Hermione Granger shuddered violently as the wind rocked her small frame. Stumbling, she managed to grasp a branch and sighed in silent thanks.
Her bulky backpack was slung strategically over both shoulders, as she kept her head down and ran from the bitter rain. After a few more blocks, she awkwardly approached her front door, her legs almost buckling in her haste to get dry.
Hermione didn't bother to ring the doorbell. A tiny electrical bolt, shot, controlled, out of her fingertips. There was a satisfying click as the lock unwound itself. She gently pried open the door as silently as she could, sliding in the crack.
The house was silent.
She slunk up the stairs, double-checking that she avoided the one that creaked, and reached her room. She collapsed on the bed. She could really care less about the rain getting in her pillow.
Hermione had hoped, after entering high school, that the teasing would get better. For the first time that week, she allowed a tentative smile cross her lips. It actually had.
After, admittedly, many years, her strategic brain had figured out patterns in behavior. Rant about school : Shoved into lockers. Raise a hand : Stolen lunch.
And so she had stopped.
Hermione rubbed her grubby hands together, feeling the chill for the first time and gathered up the blankets. She took care to tuck in the corners, her hyperactive brain immediately studying the imperfections in her swaddling method.
She'd stopped.
Standing out, drawing attention. She still was smart, of course, but directed her energy into schoolwork. Essays, documentaries. It was all there. The small, proud smile that had risen slowly faded off of her face.
However… Despite all of her accomplishments, it felt as if her personality had disappeared. Everything that had ever made her unique, special, had evaporated along with any desire to appear extraordinary.
She shook her head, braving the cold as she scurried across the freezing bedroom floor. Grabbing the novel, she removed the bookmark and placed it lightly on her desk, and hopped back into her covers.
"Pride and Prejudice," she said aloud, tracing the letters of the title. "We could all use a little cleverness sometimes." She carefully held the book open and set a timer.
She gave herself exactly fifteen minutes, inwardly promising that she would finish her project by nine.
"Zzz! Zzz!" Hermione's head shot up.
"What...?" She managed to say before scrambling for her alarm. Her eyes darted worriedly around the room as if she was afraid someone would hear it. Finally pressing the snooze, she slouched in her bed and picked up her book from the floor.
She yawned and briefly wondered if her stepmother, Jen, had arrived home.
She quietly went down the stairs, walking into the kitchen. Taking an apple from the counter, she bit into it, and only then realized how quickly her ravenous appetite had grown.
The door opened again, and Hermione quickly ran up the stairs, stopping halfway to where she could hear them.
"Anyone home?" Jen Granger yelled.
There was no response.
"Good," came the cool voice of her stepmother. Her lips inadvertently curved into a small, cruel smile and Hermione wondered what would have happened if she had responded. She gave a small shudder, backing away into the shadows as Jen glanced her way.
The woman shrugged halfheartedly and began unpacking groceries. After a few more minutes, the door burst open for the second time.
"Yeah!" Addy charged up the hall, running wildly. She stopped, looking around in panic. "Mom! Where's my legos?"
"Sweetheart," Jen said, rolling her eyes. They had adopted a kindly sheen to them as she cooed at her own idealistic children. "I put them away in the cupboard. Remember to keep them on the carpet this time. If I see a single one on the floor... " she trailed off and shot her a mock threatening look.
Hermione felt a stab of longing but ignored it, walking stealthily up the rest of the steps. She didn't even wait for her brother. She sighed, locking herself in the room and looking at the apple distantly. It seemed so perfect, so round.
So unlike her.
Hermione muttered nonsense to herself, grabbing her blankets again. She, with her pale white face and untameable hair. She, with her nerdy glasses and abnormal accidents. A mistake, an anomaly.
She, a murderer.
She quickly finished her apple and opened Pride and Prejudice. Hermione flipped the pages and started reading, becoming fully engrossed in the novel.
Before long, she reluctantly dragged herself out of bed and put on her robe. Instantly, a spark shot out of her finger. She let out a horrified yelp, quickly swatting away the flames. The fire glowed purple for just the hint of a second, and she barely remembered to muffle her horrified screams.
Running to her bathroom, she distinguished it under the tap. Hermione bit her lip. Nobody can know, she mentally repeated. Nobody can know, nobody can know. They'd take her away for… science experiments, and then she'd be just another statistical death in the news.
She sighed again, putting her hair in a messy bun, little strands everywhere, and began the laborious process of getting all of her variables set up.
"The sulfur reacts with monoxide?" Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Interesting." The rest of the evening she played around with her scientific research, struggling to ignore that her family hadn't remembered to call her for dinner.
And despite her hatred for Jen, the woman that had split apart her home, Hermione let one tear slip.
Hermione took caution to get into the bus in between everybody else. Her tiny body slipped easily into the flow of talking people, and she immediately headed for the back of the bus. Dark circles stood out against her pale skin, the freckles dotting her nose almost fading into invisibility.
She stopped in her tracks as she realized that there was already someone sitting in her designated spot. Quickly shuffling away, Hermione averted her eyes from the boy, almost tripping over her feet as she landed in the seat in front.
She kept her eyes firmly on her hands.
"Everyone buckled in?" The driver yelled loudly, making her jump. Hermione hastily fastened her seatbelt, hoping nobody would spare her a glance.
"Right! We're moving!" The engine geared up and made a sound like a large, angry cat. Hermione gave a smile as she filed the thought into her 'amusing' folder. She privately wondered if she would ever own a cat. She stifled a small laugh: she didn't even like the creatures. Perhaps in another life?
"Friendly blo - uh, guy, isn't he?" She gave a small shiver and spun around, unintentionally whipping the stranger with her hair.
"Sorry!" She squeaked. "I… um… sorry!"
He had scruffy brown hair, a strange bolt shaped scar above one of his eyebrows, and his eyes were a dull blue. The boy's smile brightened as he laughed, and Hermione irrationally thought it made the boy look beautiful.
She unintentionally cocked her head to the side: a product no doubt produced by social media.
After staring at him for a while, he scratched the back of his head awkwardly and Hermione noticed how it stuck up weirdly at the back. He blinked, his squared glasses making his eyes seem larger than they actually were.
"Well, I'm Harrison Dublin, but you can call me Harry if you like. I mean you don't have to," he added quickly, her horrified look confusing him.
"Oh. Sorry again. It was nice to meet you." She sat quickly looked down again, getting out her book and wondered what her mother would have thought of her behavior. She gave a wince as she opened up Little Women.
"Oh… okay." The boy, Harrison, trailed off. "Can I at least get your name?"
She hesitated, seriously contemplating ignoring him. Eventually, she decided that it would simply draw even more unwanted attention to herself.
"It's Hermione," she told him reluctantly. You'll forget it in a day anyway.
His eyebrows scrunched up in an endearing way. "Her-mi-on-ie?"
She smiled slightly. "Correct." You're welcome mom, she thought. That's my good deed of the day.
"Thanks, Hermione. Also, this is the final thing, swear, do you know where classroom 52A is?" A sense of dread started to build up inside her throat and she resisted the urge to throw the, Special Edition 1923, book at his head. The rational side of her eventually squashed that thought.
52A. She double checked her memory and sighed, holding her forehead. He was in her homeroom. She pondered lying for a second, before dismissing it as a stupid idea. He would find out as soon as he stepped foot inside the classroom.
"I guess we're classmates," she forced out. "Just follow me when we get there." He brightened, seeming more youthful than he had been before.
"It'll be so nice to know someone." Hermione shook her head tiredly, inwardly hoping she didn't have to explain that she was a total loner.
"Please don't talk to me," she pleaded. "I'm just… shy."
He looked puzzled. "Aren't introverts not embarrassed around just a few people?" His eyes twinkled with the kind of mischief Hermione tended to stay, preferably, a hundred yards away from.
She shook her head again. "It's not that. It's complicated." As in you're attractive and girls will be chasing after you. And then they'll want to talk to me. Therefore, complicated.
She started reading again, trying to ignore him without success.
"Hermione?" He poked her head, trying to gain her attention. Hermione, in retaliation, studiously ignored him, biting her bottom lip so hard that she drew blood.
"My iguana is flying," Harrison said blandly. He poked her arm once more. "I'm on fire. Aliens are descending from a portal in the sky. My patronus is a stag. It's called Prongs. Hermione, I forgot my homework."
"Homework?" She asked, regaining focus. "We had summer homework?" She struggled to calm her racing heart as she scrambled with her book bag. A few papers flew onto the opposite chair as she mentally threw up.
Harry laughed loudly, and she shushed him quickly, giving him what was most likely the worst glare he had ever received.
"Figures the one about homework concerns you more than all the others," he chuckled. She sighed.
"And what the bloody heck is a Prongs?" Hermione quietly demanded. "I mean, a prong is a three shafted - "
"Hey!" Harrison protested, looking mildly indignant. "It is a deer! And - "
"And just because I care about my grades does not mean I don't care," she interrupted boldly, before realized what she was doing. She quickly put her hand down and dipped her head.
Lecturing was just a cause of bullying, and being bullied caused others to notice. The last thing Hermione possibly wanted was to be noticed.
"Er… is the ride normally this long?" Hermione permitted herself a small chuckle. The boy was amusing, if slightly irritating. She wondered when she could get back to her book. She was at a very exciting part where -
He grinned. "Blimey! A smile! I thought I'd never get it out of you."
Hermione startled and blushed beet red. "I didn't smile," she said quietly trying to make her mouth point downwards. "And why do you suddenly sound British?"
He smirked crookedly. "I'm moving from there… I guess my fake American accent worked. Sort of." A guarded look appeared on his face. "Well, you could tell it was British. Bloody hell. I'm messing this up already."
"Well, I used to live there too," she admitted, then let out a surprised breath. She hadn't told anyone that, besides her friends in kindergarten. She pursed her lips, wondering what was wrong with her.
"Really?" Harry asked, looking strangely interested. His eyes seemed to flicker a flaming green. "Where?"
"Northern Scotland," she replied immediately. Her eyes widened as she digested what she had said. She jumped back from the crack between the seats, her heart pounding, and refused to look back at him. Her hands gripped the cushion so tightly that she half expected them to explode. She took a deep inhale and forced herself to be calm.
That wasn't natural. Strike one, okay. But two? She never made mistakes, especially not ones as careless as that.
She took a another breath.
"Yeah." She managed. "It was fascinating. You… you can follow me to homeroom, but please stay away from me." She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. And while she relaxed, part of her heart seemed to sink.
When she exited the bus, she again made sure she was in the middle of the crowd. She tried not to get jostled, making her way off to the side as she stepped into the building.
Making her way up the stairs, she opened her locker and hung her plain bag on the hook, retrieving her binder and math textbook. She took a small glance at her agenda and also brought up her science notes, quickly re-reading the essay she had written for extra credit.
She saw Harrison out of the corner of her eye, talking to the homeroom teacher. Hermione saw him laugh uproariously at professor and frowned in disapproval. A moment later, he walked up to her. Pretending not to notice him, she managed to say,
"What are you doing?" She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. She clenched her fists, unsure if she was angry or frightened.
He shrugged noncommittally and Hermione forced herself not to glare at him. "Apparently we share a locker too. Where's the key?"
She blinked in slight surprise at the question. "Key?"
"Yes." he smirked at her mystified expression. "You know, the pointy things that open doors?"
"Oh," she huffed, her eyebrows creased in annoyance. Her patience was beginning to run thin. "Well, in America, we have things called locker combinations. It's the new age, Harrison." She proceeded to explain the basics of the small circle, showing him the password and how to input it.
"Well, goodbye," she said quickly at the end, scurrying away as fast as she deemed was a reasonable speed. She instantly backed away and almost ran into the classroom.
Please don't talk to me, she thought, as if pleading to some higher deity. Please, mom, please don't let him talk to me.
Hermione sat in the back corner and made it obvious she was taking out a book. She opened up Little Women and sighed in relief. Her spine slowly unfurled and she relaxed.
That... well, that lasted about 5 seconds.
Harrison, or Harry, whatever he called himself, approached her. Still with that annoying smile on his face. He waved, not saying a word. A couple of classmates looked at them, confusion evident in their gaze as they clearly wondered what the attractive new student was doing with the designated school nerd.
"What. Are. You. Doing." She hissed, burning shame creeping up her neck. He scribbled something on a piece of paper in his pocket.
You said not to talk to you. Not that I couldn't sit with you. (:
Hermione grit her teeth, crumpling the paper in her palm. She looked at him warningly.
"Please go away," she said quietly, turning her gaze back to her book. Harrison paused for a second, before grabbing the piece of paper again and writing something else down.
But it's fun annoying you :P
Hermione blinked back her suddenly watery eyes. It wasn't until she had wiped them away did she realize she had been hoping he would be her friend. As if.
"I don't like it," she said softly. "Please, go away."
He hesitated, then wrote another word on the paper.
Okay.
Hermione dipped her head back into the book as a sense of self loathing rose up inside of her. Congratulations, idiot. You ruined the first potential friendship you've had in fifteen years.
Her eyes skimmed the page, but she barely saw the words.
She closed her eyes and subtly shifted seats so that she was facing the wall away from Harrison. She bowed her head and wiped the shimmering tears off of Pride and Prejudice.
As. If.
It had been an entire day. A day filled with, while rather mild, fervent inward cursing. Hermione felt a mixture of relief and personal doubt as she readied herself for bed. She quickly picked up the most androgynous sweater of her collection, analyzing it for a second before tossing it on.
She sniffled, digging her fingernails into her palms as she scolded herself for being so fragile. The lack of teasing over the years had broken down the immunity to hurt that she had built up - brick by tedious brick. It wasn't something she would complain about, of course, but that didn't stop it from hurting.
Her arms were unnaturally skinny, most likely due to years without proper meals. Her stepmother seemed to be sadistically fond of withholding food by isolating Hermione from the rest of the family and forcing her to fend for herself. The exclusion had been going on for almost a decade, since the day John had been born.
Her younger brother, John, was a studious boy at almost twelve years old. He had light brown hair and inherited his blue eyes from his mother. However, he had also gained many traits from Hermione's biological father, such as naturally broad shoulders and a small torso.
Following his birth, Jen, her stepmother, had internally decided that Hermione was no longer pure enough for the family. She disliked any mention of Hermione's birth mother, despite the fact that the young girl loved her fiercely. Jen wanted nothing to do with the woman who had died -
And that had included Hermione.
From then on, she subtly started excluding her from the little things, family meetings, hiking trips, even forgetting to pack her lunch. Hermione had been so preoccupied with hiding herself and despising the very air that she breathed that she didn't notice until it was too late.
She was no longer included in what they considered 'family'.
Time passed… and then the next child was born. Her second sibling, Addy. Unlike John, who was starting to notice the difference in equality where Hermione was concerned, Addy was carefree. At only seven, her little sister seemed to be taking after her mother in terms of concern about Hermione's wellbeing.
Hermione struggled to fall asleep, battling with her thoughts. She despised thinking about her family - those who had cast her away and shunned her when she was no longer an academic prodigy. Sometimes she wondered if her father had ever even loved her.
Finally, after an hour of tossing, she finally managed to fall into an uneasy slumber. That's how she stayed, for precisely seventeen minutes as her body slowly fell into the serene oblivion. Then came the flashes.
Hermione found herself in the middle of the road.
Her heart started pounding as she recognised the scene. She had seen it more than a dozen times and had it memorized: each gruesome detail seared into her memory.
"Mother," a tiny version of Hermione said, smiling. She was holding the hand of a beautiful middle aged woman wearing a soft cotton shirt and casual jeans. She had brown hair and a warm smile, but was most striking about her were her pale green eyes, so luminescent they appeared translucent. Her kindly green eyes was a feature that Hermione hadn't been lucky enough to gain.
Hermione watched them as they walked, tears already forming in her eyes. She was far too conscious that it was a nightmare. She walked bitterly to keep up with them, studying the looks of contentment on both of their faces, both her mother and her younger self.
Hermione closed her eyes and refused to look up at the sky. She knew what was happening. The clouds billowed, expanding further and further as they blackened. Thunder crackled, spraying debris across the pebbled street.
Hermione's mother dragged her small daughter behind her, shielding her from the rubble and taking a large stone to the shoulder.
"Mother," Hermione gasped, looking terrified as she tried to touch the wound. "Mother, you're bleeding!" Emma Granger brushed it off, backing away and forcing Hermione behind her.
"Keep quiet, honey." They ducked behind a small tree, her mother shielding Hermione with her own body. "We must be quiet," Emma continued. "This storm isn't natural. I can't see a higher ground but we have to find something!"
A blast behind them made them both spin around. Hermione involuntarily sobbed, watching the black figures descending from the sky. Cloaked in darkness, they surged forward, lighting the small city on fire. Her mother screamed, pinning Hermione to the ground to avoid the flames.
"Get up," Emma barked, strained under the pressure. Hermione obeyed instantly, too good of a child not to follow an order from her mother.
Another explosion knocked them off of their feet and Hermione couldn't bring herself to turn away. One of the men had broken off from the group and was heading their way. The little girl couldn't leave her mother and tried to drag her to her feet.
"My ankle," Emma gasped. "It's broken!" She spun her head around and caught sight of the man walking. She turned back around, slowly and propped herself up on her arms, covering most of Hermione's frame.
"Honey," she whispered, each syllable drawn out. "I want you to run."
"Mother!" Hermione gasped, her eyes wide with betrayal. "I can't! I simply can't! I will never abandon you!" Her eyes were wide and her entire body was shaking but Emma steadied her daughter with a kiss on her forehead.
"I love you sweetheart." The man was close enough to touch. Emma lunged for him, catching him off guard, and Hermione finally noticed a glowing green hologram floating in the air. Shimmering swiftly in the air was a disfigured skull. Through it, looped an equally terrifying snake.
Hermione gaped as Emma grappled with him.
"Run," Emma screamed. "Run!"
Hermione watched as her younger self refused to move and covered her mouth with her palm. Tears trickled down her fingers and she continued to cry. She would do anything to escape the recurring nightmare.
"No!" Hermione screamed, her hand instinctively shooting out. The man flew away from Emma as if slung. He landed a few feet away, steadily getting to his feet. He slowly brought his hand to his face, removing his mask. The silver sheet disintegrated and Hermione finally caught a look at his face.
He advanced and Hermione dragged Emma ungracefully away. "Let's go," she begged. "We have to go!" Emma was looking at her daughter in a mixture of awe and fright. They were both pallid and terrified.
"Hermione, we don't have time. Go." The words were spoken with simple conviction. Emma pushed Hermione away from her, into the bushes. "Go."
Hermione eyed her mother with hurt but didn't move. "I won't." It was probably the only time she had ever disobeyed her mother in her life.
"Go," Her mother screamed at her, finally releasing her emotions as she realized how close her daughter was from death. The facade of serenity faded as Emma snarled, pushing Hermione away from her.
The man had finally arrived. Emma propped herself up again, pushing herself in his way. "You'll have to deal with me first," she growled. He smiled at her.
And then he kicked her in the face.
A fury unlike any the young girl had ever felt rose up in her and as the elder Hermione stared down at her younger counterpart, she couldn't resist the surge of disgust that came every time she looked at herself in the mirror.
"Don't touch my mother!" Hermione screamed, rushing at him. The man didn't move, striking and grasping her by the throat.
He smiled cruelly, lifting them until they were face to face. He breathed in and out, his rancid breath causing her to involuntarily cringe.
"A..." he hissed, "mudblood." Hermione swung limp fists at him, hating how he just snarled in her face. There was an object in his hand, and when Hermione glanced at it, she assumed it was a weapon. Just the way he held it made the object seem threatening.
"Avada Ked - " With the last of her strength, Emma reached forward and dragged Hermione from his grasp, throwing her under herself.
"- avra." Hermione saw a flash of green as her mother's silhouette was illuminated by the light. Emma's body went limp and Hermione physically heard the abrupt halt of her heart.
The man kicked her mother aside.
Hermione's hands were covered in the blood from when he had throttled her. Her mouth was open in a silent horror, watching her mother's lifeless body slump to the ground.
"No..." her voice was hoarse. She struggled towards her mother. "No!" Hermione let loose a scream that made the man stumbled back, dropping her to the ground. The stick was pointed at her heart but Hermione didn't care.
"I did it," Hermione said, mumbling to herself. The man readied himself, positioning the stick again. But Hermione just stood shakily to her feet, turned towards the man and stared at him with a face full of agony.
"That was my mother!" Hermione screamed loudly. The older version of herself watched, grief clouding her gaze as the smaller girl cried. Electricity cackled off of the surface of her skin, and for the first time, the man looked almost worried.
Hermione screamed one final time, the static detaching from her body and slamming into the man. He was thrown backwards once again and didn't move for five minutes. Hermione rushed to her mother, shaking her, begging her, hugging her. But there was nothing. The man finally got to his feet, stumbling away.
Hermione finally awoke, shooting upwards and desperately wiping her tearstained face. The imprint of the man was still in her mind, the terrible stick clutched in his gloved, blood stained fingers. She finched back, getting flashes of the memory.
The man, that terrible man…
Long blonde hair. Cold grey eyes. And a cruel smile that seemed more fitting on an animal than a human being.
She could already see the newspaper in her mind. It had been the thing she had woken up to. There had been officers barking, blood splattered on her chest and something grey covering her face.
Hermione Granger Discovered with Fifteen Dead Bodies. Hermione banished the terrible title from her mind, recounting the terrifying occurrence. Nobody had survived.
When she had tried to explain, the police had dismissed it as a child looking for attention. Her tales of a skull, masked men and a green light was put to an abrupt halt after her father had yelled at her. It was declared a shooting, and that the murderer had gotten away.
And the very next year, on the anniversary of her mother's death, Hermione received a letter. A letter deeming that she had been accepted into a school of magic. Magic.
That is, after all, word for word what she had described to the police. She had been heartbroken, unbelieving that her bullies would make fun of the death of her mother. In a rage, she had thrown the letter into the fire, disgusted by the thought of magic, her hatred of the unnatural power intensifying as her own self-loathing increased.
Nobody but Hermione knew the truth, because she had failed. Her mother had given up everything for her and Hermione, despite having ownership of the abomination of magic, had failed to protect her.
It was almost as certain as if she had driven the knife into Emma's own heart. Hermione stared at her reflection, the gaunt, haunted figure barely blinking. She hated herself, loathed herself more than anyone.
Hermione had killed her mother.
As you can guess, Hermione is blaming herself for the death of her mother. This is one of the darkest chapters I've ever written so I just want to assure everyone that Hermione is not hurting herself and is not suicidal.
Harry is going to come in and develop a bond with Hermione, lifting the guilt that is on her shoulders. Thanks for reading the first chapter! Remember, the more popular this story is the faster I update! Thank you again (:
Love,
Kathie