Thanks for taking the time to read, and I hope you enjoy.
Edit, 21 Feb 2014: After a long hiatus from fandom, I'm going to try and work on some of my WIPs because I have other plot bunnies that I refuse to work on until I get something finished. Because of this, I have had to read through some of my stories to get back into them, thus, I'm making some edits as needed (mostly SpaG, but who knows?). Anyhow, thank you to all previous readers for bearing with me and hanging tight during the wait (sorry!) and new readers, enjoy.
HGatGG
The morning of Hermione's eleventh birthday was a very typical Wednesday morning in Bathwick. She had woken up at five - a whole hour earlier than she would normally - to ensure she could have breakfast with her mum. From her bedroom window, she could see the gloomy gray sky and the damp windowsill.
Hermione closed her eyes tight and wished for the weather to remember it was her birthday, and it needed to be a nice day for it to be as wonderful as she hoped it to be. Once her wish was complete, she threw off the sheets and hopped out of bed, running down the stairs to the ground floor.
She loved her family cottage. Her mother had purchased the place right before Hermione was born and it was the only place Hermione ever lived (holidays at her grandparents did not count). It was technically a three-story home, but it was only that way because their house rest on a hill on the corner of North Lodge and North Road. The ground level was on par with the main road, but their driveway lead down the hill to their splendid garden. Hermione had many an adventure in that garden. And many of those adventures would bring her into their guest room - that never housed guests because her grandparents could be snobs, but shh, don't tell. So the 'guest room' was more of Hermione's playroom and both the young girl and her mum were okay with that. She had a wonderful adventure planned for her birthday and she couldn't wait for the sun to come out to start it.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she jumped the last step with a flourish - more like flailing her arms in a coordinated manner - in the entrance hall. She heard the clapping coming from the open doorway of the kitchen to the right and turned to see her mother smiling at her.
"I give it a nine, but since it's your birthday, let's go with a ten." She said while clapping before turning back into the kitchen.
Hermione beamed and followed her. The smell of pancakes wafted from the stove and she tried to peek behind her mum to steal a bite of her birthday breakfast.
"No you don't," her mother chided, lightly tapping her hands away from the countertop. "You will sit at the table and wait the three minutes it takes me to plate it."
Hermione jokingly pouted but listened to her nonetheless. She walked around the peninsula of the kitchen into the small breakfast room. She sat herself in the middle of the banquet so that she could easily watch her mum bring her a plate of the delicious meal.
Her mother placed a plate of pancakes drenched heavily in syrup in front of Hermione and one with little syrup in front of the seat across for herself.
Hermione shook out a napkin and placed it in her lap and waited for permission before digging into the very sweet breakfast. When her mother picked up her fork, Hermione immediately followed and began to politely stuff her mouth with the 'one of two times a year she could eat this much sugar in the morning' meal.
After several bites, her mother placed her fork down, laced her fingers together and rested her chin on the bridge they made. "So, as its your birthday, what are your plans?"
Hermione chewed her current bite quickly and swallowed before responding. She smiled at her mother and replied, "Well, since you said I didn't have to go to school today, I am going to finish my studies that I will be missing."
Her mother nodded in approval.
"Then, if the weather permits, I'm going to have an adventure," Hermione said before returning to her breakfast.
Her mother smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm. She was glad that even though her daughter didn't really have any friends to speak of, she didn't let it bring her down. Her daughter was very much like herself when she was that age; very few friends, an overactive imagination (from all the books read), hardworking, and optimistic. And although Hermione's father was not in the picture, she made it a point to always be there for her daughter. She would not let Hermione feel the loneliness of not having a family, not ever.
"Mum, what are your plans for today?" Hermione asked when she was nearly finished. She saw the melancholy look on her mother's face and wanted to distract her from her sad thoughts. It wouldn't due for her mother to be sad on her birthday.
"Oh, well, I'll be at work of course. I don't have to teach any classes this afternoon though so I'll be home early to make some steak & kidney pudding for your birthday dinner. Then maybe we can watch a film or something. Whatever you want this evening, my darling birthday girl." Her mother leaned over the table and pinched Hermione's cheek with a teasing a smile.
Hermione scrunched up her nose at the gesture. She was eleven, she didn't need her mum pinching her cheeks! She couldn't help but give a shy smile though at the thought of spending the evening with her mother, though. She knew her mother worked very hard to make sure they had a good life, but on special occasions, work would be put on the backburner. Hermione felt very special and she loved her mother all the more for it.
"Okay, mum. I'll clean up so you can make it into work on time." Hermione said while scooting off the bench. Her mother pinched her cheek once more and kissed her forehead before leaving the kitchen and heading upstairs to her own room.
Hermione sighed before clearing the table and brought the dishes to the sink. She started cleaning up, all the while plotting her adventure for when she finished revising.
HGatGG
Hermione was sitting on the floor of the living room, her legs tucked in under the coffee table that was covered in textbooks. She was in Year 6 of primary school and was excited to be entering secondary school the coming year. Her mother said that secondary school was more important so the students would be more serious in their studies. Hermione hoped this was true because she found it appalling that her current school-mates considered her weird for spending her recess in the library instead of in the schoolyard skipping rope.
She liked to ignore the other reasons her classmates thought her weird. It wasn't her fault that the last time - just last week - Elizabeth Holden called her a 'bushy brain' that Elizabeth's sleek coif resembled a poodle. Nor was it her fault when she overheard her year 5 teacher suggest "Hermione just teach the class if she's going to try and answer every question" to one of the other teachers in the staff room, that no sound would leave the teacher's mouth at class time making it impossible for any learning to commence.
Hermione shrugged in remembrance. Her mother said she had similar occurrences when she was younger and although the other kids in her classes and at the orphanage gave her a wide berth. She used it to her advantage and was at the top of her class. Her mother even managed to finish secondary school at sixteen, and found a decent paying job that would let her attend night courses to pursue a career. Hermione idolized her mother and believed that if she was going to have to live a similar upbringing, she would do her hardest to make her mother proud. It was only right, after everything her mother had sacrificed to ensure that Hermione had the life her mother never had.
She was pulled from her musings by a knock at the door. Hermione glanced at the large clock that hung above the fireplace and saw that it was only half past ten. Her mother didn't mention any visitors would be coming by and it was too early for any students to accidentally show up for the cancelled class.
She pursed her lips and considered her options. She knew she shouldn't open the door to strangers, or worse, a constable who might be checking to ensure she was actually sick and not just skipping school. Another knock on the door, this time three times, and louder, made Hermione really antsy.
If she didn't answer the door, she would never know why someone would stop by her home this early in the day. Maybe her mother had sent something home from the office? The dentist assistants always claimed Hermione was their favourite, it would make sense that they would have biscuits prepared for her birthday. They did have some last year, but her mother had brought them home after her shift.
There was another series of knocks and Hermione could hear a quiet huff. So whoever was there was impatient. She could hear the distinct tapping of someone's boot and it made Hermione snicker. She wanted to stay in her seat and wait it out. How long would this person wait, she wondered. She looked back up to the clock noting that it had been five minutes.
What if its important?
Maybe there was an emergency. Or an accident. Maybe something happened to her mum. Biting her lip, she pushed the table away from herself, stumbled through her living room into the entrance hall, and quietly ran to the door. The tapping was louder and she could hear muttering.
Hermione took a deep breath and hoped that it was just a solicitor that she could send on their way. She pulled the door open a crack and peered out the small sliver to see a tall man with shoulder length black hair - that looked to haven't been washed in at least a week - and a large hooked nose, glaring at the door.
"Miss Granger, I presume?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Hermione let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. She stared at the raised eyebrow - how did he do that?
"May I come in?"
"No," she stated loudly and slammed the door shut. She turned around so that her back rested against the door and took several deep breaths, trying to calm down. There was a weird man outside her home and she was all alone.
Once her heartbeat slowed back to normal, she realised the man was still on the other side of the door. This time mumbling curses that didn't appeal to Hermione's sensibilities (had she said any of those in front of her mother, her mouth would be washed, in front of her grandmother and she'd get a good swat on the bum).
However, her curiosity was peaked and her mother always said that it would be her downfall.
She looked back through the door that lead to the living room. A few of her textbooks had fallen to the floor. She frowned. That wouldn't do. She would need to clear that up first, but she had finished the majority of her revision. And it was her birthday, after all. She could start her adventure early. Her morning plans would have to change, but it would be more fun to have a real live villain for once.
HGatGG
Hermione was on the garden level and rummaging through the dress-up box in the guest room cupboard. She knew the strange man was still on her doorstep (having heard his continued use of bad words as she went down the stairs) but she didn't know for how long, so she had to be quick about it. She threw one or two outfits from the top (a princess gown from her last adventure and the top to her Robin Hood costume), eventually finding what she was looking for. When she found it, she tumbled backwards onto her bum but still managed a quiet scream of "Eureka!"
She threw the undesirables back into the box and wrapped herself in the black cloak and tied the black Zorro mask onto her face. She wished she had enough time to run upstairs to her bathroom to get a hair tie, but her riotous hair would have to remain free. Time was of the essence.
She tread carefully through the hallway into their garage, using the side door to make way up their driveway. When she got closer to the main road, she began to tiptoe, crouching so that the extensive landscaping would hide her. She realised the greenery wouldn't really keep her black outfit inconspicuous and vowed to ask for an outfit of camouflage for Christmas that year. It would be useful for sneaky adventures.
Once she reached the walkway that lead to their front door, she hid behind her mother's prize winning PeeGee Hydrangea bush - her mother was sort of a green thumb, and had other prize winning plants, but the hydrangeas were a favourite and had the star spot in front of the house. She glimpsed through the leaves and saw that the man was still there. She looked down at her bare feet - in her rush she had forgotten shoes - noting they were surprisingly clean because the sun managed to come out early (her morning wish coming true!) enough to dry out the cobbled pathway. She squinted her eyes in quick calculation and decided to just go with it.
She ran as quickly and quietly as she could until she stood directly behind him. He was still knocking on the door when Hermione shouted, "Why are you still here?"
He quickly spun around and his arm shot out, a wooden stick pointing at Hermione face. She stared at it, making her eyes go cross, and herself dizzy. "Why do you have a stick?" she asked, looking into his face, fixing her sight.
The man rolled his eyes but lowered his arm, pocketing the stick. "That's part of the reason why I am here," he drawled.
Hermione looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate.
"May we go inside?"
"I already told you no," she answered, putting a hand to her hip, dipping her head to the side. Her mother did this pose when waiting for an answer and Hermione hoped it would work if she did it to. She really wanted to know the purpose of the stick; the way the man handled it while putting it away was far more care than any normal person would handle a piece of wood.
"And why not?" he asked, crossing his arms across his black covered chest.
Hermione wondered if this man knew of any colour other than black. His chest was covered in black. His legs were covered in black. She bet he didn't own anything in a single colour other than black (arguably, no colour whatsoever if he only owned black, but Hermione didn't really want to get into that). She thought he would look quite silly in pink, but a dark purple would look good with his complexion yet still maybe fit his sensibilities. maybe. Next thing she knew, the man was dressed in a royal purple frock and she gasped.
He looked down and frowned. He pulled out his wand, waved it, and the robes were back to their original state.
"How did you do that? Tell me, please!" Hermione demanded, trying to keep herself from jumping up and down. She had made random things happen on occasion before, but had never seen anyone remedy it so quickly.
"Again, part of the reason why I'm here," he intoned, raising a brow at her.
"I'm not allowed to let strangers inside." She bit her lip once more, unhappy with how the adventure was turning out. Hermione always followed the rules, she prided herself on that, but she really wanted to learn more about the man and even more, about the stick. Fortunately, having always followed the rules but spending the last several years learning what loopholes were - she was her mother's daughter after all - as an idea struck her.
"However,' smiling, she quickly replied, shouting over her shoulder as she spun around and ran back the way she had came, "Follow me."