Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.


Hermione Potter

The Girl Who Lived

The Dursley's were the most ordinary, insufferable people imaginable, Hermione could attest to this. Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Hermione jumped with a start and bumped her head. She had been awake for an hour going over the nightmare she'd had and the sudden noise gave her a fright. Prying the cupboard door from its stiff frame she straightened out her back and winced.

"Are you up yet?!" her aunt screeched from the kitchen.

"Just about," Hermione said as she rubbed the bruise appearing on her forehead next to her rather prominent scar. She'd got the scar when her parents had died in a car crash. Leaving her in the care of the very reluctant Dursley's, who had never let her forget what a disposition she was. A spider scuttled over her shoulder and she brushed it off, the cupboard under the stairs was full of them.

"Hurry up, come and watch these eggs. Everything must be perfect for my Dudder's birthday."

Dudley's birthday, of course. Hermione sighed and scraped the bacon around the pan to try to save it. Aunt Petunia moved to straighten one of the enormous piles of presents. Hermione never received presents, for which she was thankful, the sight of all of them was completely obscene.

A sharp punch to the arm signalled Dudley's arrival to the kitchen. He laughed and stopped in front of his gifts. Hermione kept a firm grip on the pan handle and imagined hitting him over the head with it.

"How many are there?" Dudley said, his beady eyes trying to look from one to the next and keep count.

"Thirty seven!" said Uncle Vernon grinning as he bustled in with the morning's post grasped firmly in his podgy hand. Dudley spun around like a startled duck and glared at his father, "Thirty seven! Last year I had thirty-eight!"

Hermione rolled her eyes and drowned them out of her thoughts. She transferred the bacon to a plate to put on the table. As she slipped it in-between the presents she spotted the stack of envelopes that Uncle Vernon had put down in the foray. Tilting her head to the side she noted addressed to her, one finely penned envelope.

Miss H Potter
The Cupboard under the Stairs,
4 Privet Drive,
Little Whinging,
Surrey

She was surprised upon reaching towards it to find the grip of Uncle Vernon's hand around her shoulder. If the two of them kept manhandling her like this her arm might decide to fall off.

"And what do you think you are doing?" He said sliding the pile of letters out of her reach.

"That letter is addressed to me." Hermione tried to get a closer look, she had never received mail from anyone, ever. She shook her hair frustrated and tried to get past him. "I want to read it. Its belongs to me."

Uncle Vernon would have none of it and threw the letter into the fire. Hermione felt her eyes glassy with the lost hope of having felt anything like hope in the first place.

"Petunia, take Dudley to the car. We'll be right there." He said not bothering to conceal the hatred that marred his face.

"You will behave today, I don't want any funny business from you Missy." He grew closer and Hermione kept her back stiff and refused to break eye contact. "If anything happens, anything at all. You won't eat, for a week!" He roared before disappearing out the front door as though nothing had happened. She unclenched stiff fists and looked at the wisps of her letter disappearing up the chimney before going out to the car.

A great fuss was made as they arrived at the zoo some time later, it was important that Dudley had the best day of his life. Hermione drifted away from them as soon as the opportunity arose. She spotted a large shining snake lying tightly coiled in the base of its tank.

"At least they can't get to you in there." She said glancing back at the Dursley's to make sure they couldn't hear her.

The snake's head lifted a fraction and it started to slither out of its circle. Hermione leant her head against the glass and frowned as she watched the scales reflect light.
"We're both trapped, you and I." It nodded its head and Hermione jumped slightly, lifting her head to look closely at the snakes face.
"Can you understand me?" her eyes appraised the snake wondering where it was from. The snake nodded once again and she looked to the sign that said it was from Burma. Bred in captivity.

Like me, Hermione thought.

A shove to her side sent Hermione head long into the floor. Groaning she sat up and saw Dudley banging on the glass. How incredibly rude could one boy be? It would be the third set of bruises that day.

"Mummy, Daddy, come look what this snake is doing!" Dudley said breathing on the glass as he tried to get closer. Hermione felt the end of her patience and suddenly the glass vanished, causing an oversized Dudley to topple straight into the tank. She couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing. The laughs came in waves and as the snake slid past she grinned and felt a little victory on its behalf.

The joy was short-lived as Uncle Vernon gripped her collar and dragged her back to standing.
"That's the last time you embarrass us." He whispered in her ear, his stubble rubbed her cheek horribly.

Aunt Petunia was dragging Dudley out of the tank as though he'd just escaped from the jaws of death. She was about five shades paler than usual and that was saying something.

When they reached the house, a shivering Dudley was rushed to his room to be taken care of. While Hermione was flung into the cupboard and the door slammed in her face. The gold vent on the door was dragged shut, leaving Hermione on her bed in the dark with the prospect of no food, for a week.

Waking the next day was an unpleasant experience, the house was full of the scent of a full english breakfast. The Dursley's were trying to make her suffer. To add insult to injury she was commanded to sit at the table for every meal. She liked to think it gave her time to master ever further bounds of patience, if only one could take exams in patience.

Everyday more letters arrived at 4 Privet Drive, until Saturday morning when Uncle Vernon drilled the letter box shut. Hermione sulked inwardly, furious that she was being kept from information that was rightfully hers, whatever it was in regards to.

Sunday morning arrived and Uncle Vernon was found humming most disturbingly as Hermione served them breakfast.

"Fine day, Sunday. In my opinion the best day of the week. Why is that Dudley?"

Dudley looked up from his mouthful and shrugged.

Hermione put the last plate down. "Because there's no post on Sundays." She'd known as soon as she'd heard him practically skip down the staircase this morning, scattering dust all over her clothes.

"No post on Sundays." He grinned manically and blinked his eyes independent of each other. Hermione was disgusted by this man before her, his every action toward her was intended to harm and she couldn't imagine how a person became this way.

A flash of wings beyond the curtains caught Hermione's eye and she thought she saw an owl. It wasn't often you saw owls, especially during day light hours she thought. Just at that very moment a rustling noise began to filter down the chimney and the fire flickered uncertainly. Before Hermione could grasp what was happening Uncle Vernon has disappeared beneath a rush of letters. Hundreds of them flew through the air and one caught in her hair, she quickly pulled it down and against her stomach and ran for the hall.

"Oh no you don't!" Uncle Vernon came stampeding after her and she desperately tried to open her cupboard door. Tearing the letter out of her grip, Uncle Vernon ripped it up in front of her nose.
"We're leaving! Now! We're going far away!" he obviously thought that would help.


Hermione lay on the floor in the most dusty little house they could find in the middle of the night. Vernon had hoarded them into a small boat and having survived a storm they had arrived here. Hermione had little hope that the owls would know where they were or be able to fly at all in this weather.

Tracing a light finger in the dust she drew herself a cake with the words 'Happy Birthday' written under eleven candles. Looking at Dudley's watch that hung on his limp wrist beside her she read the time, in one minute she would be thirteen years old.

The noise of the thunder built as Hermione blew the sand across her candles, scattering them out of existence. Her chin felt dirty from the ground and she rubbed at it, willing herself to be happy that she got to celebrate another year of life.

Bang, bang, bang, bang.

Hermione leapt from the floor and backed up against the cold stone wall as the door shook on its hinges. Another bang and the metal hinges pinged across the room as the door tipped uselessly to the ground. Framed in the light of the moon was the biggest, hairiest man Hermione had ever laid eyes on and he was looking right at her.