A/N: Hello Everyone! DEB here! So, this is my very first story on this site and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. Some things I feel I should make clear are:

1) This story is kind of going to be written as journal entries with some memories played out. To distinguish between the two I have made journal entries in italics and the replayed memories in regular font.

2) This is a DRAMIONE story! If you didn't clue in with my name and do not like this pairing well then don't read because I don't need your snarky comments (sorry).

3) This story is rated M for MATURE AUDIENCES! Topics that will be discussed are as follows:

A) Death

B) Foul language

C) CONSENSUAL SEX

D) Humor of the male mind (cause you know our feminine sensibilities will not allow such talk, (lol)

Now moving moving onto other important stuff…

Disclaimer: I do NOT by any means, except in my dreams, own the Harry Potter series/franchise. I am a mere fan. HOWEVER, this plot IS mine with a few here and theres that I'm sure people have written about before me. If that happens, well then I disclaim to you! Happy?

Also, the poem mentioned in this story was written by Lisa Pelzer Vetter. I give her full credit for writing it.

Last one, I promise. The play of 'Romeo and Juliet' belongs to the man himself, William Shakespeare, and the Dr. Seuss novels belong to none other than Dr. Seuss.

Other than the previously mentioned items I believe that's all. I hope you enjoy this story and please leave a review to let me know what you think or what I could possibly do better. You guys are awesome!

Lub,

DEB (DramioneEternallyBound)

XXX

Dear (who the hell am I talking to?) July 16, 2005

Okay, where do I begin? Well for starters, my husband is forcing me to write this due to the fact that he believes I have constant PMS (stupid git) and that in doing so will help release my frustrations in an appropriate manner. First off, I believe HE should be the one writing in this useless thing rather than myself (bastard). I mean, really, HE'S the one with the anger problems in this relationship! A pregnant woman can only take so much of that bullshit, yeah? In regards to that previous statement, yes, I am pregnant. I have just entered my thirty-eighth week of this OH SO DELIGHTFUL (sarcasm, can you feel it?) pregnancy. My husband believes I should be grateful and happy about this child growing in my womb, but HE'S not the one who has to carry it around inside him twenty-four/seven, nine months out of the freaking year NOW IS HE? I don't think so!

Goodness, I'm rambling now aren't I? Sorry about that…so…where to start? I guess if I must write in here I might as well write my life story (especially while my husband is lurking around the house with that murderous glint in his eye). Why is he acting this way you ask? Well I might have, MIGHT being the keyword, purposefully-accidentally slipped some laxatives in his morning coffee. Poor man has been in the loo since half past six this morning, I feel just oh so terrible about it. Really. (HA!) Yes, for those who could possibly read this after I have been brutally murdered, you might think "Hermione, that isn't like you at all!" well I have news for you wankers, it most definitely is me and I want my husband to be the prime suspect during that investigation! HA!

For all that's holy, I have begun to ramble again (stupid pregnancy causing me to be addle-brained), where was I? Oh yes, life story. Right. I'm not sure if there are enough pages in this blasted book to explain everything that has happened in my three hundred and seventy-two years of existence. I'm sure all of you are thinking, with the exception of those who already know, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL? Well yes, I am of that age and I shall not repeat it so get over yourselves. However, I shall explain how I came to be. It all started on the nineteenth of September in the year of 1633.

"PUSH AMALIE! PUSH!" came the harried voice of a rather handsome man. He stood at a clean six feet, wavy locks and eyes the color of the richest chocolate, with skin tinted as if it were lightly bathed in the golden rays of sunlight.

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST SHUT THE HELL UP CHARLIE! I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU PUSH A GODFORSAKEN WATERMELON OUT OF YOU!" the owner of this voice was of female origin and apparently the companion of this Charlie bloke. She was rather radiant, even during childbirth, with hair as dark as night that tumbled down her shoulders in elegant curls and eyes as blue as a clear, summer day. Her skin appeared to be that of porcelain, perspiration clinging upon her upper lip, her cheeks aglow. She was a true beauty.

Charlie being prone to these outbursts of his dearest just chuckled lightly and pushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "You must calm down Amalie, I am just doing as the healer instructed."

Amalie gave him the deadliest glare she could muster, which reflected the fiery pools of eternal damnation, which in turn made Charlie slightly cringe. "Can't you just use your magic and somehow get it out of me? I mean what good are you for besides making me fat and putting me through this?"

"If only that could be done..."

Amalie and Charlie both turned towards the door to see who had just entered. It was an old woman with hair as white as snow that fell to her shoulders which was tied loosely with a green ribbon that matched her slightly wrinkled wizarding robes.

Amalie immediately smiled, forgetting the previous argument she and her husband had just been enthralled in. "Mistress McKenna, what a pleasure."

The old healer nodded firmly in her direction to acknowledge she had just spoken and took a seat upon the old wooden stool that was positioned in front of Amalie's closed legs. Her aged amber eyes glared daggers up at Charlie, "Sir, why are you anywhere near this room? Tis not allowed for a man to be present during the childbirth process."

Charlie stuttered and looked towards his wife for assistance. Normally she would refuse to use such a dastardly trick, but she supposed it wouldn't hurt this one time so she gave him an encouraging nod and looked back towards the healer. They locked eyes and Amalie chose this moment to speak, "Mistress McKenna, you shall allow my husband to be here with me. You shall not ask questions and you shall aid us in the delivery of our child."

At this point you may be wondering what the hell did Amalie just do. Well Amalie is part of a hunted down race, which you shall be informed of in a few moments, who is gifted with magical abilities that differ from what witches and wizards can do. One of these abilities, as you have just witnessed, is called pushing. It's a technique, initiated with eye contact, which allows the performer to basically do what they wish for them to. In today's society it is against the law to interfere with a being's free will, yes not just humans. You're probably questioning why it wasn't outlawed in the past as well and the answer to that is quite simple really. The idiots didn't know they could do that. For now, I shall continue with the story and aid you in your quest of relieving your stupidity and ignorance later on.

McKenna nodded slowly as if she were in a trance and paid no heed towards the man occupying the room. Gently, she pushed Amalie's legs apart and inspected how far along the baby had come. She inserted her hand halfway causing Amalie to shift in discomfort. It wasn't long before the healer removed her hand and smiled. "The child is approaching nicely, Mistress Dubois. I believe a couple pushes more and it shall be free."

Amalie's face lit up with a smile that could rival the very sun. She squeezed Charlie's hand who in turn placed a tender kiss upon her forehead. He bent close to her ear and whispered sweet nothings like "I'm so proud of you" or "I love you" as the healer instructed her to push with all her might. It wasn't ten minutes later when a shrill cry erupted within the room and tears were streaking down the joyful parents' faces.

McKenna smiled and swaddled the baby as gently as she could. "Congratulations, you have a beautiful baby girl. What shall you name her?"

"Hermione…"

"Jean…"

"Dubois…" they both said in unison, trying to hold back their tears.

You might notice that this is not the name that you all know and love me by. I shall explain later.

"That is indeed a beautiful name, quite fitting for such a splendid child." McKenna praised. She carefully stood from the rickety stool and began to walk towards the awaiting couple. Just as the old woman handed the delicate child to her mother the baby opened her eyes.

Another scream pierced the still air, though this time it was not that of happiness. "THIS BE THE DEVIL'S CHILD! SHE HAS EYES AS DARK AS BLOOD!"

What an analogy, yeah? I guess you don't truly understand what I mean so keep reading.

Charlie rushed for his wand that was tucked nicely within his robe pocket and pointed it to the shrieking woman. He swore his ears would be eternally damaged due to that crazy bat.

"SOMEONE HELP! SHE'S A VAMP…"

"STUPEFY!"

The old healer immediately crumbled to the floor and Charlie quickly turned to his wife. He healed her wounds as best he could with the limited time they had before grabbing her hand and with a loud POP they were gone.

Wouldn't you say that the first moments of my life were definitely ingrained with excitement and fear? Well I believe they were and this scene paved the way for my future. From that moment on we ran and ran, always moving around, always on guard. To be honest that way of living was complete bollocks. The only thing that made it bearable was seeing my parents' love never dwindle or fault in any way. They were so beautiful together.

You may have noticed that I said were instead of the present term are. Well that is due to the fact that my dearest father was brutally murdered, burned at the stake in fact, on my fourth birthday after he protected my mother and myself as we escaped. He said he would catch up with us but he never showed. My mother instructed me to stay hidden in a large oak while she went searching for him. As you all may know, I rarely listen, so I followed my mom. To this day, I wish I would've listened to her.

I had climbed down from the tree and had followed my mother's scent. I eventually found her but froze in my steps once I laid eyes upon the incinerating village. My mother, who I loved with every ounce of my heart, was acting like a savage animal. She no longer looked like the woman I had grown accustomed to seeing. Her eyes were of a dark scarlet, her fangs were elongated and blood was splattered all across her mouth. Her skin had turned from a pure white to that of pitch black, her disarrayed hair blending in nicely. Large spiked wings erupted from her shoulder blades as the talons on her hands and feet grew to a near half foot in length. To say I was frightened was an understatement. I looked around in search of my father however much in vain. After stumbling across several decapitated bodies and strewn limbs I found him tied to a tree unmoving. I approached him silently trying to feel for his magical aura but there was none to be found.

I began to cry and seconds later I heard a horrible screech. I whipped around just in time to see my mother collapse near the bodies of all the villagers. I ran to her, well as fast as my puny little legs could carry me, and fell next to her. I touched and kissed her face reverently as she began to transform back into the woman I knew and loved. This was one of the most important times in my life…

"MUMMY! MUMMY!"

The broken woman before her terrified child slowly opened her eyes and gazed upon her lovely daughter. "Mimi, my sweet, you must run! Run far away from this place and don't look back once."

"NO MUMMY! I WON'T LEAVE YOU!" the young girl wept.

Amalie gently took her daughter into her arms and held her close shushing her. "My sweet little angel, oh how I love you so. You mustn't cry for me though, my darling. It was time for me and your father, now you must live your life. I pray that one day you will not let people push you down and you will fight for those who are less fortunate. I pray that you lead a happy life and find the love that you deserve just as I did with Daddy."

The child was openly balling now, clenching tightly upon her mother's tunic. "Shh, my love, I want to give you something."

She peeked up from her spot on Amalie's chest and watched her mother carefully as she removed a necklace from around her neck. Silently, she transferred the necklace from herself to her daughter. "Mimi, you must forever keep this necklace apart of you…" Amalie whispered hoarsely as she coughed up a rather large amount of blood, "it will help…"

I watched my mother for several seconds more, unknowing that she had just passed away before my very eyes. I had laid beside her for the rest of the night crying into her shirt and gently placing kisses on her cheek. It wasn't until the sun began to peak over the mountainous terrain that I stood and ran from my mother, ran from my father, and ran from my previous life that I wanted nothing more than to forget.

I had done as my mother wished and didn't look back once. I'm not sure exactly what happened but I assume I had stumbled upon some rather large tree roots and fell, accidentally knocking myself unconscious. This was another momentous occasion in my young life for several reasons; the most important though was that I was now completely alone in the world. It was a horrible experience for the most part, I traveled from village to village but I was never accepted. Eventually when I would wander upon a new village I would stay on the outskirts just simply observing. It wasn't until I was about six years old that I made my very first friend. I still remember the first time we met; it was quite comical really. We were so young and naïve.

"Soooooo huuuuungry…" came the tiny whimper of a now six-year-old Hermione. She hadn't eaten in days and felt as if her stomach would soon concave if she didn't find a source of food soon. She wasn't completely sure if there was another village close by, her sense of smell diminishing due to her lack of nourishment intake. She knew that she would have to feed but she absolutely hated doing so, ever since that fateful night of her parents' death.

She continued to aimlessly walk for nearly half an hour when something caught her attention. She crouched low to the ground and turned her head sharply to the right. Before her was a baby doe, munching on the green grass below her. Instantly, Hermione could feel her fangs aching to release and saliva began to foam in her mouth. She hadn't realized that she had allowed herself to go without food for so long. Quietly, she approached the deer; her hand raised outward. The doe's head snapped up and stared Hermione straight in the eye.

The young girl smiled kindly, "Shhh, gentle creature. I shall not hurt you but I must feed. Please allow me to partake of you and I promise I shall restore you."

As if the deer could understand her words she slowly lowered herself to the ground and gave access to her neck. Hermione whispered a quick 'thank you' before kneeling beside the gracious animal and sinking her now elongated fangs into the animal's sweet flesh. As she began to greedily drink she could feel her body righting itself. Once finished, she licked the wound sealed and bowed her head in thanks. The young doe righted herself and gave Hermione a gentle nudge on the shoulder before running off to find her mother most likely. Hermione smiled as she cleaned her face of residual fluids but the smile did not last long.

"BLOODY HELL!"

Hermione spun her body fully around and stared eye to eye with a boy who couldn't have been more than eight or nine. Instantly her body went into defense mode. She placed her feet shoulder width apart, one foot slightly in front of the other. Her talons upon her hands began to grow, completing the growth at a mere two inches. She began to see red and knew that her inner demon was trying to release itself to protect.

She growled low to send off a warning but the boy did not move. He just stared, and stared, and stared.

This was a bloody annoying trait of his I must confess. He never stopped doing this, even on his deathbed; although, that was probably due to his old age. Nevertheless, it was still quite irritating.

"What do you want?" she commanded, her right eye twitching with exasperation.

Several minutes passed before he snapped out of his daze and spoke, "That was AMAZING!"

Hermione flinched, "Excuse me?"

The boy began to bounce in place with excitement, "I saw the whole thing! That animal practically bowed before you! What were you doing to it? What are you?"

"Well you're certainly forward with a stranger, aren't you? Are you not afraid of me?" she asked, slightly relaxing from her battle stance.

He shook his head eagerly, "No. Why should I be?"

Hermione stared openly at him, disbelief etched in her delicate features. "Because you just said you witnessed what I just did!"

"So?" he questioned, confused as ever.

"I just sucked the blood out of that animal! Does that not bother you?"

"No, I mean maybe if you were cruel to it I would be, but you weren't, so I'm not."

Hermione was completely shocked. Who the hell was this boy?

"I mean you no harm either so you don't have to act like you're about to rip my face off."

Strangely, this made Hermione burst with laughter causing the boy to have a goofy grin plastered on his face. Once she had relaxed, her vision returned to normal and she could feel her talons and fangs retreating back to their proper place.

With his goofy grin still on his face he approached her and held his hand out in greeting, "The name's Wilbur."

By Merlin, I swear every time I think of his name in present day I immediately get an image of that fat little piglet who was aided by a spider. Ha, Wilbur would probably be so confused if he were still alive.

Hesitantly, Hermione placed her hand in his and shook once. "My name is Hermione. Pleased to meet you."

Wilbur laughed, "My you're a polite one, yeah?"

Hermione looked on confused, "Am I supposed to act like a heathen?"

Wilbur shook his head and plopped down in front of her, "No, just haven't met any other kids who talk like that. That useless stuff is for the old people."

Hermione's eye twitched once more. "Didn't your parents ever teach you manners?" she asked, as she gingerly sat across from him.

"Naw, my parents died when I was little. I've been staying at the orphanage ever since."

"Oh…I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. Can't really remember them so it's really nothing to worry yourself with. So, where are your parents? You aren't living in the woods all alone are ye?

Hermione bowed her head, "Like you, my parents passed away a couple years ago. I was four at the time. How old are you?"

"I'll be nine next month on the twelfth. So I'm assuming you're six now?"

Hermione nodded.

"So tell me about yourself? You never answered my question as to what you are."

Hermione had never met a more forward boy in her life and she could feel her tongue itch to unleash upon his rudeness, "Why does it concern you so?"

Wilbur shrugged, "It doesn't, just figured it was something to talk about."

Hermione watched him thoughtfully, "You won't speak of this to anyone will you?"

Wilbur shook his head, "Who would I tell? None of the villagers like me, even the Handler, crazy old bat that she is."

Hermione smiled at the look of disgust on her new friend's face, "I'm half vampire…"

Wilbur grinned, "I figured that's what you were, but everyone round here just believes they're myths or legends. If only I could see their faces now. I'm sure they'd wet their knickers."

They both laughed for several minutes over this mental image they had procured, Wilbur breaking through first, "So why only half?"

Hermione shrugged, "My dad is a wizard. They met when my mother saved his life from a group of yacklurs…"

"Yacklurs?"

"They're a magical race that are basically thieves who once finished robbing you of everything you own, eat your organs. They're like half human and half vulture."

Wilbur's eyes were wide but he nodded as if he understood, "So how did your mom find him?"

"Well my mom had been searching for her mate for years. She had stayed overnight in some village and as she slept she felt an intense anger build inside her and left to find him. She found him stranded in the woods and I assume disposed of the threatening creatures. Ever since then they were together nearly always."

"That's amazing…how do you know so much about your parents? I was at least your age now when my parents died and I can't really remember a thing."

Hermione shrugged, "Vampires have an increased proficiency of memory compared to humans. Once something happens or is told to us we retain it and can pull the necessary information to the forefront without much effort. It's a godsend, really."

"So you're like a smart person?"

Hermione smacked him upside the head, trying to hide her smile, "You, sir, need to learn manners and stop being so inquisitive."

"Inquiziwha?"

"You know…nosey, meddlesome, and whatever word you would like to compare it to."

"Well I think you're snooty." Wilbur harrumphed as he stood and began to walk away, Hermione had never noticed but he seemed to limp awkwardly with his left leg and wondered what could have happened to him.

She stood abruptly and called after him to come back. He didn't look back once as she watched him disappear through the thick brush. She glared hard at the now empty spot and decided she was going to discover as to why he felt that way about her. In seconds she picked up his scent, which smelled of pork and lemons (weird combination, isn't it?). It took her half the time to reach the outskirts of Wilbur's village compared to a human. As she perched herself upon a tall branch, her eyes scanned the scene before her. She couldn't see him but knew he was there due to his lingering scent. It wasn't until she heard a commotion below her that she realized a group of boys was beating on someone buried within the huddle. She squinted her eyes against the sun to see who the unfortunate fellow was; however, when she did something inside her erupted like a fire ignited in a field on a hot summer's day. She leapt from her position on the tree and grabbed the boys by the back of their grubby collars and pulled them off. She stood in front of the fallen boys with talons and fangs ready to slice.

A feral growl escaped her parted lips as she stared the boys down. They immediately began to scramble away screaming like injured girls. She snorted and turned back to Wilbur who was staring up at her with near hatred in his eyes causing her to flinch backwards.

"What's wrong?"

"I could have handled them myself." Wilbur gritted, as he picked himself up and dusted himself off.

Hermione growled, "Yeah you looked like you were doing a grand job."

"Shut up!" he shouted as he pushed her away from him. "Just go away you stupid blood sucker."

Hermione could feel the tears prickling behind her eyes. She had made her first friend and had lost him in just an hour. She was a failure and was truly ashamed. Why couldn't she be like normal children her age? Why must she suffer like this? Why did her parents have to die? Why? Why? WHY?

"I'M SORRY I'M SUCH A FREAK! I'LL LEAVE YOU ALONE FOREVER!" she wailed as she took off back into the forest. If she would have looked back even once she would have seen the regret written on poor Wilbur's face.

Yeah, children are so dumb sometimes. I came to find out that the reason Wilbur was so mad with me was because I had embarrassed him. A girl rescued him from a group of boys making him feel as if he were inadequate in some way. He found me in the little clearing I had been in with the doe and had brought me a small bouquet of wild flowers with a sincere verbal apology. Needless to say, after I apologized as well we were thick as thieves. We did everything together (HONEY STOP GROWLING!).

I remember one time we tricked his Handler, Missus Grady, into slipping into a six foot hole. That crotchety old lady was stuck in there for something like five hours until one of those bratty kids snitched on us and retrieved someone to pull her out. For the way she treated those kids she deserved to rot in there for the rest of her days. Oh well.

We were definitely a mischievous pair, I promise you; however, as the years passed by we began to settle down and Wilbur even found himself a wife. That was a bloody ordeal in itself. Cynthia, his wife, had some weird jealousy issue with me and swore to break off the engagement if Wilbur didn't stop seeing me. HA! Well needless to say, Wilbur called her bluff and continued to openly be friends with me. Eventually we settled things and I explained to her exactly what I am so as she didn't feel like Wilbur was keeping secrets from her. Once I had revealed my secret she oddly took it pretty well, just like Wilbur had nearly twenty years before. The only thing said from her was 'I always thought there was something strange about you.' We laughed and from that point on she was my best girl friend.

It wasn't until the year of 1777 that Wilbur finally passed away at the age of one hundred and five years old. That had to truly be one of the most depressing days of my life…

"Mimi…" came the croak of a dying man.

"Yes, Will?" Hermione whispered as she clasped his frail hand within hers.

He stared at her with his emerald eyes filled with pain and love. The corners of his eyes were twitching slightly and you could see the muscles beneath his thin layers of skin shuddering uncontrollably.

"For ninety-six years I've known you and still you are as beautiful and vibrant as ever."

Hermione chuckled and smoothed what hair he had left on his head away from his forehead. "You mustn't say such things, dear Will. If Cynthia was here she would have both our heads."

Wilbur sighed, his eyes moving to stare off at nothing in particular, "My dear, sweet Cynthia. Oh how I miss her so. She was a wonderful woman."

Hermione nodded, "One of the best, a close second if I do say so myself."

Poor Cynthia had passed away nearly two months ago at the age of ninety-eight from some sort of heart failure. Wilbur began to miss her terribly and I believe her death resulted in his.

It was Wilbur's turn to chuckle, "You know I have always loved you, Hermione…"

Hermione's smile began to falter as she felt the all too familiar prick of unshed tears behind her eyes, "As I have you…"

"What shall you do once I have left this world? Where shall you go?"

Hermione sat there quietly, watching her dearest friend closely. The years had not treated him kindly. His skin was mottled with dark spots, his once dirty blonde hair was now pure white and barely there. His left leg, which was mutilated due to those stupid boys and had caused the limp she had noticed so many years ago, seemed shriveled and unmoving. His body was frail and for the past month he nearly never left the bed. She had been sitting there for several moments, unspeaking and motionless. She started when she heard him clear his throat to regain her attention.

She smiled and squeezed his hand gently, not wishing to harm him in any way, "I do not know, Wilbur for I feel that I shall perish right alongside you for I will miss you so." Tears, her dreaded enemy at this moment, began to slowly leak from her bright golden brown eyes. She quickly swiped them away with her free hand and laughed, "Such an emotional twit I am. Can you ever forgive me?"

Wilbur laughed, which sent him into a run of heart wrenching coughs, which in turn nearly caused Hermione to pass out from fright. Once he had settled back down he returned his attention back to her, "I shall never forgive you, because there is nothing to forgive…you are perfect the way you are. I want you to promise me something though. Can you do that for an old man?"

Hermione nodded eagerly, "Anything for you, Will. You should know that."

"My sweet little angel, oh how I love you so. You mustn't cry for me though, my darling. It is my time to leave this world and now you must live your life. I pray that one day you will not let people push you down and you will fight for those who are less fortunate as you helped me that fateful day. I pray that you lead a happy life and find the love that you deserve just as I did with both you and Cynthia. Can you promise me that?"

At this point Hermione was practically balling her eyes out. Her mother had practically said those same words to her right before she had died and now Wilbur was saying them. She covered her face with her hands and let the tears run free as if a dam had just been broken, the river water running free over the land.

Wilbur reached up and gingerly touched her face, causing her to peek through her fingers, "I need you to promise me."

Hermione nodded.

"No I need you to say it…"

Hermione inhaled sharply, it felt as if she were breathing in shards of glass. "I promise, my dearest friend."

Wilbur smiled and placed his hand beside him on the bed. Hermione quietly watched him fall asleep, or so she believed, as she continued to stroke his hair. It wasn't until the next morning, once again, that she was awoken by the rays of the golden sun and a gentle hand nudging her awake. She stared up at the strange man, sure her face was pink and tearstained. With a voice that sounded like running on rocks she asked, "Who are you?"

He smiled kindly, "I am the doctor…I'm sorry but Master Frankel has passed away."

She nodded slowly, figuring since she had noticed him failing to breathe last night that he had eventually passed away. She gazed down upon her dearest friend and gave him a final kiss goodbye upon his bare forehead before saying goodbye to the doctor and walking out of the village entirely.

Sweet Merlin, just remembering this brings tears to my eyes. Why must pregnancy cause me to act like such a blubbering fool? To say that I miss him to this day is quite the understatement. Wilbur has always and will always hold a place in my heart. He was the first person to ever show kindness to me, my first best friend, and my first crush (don't worry honey it didn't last long). We were best friends and we would forever be, even in death.

So moving on now, no more need to bleed this memory dry, for my tear ducts and make up cannot handle this onslaught. After Wilbur had died I decided to start my very first cause! I was absolutely, positively exuding with excitement when I came up with this idea. I had decided to open an orphanage in the next village over. I don't know what it is about people and trying to prevent me from doing something good but there always has to be something. With this specific cause I had to deal with people trying to burn down the framework. Well after about the fifth time they tried to destroy it I sent them all a little message which they took to heart and decided it was in their best interest to allow me to do what I needed to do. I won't go into details but I may, MAY being the key word, have threatened to rip their stomach through their mouth with my bare hands while slightly transformed into my vampire state. No big deal. Really.

Once I had gained the support of the community the building was completed in no time at all. I had appointed a Handler that I had personally interviewed with strict awareness and found a sweet woman by the name of Celia. She reminded me so much of Cynthia that I gave her the job. Let's just say she didn't disappoint. The orphanage held strong but I knew I couldn't stay in this village forever. People were already starting to comment on how my looks rarely changed as I supposedly grew older (You see being a half vampire my body stopped ageing when I was seventeen). A couple of weeks later I bid farewell to all of those sweet children and the darling Celia. God forever bless her soul.

From then on I went from village to village helping to build orphanages for those in need. To my knowledge, the orphanage has now become a rather large chain throughout Europe and even parts of the Americas. Have you ever heard of the Wilbur Foundation? HA you guessed it! I was the one to create the original building and many thereafter. I believe the first one I built is still in existence and was actually created into a museum of sorts. I think the only things changed was a brand new sign was placed on the front of the building reading 'WILBUR FOUNDATION' in giant gold letters and a shiny gold plaque had been nailed beside the door.

I know this because as I was reading the newspaper I read that they were celebrating their two hundred and thirty-third anniversary, which I already knew being the creator and all. They showed a picture of the original building appearing as it had those many years ago. The picture below this was of the plaque and it read:

Wilbur Foundation

12 March 1777

As we walk our path of life,

We meet people every day.

Most are simply met by chance.

But, some are sent our way.

These become special friends

Whose bond we can't explain;

The ones who understand us

And share our joy and pain.

Their love contains no boundaries.

So, even when we are apart.

Their presence enhances us

With a warmth felt in the heart.

This love becomes a passageway,

When even the miles disappear.

And so, these friends, God sends our way,

Remain forever near.

In honor of the unknown woman and the love she held for Master Wilbur Frankel.

May children find peace and love in his memory.

The first time I read this I nearly cried my eyes out causing my husband to run around the house like a chicken with its head removed because he thought my water had broken (once again, stupid git). Anyways, continuing on…I'm sure you think I'm going to keep rambling on about my life in just one day but I assure you today's entry will just be pre-Hogwarts.

Alright, so where was I? Oh yes, the plaque. I felt it was a very touching dedication to a man I adore with all my heart. Once again, I feel the tears accumulating so I need to progress with my story before I give my darling husband another panic attack.

After I established a small chain of orphanages ranging from France to Ireland and finally in Scotland I decided to venture into England (apparently I thought it was amazing seeing as how I never left with the exception of attending Hogwarts) which was the beginning of the 1900s. I moved around for quite a long time, trying to protect myself from ignorant fools who would see me dead before asking to borrow a simple cup of sugar.

As previously stated, through my years I have witnessed many great and horrible things such as the invention of the car and even an advance in the science of medicine. However, none of these things were of true importance to me when compared to the day I met my adoptive parents, Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

Hermione sat alone in her assigned room, a book opened before her, the page marked at the same place it had been for the past hour. A heavy sigh escaped her as she glanced towards the only wall decoration, a calendar. Today was the nineteenth of September 1983. Her birthday. Although her forged birth certificate and appearance said she was four years old today, she was technically three hundred and eleven.

You may be asking how this is possible and I'm glad you asked. You see, I had invented a spell to disguise my appearance. I was tired of constantly moving around so I disguised myself as an orphan at the tender age of three and forged paperwork so the orphanage wouldn't hurt their brain by thinking too hard. So there you have it.

Hermione had eventually grown tired of being alone, although she had met numerous great people after Wilbur, and had transformed herself into a child and placed herself into the same chain of orphanages she helped to create. She had been here for an entire year now with nobody to call family. To say it was difficult to watch others be adopted so readily was a slight misconception, but Hermione didn't mind so much. She had her books and memories to entertain her as the days began to bleed into one another.

A knock at the door startled her out of her self-imposed depression, "Yes?"

The door creaked open and a middle-aged woman with auburn hair, known as Mistress Barnes, appeared in the entrance way. "Hermione, I'm glad you're dressed. You have company."

Hermione sighed predicting that this new set of 'parents' would probably push her aside as had countless others. Regardless, she removed herself from her chair and took Mistress Barnes' proffered hand. In seconds she was led from her safe haven and seated within a room that looked more for interrogation than a couple yearning to obtain a child of their own. Barnes sat beside her as Hermione quietly studied the young couple before her. They both had light brown hair and golden-brown eyes just like hers, seemed to be well dressed, and by the way they studied her they seemed to be of somewhat intelligence. The woman spoke first.

"Hello, darling, what's your name?"

"Hermione."

The lady smiled, she had really nice teeth, "Such a pretty name. My name is Susan Granger and this is my husband Anthony."

"Pleased to meet you."

The couple was apparently shocked by her manners if the look on their faces was enough to go by. This time the man, Anthony, spoke.

"You are quite polite for your age; a wonderful trait that will get you far."

Hermione wanted to laugh at the nativity of this man, but something inside her recognized the sign of praise and was absolutely giddy about gaining this strange man's approval.

"How old are you?" he inquired, his posture relaxing somewhat.

"Four. Today's my birthday."

Needless to say the Grangers were once again stunned.

"Well happy birthday, sweetie." Susan cheered with a heart-warming smile as she turned to Barnes, "Would you mind terribly if we had a couple moments alone with her?"

Mistress Barnes shook her head in the negative, Hermione figured a little too eagerly. "Not at all, if you need anything I'll be in the next room over."

"Thank you, Missus Barnes." The Grangers nodded.

Once the door was closed behind Hermione's caretaker the remaining two adults returned their attention to Hermione, they're posture relaxing considerably.

"So what do you like to do for fun?" Anthony asked.

Hermione thought seriously for a moment and could think of only one thing she found truly enjoyable, "Read."

Apparently that was a good answer because they perked up like dogs being offered a piece of meat. "Really? What do you like to read?" Susan asked as she leaned forward, her forearms resting comfortably on the tabletop.

"Everything." She figured it would be best not to get too specific with book titles because she doubted they would believe her if she said 'Romeo and Juliet' or the equivalent thereof. Plus, she honestly believed she might gag if she had to say 'Dr. Seuss' or some other pointless drabble.

"You seem to be very intelligent for your age," Anthony commented, slightly intrigued by this young girl before him.

"Am I supposed to be an idiot?" Hermione was struggling to remember to portray a four year old at this point.

Her statement had caused the two odd birds to laugh wholeheartedly, "Not at all we value intelligence and so does a majority of others in our field of work and the equivalent."

"Field of work?"

"Oh yes, silly me," Susan started, "we're dentists."

Hermione wracked her brain to see if she could remember ever reading about such things. Luckily, she had. "You mean teeth doctors?"

"Exactly!" they said in unison causing Hermione to smile.

The room fell silent for several minutes, the Grangers seemingly speaking to one another with their minds. Hermione was intrigued by this silent communication and wondered if they could have magical abilities. Upon sending out her energy to feel for their magical auras she surmised they were normal humans who just happened to look at each other the way her birth parents had. It was the type of communication achieved when you truly loved someone and the bond could not be broken. It made her smile and slightly tear up as the memories of her past began to flood her mind. She quickly pushed her thoughts to the back of her mind as she saw Mister Granger leave the room.

"Where is Mister Granger going?"

Susan smiled, "He has gone to retrieve Missus Barnes. May I ask you a question before they return?"

Hermione nodded.

"How would you feel if we took you home with us?"

From that day on everything changed, mostly for the better. Mum and Dad signed the papers and a couple hours later I was settling into my new home. The next seven years passed by relatively smooth. I was able to conceal my vampire instincts from them by sneaking out at night to feed off the neighbor's cat and I only had a few magical spurts every now and then when I lost my temper. Mum and Dad always found some logical reason behind one of the incidents I would instigate (that was one of their dearest traits).

Mum and dad took very good care of me and it wasn't long before I began to stop thinking of my past and living the life my birth parents would've wished for me. The Grangers loved me for me and before long the whole adoption matter was forgotten.

On my 'eleventh' birthday I received my (felt like the hundredth one) letter from Hogwarts and honestly I don't think my parents were surprised one bit. However, this story is for another day. I can hear my husband approaching ever closer. Till we meet again…

Hermione