Ye Olde Authors' Note: Hey everyone, this story is loosely based upon my previous story The World In Her Hands, however there will be major plot edits. One being the couple of the story - previously it was Harry/Hermione. I apologise if this annoys anyone, but meh. Deal with it.
Ye Olde Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, if I did Fred Weasley would positively be alive and currently causing mischief with his twin while his wife, Hermione, keeps him…somewhat…in line.
Enjoy, and please review.
The sound of footsteps running past Hermione Granger's fading white door was enough to wake the previously sleeping girl from the restless slumber she had just been experiencing. Groaning, the eleven year old girl turned, nestling herself deeper into the comforts of her thin summer duvet, determined to block out the outside world in favor of returning to her dreams.
"Girl! Get ready and then come downstairs to make us coffee!" said a screeching voice from outside the door to Hermione's safe haven. "We've got to leave soon."
Or maybe not, Hermione sighed.
Grumbling, Hermione reluctantly kicked the covers of her as the sounds of footsteps once again faded as the person descended the stairs. Placing her feet into the strategically placed slippers, in order to avoid placing her bare feet upon the icy cold wooden floorboards, she dragged herself up from her four-poster double bed. Sluggishly, she padded her way towards the plain white vanity desk that sat nearly opposite her bed. Blinking the sleep from her eyes she fell gracelessly onto the wooded chair. After rubbing her eyes with her hands she stared at her reflection staring back at her in the mirror, the left side of her face illuminated more by the streams of sunlight that was coming in from the east window.
Scrutinising her reflection, she fixed her gaze upon her hair once again finding herself longing for the bushy, untameable brown mass that reflected her personality. Instead loose, flowing curls hung in it's place the product of the foul smelling lotion her Aunt made her use - "Anyone seen with me must be the picture of perfection. I can't have your bushy hair blocking me in my own pictures!".
Sighing, she reached for a baby wipe, wiping her face of any impurities gathered in the night, before standing up, throwing the used wipe into the waste bin and making her way towards the plain white wardrobe hidden in the top left corner of her room.
Guest room, she mentally corrected herself, an amused smirk appearing on her face and the mischief shining brightly in her chocolate doe eyes.
It was true however, as the blandness of the room did nothing to confirm the thoughts that someone might be sleeping in here. Only if someone came upon the rarely unmade bed, or perhaps rummaged through the draws would they believe someone had slept in in this room, and had done for most their life.
The old white doors creaked their protest as Hermione pulled them open, retrieving a simple black hoodie with three poker cards spread out on the front. Slamming the doors shut, she left the room, descending down the stairs pulling her hair into a loose bun as she went.
Hermione walked through the double doors into the kitchen, immediately spotting her Aunt Emma applying more make-up to her already orange face in front of the mirror at the end of the adjoined dinning room. Upon seeing her niece's reflection she finished applying her make-up with one final swish, spinning around, her bulging make-up bag clicking shut as she did so. She looked at her niece's choice of clothing - hoodie and blue pyjama bottoms - with distaste her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at the design on the hoodie. Hermione simply raised one eyebrow.
"Well," snapped Aunt Emma. "Where's our coffee?"
Her foot, clad in ridiculously high back heels, tapped repeatedly on the dining room's navy blue carpet to convey her impatience and annoyance.
"Sorry Aunt Emma," Hermione mumbled, turning towards the coffee pot in hopes it would mask her rolling her eyes. Fortunately for her, it did.
Aunt Emma obviously didn't catch the sarcastic tones of her niece's words as she stuck her nose up in the air, sniffing haughtily, before she left the room, her heels clicking against the kitchen's tiles as she past, shouting out the name of her daughter, "Primrose!"
Finished making the coffee, Hermione turned carrying the two steaming cups in hand as she walked cautiously towards the antique wooden table situated in the middle of the dining room, the voice of her Aunt plaguing her thoughts as she did so - "Always place the cutlery on the placemats. I don't want you ruining my table."
Just as Hermione had placed the mugs on the glass coasters, two figures came gliding through the door, each surrounded by an air of arrogance. The two figures sat themselves down gracefully upon the wooden dining room chairs, with plush red cushions for comfort. Their hands each grasped the white mugs in unison, their fake nail clinking against the mugs as they brought it to their lips, taking a gulp before sighing.
Hermione, standing a little ways away from The Barbies as she had dubbed them, widened her eyes, an expression similar to disbelief on her face as she observed how similar the two people were. She watched them perform in unison, almost as if they had practiced before hand, before shaking her head to brake the trance and quickly scurrying away to get ready for the day.
Closing the door to her room, Hermione once again walked to her dresser and sat down. She picked up the brush sitting on her dresser, before preceding to drag it through her hair, getting rid of all the knots and tangles. Once finished, she carelessly chucked the brush back onto the dresser and stood up, kicking of her slippers before making her way towards the wardrobe. Opening the doors she picked out the correct clothes - "Not nice enough to upstage me or my Prim, but nice enough for people to assume we take care of you.".
Shrugging out of her sleep wear, she pulled on a pair of dark skinny jeans, with chains hanging down the left side, connected to the jeans by the belt loops. She paired this with a simple form fitting black top and black converse. Walking to her bed-side dresser, she started at the picture place on top of it.
The picture frame was silver in colour, and had numerous magic related things littering the sides - wands, playing cards, and a top-hat to name a few. Inside the frame was a picture of a young girl with mischief in her bright brown eyes, her bushy hair falling down into her eyes, obscuring her vision. She didn't seem to care. The expression on her face was one of obvious delight as she was hugged by a man who slightly resembled her, with what was usually curly black hair pulled back by some sort of gel to reveal the startling bright blue eyes that were normally hidden underneath. Both had blinding smiles on their faces as they hugged each other.
Hermione sighed sadly, the feeling of emptiness filling her up inside as she started longingly at the man in the photo. Her Uncle Dan was a famous magician, and often found himself leaving home on tours to showcase his unique talents. This left Hermione in the care of her Aunt Emma, as her parents had died when Hermione was young in an accident no one cared to explain. The only thing she had left of her real parents was a silver necklace of a raven with a black onyx eye that constantly started at whoever was looking at it. Also, on her forehead, normally hidden by her fringe she had a lightening bolt shaped scar, one that she received on the night her parents died.
Rolling her eyes at her theatrics, she briskly walked forward grabbed the raven necklace and put it on blindly as she returned to her seat at the dresser. After applying a considerable less amount of make-up than those residing downstairs, she deemed herself ready to leave her house and venture into the natural world.
Or in this case, she thought amusedly, unnatural, as we are going to a photoshot filled with models.
Standing up she checked her appearance in the mirror once more, running her fingers though her hair in a effort to fluff up her soft curls into something unruly. It didn't work.
Damn, what was in that lotion?
Shrugging it of as something unimportant - or at least she hoped it was - she left the room again and began walking down the stairs, the chains clinking together as she went. At the bottom of the steps, standing waiting at the door, was Aunt Emma and her daughter, both dressed immaculately in designer clothes.
Aunt Emma narrowed her eyes when she caught sight of the slightly gothic details of her niece's clothing. Hermione shrugged in response, although even she couldn't help but notice she was dressed decidedly less innocent then her cousin Primrose, who was wearing a flowing white summer dress, her perfect blond hair hanging in waves around her shoulders, and shining blue eyes staring up at you, seemingly ready to overflow with tears - real or fake - at any moment.
Hermione made a metal note to add a black sock in with today's white washing.
Grinning at the thought, she followed her Aunt and cousin into the car, slipping into the backseat just moments before the car sped away.
