Author's note: Here, I hope you like it, it gets better after this chapter!
Author would like too say she is trying to write small paragraphs, not big block ones but old habits die hard. But look! She's getting there... kind of... almost...maybe.
Disclaimer: Jk Rowling owns all the cast, books etc and this is being written simply because I love Harry Potter so much!
Enjoy...
Chapter 2:
Hermione struggled down the road, tired and worn. She didn't think about her parents and the house she despised so much. She didn't think about how she hated coming home every holiday or that Ron had dumped her. The only thing that she would let her think about was sleep. Her own bed. Her own world.
Soon she was at her house, lights were on and the tv was blaring. She stood outside, taking a deep breathe before opening the broken gate and walking down the path.
She shut the door quietly behind her. "Hey guys." She gave a tired smile. Her father grunted and turned back to the tv, a beer resting on his over-sized belly. She sighed and leaned against the door frame.
"Don't do that!" Her mother snapped, grabbing her glass of wine.
"And what time do you call this?" Her father pouted, Hermione couldn't help but wince at the fact her father only cared about her once a programme was finished and credits not worth looking at scrolled down the screen.
"The second train was late. I tried ringing." She explained. Not that they cared or listened.
"Well, I'm going to bed, get some sleep before packing tomorrow." Hermione said after a long pause.
"We've been meaning to talk to you about that." Hermione knew it wasn't good when she saw her parents glance at each other.
"Hermione, we are going to Italy but the hotel we were going to stay at was a bit expensive. So, we made a deal with the owner, nice chap by the way." Her father continued, her mother nodded eagerly.
Hermione knew, she just knew, that they had made some kind of deal, that involved her.
"Well the owner of the hotel, Mr. Schambey, owns a whole company, kind of, of them. The hotel I work out he also owns, that's why he was so kind to us, so he's offered us a very generous deal."
Hermione hated it when they done this. They rambled on and on and never got to the punch line.
"So, we're going to get a holiday there. We pay very little for it and we work a week and get the next week free." Her father said.
Before Hermione could say anything her mother cut in.
"I am going to be a maid, your father a bar tender and you, well we said that you were excellent at teaching and you loved music. So, your going to be the music instructor at the camp they have there for kids. Isn't that lovely? You don't mind do you? Oh I can't believe how lucky we are. We get to meet him and his nephew, I was told he was very fond of his nephew. Oh, and we're getting paid a little for our services!"
Hermione, who was very smart had nothing to say. There had to be some kind of twist. Who in their right mind would make that kind of offer? Knowing her parents and their mood swings she didn't say anything but secretly doubted they would have a good time.
"That's great." She smiled and her parents positively glowed.
"Is there any food?" She asked, curiously glancing into the kitchen. All of the sudden she had become hungry for the first time in weeks. Her mother turned to her father. Hermione bit her lip, she had said the wrong thing.
"Yes. Is there any food Mark?" She tapped her foot on the floor impatiently.
"How the bloody hell should I know?!"
"I don't know, because you were supposed to go shopping yesterday!"
"You want it so much why don't you GO AND GET IT YOUR BLOODY SELF!" He stood up, dropping his beer that would make yet another stain on the cream carpet.
"Because I work all day while YOU SIT ON YOUR ARSE AND DO BUGGER ALL!"
"FAT LOAD OF GOOD YOUR JOB DOES US!"
"WELL MAYBE IF YOU WEREN'T SUCH A LAZY, PIG HEADED…"
They carried on yelling as Hermione closed the living room door, she had no desire to hear parents insult each other, and as quickly as it had come, her appetite had vanished. Instead she hauled her Hogwarts trunk up the old, creaky stirs and into her room. Once in there she deposited it in front of her bed and then sat down on the squashy, ancient bed. She began taking her shoes off and talking to herself at the same time.
"How are you Hermione? Did you have a good school term?"
"Oh yeah, it was great, thanks for asking." A tear slid down her cheek as she pulled her curtains, and not bothering to undress she flopped onto the bed exhausted, and fell asleep. The last thing she thought before falling asleep was how exhausted did she need to make herself before she could get to sleep. The answer was simple. Very.
Hermione woke up and looked around her room, she had been too tired to look at it the previous night. Same old bed in the middle of the room, same old white walls and wooden floor with a big white rug in the middle. Her lamp on the bedside table was still there, with the alarm clock.
She looked at the photo of her, Ron and Harry. There used to be a wizard photograph of the three, showing them having a good time and talking, but that had upset her mother who had thrown it into the fire because it was freaky. So, the current one stood there, unmoving. She looked at the blood stain on the wall near the window.
She remembered that day so well. It was her third year at Hogwarts and she was home for Christmas. On Christmas eve her father had come in yelling at her, saying how dumb she was, how she would never achieve anything. Hermione could only whimper at her father's drunken rage. He was so mad because she had not been there to sort out the bills. Hermione had a feeling it was something else as well, but she never knew what.
Her father had grabbed the nearest thing near him, which happened to be her guitar, and whacked her around the head with it. The guitar snapped in half while Hermione had been knocked back by the force, and hit her head on the wall. Her father panicked and she was rushed to hospital. She needed 12 stitches in the side of her head. Her father had disappeared while they had been put in and she remembered being very upset that he wasn't there. The drugs had made her fall asleep and when she next woke up it was Christmas day, and a brand new guitar was in a brand new case at the end of her bed.
It ended up being the best Christmas ever. She played the guitar while her and her parents sang songs, until, at last she was allowed home, walking into a big roast dinner and seeing her grandparents. Of course her grandparents died between then and the next Christmas, but they had left her a trust fund, and she was allowed when she turned eighteen on one condition. In their will they had said Hermione or any lawyer, in fact, no one, was to tell her parents about the money. Hermione herself was bewildered at the idea, but kept her promise, as she had made it on beside her grandfather, when he was on his death bed.
She picked up the guitar now and strummed a few notes. Smiling, she left her room for a shower.
Once dressed and her hair plaited Hermione grabbed her keys, wrote a note and left.
She walked the 2 hour walk from her house to the nearest ASDA in one hour and 12 minutes, that was new record. She spent her time in the super market, looking at all kinds of food.
"Hermione? Hermione Granger? Is that you?" she turned to see a boy, tall, but then, she was short so most people were tall to her. Then she saw the brown hair and the brown eyes and the birthmark above the right eye.
"Liam?" Her best friend when she was at junior school, she had not seen him in five years.
He gave her a hug and talked on for ages about his dog, and his parents and all of his sisters. Hermione used to think he had loads of sisters, but it was nothing compared to the Weasley family.
"So, where do you go to school now?" He asked, studying her.
"Oh, I go to a boarding school." She said, laughing, slightly nervous.
Liam just stared at her. "Your completely different."
"Well, you haven't changed a bit." She replied and they laughed. They both turned as a girl called his name.
"Liam, honey, who's this?" She put her arm around Liam and one knee stuck out. Hermione instantly saw the blond haired girl as a very rude, selfish person.
"This is Hermione. We were best mates back in year six. Wow, that seems like forever a go." Liam slung is arm round her.
"Hermione?" The blond looked her up and town, a hint of amusement in her eyes before carrying on. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lorraine." She hugged Hermione, almost making Hermione choke. Lorraine had far too much perfume on.
"You know, I don't think I've seen you around school." She said.
"Hermione goes to boarding school. She always had brains that one. Came top in every test, did all the work right." Liam chipped in.
"Oh, and she's an amazing singer! We were in choir together. She has the most incredible voice."
Hermione turned red. "I… I don't sing anymore."
"Why not?" Liam's jaw dropped open, and it refused to shut.
"I just don't." Hermione answered.
"Anyway, we need to get going or else we'll miss the bus. Nice to meet you." Lorraine hurried, pulling Liam away.
"Later Hermione." He called, waving before turning round and falling over, knocking down a display of cans in the process.
Hermione gave a small chuckle, same old Liam, before turning away.
Hermione had just put away the shopping when her father came down stairs.
"You're a good girl Hermione."
Hermione put the kettle on and waited for it to boil.
"Me and your mother, we do try. But it's just… hard." He said.
"Dad, it's fine. We're going on holiday tomorrow, let's worry about everything else when we get back eh?"
"Yes, your right."
"Hermione?"
"Yeah Dad?"
"We do love you."
"I know dad."
"You do?"
"Yeah. Dad?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you too."
Her father pulled Hermione into a hug, and finally, she felt as though she had been welcomed home.
Hermione was so annoyed, her parents weren't any better than a couple of kids.
She was waiting in the back of the car, hoping her parents would hurry up and get a move on. Her father was loading the boot with Hermione's one suitcase, his two, and trying to fit in her mother's third.
"What do you need three suitcase for anyhow?" Her father asked, huffing and puffing with the third suitcase.
"You can't go to Italy without shoes." Her mother pursed her lips.
"Darling? I'm going to have to put this in the back, is there any chance your flute can move over?"
Hermione sighed and moved her flute next to her guitar on the floor. She put her feet in front of the cases so they would not roll about in the car.
Finally, after another ten minutes of bustling they were off.
As the car sped passed houses and trees and open fields and busy main roads Hermione, for the first time, allowed herself to think about what happened on the Hogwarts Express. She thought of how Ron dumped her, and how Malfoy comforted her… and kissed her. It was only a light, soft brush on the lips, but it was still a kiss, from Malfoy. At the time if felt right, but that could be because she was hurting from Ron. Did she like Malfoy? Was it unfair on Ron if she did?
She just wished she could have someone to talk to about these things, her grandparents or a little sister or a friend. But, that, she guessed, was asking for too much. She leaned her head against the window and let the vibration of the car push away all horrible and mind boggling thoughts. Closing her eyes she tried to get some decent sleep.
It didn't work.
