Once again, Hermione found herself standing in front of the dance room, peeking through the window that was so high that she had to stand on her tip-toes. It was only before her eyes drank in the sights of the teachers fluid dance moves did she once again move her rigid body away from the window and rub her limbs tiredly. But it was only for a few seconds that she could rest, as the people from the dance class would file out of the classroom. Hermione, like usual, would hide behind the grass sculptures of dancers that were so delicately crafted to avoid being caught lurking on pureblood property. Hermione sighed and turned away, knowing that even with the passion she contained for dancing, it would be impossible to take dancing classes. Hermione turned back to see if the last people were gone, but the sight that she was greeted with made her breath catch in her throat-a guy with a pale complexion and silver blond hair was looking her way. Hermione held her breath, longer than she ever thought she was capable of, and slowly, he looked away. The boy continued walking, towards the café adjacent of the dance studio, and Hermione saw the green glow omitting from the café to know that he had already flooed to God-knows-where. Even though he wasn't actually looking at her and only in her direction, Hermione's heart pounded in her chest as she thought, Did he see me?
This thought quickly faded as she started recalling the dance moves and started dancing as quietly as she could in the shadows. When dancing, time flew by, and nothing could stop her.
Except maybe for the woman who was calling out, 'Whose there?' in an angry tone.
Hermione frantically stopped mid-way through her routine and slipped off her shoes; she didn't want to be given away by the horrific noise her shoes made when she walked. Hermione peered around the grass figure that was hiding her away and studied the woman who was calling. The woman looked around for a final time before leaving the hot night air and Hermione alone in solitude. Hermione looked one time at the retreating back of the woman and decided that this wasn't the best place to practice. Scampering away and at the same time looking at the colour of the sky, she sighed and thought that it was best to stop dancing for today.
Hermione ran through the doorway and tried to scamper up the stairs unseen, hoping that her stepmother, Jennifer, wouldn't notice. A piercing glare met her eyes when she was halfway up the staircase. Hermione sighed and prepared herself for her stepmother's wrath.
'How dare you go missing? You know how embarrassed we were when the officials came to check that you weren't being rowdy?' Jennifer had an unattractive shade of purple creeping up her neck and spittle flew at me, but I knew better than to wipe it away. Last time I did, and I was so sore that I couldn't sit or lie down without tears coming to my eyes.
Hermione couldn't help but notice that her stepmother said that she was embarrassed, not worried about her. Hermione thought sourly, She wouldn't give a rat's ass if I died. More like cheer and steal my house and inheritance away from me. Greedy bitch.
When Hermione didn't answer, Jennifer slapped her again, this time was harder, but Hermione was used to it, 'Say something!'
Jennifer glared at her with hatred prominent in her eyes, but was at a loss for words. Hermione had not once rebelled against her. This time she had though, but Jennifer had decided that this was the first and last time Hermione would ever rebel against her.
Later that evening, Jennifer called Hermione up to her study, and said, 'You, are going to school.'
Hermione froze; was she wanted to jump with joy, but she was still on guard. She didn't expect Jennifer to say that she was going to go to school. It was her dream. Somewhere she wanted to go since she was of age to.
Jennifer smirked and Hermione waited for the 'but', 'But, you will be taking them with Pansy Parkinson in the form of a slave. All you need to do is just to listen to everything she says and do everything she wants you to do. No talking back, no bodily harm to her, and whatever she does to you, give no reaction unless she wants you to.'
Hermione gritted her teeth; she knew that Jennifer could never be that nice. Hermione ignored a blatantly obvious chuckle omitting from behind her stepsisters' Daphne and Astoria's room and looked down on the floor. There it was, the Extendable Ears that were offending her. Hermione fought back a scream of frustration and the urge to pulverise the ear that was twitching, mocking her, almost, and stalked with angry footsteps back to the small cramped room of hers.
Hermione looked around her room, grunting in disaffection; she couldn't help but compare it to Daphne's and Astoria's rooms. Hermione's room could barely fit a bed in it, and apart from the bed, she only had a wooden plank nailed into the badly plastered wall of her room with a book that her father gave her when she was little. The book had a midnight blue cover on it, and was one of the few possessions of Hermione. The book was tattered and old, but it contained the giver's love and warmth, and whenever she read or just held it in her hands, she could feel her father's presence. When father gave the book to her, he would never have guessed that the fairy tale would become her reality. Well, almost. Cinderella didn't have to pretend to be a slave, plus, Hermione knew that no Prince Charming was coming to save her. Hermione rolled her eyes at the naivety of the story, but a girl could dream.
Hermione was lost in her fantasy when the sharp voice of Jennifer broke it. Hermione groaned quietly to herself and thought, So much for being in a fantasy where no one could disturb me. Hermione called out to Jennifer as a sign of knowing and made herself as comfortable as possible on the thin-sheeted bed. Hermione closed her eyes, wanting sleep to come, but knew that she would get little rest as the gears in her head were turning so loud, that she could not sleep.