Life's love lost
THIS STORY IS FOR THE ANDREA GIBSON APPRECIATION CHALLENGE. HOPE YOU LIKE IT! :)
"Hermione? What's wrong? Hermione?
"Hmm? What? No I'm fine."
"Are you sure? Honey, is something wrong?"
"Mum, I'm fine. Just thinking… I love you for asking though."
"Aw sweetie…You know you've been doing that a lot. You've been awfully quiet this summer"
"It's soon going to be my last year at Hogwarts. I'm just catching up with some memories. "
"Good ones or bad ones?"
"Both I guess"
"Aw honey, come here."
Hermione grabbed the duvet on the chair and replaced it neatly on the bed, folding it corners, just like Mum had taught her. It was quilt that her mother had knitted for her twelfth birthday, so that she could have her something to remember her parents by when she felt homesick. Her hands quivered slightly. Her parents had never thought of her as weird or other worldly – she was their daughter. She never felt different at home unlike, outside in the muggle world; she received none of the hostilities she had felt from some adults when she didn't know she was a witch. She wasn't odd for Mr and Mrs Granger of the Granger residence. Now, that she thought about it, her being a witch was equivalent to one of her children being a muggle – a squib. And that would be quite odd.
"Hermione, can you come down here for a moment?"
"Be right down, mum!" Young, eleven year old Hermione bounded down the stairs in a yellow dress and some odd socks. Her bushy hair flew out behind her and almost hid her face when she stopped at the bottom of the staircase. She heard voices and knew they had guests. Smoothing out her dress and running her hands through her unruly hair one last time, she peeked into the living room. There, on the sofa sat an odd lady wearing robes. Her hair was tied into a neat and tight bun with not a single hair out of place; a sharp contrast to Hermione's bushy mane. Her mouth stretched into a small smile as she noticed little Hermione at the door.
"There you are dear. I want you to meet Professor Minerva McGonagall." Her mother called out.
'What an odd name', Hermione thought. "Good evening Professor"
"Good evening Hermione"
"Now Hermione," her father said, "Professor McGonagall was just telling us something very …exciting not a moment ago. Right, Jean?"
"Yes, indeed."
"What about?"
It was when she learnt that she was a witch. What a marvelous result to her being odd, now that she thought of it. She was excited by the prospect even back then but it was a wonder how her parents managed to be so calm. Their only daughter was a witch. She suspected that one of them had descended from a squib but, she hadn't gotten far on this research of hers so she was still unsure who she inherited her magical abilities from. Her first trip to Diagon Alley had been exhilarating. So, much so that when she had returned she immediately set about devouring her books cover to cover. She had felt that she would finally belong somewhere. She wouldn't be odd somewhere. Oh, how wrong she'd been.
"Those are Nimbus Two-Thousand and Ones! How'd you get those?" Ron exclaimed.
"A gift from Draco's father." It was Marcus Flint, captain of Slytherin's Quidditch team. It seemed like they had a new addition; of spoilt, brat Draco Malfoy.
"You see, Weasley, unlike some, my father can afford the best."
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent." Hermione interjected.
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!"
Mudblood – it was but a word which haunted her very existence. She was still odd. So she worked harder than ever before trying to beat everyone in her year; trying to prove to them that she belonged; trying to prove to herself that she belonged. Hermione remembered what she had told Harry, before he'd left to find the sorcerer's stone -"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery." Friendship and bravery had given her, her best friends. She couldn't have asked for more. The love she felt for them was inexplicable. She thought back to the same day she had learnt of the prejudice against her. It had made her sad but it was also the day she found her true friends…"You'll pay for that one Malfoy! Eat slugs!" She giggled at the memory of the red head Weasley throwing up slugs. So silly yet so much love. She had truly been lucky, with Harry, Ron, the Weasley family, Remus, Tonks, Sirius…but the war took its toll.
"Hermione?"
"Yeah?" She looked up to find Remus looking down at her sadly "Is something wrong?"
"Hermione, we need you…I need you to come with me."
"Remus, what is going on?" Her heart began beating her faster; her hands became clammy, "Whose hurt?"
"Hermione please…"
She couldn't breathe as her mind imagined the worst possibilities. Was Harry hurt? Was Ron hurt? Was someone else hurt? She couldn't imagine. Remus guided her to the steps of the Grimmauld Place and offered her his hand. She was dying to ask him about where they were going or why. So many questions but she hardened her resolve and slipped her hand into his. The journey was uncomfortable, more than normal. The sinking feeling in her stomach made apparition even worse. She almost threw up but managed to hold herself together. Order members had flooded the location. It was a small house with a tiny front lawn, both, ominously peaceful. Her gaze traveled up and suddenly her heart clenched. Her head was spinning as she stared at the skull in the sky. Its eerie green eyes shone and the snake leered at her. It reeked of death. As Remus moved forward, something white caught her eye. She hesitantly walked towards it hoping with all her might that what she thought wasn't true. Suddenly, her face paled and her eyes grew wide. Her tiny frame froze. She looked as ghostly and unseeing as the bodies of Wendell and Monica Wilkins that stared back at her.
A giant sob raked Hermione's body. She fell to the floor with a loud thump and began to shiver. Tears streamed down her face as she wailed at the unfairness of life. It took away the only place she had always belonged; the only place where she was neither, Hermione the Mudblood, nor Hermione the Witch; she was just Hermione Jean Granger – daughter of Mr and Mrs Granger, the Dentists. She clawed the floor trying to get away from her memories. They haunted her day and night. It was all her fault.
"I SHOULD HAVE DIED!" she screamed
Loud footsteps ran up the staircase. Everything was blurry but a blonde streak moved in the distance. A warm pair of arms engulfed her and muttered soothingly into her ear. They rocked back and forth as Hermione's cries quieted. A series of soft kisses were laid upon her and the smell of lavender surrounded her.
"Hermione?"
"Yes mum"
"Something is going on, right?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Well, the London Bridge collapsed and they couldn't tell what's wrong with it. There have been smokey unidentified objects flying around and you look quite out of sorts…it's all something to do with wizards hasn't it?"
"I…yes…I don't know…how…to expla-"
"Then don't, dear. Hermione, look at me." Hermione's mother looked at Hermione with her warm chocolate eyes, "Your father and I, we're very proud of you okay? You are the best thing that has happened to us. And I speak for the both of us when I say that we want you to live a happy life. Hermione, don't forget to truly live! Everything that we're doing is for you so live your life properly and as long as you're happy it doesn't matter. And no matter what, remember, be careful!"
"Oh mum, I love you both so much!"
"We love you too." Her mother's lavender smell enveloped her as she brought her into a tight, warm, motherly hug.
She remembered telling Harry, "Even my parents, they're muggles, know something bad is happening."
The soft murmuring continued in her ear. She breathed in.
"Draco?" her voice was slightly hoarse from all the crying.
"Yes love?" He looked at her adoringly, rubbing his hands in a circle on her back.
"The only thing I want more than to die is to live"
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