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Not much notes, just happy we can get on to the juicy bits of this story. Lol. :p
Chapter 4
Hermione looked at the letters lined up on her bed. She sighed happily as she was finally ready and packed. She looked around her now empty flat save for Erik's bird cage and a few stacks of paper on her desk which she never want to see again. They were remnants of her old life. Useless stacks they were. She now focused on the letters lightly sitting atop her mattress. One for the Weasley's (Mrs. Weasley to be specific), one for Luna who she never understood why she wrote one for her in the first place aside from the fact that she just wanted someone who can make things up for her sudden disappearance (right now, the Quibbler has an extensive fan base), one for the Daily Prophet explaining how she's not accepting interviews for now, one for the Minister himself telling him of her absence, one for Ronald Weasley (this one she found the most difficult to write, actually crumpling pieces of paper here and there), and lastly, one for Harry and Ginny giving them the REAL reason why she decided to go M.I.A., promising that she would show up on their wedding and would undoubtedly fix things with Ron (the latter was wishful thinking but she couldn't bring herself to tell the couple that), she also made sure that Erik was well taken care of so she left him in the hands of Harry.
She, however, didn't disclose where exactly she was going to any of them, even to Harry. She didn't want anyone following her nor did she want her plans to be foiled. This was one of the reasons why she planned on sending Erik around the moment she Apparated towards the Leaky Cauldron and leave the life she's known for half of her existence. She gave her flat one last look before carrying Erik to the window. She stroked his head for a few seconds, cooing and talking to him like he was an actual human being. Her barn owl clucked his beak, which was a sign of approval, and impatience. Erik understood her; he was level-headed and stuck right to business, one of the reasons why she loved having him around. Not to mention the mere fact that aside from being an owl, he reminded her so much of Crooks. The feline passed away in its sleep after a very dreaded illness while Hermione was away. She regretted such neglect and vowed to make sure Erik wouldn't suffer the same fate.
After a few more parting strokes, she watched the dark brown barn owl spread its wings and fly away for quite a longer amount of time. She stood facing her window, feeling the emptiness and the loneliness slowly engulf and embrace her. She closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh, turned around and faced the equally empty abode. Taking her suitcase and her books, Hermione Granger strode out of her flat, head held high. The landlady gave her a sweet smile after being handed five Galleons (that was more than enough of course) and gave Hermione her infamous pack of brownies. Hermione was sad to leave her behind, she was such a sweet lady who made sure that Hermione was well-fed by sending her brownies from time to time.
The sun brightly shone over the clouds and Hermione realized she was really going to enjoy what lay ahead of her. There was no troubling workload or deadlines for her to meet, no friends who kept on telling her what they think is best for her, and NO Ronald Bilius Weasley. She breathed in the smell of freedom for the first time as she made her way to the Leaky Cauldron. She smiled at every witch and wizard having their meals, who returned her smile with a shocked expression and a smile back. Hermione was known not to mind people around when she walked as she was too busy with her inner thoughts than to even give the slightest glance to them.
The moment she stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron, however, she ducked out of sight at a nearby alley and apparated to a small neighborhood with lush yards and white houses. These were, of course, the houses of one of the most prominent people in that little town of London. She sighed, smelling the familiar scents of lavender and oranges. Yes, this was the neighborhood she grew up in. Pulling the collar of her coat towards her, she giddily walked the sidewalk while carrying her suitcase and books. This was wonderful, perfectly wonderful. She stopped in front of a two-storey house with a wide porch and equally wide yard, protected with a line of picket fences and a small archway of flowers at the entrance. She ran her free hand on the vines entwining the archway and memories of a younger Hermione came to mind. She was picking out the flowers while her mother walked outside bringing a tray of cookies and glasses of juice, her father was laboriously fixing the bushes outside their yard. Yes, simpler times.
She wriggled the gate and realized it was open. She followed the stone path that lead straight to the white door with a golden doorknob. She placed her suitcase down, put her hand in her pocket and gracefully rubbed her wand, waiting for the right moment to cast her spell. She knew her parents were very welcoming people and she planned on casting her reverse spell on them in the safety of their home. Her left hand, her free hand, lightly rapped on the door. And every time she did that, her heart gave a skip and a hop. She was more than excited to be with them after being away for so long. A decade or two. She was anxious and worried that they would not appear how she remembered them and it would take a lot of catching up. She was more concerned of the fact that one of them might be ill…or worse. Those thoughts entered her system like a sickness and now she felt more nervous.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps heading towards the door and she instinctively stiffened. The slow twist of the doorknob felt like forever for Hermione and she held her breath the entire time. She shook herself and made sure she masked all her fears with a friendly smile, reminding her that they would see her as a complete stranger. A smile of confidence and approachability flashed on her face as she readied herself for her first encounter with her folks. That smile, however, was wiped clean when she looked at the person who opened the door. Platinum blonde hair, pale skin, and piercing gray eyes met her vision.
A voice rang from behind the tall blonde, "Drake, darling, who is it?" Hermione's head shot over his shoulder to see her mother in the kitchen preparing snacks, and her father pouring wine across the table.
"Just an old friend, mother", he answered with that oh so familiar cold, calculating, British drawl of his. Her mouth dropped open, looking back at the wizard she hated with every bone in her body.
