This is my first Fan Fic, but I'm not gonna ask for any special leniancy because of that from you lot.
Full Sumary: With the death of Dumbledore, the Order has disbanded. Hermione, furious with their cowardice, decides to take matter into her own hands.
Warnings: Independant Bad Girl Hermione; Independant Slightly Dark Harry; Meddling Dumbledore.
Hehe, I'm not giving anything else away!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my plot, any OCs and my settings. Thanks goes to JKR for all the stuff I borrowed!
Heroes
Chapter One: Live and Let Be
To most eyes, no. 7 Primrose Close, Kent was an ordinary house, in a very ordinary neighbourhood. The family who lived there were a normal upper middleclass family; a couple, Ryan Granger and Jane Granger and their nineteen (due to Time-Turner use) year old daughter, Hermione Granger, who just happened to be a witch…
And, like most teenagers on a Saturday morning, Hermione was about to be was about to be woken from a drunken stupor.
'Hermione…time to wake up kitten: it's ten o'clock,' Hermione Granger, best (female) friend of the Boy Who Lived awoke to find her pretty, bushy haired mother, Jane, leaning over her and shaking her arm.
'…Five more minutes, mum…' Hermione's eyes tried to close; the warmth of the soft, plush feather mattress, the warm comforter. So alluring, until a blast of cold air swept her body!
She opened her eyes, instantly awake: not only had her mother removed her covers, but she had opened the two French windows, drawn the curtains and retreated. Coward!
Bright, white sunlight filtered in.
Hermione moaned, and covered her eyes.
Hermione's father yelled something about breakfast being ready from downstairs.
Hermione groaned, remembering her excursion with a bottle of Firewhisky the night before, and collapsed back onto the bed. Not again, Granger, you will not do this again.
She felt sick…
Her head hurt…
The light hurt her eyes…
She just wanted to go back to sleep…
'HERMIONE!' Why did everyone have to shout?
From the door, 'Herms, kitten, come on. I'll go get you some Paracetamol for your head, love.' All anger at mum vanished. Mum, darling mum, never asks questions.
'Don' bother, mum. Got a Hangover Potion in my trunk,' weakly, she pulled herself up off her mattress and staggered over to her trunk. Before she had left the Wizarding World a month ago after Dumbledore's untimely and disheartening demise she had acquired a stack of useful Potions and Potions ingredients from the apothecary in Hogsmead. Among these had been ten Hangover Remedies, and this was the last one.
Opening the cap, she pinched her nose, tilted and drank.
It was foul.
But the relief was near instant, and it was well worth the bitter aftertaste.
Feeling a little stronger, she slid on yesterday's denim cutoffs, and a baggy dark green T-shirt with "BAD GIRL" emblazoned on the front in curly gold letters. A brush through her bushy hair – not that it did any good – and her worn out trainers finished her look. No Makeup needed.
Her mum called from downstairs again, 'Herms, what do you want for breakfast?'
'Not hungry, mum,' Hermione sat down at the little desk she had had since Primary School and pulled out her wand. She was – officially! - seventeen now, and could use it whenever she liked, but she still wasn't used to it.
Hermione's mind was occupied with other things...
'Stupid idiots,' Hermione muttered contemptuously, looking at a picture she had unearthed of her, Harry and Ron, from their fourth year.
Her anger at Ron stemmed from the fact that he had run with his family, as the Order put into motion their latest brainwave, something which Hermione liked to call "Argh, run! Dumbledore's dead and we're now helpless, so let's move as far away from England as we can and disband." Such Gryffindor Bravery! But the final straw for the Order, what had really made them run was Harry's disappearance.
Well, this was something that Hermione wasn't going to endure. She hoped that Harry was off finding the Horcruxes. And if anyone asked, yes, she was sure that Harry hadn't been captured, or killed by the Death Eaters. There would have been gloating and Dark Marks abound if he had.
In some ways, Hermione had decided, it would have been easier if he had been captured, because them there would have been a certain outcome, not this silly limbo which stressed her out and made her hair extra frizzy. But then, if he had been captured, she would probably be dead by now anyway. Dead. No worries. A proper Hakuna Matata!
But she had learnt something in her third year: nothing was ever normal when you were friends with Harry Potter.
Then a wave of Gryffindor bravery, recklessness and what-have-you came upon her, and she grabbed her old backpack from the hook on her door and holding her wand over it, said: 'Pack!'
AN: Feel free to review. Flames, praise, whatev. But constructive critisism is my fave since I'm new. :D
Niki