***This story is from Hermione's POV! Read and review-thank you!***
Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?"
The Lord replied,
"The years when you have seen only one set of footprints,
my child, is when I carried you."
~Copyright © 1984 Mary Stevenson
When I was small I lived in a suburban palace, and I was its princess. My palace was elegant, spacious, and luxurious. This fortress was filled with hues of crème, pastel yellows and pinks, and inviting spring colors of warmth. My precious abode was my sanctuary—my haven away from the world's madness. I would run happily down its halls, my golden curls bouncing, for I had no cares in the world. I ran throughout the palace laughing, giggling as my father laughed as well—chasing after me.
My father and I spent our days playing, making and trying new things and living our lives to the fullest while enjoying our leisurely lifestyle. The Queen, my mother, worked in a faraway place called Atlanta. Therefore, my father watched over me. My older sisters, Chelsea and Sarah, spent their days absorbed in their studies. This was the beautiful and perfect life I took for granted. It all happened so fast. Everything…stripped away—just like that.
No one can imagine the pain and confusion of a seven-year-old princess watching helplessly as her castle falls with such evanescence. I was there when the walls began to shake, the floors shuttered violently beneath me—they cracked and broke into pieces, which created chasms in my life. I was there when my entire walls shattered around me. When the great nation of America's economy fell, my world fell with it. Years later, the happy life I once had was no more. That life was life a faded memory. I remember how life once was, but that life now feels like a dream.
Now eight years old, I was running from Daddy—not playing. I shut the door to my bedroom quietly, so he wouldn't hear me go in. I looked around desperately, looking for a place to hide. I spotted my bed. I already knew I could easily squeeze under there. It was a trundle. The kind of bed that you pull out the bottom and there's a bed space. "Perfect." I thought. My bed was against a wall, so it took a minute to get through. Once I did, I laid down on my stomach and propped myself up on my elbows. Just in time, too. Right then, he stomped in looking as furious as ever—red in the face, fists clenched, and grinding his teeth.
Our palace's fall changed my father drastically. The loss of everything he loved had driven him mad. Now, instead of loving my father, I feared him.
For years after my parents' separation, I was angry with God. I thought he had left me behind. I thought he had left me behind because I wasn't good enough. I wasn't pleasing in his eyes. Now I realize he intended the exact opposite! He put me through that torment so I could overcome my problems and my fear of speaking up for myself. Now I realize He had never left me, and that my purpose is to help those who went through what I had.
This story is based on my own childhood. I chose this story to be about Hermione because we are not told much about her family or childhood in the HP books, so I thought this might give her character a little more depth.