Hermione/Harry fic. FOURSHOT.

Just something that has been bugging me for a while. I doubt I will make it anything more than a fourshot. Lord Voldemort knows that I have enough stories that I need to update without adding this to the pile.

This is an AU that takes place in a world where Wizardry does not exist.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of the characters and names associated with it.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

Everyone hated her.

They hated the way she wasn't like the rest of us.

Hogwarts Academy for the Gifted and Talented. Mayors, Senators, Diplomats, and Celebrities from all over the world paid big money to send their children to this school. Even if their child didn't really have much of a talent. For the right price, Dumbledore, the headmaster of the most prestigious school in Scotland, would find a talent for them. Most of them ended up in either backstage theater crew, film theory, or photography.

And for those like us, we were bred from this very institution. You know. Those kids. The ones that everyone loved to imagine they were; the ones they tried to imitate, and when their backs were turned, would sneer at their snooty attitudes and their silver spoon fed backgrounds.

My father is James Potter. His great-great-great grandfather founded the school. Singing is in his blood, our blood...my blood. He's known for being the best singer to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts. His vocal chords are legendary. Just like his father. And his father's father. You get the gist. The voice of an angel, passed down from father to son, generation after generation.

And my mother. Lily Potter née Evans. Not many even remembers her former name today. Not since she married my father right out of the academy. She's from a less savory background, the poor and urban streets of New Jersey. Lily Potter was an orphan of the Newark Riots. Her parents, immigrants from Ireland, died in the riots. Fiery red hair and piercing emerald eyes. But it wasn't those captivating features that would cause you to do a double take on the tall and leggy girl. No. It was the fluidity of her body. Her teachers said that she didn't dance like she floated on air...she was air. She gracefully swept around a room and it gave breath to everyone there. And when the tempo increased, when her moves intensified, she took your breath away, choking and suffocating you.

So when she married James Potter (everyone claims they saw it from a mile away—the way he would pull her pigtails and call her names in the hallway), their coupling shook the world. They dominated every stage they graced the presence of us, snaring the audience in their webs, time and time again. And when they retired, only four years after marriage, the world cried in unison.

Insert eye-roll here.

People were sad, sure, to see them go. But mom and dad wanted to start a family. Dad was an only child, and his father was an only child as well. Mom grew up in a home full of children. They both wanted a big family. I was their first, their pride and joy. The world held a breath, awaiting to discover whose talent I would get. My mother's dance moves, or my father's vocals.

I remember being a kid and hating having to go with my parents any time they visited the school or stepped out to a charity gala. Every eye in the room would be on me, watching me to see if I would slip up and belt out a chorus from my favorite song. Or let the music softly wafting throughout the room carry me to another place and let my body be caressed by the melodies.

My mother teased my father with the fact that I would be the first Potter to not be able to sing. My father would smirk and declare that no son of his wouldn't be able to carry a tune. They both made a bet that I would inherit their talents, respectively.

They both lost.

I inherited both. I slipped up one day. Mom and Dad did the commencement speech for the graduating Hogwarts seniors, like they did every year since they graduated as Head students, and I snuck off to roam the halls. Even with my earbuds in and my MP3 player blaring music, I was too bored to stick around. I walked around aimlessly until I stumbled upon an empty room. My MP3 player had just turned to Ordinary People by John Legend and I let the music take me away.

I hadn't kept track of time that I was away, way too absorbed with the music. I hadn't realized that I was singing along to the lyrics of the song until I spun around and noticed Dumbledore and my parents staring at me slack jawed.

"Why didn't you tell us Harry?" My mother ran over to me, grasping my facing and kissing me on both cheeks.

"Yea squirt." Dad smiled widely and rubbed my already messy hair.

I shrugged.

"I think we have another prodigy in the making," Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"In the making?" Dad asked incredulously. "He's already there."

"Well his form could use a bit of work," mom commented, her smile not losing any of its brightness.

"And your voice will mature and get rid of that squeakiness you have at those high notes," Dad nodded. I rolled my eyes and put my earbuds back in.

We went home that night and celebrated. Only their celebration led to me getting a baby sister nine months later. Dorea Isabella Potter. Big hazel eyes from dad and red hair like her mother. Mom and dad had begun training me themselves, almost as soon as Dorea could walk and talk on her own. But when Dorea was three years old, she contracted meningitis and lost her hearing. Mom and dad were distraught over Dorea for a while, giving me a break. But their worry for Dorea became frustration, not knowing exactly what to do and how to deal with it. This caused arguments and fighting.

When they realized that they had begun to neglect Dorea and I over their anger at the situation, they immediately regretted their actions and researched all they could for Dory. They got her a hearing aid, enrolled her in a deaf school, and gave her speech classes. When Dory was five and I was fifteen, mom fell pregnant again with Cyrus. Cyrus was a difficult pregnancy for mom and she took it hard when the doctor said she wouldn't be able to carry another child full term again.

"Hey Potter! You zoning out on us or something?" Laughter brought me out of my thoughts. Flaming red hair flopped around my best friend's face as he laughed.

A tall and wispy red head girl that sat across from him threw her napkin at the boy.

"Ugh, Ron. Finish chewing your food before you start talking."

He rolled his eyes at his sister.

"Won Won, your sister's right. It's an unattractive sight." A buxom blonde reached across the table to wipe her beloved boyfriend's face of the food that missed his mouth entirely. The redhead girl rolled her eyes at the blonde one.

"Yea, Won Won." Another boy at the table teased with a dark skin boy beside him. His Irish tilt only made the others at the table laugh with him.

"Oi! Shut up Shay." Ron scowled and blushed furiously.

"Ignore them love. They're just jealous they don't have what you do," the blonde pressed her chest against him. His eyes instinctively flickered down and he smiled goofily.

"Right you are Lavender."

"Oh please. Nobody wants what you two have. It's sickening." The redhead girl across from them sneered at the couple.

"Ginny, you don't have to be so jealous. I can help you find a boyfriend as well."

"The day I let you choose a boyfriend for me is the day I ask Granger to do my hair." She scoffed.

The table laughed raucously at this. The other tables in the hall looked over towards the table. Wondering what they could possibly be laughing about. Some gazing on jealousy, very few snarling, and most simply curious.

All but one girl had her eyes on them. The girl they were making fun of.

They hated her. Everyone hated her because they hated her.

But did she care? Nope! Not one bit. She laughed whenever they would make a snide comment. She found them amusing. And when I stood there, not saying anything against their jokes, not laughing either but not defending her, she's just quirk an eyebrow at me. Taunting me... daring me to say something—anything, knowing that I was too coward to say anything. Her eyes bore into me, giving me that look that made me want to curl up in a corner and die. The mix of amusement and disappointment. The look like she knew everything about me.

She did.

But this nonchalant attitude of hers only pissed my friends off more and more. She didn't react to their words and insults the way everyone else did. She didn't cry and scamper off, or blush in embarrassment like the others. She didn't kiss their asses either, begging to be a part of their little "in-crowd". She could care less what they said about her.

She wasn't like them and she embraced that.

Everyone looked up to my group for the latest in fashion and hair trends. If Ginny began to wear her hair up more, everyone wore their hair up. When Lavender decided that the bohemian look was in style, girls coincidentally began wearing their hair down in beachy waves and headbands, with fringe cardigans and long skirts on their off-time. When Ginny slimmed down, which seemed bizarre since she had always been quite small, other girls discovered that perhaps they should go on that smoothie diet like her.

But not her. Not Granger. Not Hermione Granger. No matter what the other girls were wearing, she wore her hair down and in its natural wild curls. They fell around her face in voluptuous curls, without a care. She would brush her hair back and blow it out of her face whenever they would get too out of control. But she never did anything to try to tame them. But she did dye them. A lot. When she first transferred in last year they were pitch black except for one strip in the front that was pure white. A few months later she had died them a teal ombre color, fading to an indigo at the tips. Then it was violet, then red, and on the last day of school he saw her with a combination of blue, purple, pink, and burnt orange curls.

He had a feeling that had Hogwarts not had a uniform policy, her fashion taste would reflect her free personality. But she wore that uniform as disuniform as possible. The standard tie that every Hogwarts student had to wear was never tied, and rarely around her neck. Sometimes she's use it as a hair tie or ribbon to keep her wayward curls out of her face. Occasionally she'd wrap it around her wrist and wear it as a wristband. But on the days she's wanted to be especially enticing, she'd tie it in a pretty little bow around her thigh, just below the trim of that oh-so short skirt and wear it as a garter. Her white shirt and red and grey plaid skirt never had a wrinkle in them, but she liked to throw a hoodie over the shirt or a pair of large fleece sweats over the skirt. She could never get fined for it as she still technically wears the uniform. The sweat pants were a bit baggy, so they would sag and reveal the grey and red plaid design of the skirt, presenting the image that it was her underwear that she was revealing.

And what made it all worse was that she was a photography talent. Hogwarts is sorted into four houses, visual arts, performing arts, culinary arts, and media arts. Performing arts students, theater jocks, singers, and dancers, made up the majority. Those were the kids who were known for having the guts to get out on stage and showcase to everyone just how amazing they thought they were. Then it was the visual arts, with the second largest amount of kids. They aren't known for being the nicest individuals, what with their tongues and wit as sharp as their drawing pencils. The culinary kids, a very small amount, weren't really all that thought of at all, except when someone wanted to throw a party, then you'd ask them to cater. They were also pretty smart, they had to be to measure out the right proportions of herbs and spices. And finally, it was the media arts kids, aptly termed Pixels. The ones who were made fun for not having a real talent, as all of the real talent lies in the cameras and the computers they used to design web pages or make small films. Or take pictures.

She was a photography kid. She was a Pix. Every derogatory name that Hogwarts students made up to distinguish one another from each other, she was called it. They said she had no real talent. That photography wasn't really something special she do, she was just good at pressing a button at the right moment. Rumor has it that when she was enrolled that Dumbledore couldn't find out her talent.

Dumbledore was known for his odd ability to find that one special talent that everyone possessed, no matter how buried deep inside. He called his intuition his Twinkle Eye. And when his Twinkle Eye spoke, it was never wrong. It could find talents that not even kids knew they had. Like Ron, his best friend, his parents and himself didn't think he possessed a single musical note in his body. But when Dumbledore placed him with us Performers, he blossomed. He started a Magical Notes Acapella Group here. Typically kids coming into the school telling Dumbledore of their talents and he would either agree or disagree. But not her—something was off about Hermione Granger. Dumbledore couldn't find a single creative or special bone in her body and gave up, placing her with the rest of the Pixels.

People speculated that the reason she didn't have a talent was because before she came here, she went to Tom Riddle's Institution for the Deliquently Inclined. It's known for being the harshest institution since Azkaban, the school for Ne'er Do Wells. The teachers there like to stamp out every tendril of creativity they could sense, instead emphasizing rigorous physical and mental training. Which basically meant that all they did was school work and exercise.

But perhaps Dumbledore did see something when he interviewed her. Because not only is she good with pressing a couple buttons, she's the brightest prospective photographer the school has. But still, no one cared. Nobody cared that her pictures captured something more than just what was easily observable with the naked eye. No one cared that her pictures left me breathless, yearning—aching for more. They would bare a glimpse of her soul, a smile hidden from everyone, an essence that I wanted to drink. Nobody could ever comprehend how much she made me thirst for her.

So...I know what you guys are thinking: "Why is she posting a new story when she has all of these other AMAZING stories she has yet to finish?" Well the answer to that is...nothing. I simply did it. Because I can. But in all seriousness, I kinda had this short story in me for a while, and I actually finished it. Which makes it my first finished piece. THEREFORE, I feel like I have my GROOVE back. (Like Kuzco:) )

So you can expect to see new chapters in the upcoming months. I promise. (Also because my BETA will kick my ass)