Short one-shot of a sad little memory from the childhood of Hermione Granger. Please review.
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There was a particularly loud clap of thunder that made Nora Winters rise from behind her teacher's desk, and walk over to the nearest classroom window. Through the blinds she peered out at the dark and gloomy Monday afternoon, her vision somewhat blurred by the constant flecks of rain staining the window's glass. The city streets were chaos right around this hour, and the fact that it was a rainy Monday only made traffic five times worse.
She was about to turn from the window when something – or more someone – caught her eye. From behind her triangular-shaped spectacles she squinted at the small figure sitting on the school's short brick wall. She was right. It was a student, but not just any student; it was Miss Hermione Granger, one of the top students in the school.
There she sat, the girl barely eight-years-of-age, all by herself. She seemed to be waiting.
Probably for her ride home. Poor dear, stuck out in the rain. She just may catch a cold.
Shifting some weight from her left foot to her right, Mrs. Winters continued to watch young Hermione Granger as she waited as patiently as someone twice her age to be picked up.
She was sitting neatly on the low brick wall, hands folded in her lap just atop her stack of books, coat buttoned to the collar, and book bag right beside her. Her eyes were stuck on traffic, as if despite looking so patient she wasn't feeling very patient at all.
Oh, dear, dear, dear. Now I feel guilty, sitting here nice and dry in my warm classroom while that poor child freezes out in the rain. Where are her parents? Lessons ended an hour ago. Everyone but myself and the custodial staff have gone home for the day. Tsk, tsk.
A nearby transportation bus closed its doors once all passengers boarded, and slowly turned away from the curb, its huge tires causing the puddles beneath to splash upward. Mrs. Winters watched from her classroom window as the great splash landed on little Miss Granger.
She flinched, being sprayed with such cold water so suddenly, and the books that were stacked in her lap fell to the floor. Her already bushy hair was beginning to frizz more than usual, and Mrs. Winters watched as Hermione knelt down and collected her fallen books. She placed them beside her book bag and brought her hands to her hair.
From afar her facial expression was a bit shadowed and vague, but Mrs. Winters could tell Hermione was upset, and she could not blame her a bit. Her parents had obviously forgotten about her, and sadly it was not the first time. Earlier in the school year she had been sitting in the exact same spot on a much drier, sunnier day, waiting for her parents to arrive to pick her up from school. That wasn't all, though; the spying Mrs. Winters had heard stories from Miss Granger's previous teachers in the past years about the same exact thing happening.
What shall I do? I don't have the heart to shut these blinds and forget about her.
She looked away from the window and glanced at the clock; it was about to be five. It would be turning dark out in only just an hour. Mrs. Winters had no clue what she would do if in fact neither one of the Granger parents came to pick their daughter up. She supposed she'd have to give the girl a ride home.
She couldn't help wondering when parents would learn and become more responsible, when they'd become more involved in their children's lives. She had been teaching for forty-seven years and had seen thousands of students, many with parents that disregarded them.
Apparently this was the case with the Grangers. She knew of Mr. and Mrs. Granger; she knew they were some of the city's most prestigious dentists, and so they were very busy. Yet, she also knew the extent of Hermione Granger's talents were awe-inspiring and did not deserve to be neglected as they were; she did not deserve to be forgotten as she so frequently was.
The dark eyes of Nora Winters left the classroom clock and returned to the water-stained glass window, only to discover with a stab of surprise that Miss Granger was preparing to leave all on her own.
She had risen from the short brick wall she had been patiently sitting and waiting on, and had placed her wet books into her book bag. From within her book bag she withdrew a tiny black umbrella just her size and she opened it, and at that moment Mrs. Winters knew for certain Hermione was crying quietly.
The girl rubbed her eyes with her free hand, took in a shuddering breath, and with one last glance around the nearby busy street, began walking down the rainy sidewalk. Feeling a surge of guilt that overwhelmed her completely, Mrs. Winters hurried from the classroom window and out of her classroom.
She dashed down the quiet school halls, until she pushed open the front doors and took care hurrying down the slippery front steps. She couldn't let Miss Granger walk home all alone; she was only eight. It'd be dark soon. She couldn't let her.
"Miss Granger!" Mrs. Winters called, stopping once she realized the girl was long out of earshot.
Instead she stood there and watched the little girl continue down the sidewalk lined with things much bigger and taller than she was, and the sidewalk full of passing strangers. Soon she was out of view completely, and Mrs. Winters arms fell to her side.
She couldn't quite explain it, as she turned and rushed back inside, out of the rain, but her eyes were tearing up. She knew it was silly of her to cry about something like this, being the sixty-year-old woman that she was, but she couldn't quite help it.
It was heartbreaking to see such a talented little soul go completely unnoticed by those who were supposed to notice her most.
xx Finis xx