atmosphere matching the story being told. The rain which spattered on the window was a perfect example. Although she wasn't sure she felt sad- part of her was relieved. She knew the truth now, they all did, and, as a family, they could begin to make changes.
Of course she had known for a while that her daughter was different, but they had never wanted her to be a sheep-like figure as so many children were. That was why they had found her name, Hermione, to encourage her uniqueness. The first example of her odd-ness had been addressed by the health visitor when she was only eighteen months old.
When Mrs Rockwell had begun her visit to Monica and Hermione she had been delighted, Hermione loved to talk, she loved books and could even sing- all of which was quite advanced for a child of her age. Hermione's walking was on par and she had the motor skills most children would be expected to have at that age. However, this was the last time that Monica had received an excellent report.
By the time the day came for Hermione's first day at school there was an obvious delay in some of Hermione's behaviours. She could read a whole book to herself, count up beyond twenty and her conversation topics were very advanced but there were signs, signs of things that were not quite right.
Hermione had a temper- and many children do- but Monica had noticed that Hermione's temper tantrums seemed more than that. When something didn't go the way that the young girl had expected she became genuinely upset, she would curl her knees into her chest and wail, striking out if anyone dared to touch her while she was having her moment. Furthermore the tantrums could last for a very long time, longer than a half hour in some instances. This worried Monica a little, but perhaps it was due to her daughter being an only child, and a child they had wanted for most of their lives.
This belief was soon torn from Monica's brain when Hermione entered the classroom for her first day at school.
The first day was an interesting event and nothing like what had happened back in the seventies. The children would come to their class for the first Monday morning and simply play with each other, giving their teacher a chance to wander around and ask questions, getting to know her pupils. The parents also stayed on this first morning to have the chance to watch their children, to meet other parents and to speak with the teacher also.
This was when they saw the truth. The majority of the children played in mixed groups- some playing in the home corner, others with the cars or the craft materials. Hermione, well, she went straight to the book shelves, pulled out a small chapter book, sat down and began reading all by herself. She had- it appeared- no interest in the other children, no need to make friends.
That day had been what led them to this car journey, on their way home from the children's psychiatry centre. The morning Hermione had started school she had become the odd child, the one in the classroom who never joined in, the one who stuck to every rule and worked continuously during class time. She became the child who hated school, who begged to be home schooled because she didn't have friends and seemed not to know how to make friends.
Hermione would do odd things, things that were naughty, but at the same time things that she didn't even seem to think she was doing, things she didn't understand were wrong. She would scribble out other children's work if it was incorrect. She would snatch and hit and kick and bite. She didn't understand that things were wrong, or that she was breaking the social laws of the children her age.
Social skills. That was the final deciding factor; it was confirmed.
The testing that Hermione had gone through had been interesting, it didn't make total sense to her parents and yet these were the experts- they knew what they were doing and what to look for. They watched Hermione complete mind-games, play with jigsaws and answer questions. She did all of these things in the way her parents had grown to expect, in the quirky way that made her their daughter. But the specialists saw something else, saw something bigger.
As Monica stared out of the car window she nodded to herself, thinking back over the earlier events. Maybe now Hermione could make friends, maybe they could help he to make friends, maybe they could prevent her tantrums- now known as meltdowns. Maybe they would be able to help their daughter cope in the normal world.
They could be relieved because their daughter wasn't broken, she wasn't bad and it wasn't something they had done. It was simple and easy to understand and it had been the words they needed to hear even if they hadn't wanted to hear them.
Their daughter, Hermione Jean Granger, was autisitic.
(A/N) so, some of you will hate this head cannon but for those of you who know about autism [especially what used to be known as high-functioning autism or Asperger's syndrome]you may see what I did, that there is know doubt that Hermione is a little bit autistic. I imagined that some things that Hermione didn't realise she was doing- things that were actually her first examples of magic- could be taken in other ways. In the Muggle world I imagine there is a very good chance that Hermione would be given an autism diagnosis because she is very quirky and fits a lot of the traits for autism. For those that say she was based on Rowling and therefore couldn't be autistic I have two things to say 1) she is only BASED on Rowling, not the exact same person and 2) perhaps Rowling is autistic, so many females never get diagnosed because they learn a huge amount of coping strategies. Thank you for reading and please feel free to give me your opinions J