Disclaimer: I do not pretend to be amazing enough to own Harry Potter or any thing that Harry Potter related (People, Places, an the Plot) J.K. Rowling is the owner of all that amazingness, not me (sadly). And this is directly from my own little baby plot bunny that has been getting on my nerves and not from anyone else, but if my story is similar to some other story I haven't read (im a nerd not a superhuman reading machine) I apologize.
Warnings: The main warning I have for you is that in this particular fic Hermione gets bullied and that has an effect on her just as you would expect it to. So in my story Hermione is depressed and she shows it.
Summery: We all know what Harry's life was like before he got his letter, and how his introduction to the wizarding world and time at Hogwarts went, but what about Hermione? This is the story of how Hermione got her letter, learned of the wizarding world, and what happened with HER at her time at Hogwarts.
Used to when I was little I would jump out of bed at the crack of dawn, sometimes even before, and run to my mum and dads room and go up to my mums side of the bed with a feather and tickle her nose with the feather until she woke up. When she woke up I would go over to my dads side of the bed and do the same routine until he woke up, when he finally did I would sit on the bed (practically bouncing up and down like a little kid on Christmas mind you) and mum would reach under the bed and grab my presents and I would practically tear into them.
But I'm not little any more, so I don't jump out of bed at the crack of dawn. So I don't run down to my parents room and wake them up and act like its Christmas. I wish that I was the kind of person that I could sleep until 3 in the after noon and lay around in bed and just stare at the ceiling and not think about anything. But sadly I'm not like that. So my choices are to either wake up and go down stairs and grab some food then come back up and read, it to stair at the ceiling and think. I'll take curtain A please.
So when I get up I open my door and tip toe down stairs into the kitchen as quietly as I can down to the kitchen. I head for the cupboard that is right beside the counter, when I feel that familiar tickle at the back of my mind. "Oh come on" I grumble to myself, sure enough when I turn around and looked at the counter there it is. Sitting on the counter was a bowl of cheerios in a baby blue bowl, and I already knew when I finished eating the cheerios, that on the inside of the bowl, at the bottom, there is Hermione written in beautiful white calligraphy. Sitting beside the bowl of cereal, there was a glass of white grape juice.
Sounds innocent enough right? No. Because A. I don't know who made that because 1 we don't own that bowl, I know because the first time this happened I searched the house top to bottom for that bowl.. nothing and 2 because I'm the only person awake. B. the glass of grape juice, yeah it doesn't empty until I'm not thirsty anymore. So you can guess why every time that bloody pre-made breakfast is sitting on the counter, I get just a tad bit upset because where the hell did it come from.
Sighing to myself I grab the cereal and Grape juice spitefully, knowing what'll happen if I don't, which despite the fact that I am carrying them up the stairs and they are filled to the brim, the don't spill. Shaking my head because that's impossible because if gravity wanted the milk and grape juice to fall (gravity wants it to fall...) then it would fall, because Magic isn't real. The whole way up the stairs and into my room, until I set my cereal and juice on the little night stand table beside my bed I chant that to my self like a mantra.
Shanking my head at my own ridiculousness, I walk over to the book shelf in front of my bed. Barley even having to glance up at it considering how well I know the placement of my favorite books. Reaching out I grab my incredibly warn copy of "The Book Thief". Tossing it up towards the head of the bed I go back of to my side of the bed. Sitting down Criss Cross on my bed, I grab my book and start reading.
I literally get to read the first 3 words before I hear the door bell ringing. Rolling my eyes at life, I put my book back on my bed and sprint down the stairs. Opening the door, I see a older woman dressed in a emerald green cloak looking dress with a bloody witch hat in the same color. My first assumption naturally is of course that she is collecting donations for a children's hospital or something, but when I look at her face I immediately know that that is not the case.
She just has this look of seriousness about her, I think to myself, but shaking myself out of my head and back into the situation. Before I can say anything the strange woman starts talking. "Hello Miss. Granger, My Name is Minerva McGonagall, I am a Professor at a school I think you would be particularly i terested in attending. I have some very important news to share with you, would you mind if I come in and speak to your mum?" She asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question, with a quirked eyebrow as if almost daring me to say no.
"Oh, of course not, come on Professor come in I'm sorry." I said opening the door and stepping to the side so that she can come in.
"The couch is in there" I said pointing to the living room. "Let me just go get my Mum real quick" I said leaving the odd woman and going to my parents room.
"Mum" I said walking into the room and shaking her gently. "Mum come on get up." I said trying to wake her up. "Mumm" I said dragging out the 'm' in a sing song voice until she woke up.
"Okay okay you can stop trying to make my ears run away now." she said smiling one of those I'm-amused-but-I'm-also-tired kind of smiles. After a long bout of yawning, eye rubbing, and half asleep rapid blinking, she was finally somewhat awake.
"Okay so where's the fire Love?" She asked partly amused and partly sassy, getting out of bed to stand up.
"In the living room" I replied "sitting in the couch waiting for us, she said she had something important to tell us." I said only half paying attention, to what I was saying as my gaze flickered over to my father's side of the bed.
My mum and dad got a divorce a few years ago. It wasn't one of those ridiculously dramatic spectacles or anything, it was perfectly agreeable. The two had been best friends since birth and became something more durning high school. So they we're best friends and husband and wife.
Last year they decided that they didn't love each other, not in that way at least, but they still loved each other in a best friend sort of way.
But the problem is... my mum still loves him. My bad doesn't know, because to put it simply he has other priorities. But I know it hurts her.
Glaring at my fathers side of the bed, I turn defiantly to my mother and wrap her into a hug.
"I love you mum" I say quietly, so quietly that for a moment I doubt she even hears me.
"I love you to baby" she says just as softly, if not more so. Pulling back she pushes a strand of my hair out of my face.
"Now how about we go talk to the woman in the living room and then come back to bed and watch movies and eat popcorn for your special day hmm? How does that sound?" She questioned. "Or we can just sit in bed with hot coco and books."
"Books and coco please" I said quickly.
Now in a bit of a hurry to get the strange woman and her news out the door I grab my mums and and start walking to the door.
I even heard the sound of her laughing and her mumbling something about books being better than bribery.