Chapter One
Hermione Granger ran down the four flights of creaky stairs of the Burrow. Tears of hurt and anger streamed down her pale face. Her wild, copper toned hair flew in front of her caramel eyes, a few strands sticking. She fumbled over the last step and practically flew into the room she shared with the youngest Weasley.
"Come on 'Mione! Open up! I didn't mean what I said, " Ronald Weasley apologized through the antique chestnut door.
They both knew he meant what he had said. He meant every word, every punctuation, and every damn pause between them.
'That's exactly why no one talks to you anymore! You're such a bloody bookworm! Maybe if you peeked your head out from between the pages once in a while, you would realize that I love Lavender, not you.'
Earlier, Hermione was searching for a book in Percy's old bedroom, when Ron had come up and asked her if she had wanted to go with Harry, Ginny, Lavender and himself to the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley before the Banquet. Hermione didn't feel like being the only single person in the bunch, so she politely declined and went back to looking under the bed. Unfortunately for her, Ronald's ears turned bright red and he immediately attacked. He claimed that she cared more about her books than her own friends, poked fun at her incapability to find a wizard and scoffed at her dreams for a high ranking position in the Ministry. Hermione had never been more insulted in her entire life. She was so frustrated with Ron's jealousy for her brains or Harry's fame. She had fired any biting words she had held back before and then he let those fateful few sentences run out of his foolish mouth.
Hermione brushed away a few stray tears and thought about what had happened the past year. She had given up on Ron long ago, but the part about Harry and Ginny was absolutely heartbreaking. She had felt a rift, but hadn't said anything, brushing it off as a symptom of grief. Yet, it was more than what she had believed. Ginny was off with Harry at Grimmauld Place most days, and Ron was with Lavender, doing Merlin knows what. To think of it, even Mrs. Weasley said few words to her these days.
Ron was still trying to apologize, but it was white noise to Hermione. She looked around the lime green room. She glanced over the Wierd Sisters and Holyhead Harpies posters, the desk overlooking the orchard behind the Burrow, and then at her tiny bed, her suitcase sitting empty at the foot. Then it hit her; for weeks she had been tucked away in her own beautiful world of books, finally being able to read about something other than ways to defeat Voldemort. Everyone else had moved onto life, Hermione was floating along.
"You know what Hermione, if your going to act like a bitch, just leave. No one wants you here!" Ronald screamed.
She had no idea what he was talking about before, but she had a rough idea. She wasn't the brightest witch of her age without reason. Her eyes fell back to the suitcase. Perhaps, she would 'leave,' like Ron had said. Hermione would leave the surrogate family she had come to love and face the unavoidable consequences.
-X-X-X-X-
A few hours later, Hermione was ready to leave. Her cherry-colored suitcase was filled with clothes, books and everything else a woman needed. She took one last, lingering look into the mirror. She had tamed her normally bushy hair into messy curls; the difference was subtle, a little less frizz and a little more styling product. The look accentuated her almond shaped eyes and high cheekbones. She wore a navy jumper, light jeans and her normal trainers. She didn't want to seem as if she was getting ready, just to leave. She sighed. Where was she to go? She had a small bank account at Gringotts, but that wouldn't be enough to build a life on, let alone a whole new one, but she was Hermione Jean Granger. She could do anything, if she put her mind to it.
Hermione heard a loud "supper's ready" from Mrs. Weasley down in the kitchen. She looked towards the door. This was a big day. Every person that survived the Final Battle was here. This was her night.
Hermione sighed, shrunk her bag and looked back into the mirror again. She wasn't the attention starved first year, she was a woman of grace and great power. Her eyes were golden, her hair copper and her stance strong. She could do this. Hermione put her hand in her pocket and pulled out a golden necklace with a sand-glass entombed in circles. Her time-turner. She placed it over her head and hid it under her hoodie. Out of everything precious to her, Hermione would never forsake this secret gift from one of the greatest wizards of all time, Albus Dumbledore. She was finally ready.
This was a big night for the Weasley Family; all of the surviving family members and their spouses were coming to the Burrow to celebrate life. Hermione wasn't formally invited; it was just assumed that she would be there. Hermione turned towards Ginny's closed door. She could hear the clatter of dishes and the muffled conversations floating up the stairs.
'I am a Gryffindor. I am very powerful. I'm the mother-fucking brightest witch of my age. I can do this,' Hermione repeated to herself. A little known fact about her was that she wasn't a spontaneous adventurer, she was meticulous in her planning. This was the scariest thing she's ever done.
Before Hermione could turn back, her slender fingers turned the rusted door handle, and she flung herself down the stairs. She stumbled a bit and found that all of the guests were already eating. Mrs. Weasley had charmed the table to be longer and every seat was filled. Every single bloody seat. Hermione couldn't believe it. She had planned to wait until after dinner to leave. She wasn't going to be rude, but this was ridiculous. No one noticed her, standing there in disbelief. They all kept on with their jolly conversations and stuffing their faces. Hermione realized that her mouth was open and quickly shut it, clenching her jaw. She decided that she was going to stand there until they noticed.
It wasn't until Mrs. Weasley had to refill one of the dishes that anyone even blinked her way. Mrs. Weasley looked nervous. "Oh, Hermione! We didn't notice you there? Be a dear and refill the cranberry sauce," Mrs. Weasley commanded sweetly.
On normal circumstances, Hermione would have helped. She always had been happy whenever Mrs. Weasley asked her to help. The little girl Molly knew wasn't alive anymore. The Hermione now glaring at Mrs. Weasley was a young woman.
"Why should I help when you haven't even saved me a place to eat?" Hermione asked calmly.
Mrs. Weasley looked shocked and stuttered a bit. The conversations were dying down, trying to listen to the conversation between the two women. "We just-- we thought that you weren't going to come down to dinner. After your little spat with Ron--."
Hermione's face froze and she cut into the older woman's thought process right then and there. "Mrs. Weasley, you do understand that I, also, am a war hero. A fight with your idiot son wouldn't prevent me from being here."
Mrs. Weasley's face grew bright red and she tried to say something but Hermione only got louder.
"I deserve a seat at the table as much anyone else here, and maybe even more. In my honest opinion, without me, everybody at this table would have been slaughtered or serving Voldemort. Without my logic and research, you would all be dead. Your son Ron wouldn't have even graduated from Hogwarts without copying my work, and I admit I was a complete fool to let him."
The table was so silent, one could have heard a pin drop. Mrs. Weasley was trying to form some kind of sentence. Hermione's heart was beating like a thestral's, but she made sure no one could tell.
Mrs. Weasley said, her voice a harsh whisper, "Hermione, I cannot believe that you would say such things. I thought you were such a good girl! What has gotten into you?"
Then, Hermione lost grip of the near non-existent hold she had on her temper. "Molly, with all due respect, I don't give Merlin's saggy, old balls what you thought I was. You all obviously don't want me here, so I'm going to leave."
She shot a scathing look at Ron, his mouth wide open in disbelief. Hermione smirked in a way that would make Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape and even Voldemort, proud. "Ronald, go fuck yourself."
Then she looked at Harry with a big smile and said cheerfully, " Bye Harry!"
With a loud 'pop,' Hermione Granger apparated from the Burrow.
-X-X-X-X-
Hermione landed in front of the Leaky Cauldron and sighed. It was still nestled between a Muggle record and book shop. The road was empty as she walked across it, into the courtyard that housed the brick wall that served as an entrance to Diagon Alley. The place had a little more business after the demise of Voldemort, but not so much so that it would be packed. It was the perfect place for Hermione to hide out. She advanced gingerly across the courtyard, hardly looking where her feet were taking her. That is, until her foot hit an unfamiliar bump; it was a large stone that Hermione hadn't noticed, shrouded in the shadows. Her hands flew in front of her face as her body slammed onto the ground. Her knees bounced against loose dirt, but her chest hit a cobblestone, crushing the little time-turner under her clothes.
Hermione's eyes opened for a moment, but then she closed them quickly. She felt a familiar pull in her lower abdomen and instantly knew what was happening. The world spun around her and she felt as if she were floating in space. Her lungs tried to expand but couldn't. She was suffocating. She curled into a fetal position until the tug was over.
"Are you alright, Miss?" a very familiar voice asked. It was aged and so heartwarming.
Hermione opened her eyes and looked up, past the half-moon glasses and into the twinkling blue eyes of one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
She started to weep, unable to control the tears that flowed from her eyes and into her hair. She thought, 'At least I'm safe.'