Hey! Welcome to my new fic. This is based on 'The Ballad Of Charlotte Dymond.' by 'Charles Causley.' The words are changed to fit this fic. This is slightly AU and in my world, the golden trio are older; like in their twenties, Harry and Ron are aurors, the death penalty has come back and if there's anything else, I'll post it in my author notes. At the end of this fic, I'll post the real poem and my version.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or this fantastic poem.
Well, here goes.
The Ballad Of Hermione Granger
verse 1;
It was a Sunday evening,
and in the April rain,
that Hermione went from our house,
and never came home again.
Ding dong sang the doorbell.
'I'll get it!' shouted Hermione.
It was a Sunday evening. The television was turned off. The only sound was the soft pitter patter of the fine rain that beat the window, the soup on the stove bubbling, and the kettle's slight whistling.
When she saw who it was Hermione called out to her mother; 'Mum! I'm going out for a bit.'
'Okay,' her mother called back. 'be home by half seven, that's when dinner will be ready!'
As Jane Granger heard her daughter's affermitive reply and the door slam shut, the kettle she was boiling, hissed. Jane took the kettle off the stove and made herself a cup of tea. However, what she didn't know was that Hermione wouldn't come home that night. Or any other night. Hermione wouldn't come home ever.