Hermione the Tomboy

In canon, Hermione isn't a girly girl. She gets on better with the boys than her room mates. This is a story that explores why. It's also the starts of my Ron and Hermione missing moment universe.

Chapter One: The Tree House

Hermione sat on her beanbag trying to read her book; trying being the operative word. When she'd exited her house, freshly breakfasted the sun had shone. The only sound was breeze in the trees, the music of her mother's stereo and the twitter of the odd bird.

Her tree house was usually a quiet place of escape; sanctuary from hers parents. It was hers. Where she read comics, thought or immersed herself in any number of books that lined her bookshelf.

Hermione had a little of everything up there. She had fiction beloved Greek mythology and literature classics like Dickens, Austin and Bronte, to more recent works by Dahl. She had factual tomes as well, history books rested against Anne Frank's diary. She'd retreat into her books because to learn about the world beyond here (and to pick up words useful in scrabble matches against her parents.

This morning, her mother was practicing for her part in the local amateur dramatic production of Hello Dolly. And, although she enjoyed show tunes… Maybe enjoy was a slight over statement. She wanted some peace to finish her book and calm down from her mounting level of excitement.

Today was the day her life would change.

"When should we start getting ready"' an urgent voice asked in an excitable whisper drifted from below her. Hermione groaned.

Her tree house was wonderful in all ways but one. It was beside next doors hedge and although she couldn't see Ashley and Britney properly, she could hear them.

Ashley, a giggly girl from her class, had invited her friend Britney, another giggly girl, for a sleep over. Hermione knew this because it had been it subject of their insistent conversation since they started sunbathing at ten thirty; also, tonight they were going to tonight.

They really were the stereotypical tweenagers. In her formative years, Hermione had mentally nicknamed the collective of pink obsessed, rather spoilt girls the Princesses; because that's all they ever wanted to play; not to mention act like and be. Naming the collective girls who bullied her; some without realising it, made them easier to deal with. She was Hermione and they were a part of the collective other that she didn't understand.

As a younger child Hermione had tried to join in with their games once or twice to be friendly. She said that the Princesses should care more about their people than their appearance and get a job... Ashley and Britney had just laughed.

Then, a couple of months ago, while waiting her father to get off his computer –she was on a very delicate level of her detective game and was bursting to complete it –she'd read an article in her father's paper calling girls of her age tweenagers.

The article said that tweenagers were an interesting consumer market because they were too old for dolls but too young for boys; her mind instantly went to the bullies. They still acted like Princess she re-labelled them the tweenage Princesses. This was a label that she felt somehow apt for those two next door.

Normally, when the Princesses invaded Ashley's back garden Hermione would jump on her bike and cycle the two miles to the swimming baths or the library or she'd walk her Springer Spaniel Max. Today she was trapped until after lunch when Professor McGonagall would come and take her and her parents into a new world.

Hermione started to run her fingers through her hair, as she did whenever she was nervous. Her only concern about today was that it was rather humid. She looked down at her up turned cap that lay at her feet. She knew that today would be fun; if a little tortuous for her with her hair in her cap making her head itch. It was worth it; rather an itchy scalp than her hair drawing attention to her while she was out.

Unobserved was best for her trip into Diagon Ally; especially today on her very first trip to the new world that waited for her. Her trip to Diagon Ally, she knew, was nothing more than a glorified shopping trip. She didn't care. It was going to be her first taste of the community she belonged to.

She would buy books, immersing herself in the world that she was to become a part of, so for the first time in her life, she'd effortlessly fit in.

She looked at the digital watch she's won off her cousin Derik for a swim race they'd had the summer before. Derik hadn't only been Hermione's cousin, he was her best friend. Boys like Derik, she reflected, are less complex than girls and so easier to get on with. Unfortunately, her cousin lived far away so the times she could play with him was limited.

It wasn't time to go yet. McGonagall wouldn't arrive for another three quarters of an hour. Hermione tried to imagine what Professor McGonagall would look time; but she couldn't concentrate because the Princess' hadn't finished giggling about the upcoming party.

Hermione tried to read her book; she'd give her entire comic collection not to have to listen to them chatter like that. The subject had now finally shifted from their sleep over and the upcoming disco to their dream man and wedding.

This was a talk Ashley and Britney often had. From what she could make out both were going to look like a Barbie doll in puffy meringues; preferably pink meringue. She remembered the time when she'd tried to fit in with this game of theirs. However, no matter how hard she tried she could never come up with anything juicy enough for them. She'd only said she'd like someone who was funny, that she could argue with and that she thought blue eyes were nice.

Soon after that, Hermione stopped trying to fit in with them. Realising she wasn't like them.

Take crying for example: Ashley and Britney liked a good cry. When they fell over they cried (which was understandable: although, Hermione just went to a first aider when she fell and got on with it). When a character in one from their favourite soaps died, they cried (which Hermione couldn't quite comprehend. And she couldn't stand soaps: but thought it must be similar to being moved by literature).

Instead Hermione spend her time in her retreat, her tree house where she could sit upside down to read. Where there were other colours than pink and lilac and where no one would bother her.

"Hermione," she heard her mother call from next to the tree house steps. "Your visitor will be coming soon." Hermione got up and half smiled down at her mother about to respond when her mother cried out in horror. "You're not ready."

"I am ready actually, mother," she said picking up her cap and starting to climb down. When she was half way, she jumped to her mother's side: grinning. Her mother rolled her eyes. "See I'm all clean and prepared. I have dad's sunglasses, my cap and am even wearing clean clothes. They're not muddy or anything."

Her mother looked her up and down. It was true. Hermione was spotless.

"Well, you are clean," her mother said with a sigh. "May I suggest you put your hair up...?" She said stroking Hermione's hair.

Hermione smiled and dipped her head down, ready to tuck it away in her cap when her mother grabbed the cap; holding it between them.

"No Hermione, not in the cap. I was thinking: plait or ponytail. We don't want you head scratchy, do we?" she smiled as she led Hermione to the house and an awaiting plate of sandwiches. Hermione sighed and put her cap in her back pocket, hiding it with her t-shirt. She knew her mother didn't like her being a tomboy, but she had accepted that Hermione liked not living up to a girly stereotype.

Forty minutes later, Hermione and her parents were waiting their living room. There was a knock at the door and Hermione raced to answer it.

She opened the door and there stood a woman in a beautifully tailored linen suit.

"Good Afternoon Hermione," she said with a smile. "My name is Professor McGonagall."

"Good Afternoon Professor. Please come in," Hermione said politely, as she opened the door wider and stood aside.

Professor McGonagall walked in and greeted her parents warmly. And for the first time that day, Hermione genuinely, without reservation, smiled.

...

Next chapter: Diagon Ally