Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K Rowling's characters or anything relating to the Harry Potter books. I merely own the plot.

Authors Note: I was in a terrible mood when I wrote this so If it seems a tad too angsty, I apologize. I hope you still enjoy it, none the less.

Chapter One: I'm Falling Hard

At first, they adored me.

At first, they were proud.

But time takes its toll, and the world can shift ever so gently and cause a catastrophic mess.

The day I got my letter for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, they threw me a party because I was extra-ordinary. They always dreamed of having a child who was the best. I was the best, at everything. In muggle school, I had straight A's in all of my classes and in Hogwarts, straight O's in all of my O.W.L.S. Was I attractive? In some ways, a hidden beauty, but that didn't matter because I was smart and didn't need looks. I was a witch, and a good one at that.

For five years I watched their opinion on the matter change slowly.

At first, it was subtle things like asking me to clean my room the regular way, instead of practicing the new spell I'd learnt to do it for me, because they missed that. Then it was 'Why don't you spend the summer here instead of with your friends?' because we miss you. Then it was the funny looks I got at Christmas, because I had bought my Dad a wizard toothbrush that brushed your teeth for you, and always made them shine. They missed the hand-made picture frames. They began to resent me for what I was. They slowly realized, I wasn't extra-ordinary, I was abnormal.

And now everything is my fault.

The dishwasher is on the fritz, must be, because I'm a witch.

My brother won't talk to me, or anyone for that matter, but it can't just be puberty, it must be because I'm a witch.

I don't make any money, because I can't find a job, not because I'm only seventeen, it's because I'm a witch.

The war entering the muggle world is my fault, because I'm a witch.

*********

Third night in a row, I've been crying. Constant ringing in my ear built up by all the bloody crying. Red, puffy eyes brought on by all this fucking crying. I'm having trouble sleeping. I'm having trouble concentrating. Essay due after summer vacation. Ancient Runes. Chaos must equal…something. I can't think. Two more days. I go back to school in two days. Have to finish.

I screamed. At least, I wish I had screamed. It was more of an agonized wail. Screaming would have been one more thing I did wrong.

I felt as though my life was in utter turmoil. I felt as though I didn't amount to anything.

I slowly uncurled myself from the fetal position and rose from my bed. My room was a mess. I hadn't packed a single thing yet. I stood up and unceremoniously began piling things into my oak trunk. Unmatched socks went flying through the air landing on opposite sides of the case. Books and various school supplies were scattered along the bottom. Robes and muggle clothing balled up and shoved wherever there was room. I continued to pack until my arms felt weak and the tears returned.

Sliding down the lavender walls of my childhood bedroom, I sat and cried for the fourth time in a row. It wasn't so much the way my parents treated me or the way my brother avoided me that had me crying; it was the question looming in my mind…how did this happen?

I sat there pondering for what felt like hours before I heard my Dad yell for me to come downstairs. Gripping the edge of my white chalk dresser, I heaved myself to my feet and climbed over mountains of junk to reach my door.

The halls of our house were littered with pictures. My Mum was obsessed with pictures. There were no recent pictures of me but there were several from when I was eight and won the spelling bee and from when I was ten and won the science fair. There was even a picture of me during my fourth year, but I was in muggle clothes; no proof I was a witch.

I trudged down the carpeted stairwell and into our quaint little kitchen. The dishwasher was on when I came in and I felt almost soothed by the sqwoosh-sqwoosh noise it made and then noticed the sink was still full of dishes. More chores tonight it seemed. I looked over towards the small kitchen table and saw my Mum and Dad sitting next to each other looking at me. My Mum had a worried look on her face, like she was scared of something. My Dad looked stoic. As always.

"Hermione, please sit down, we need to talk." He spoke to me like I was being auditioned for a job or something. As if his next question would be 'What special skills do you possess?' Unfortunately the conversation didn't quite go that way. I sat down at the chair on the other side of the table, facing them and nodded to show I was listening. "You will be turning eighteen during the school year, am I correct?"

I knew the question was rhetorical.

"Well I'm not sure. You gave birth to me, I think. Do you recall my birthday?" I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm and I grinned at the ghastly look on my mother's face.

"Well," He ignored me completely. "Your mother and I have decided it would be best if you didn't return home after this year of schooling."

I didn't have a witty comeback for that one.

"Your brother turned twelve this year and did not receive one of those letters as you know which means he isn't…like you." He continued. I couldn't help but stare in disbelief. My mother sat quietly next to him, unable to meet my stare.

"You're throwing me out?" I asked, just to clarify. I already knew the truth.

"It's hardly throwing you out. You'll be of legal age and need to be on your own. We have set up a fund so you will have money for an apartment." It now sounded like I was being fired.

"So, you're throwing me out?" I repeated. The muscles in my father's jaw twitched. My father was a somewhat attractive man for his ripe age. He still had a mop of dark brown hair on his head and few wrinkles. My mother had thick dirty blonde hair so it was no surprise that my brother and I came out with untamable chestnut locks. My father looked displeased now.

"Well if you refuse to see it any other way, then yes, I suppose you are being thrown out." He replied through clenched teeth. "We just want your brother to grow up..." He paused. "…without the shadow of your accomplishments over his head."

Translation: We want your brother to grow up normally without a weird sister.

"You are the only one of your…kind…in the family and we feel it would be best for you to live on your own now that you are of age. Is that understood?" He asked, finalizing the conversation.

"Understood, sir." I gritted. "May I be excused?" I asked, now unable to look my parents in the eye. He nodded and I simply stood from the table and retreated back to my room.

*********

I wanted to smash something. I wanted to scream and throw my chair out of the window. I wanted to rip my untamable curls right out of my head. And if I'd only had the strength and energy, I might have. As it were, I felt broken down and betrayed. I felt the tears on my face before I felt the over-whelming sadness that put them there.

How is it I'm being punished for something I can't control?

I sat down at my desk and began to draft a letter.

Ron,

You'll never believe what just happened. My whole world is crashing down…

There were tear-stains on the paper; he would know I was crying. I don't want him or Harry or Ginny for that matter to know about this. They would treat me differently; act cautious and I would hear a never-ending stream of 'are you okay?'

Ron, Ginny, Harry,

Hope you had a good summer. Mine was fine. I can't wait to see you. I was wondering…

Way too cheerful. Why can't I just write a simple letter? Still, there are tear-stains. I can't even feel how much I'm crying.

I want to see you guys and my parents asked if I could ride with you to Kings Cross. Is that okay? Reply quickly and I'll apparate over.

Hermione

Perfect.

There was a spell for summoning owls that I'd researched last year. It's one of few spells its legal for underage wizards to perform. I'm no longer underage but it's still a handy spell.

I whispered 'Hermes' out of my small window and waited a few minutes. Not long after, a large brown barn owl flew to the edge of my window and stuck out its foot. Very professional. I grabbed a crimson ribbon from my desk and tied the small strip of parchment to the owl's foot. It took off almost immediately after I said the Burrow.

As soon as the owl was merely a brown speck on the sunset, I set to work packing the rest of my room. My parents would have to accept that I would have to come back for my things after to the school year. There was no way I could take all of my belongings to the Burrow and then to Hogwarts with me.

I lacked the energy to do it the muggle way, so I muttered a quick charm and sat down at my desk, watching my entire belongings sore across my room into suitcases and conjured boxes. The tears returned once more when my posters and pictures of friends were peeled off the walls and placed in a small beige cardboard box. This was no longer my home.

I sat there for a few minutes with my face buried in my hands when the brown owl returned to my window sill. I stepped forward and removed their reply from its leg and held out my hand with an owl treat nestled in the center. The owl cautiously accepted the treat and flew off into the night.

Hermione,

Of course you can come over. Mums already preparing a welcome feast for you. Sheppard's Pie is your favorite right? Come right over.

Ron

I smiled softly and stood, preparing to leave. Then I heard my Dads voice, calling my name again.

I trudged back down the hall and downstairs into the kitchen and stared at him.

"Yes?" I asked, with an apparent attitude.

"Dinner will be ready in five minutes." My mum replied softly.

"That won't be necessary. I'm leaving in about three minutes." And with that I left the room and retreated back upstairs to my former life, preparing to leave for good.

I grabbed my trunk and without a second glance apparated to the Burrow. Apparation is a hard feeling to describe. It feels as though you're being pulled down a sink drain, swirling around, but feeling as though someone is tugging you by the loops on your jeans. I landed firmly in the kitchen of the small barn-like house and instantly felt home. Molly Weasley ran forward upon my arrival to throw a kiss on my cheek.

"Dear, have you been crying?"

Shit.

"Yes, but only a little, saying good-bye to my parents for the year is always hard." I replied, hoping she would buy it. She did, nodding her head in understanding.

"Well, I hope you're hungry." She answered cheerily.

"Ravenous." I smiled back.

"Good. The boys and Ginny are upstairs in Ron's room I believe. Welcome back Hermione." She said throwing a final hug on me and sending me upstairs. I couldn't help but smile and I walked through the familiar living room and climbed the creaky staircase that led to the upper levels. This place felt like home.

******

That warm homey feeling left soon after I arrived. I spent the evening gossiping with Ginny, reminiscing with Harry and Ron and stuffing my face full of delicious home-made food. Everyone was welcoming, everyone loved me, but it wasn't home. I had no home.

The thought struck me when I was alone in the guest room. Harry bunked with Ron when he came to stay here, so the guest room was always open to me. I usually slept in Ginny's room but for now, I needed to be alone. I needed to be free to cry myself to sleep. I got some weird looks at my decision but no one questioned me on it. They just left me alone.

I climbed into the warm queen-sized bed without removing my clothes, not caring that I would be too hot, or that my jeans would leave lines in my skin, I just curled up and fell asleep, determined not to cry.

I woke up tired. How does one wake up tired? I guess the answer is when one is in a rut. My jeans did indeed leave deep grooves in intricate patterns. I stumbled out of the bed only to sit back down on my trunk. I leave for Hogwarts tomorrow. Sliding down onto my knees, I opened my trunk and retrieved some fresh clothing. After all, I couldn't look the part of depressed and angsty teenager, I had to look fresh, not like I spent the night in jeans and a black hoodie.

As I pulled a fresh outfit consisting of dark blue jeans and a green t-shirt, my eyes caught my family's portrait. We all looked so happy. My mother smiling brightly in the front, next to my father, stoic and creepy as always. Me and my brother standing in the background with our arms around each other. Were we happy then or was it fake?

I peeled off the clothes I was wearing one by one and replaced them with the fresh, clean clothes and left the room, headed downstairs for breakfast.

*******

The next day, we left for Hogwarts.

If my friends didn't know something was wrong, they did now. Every day I got closer to the date where I would be on my own and I was scared. I didn't want to talk. I sat in silence in the car to Kings Cross; I was silent as we crossed the barrier. I also silently picked a compartment at the end of the train, alone. Maybe they would believe the old 'PMS' excuse. Doubtful.

Twenty minutes into the train ride, I was still in my muggle clothing when Draco Malfoy opened the door to my compartment. I didn't have the strength to fight.

"Granger?" He asked, his voice guarded.

"Yes, Malfoy?" I replied, my voice a whisper against the metallic crunching of the wheels on train tracks.

"The Heads are needed." He stated simply. I turned to look at him and was startled by the depression in his eyes.

"You're Head Boy?" He nodded and I smiled slightly. "This year should be fun."

I thought I saw the shadow of a smile but it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared so I merely stood and followed him out of the compartment.

Authors Note: I'm not too sure about this story so feedback is appreciated. Ideas, tips, criticism, it's all welcomed. Should I continue with it?