Broken Fingers
By ann no aku
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. The quote is from the song Skym by Underworld
Opening Quote:
"Mm...
Do you still feed the animal?
Animal finger
Finger on the phone
Curve around corners"
Chapter: One
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Despite how much Hermione enjoyed school, she was happy when summer vacation had come. Her parents didn't follow The Daily Prophet, and for that she was thankful. She began to wonder if they would ever find out the truth about what has been occurring over the past few years—especially most recently with Voldemort showing his face at the Ministry of Magic. Her thoughts flooded back to her discussion with Dumbledore the last day of school.
"You are to go home, Ms. Granger," he had informed. "You will be safe there."
"I'll be safe at Grimmauld Place!"
"I suspected you'd argue that, but the war has changed. No matter how safe Grimmauld Place is, your home will always be the best for you," he had paused, "Until the time is right. Also, I believe that your parents are oblivious to all of this, no?" He had stared her down behind his half moon spectacles.
"T-True," she had admitted.
"Then there is no need to frighten them. How do you think your parents would feel, Ms. Granger, if they know all that you've done these past five years?"
Against her best wishes, her cheeks had burned in embarrassment. She had requested to speak to the headmaster because she had been upset after discovering that she wasn't allowed to return to Grimmauld Place. "It's not fair!" she had yelled to Ron upon receiving a letter saying she could not go prior to departure on the train home.
Yet now, Hermione sat alone at home bored to tears. She was tired of searching through her school books and studying. Since both of her parents worked all summer (and told her to find a job, which was a lot easier said than done), the long days passed at an agonizingly slow pace. Part of her didn't want a summer job, especially since the only one she could have at her age was babysitting (after already ruling out fast food jobs, of course). Hermione just wanted to go back to school and see her friends. Or at least Harry, she thought. I wish he'd call me so I know that he is doing well. She nearly left her bones on the couch as she leapt up when the phone rang interrupting her thoughts.
"Hello?" she answered.
No response.
"Hello?" Fear hung in her echo. Could it be the Death Eaters? She shook her heard as if to shake away the crazy idea. She was being ridiculous! Since when was Ms. Hermione Granger a coward?!
"Is Hermione Granger there?" A familiar voice sounded at the other end of the phone.
"T-This is she," she answered mustering all the confidence in her voice she could.
"Oh, thank goodness! I wasn't sure if I even had the right number. It's been so long since I've called that I had to keep rechecking it." A soft laughter escaped from the stranger's mouth. "How are you?"
"Who is this?" she blurted, the question sounding ruder than she had intended. Still, Hermione's heart raced. The voice sounded familiar, could it be Beatrix Lestrange?
No, her mind argued, the voice isn't high pitched enough. Besides, how would she know how to use a phone anyway?
Good point, her warped mind agreed. Finally, she could relax.
"You serious?" the stranger demanded. "I can't believe you've forgotten!"
Realization dawned on her like a jolt of lightening. "Oh, it's you."
"You almost sound disappointed," the other girl said with hurt in her voice.
"Well, it has been a few years," Hermione began.
"And all the more reason to be ecstatic, even if you must pretend. Ever since you got accepted into that strange private school, no one has even heard from you much less have seen you. Have you broken fingers from so much note taking?"
"Not exactly." Oh, how she hated being scrutinized!
"Then what's your excuse, Miss Granger? And don't say your dog ate my phone number because I know you haven't even a pet!"
"Actually, I have a cat now. His name is Crookshanks." This is what she had missed—normal everyday conversation with a friend. There were no talks of war, death, and dangerous things of the like to worry themselves with. "I've missed you, Lane," she said not meaning emotion to stain her voice as it had.
"Is something the matter?" she inquired.
"No, it's just," she paused, "School's been hard lately, and that's all."
"You've always done well in school, Hermione. The day you don't do top-of-the-class well, the world is going to go to hell in a hand basket, as the Americans say."
If only you knew, she thought.
"Tell me about school! Any boys capture your fancy?"
She instantly though of Ron, but bit her tongue on the thought. "I met a footballer from Bulgaria. He's really famous," she replied.
"And?" Lane pressed.
"He's back in Bulgaria," Hermione answered thinking back to secondary school when Lane had always chased the boys. Even the unattractive ones, but she's always been one for attention. I've always been so immersed in school and books that I've hardly noticed the opposite sex. It's amazing that Lane and I are even friends, if we still are that is. "Why'd you decide to call me?" The question shot from her mouth before she could stop it.
"You still owe me 50£," Lane quipped disguising her hurt with indifference. "Besides mum was asking about you, she forgot you attended another school. Just thought we stopped being friends, I guess. By the way, did you get my birthday present I had mailed you two years ago?"
Hermione thought back to her third year. She had received a suspicious gift forwarded to her by owl, but she didn't know who had sent it. "That was you?"
"Who else would send you a Nancy Drew novel?" she joked referring back to when she used to call Hermione Nancy Drew. It had all started out as an insult from one of the boys in their class. It didn't help that Hermione had long bushy hair and buck teeth either; it had made her look even more like a geek.
"I almost forgot!" she laughed.
"You're getting careless! I don't see how you are going to get accepted into Oxford."
"Oxford?" she dumbly repeated.
"You sure you're okay?"
University?! She wasn't even positive anymore if she'd survive her sixth year! Besides, did she even want to go to Oxford anymore? "I-I haven't really been thinking about it," Hermione admitted.
"This private school of yours is doing absolutely nothing for your future! Just what are you studying, anyway?"
If the phone had a cord, she'd be twisting it between her fingers into knots. "Um, science."
"Science?! Hardly your subject," Lane commented. "Well?"
"Well what?"
Lane sighed exasperatedly. "You never once asked me about myself much less if I wanted to do something with you today."
She had been so worried about herself that she barely even thought of Lane. But was friendship still even possible? Their lives were so different that the idea seemed ridiculous. Yet maybe that is what she needed—a normal friend to talk to again. She needn't tell Lane about her life, especially not school! "Sorry."
"You must be stressed out. I think you need something to drink."
A drink? Her mind echoed. "You're joking."
"Do I sound like I'm joking?" Anything that has you so distracted that school seems moot must really be bloody catastrophic," she stated.
You have no idea, she thought. "So you rang me up to get smashed?"
"It's a bonus. You need to let your hair down, literally. Tell me, and be honest, Hermione, I've known you since we were six; how many times have you snuck from your dorm to meet up with boys?"
"I don't know; too many to count."
"Really? That's curious," Lane commented her voice high with admiration. "Well then, this should be nothing! I shall be over soon with some cider. Cheers!"
Before Hermione was even ready to reply, the phone line went dead and the dial tone hummed noisily in her ear. She replaced the phone back on the charger then jumped as it rang again. "What is it now, Lane? You forgot my address?" she said as soon as she picked up the receiver.
"I'd say indoors at night if I were you."
"What? Who is this? Hello?"
The line fell silent once more. Her hand shook as she once again set the phone down. Who had just called? The voice sounded familiar, but as though he was disguising it. The call had obviously made reference to the recent events revolving around Harry Potter. Her stomach did crazy flip sending waves of nausea up her tight throat. It took her five minutes just to unglue her feet from their spot. The sound of water dripping in the sink made her aware of the sweat soaking her hands. Never before had a phone call frightened her so!
She moved over to the love seat in the den to steady her quivering knees. Maybe she did need a drink. She had been awfully uptight as of late due to all the stress of the unknown war. How would the normal people feel if they know all that was going on beneath the surface of their 'mundane' country? Would the Muggles get involved?
Lord how she prayed not! It was disturbing enough to think of her parents finding out about her resistance! She could picture it clear as the Dark Mark in the sky two years ago:
"Hermione Granger is this true?" mother would ask. But what could she say? "This school, I-I don't have a problem with it, but you are not going to be a soldier in some army!"
"You've always taught me to stand up for what I believe in!" she'd reply.
"While that may be true, Love," father would begin, "But you are not old enough to understand the responsibility of war."
I've seen it, Hermione would think. "Ron-"
"Ronald Weasley?" Mother would exclaim exasperatedly. "His family is involved! You are not a part of his family no matter how much you may choose to be just to wage a war."
"'Wage a war'? I just want to help my friends!"
"Then maybe you needn't attend that school anymore."
Would her parents be as unreasonable as she thought? Only one way to find out, and it won't be by me. She suddenly felt as though she was playing the field. What was more important to her? Friends or family?
Friends, came the instant reply, because if you win you'll save your family! There's no way to save mum and dad if you're dead.
Dead.
Dead. Dead.
Dead dead dead deaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddeaddead.
The word hammered in her mind like her echoing heartbeat pounding itself to be released from its mortal cage.
She could die.
She had almost died!
The thought of getting plastered kept looking like a better idea. Hermione had to blink away her tears as the doorbell rang. There stood her old friend Lane with two large bottles of cider. "You do realize that my parents get home soon, don't you?"
"Who said we're drinking here? Besides you look like you could use some fresh air." The girl hadn't changed at all. She was still exotically beautiful with her dark hair and eyes, olive skin, and large smile that could even make the Dark Lord himself melt. Yet she uses that charm of hers to get her way, Hermione reminded herself.
"You look depressed," Lane announced stepping inside the house.
"It's been a long school year, and almost longer summer." Especially since no one has written, she thought bitterly.
"It has only just begun!"
"Has it really?"
"It's not even July! C'mon, hurry up and get ready. The night is only so young." Lane paused to study her friend. "You've had braces!"
"Sort of," she lied.
"You look absolutely fabulous, dah-ling! Not as good as I do, of course," she said flipping her long straight hair over her shoulder. "You know what you need?"
"What?" Hermione inquired as she tugged her jacket sleeve over her arm.
"A hair cut," Lane smiled.
"I don't know," she replied absently running her fingers through her infinite knots and tangles.
"Oh well," the other girl said and dragged Hermione outside. "Let's go."
"Wait, I've forgotten my key." And wand, she thought, just in case.
"Well, we haven't got all day!"
She stared at her friend with a look that could scare even Malfoy Sr. himself.
"There are boys to meet!"
"Of course," she sighed and tore inside her house to find her key and wand. Hermione also penned a quick note to her parents:
Out for a bit
Be back later
Hermione
But once she had found her exquisitely crafted piece of wood, fear flooded her veins as she picked it up. Would she have to use it? And, if so, she was still under age! Would she have a trial as Harry had? Either way, she contemplated; I don not want to think of the consequences.
"You sure did take long enough."
"Sorry, had to leave a note for mum and dad," she informed shoving her hidden tool in her inner coat pocket.
"What's that you've got?" Lane inquired trying to peer inside her friend's jacket.
"My Nancy Drew book in case we come across some trouble," Hermione quipped.
"Really? And how would Nancy Drew help us? Besides, what sort of trouble could two teenage girls create?"
"Oh, it's not us I am worried about, Lane. What if we come across a crime?"
"A crime?"
"You never know," she smiled absently thinking back to the second phone call she had received.
"I know better than you think."