"They were alone. Lady Rowena felt her heartbeat quicken as she tentatively looked into Sir Richard's eyes. Before she knew it, his arms were about her waist, and they were locked in an eager embrace. The noblewoman sighed, and gave in to her instincts. It was inevitable, it was destiny..."
"Platform 9 and three quarters!" shouted the conductor forcefully, jolting Hermione out of her book.
She felt the train stop. Immediately, some rowdy third years began shoving their way out of the train. Hermione sat until everyone who wanted to get out, got out. She had the patience to wait. After the car was empty, she picked up her backpack and suitcase, and left. She looked around at the other Hogwarts students, grinning, joking and cursing so loudly and deliberately that was obvious that they had just learned how.
Hermione wondered if she had ever been that young. She felt particularly old, because she was the only sixth year that she could see that had decided to go home for Christmas. There was to be some huge holiday bash over the break, but she didn't care. One night, not long before, she had begun to think about her family. At least she tried to. So many years at boarding school had made them strangers to her. She couldn't remember her mother's laugh, her father's voice, and as for her younger sister, Hermione couldn't remember her at all.
Then and there, Hermione had decided that she wouldn't be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas.
She scanned the crowd, looking for the faces of her father or mother. Her eyes fell on a tall man with curly black hair, and unfashionable sunglasses. Could it be...
"Hermione!" the man called. Yes, I was right, thought Hermione. That's my daddy.
She started to walk toward him.
"No! Stay there!" he commanded.
He shuffled through the crowd, and soon father and daughter were united. He gave her a huge bear hug that was oddly familiar. Had he given me these bear hugs before? she thought.
"It's great to be back, Dad,"
A pudgy woman with a pretty face next to him grinned, and gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek. "What about me and Eileen, hon. What are we, chopped liver?"
Eileen? So that was what her sister's name was.
A solemn girl had been eyeing Hermione coldly from their mother's side all along. She was tall for her age, with sleek dark hair and hazel eyes. Her legs were long and slim. But then, rather everything about her was like that. She looks a heck of a lot better than I did when I was fourteen, decided Hermione. Hermione knew that Eileen had to be fourteen because she was almost eight when Hermione left for Hogwarts. Funny, to remember somebody's age and not their name.
"What's that you're reading, Herm?" Her mother seized Hermione's book, a look of disgust on her face. "Don't you know those trashy romance novels will rot your brain? When I was your age..."
****
There was more small talk on the drive home, about what Hermione had been doing in school, what the Granger family had been up to at home, and such. Through it all, Eileen didn't say a word. She just nodded or shook her head when necessary, and smiled mechanically at her father's corny jokes.
Once at home, Eileen started to retreat to her room, when she was halted by her father. "Hold up there, missy. You're going to march right downstairs to get your sleeping bag. Didn't I tell you that you're going to be sharing your room with your sister while she's here?"
"Yeah. But you didn't tell me I was going to take the floor." said Eileen darkly.
She pushed a strand of hair out of her face, glared at Hermione, and stalked down to the basement.
"I'm sort of tired too," Hermione said to her parents, "where's her room?"
"Second door to your left," her dad answered.
She grabbed her bags, climbed the stairs, and entered Eileen's room It was painted light purple, and there were, to Hermione's surprise, stuffed animals littered all about Eileen's unmade bed. Her desk, however, was kept in Spartan condition, with everything in a carefully placed position, and not a grain of dust on its mahogany surface.
Eileen had a splendid bookshelf. The classics all made their appearances on the top shelf, with several books by Dickens, Tolstoy, Twain and Chauncer gracing her top shelf. More modern ones such as Sophie's World and Ender's Game popped up on her second. The third shelf betrayed Eileen's intrest in politcal science. Some classic works, such as Marx's Communist Manufesto, Plato's Republic, and Hitler's Mein Kampf were present. A few Orwell books were there as well.
For some reason Hermione was not at all surprised. Politics, the business where what's said and what's meant are two entirely different things, would probably be something that appealed to her frigid, solumn little sister. She went on to the fourth and final shelf and saw.... Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them? It looked just like a text book she had used in school a few years ago. Hermione pulled it out and looked inside. Her own handrwriting was inside. This was hers. Looking at the other books on the same shelf, she found that all of them were her old textbooks from Hogwarts. What could Eileen be doing with them?
"Get off," came Eileen's voice from the doorway. Hermione immediately dropped Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them and stepped back from the bookshelf.
"Sorry," said Hermione.
"Who gave you permission to touch my stuff? Dad said you could have my bed, not my whole fricking room."
"Well, if you wanted your bed and your room so much, why didn't you just tell him? He'd probably make me sleep on the floor, or on the couch downstairs or something." Hermione pulled a piece of lint off her sweater testily. Great, Herm, she thought, you've gotten yourself in a fight with your sister the first time you've been alone with her in three years. Man, you're smart.
"You? The floor?" Eileen said, in her same cold monotone, "Heavens no! Dad would never let his favorite daughter back from school after so long sleep on the floor. Oh, and why don't I go tell him that it isn't fair? Because I'm scared as hell of him, that's why. Every kid on this street that knows what's good for him is." Eileen, noticing Hermione's look of disturbance with pleasure, went on, her voice taking on a sarcastically pleasant tone. "Oh, but you don't have to worry. You're his golden child. You're beautiful, kind, and good. It's only badduns' like me that have to fear his wrath."
Eileen contiuned to dig in, sounding like she'd wanted to for some time. "Oh, and you're a witch, too. Mom and Dad are so proud of you. I'll never have that. No matter what I do, they're always talking about you. How wonderful you are over summer breaks. Do you really think it's a coincidence that I've always been at summer camp the past few years while you've been here? They always rub it in my face how great you're doing over there at Hongraits or whatever. I get straight A's in school, too. I'm in all high academics, and I'm a year ahead in math and English. They don't care. They say whatever you do is more challenging. I'm great at sports, too. I'm on the JV lacrosse team, and it's hard to get on that, especially when you're still in middle school. Mom's only come to one of my games..." She let her voice trail off.
"Um..." Hermione wasn't sure what to say. "I guess... I'm sorry."
"You damn well should be," said Eileen. It was quiet for a while.
Eileen shoved her sleeping bag into Hermione's hands. "Take this,"
"I'm sleeping on the floor?" Hermione asked, trying to sound perky.
Eileen nodded. "I'm going to take a shower. You sleep, okay?"
Having dismissed her sister, Eileen turned off the lights. By nighlight, Hermione could see Eileen getting her towel, pyjamas and other essentials for bathing. Eileen stood for a minute in front of her bookshelf before selecting a book from the bottom shelf, and shuffling into the bathroom.
***
It was two in the morning. Hermione woke up. She wasn't sure why, something stirred inside of her that she couldn't explain. She blinked sleepily, feeling that disoriented feeling that you get when you first wake up. Her eyes hurt, she realized, from the light. Light? Hermione looked at the bathroom door. Eileen was still in there. God, Hermione thought, what is that girl doing up at this hour? She covered her head with her pillow, and went back to sleep.
Only later did she realize that there was something strange about that light. It wasn't electrical. It was a pearly, unearthly green, that was, somehow, disturbingly familiar...
A/N- Hey! I've been reading fan fic here for a while, but this is the first one I've ever written, so be kind, and REVIEW it! If you've actually read this far, thanks. Oh, and by the way, all the references to the Harry Potter series are JK Rowling's. Eileen, and the personalities of Hermione's parents are mine. Wow, I seem to own a lot of it so far! Well, that's gonna change when the story moves back to Hogwarts... (Yes, I love my "..."'s) :)