Disclaimer: HP not mine -_-
It was a chilly morning. The sky was coloured a dull grey and wisps of clouds criss-crossed it. Hermione woke up early that day. Stretching her slim arms, she checked the time on the wall clock at her side.
Her room was still considerably dark, because it was barely on the brink of dawn. She squinted her eyes and tried to focus on the ticking hands of the clock.
Half past four.
Well, it seemed she had woken up unnaturally early. Maybe it was due to her one night of peaceful slumber. Whatever may be the reason for her body clock to take a different turn, she felt refreshed.
She had been yearning for a good night's sleep for quite some time.
Now that she's had one, she would get things done today.
Yes, I have time on my hand. I might as well get to it, thought Hermione determinedly.
Dragging herself somewhat unwillingly from the warmth of her bed, she treaded to the dressing table. A rather fresh looking Hermione stared back at her. The fatigue seemed to have decreased. There were lesser dark circles, and more glow to her face.
With a subconscious nod to herself, she went into her bathroom to freshen up. After a speedy bath, she stepped back into her bedroom. Her bathrobe wrapped around her slight frame, she walked towards her closet.
Selecting a soft salmon pink dress that flared at her knees, she chose a pair of tan Mary Jane pumps. Walking into her kitchen she made herself a light breakfast that she munched up thoroughly. Once she was done, she began to collect all official papers and documents for work. Shrinking them with a spell, she stuffed them into her tan brown bag.
Taking a last check upon her makeup, she walked out into the living room to floo. Grabbing a pinch of floo powder she was just about to announce the name of her destination, that a thought stopped her.
Dropping her handbag on the coffee table, she rushed into her bedroom. Searching through her bed linens, her fingers grabbed at nothing but soft linens. She was sure she had kept the parchment at her side when she prepared for sleep.
After a few more excruciating minutes of search, she finally found the document. She had unknowingly stepped onto the parchment making a soft crisp sound. Panicking she picked it up with unsteady hands.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered that the parchment was undamaged except for a few creases.
Quickly casting a spell to straighten it out, she walked purposefully to the corner of her room.
A large ornamental box was seated upon the dresser against the periwinkle blue wall of her bedroom. Grasping the box with her hands, she looked at it. It was a safe, where she kept everything important to her in the box's protective custody. The box would only open to a password that was linked to a spell of the owner's choice.
"Gramma Jeannie," she muttered and casted Lumos upon the box which opened consequently. Jean was Hermione's grandmother. She was her favourite grandchild. The poor woman although was very dear to Hermione, never had the knowledge of her ability to perform magic.
Until the fateful day she passed away. It pained her to remember the incident and her eyes burned when an onslaught of memories attacked her.
It was like any other day that she was sitting by her grandmother's bedside, reading to her and chatting. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. All of a sudden she ceased her talk mid-way and clutched at her chest.
It was evident that all was not well, when she began to wheeze and an alarmed Hermione apparated with her immediately to 's. The nurses rushed in, and everything became a blur.
She kept pacing outside the room anxiously, until a dispassionate looking Healer informed her of the grave news.
Her dear old, grandmother Jean was living her last moments. She stood there looking unfazed by the information. A passive look graced her delicate face and she turned to the healer, "can I see her?"
"Yes, Miss Granger. It is now or never," said the healer before hastily walking away with an apology.
Hermione did not even acknowledge his response and walked into the room, with slow steps. The room was painted in a beautiful eggshell white colour. Before her within a mass of white bed linens, lay her Gramma Jeannie.
Her eyes were closed and she seemed already dead. She had considerably lost colour since the last time she saw her. Stifling a sob, she approached her on unsteady legs. Taking the seat beside her bed, she grabbed her frail wrinkled hand.
It was such a stark contrast to hers which was a rosy pink. With both her hands, she brought her grandmother's hand to her cheek. The loose and wrinkly texture of her skin grazed against her own soft skin. The feeling was so dear, that she closed her eyes and a surge of warmth burned through her heart.
She didn't even realize the tears escaping her eyes as another pair of eyes observed her.
"Mia?" a scratchy voice spoke to her. Snapping her eyes open, she looked into the pools of pale blue eyes of her grandmother. There was a time, when she was a wee child that those eyes would sparkle like a pair of sapphires.
Yet now, they seemed lifeless and devoid of any of her usual vigour. She masked her heart ache, as she tried to ignore the inevitable fate of her grandmother.
"Gramma Jeannie, you are awake!" said Hermione. She was surprised at how startled she sounded. She was so buried in grief, that she had subconsciously considered her grandmother already dead. Her imagining the worst was fleetingly reassured with her grandmother's voice.
Her grandmother coughed as she tried to answer. Fearing the worst, without any thought to the repercussions, she conjured up a glass of water out of thin air.
Gently placing the glass to her grandmother's lips, she helped her to drink it. After she was done, Gramma Jeannie looked at her granddaughter with a quizzical look.
Realizing what she has done, Hermione slinked back into her seat. Her eyes darting everywhere, except her grandmother's face.
"Mia?" asked Gramma Jeannie for the second time, "what is the meaning of this?"
Hermione, looked blankly at her and fished for words. How could she tell her what it was! All this time she had hidden her magical abilities from her and now right during her presumable final day, should she inform her with this horrid truth?
"Umm... Gramma I think you should rest a while, we can..."
"No, Mia! Answer me! What you just did then with the glass and... Just please tell me!" said Gramma Jeannie pausing to grasp the girl's hand.
A very uneasy Hermione looked at her with a sheepish look and with a sigh she proceeded.
It is now or never, the words of the Healer reverberated in her mind and she went for it,"Gramma I...I have been meaning to tell you this. You see all this time I hadn't really been studying in a normal school..."
The grip on her hand tightened and she could not make anything of it, so she went on with her shameful ordeal, "I have been practicing magic, Gramma. I-I didn't really choose it you know. It, I mean the letter came to me out of the blue and..."
"Oh I knew it! I knew my dear child that you were special. You are an angel gifted with magic, aren't you my dear?" proclaimed Gramma Jeanie, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears.
Right that moment she wished the Earth would split wide open and swallow her whole. What could she tell her now? She could clear her misconception but what solace would that fetch her dear grandmother?
So she cleared her throat and spoke in a heavy voice, "I'm no angel, Gramma, but yes I know magic. I thought you would be ashamed of me but I guess this was long overdue."
The grip on her hand slackened and her grandmother removed her hand to rest it on her stomach. She looked straight ahead with a thoughtful expression.
"Mia, you forget that you are my grandchild first and a person later. What you do or what you are comes last to me. You are my flesh and blood. You are special, and nothing can change that. Not even having magical powers. I'm glad I know this about you, but trust me although I'm surprised, I love you nonetheless. So why would I ever judge you?"
Hot tears brimmed her eyes. Before her, Gramma Jeannie looked so frail and small. Yet her eyes that were turned towards her were reflecting a soul far stronger than the body that bore it.
She hated it all right then. She hated the white walls, the white sheets that draped her grandmother. The dull sky beyond the window glass. She hated the entire magical world itself.
If only she hadn't received the letter, she would have spent so much more time with her Gramma. Yet, alas! Her luck wouldn't have it! Here she was, sitting beside her dying grandmother and revealing her deepest of shameful secrets.
Oppressing a weep she said, "I wouldn't have left you all for the magic world, if I knew… knew how much I'm missing out on."
Her Gramma gave her a weak soft smile and said, "It isn't your fault my dear. It is destiny. Just as this was my destiny. Never regret anything in life, my child. Never disregard your abilities, no matter how unnatural they might be."
"I don't want my magic, Gramma! I want you! Oh if only all my magic could change this!" screaming this, she lunged into the arms of her grandmother.
She held tight onto her small frame, and cried like there was no tomorrow.
Her grandmother always smelled like apples, and at that moment it made her feel both euphoric and forlorn.
She felt the weak hands of her Gramma caress her back with soothing words, "There, there my child. You are a strong girl, dear. I hate to see you break down like this. You parents have raised you well, don't insult their memories by becoming weak. You are all that I have now."
She inhaled sharply at what her grandmother said, and fresh tears singed her eyes. Her Gramma believed that her parents had died in a car crash. She had no clue that her parents were still alive, somewhere in Australia.
Lies. All lies. That's all she had ever told her. Just to spare her from from one horrid truth to another. She was selfish. Indeed she was. She wanted her grandmother to die a death without any conflicting thoughts therefore she robed her off the truth.
She was feeling her grip on reality slacken. The enormity of her grandmother's last moments wasn't only what was eating away at her. It was the absence of her parents as well. Had there been no memory modification, her parents would have been here. Sitting along with her, beside her grandmother.
Together as a family during the worst. Never did she knew, that there would be a day when she would hate the magical world so much. Not in her wildest dreams she imagined that she would ever want to desperately wish her magical years away to restore it with an authentic muggle life.
Attend a school where all muggle children went, a home where muggle life happened. A grandmother she could tell the deepest of her muggle secrets and not fear her being hurt. A home with parents who would love and encourage her to do all things muggle and right.
No, the magical world had robbed her of all these. Voldemort had robbed her of all her happiness. Her family. Suddenly she heard her grandmother wheeze again and she looked up from huddled position, up at her.
She saw her grandmother's face turn paler, and she clutched at her chest. Her eyes squeezed shut with physical agony.
Alarmed, Hermione rushed out into the corridor screaming, "Healer! Where is the Healer? Somebody please help me!"
At her outburst, she saw a couple of nurses rush to her along with the Healer. She was shoved aside, as they went into the room. Frantically she tried to fight her way back into the room but she was forced to sit outside by a tall broad nurse.
She sat on the visitors' seat for what felt like hours. Her eyes closed, she focused on keeping her mind blank, to avoid the inevitable heart break.
If only she could obliviate herself this time.
A hand squeezed her shoulder, and she shot upright on her seat, startled. With bleary brown eyes she met a pair of green ones.
"Harry?" said Hermione. She could not believe he was here! Jumping up from her seat she rushed into his arms. Harry gave her a tight hug and patted the back of her head. Not being able to hold it any longer, she began to cry.
Pathetic Hermione! Gramma asked you to be strong! Her thoughts scolded herself.
Yet seeing Harry there in flesh, gave her a relief she did not realize she had been looking for. It was an actual moment for a shoulder to literally cry on.
"Don't cry, Mione. We are there for you. Ron is on his way. He will be here soon with the rest of the Weasleys," said Harry adjusting his glasses that Hermione had knocked askew as she hugged him back.
"How did you know I was here with Gramma?" asked Hermione between sobs as she untangled herself from his arms and sat back down.
Harry joined her on the seat beside and said," You are famous Hermione. Everyone knows your name. When the Healer received news that you were here with your grandmother, he informed me as he was unable to find a next of kin."
Hermione nodded slowly in acknowledgment and stared ahead through the wall opposite to her. She was then regretting her thoughts on the reversal of fate. She did not completely want her magical years to be striked off her history.
No, the wizarding world, although was cause to much of her pain, it had given her friends like Harry and Ron. People who were more like family than friends. She felt sure that although muggle life would have been far better and safer, it would have been less beautiful due to the absence of Harry and Ron.
She saw the door to her grandmother's room creak open, and the nurses walked out followed by the Healer. He approached them with the same indifferent façade and said stoically, "I'm sorry Miss Granger. Your grandmother is no more."
Hermione sat there, unflinching at the news. Not a single tear escaped her eyes. Everything seemed to dissolve into colours and noise. Harry, the Healer, the occasional people who passed by, all faded into the background.
Without a backward glance, she walked out of the hospital on unsteady legs. She ignored the calls and tugs at her arm by Harry and the Healer.
She didn't even register how and when she had walked out of the hospital and into her grandmother's bedroom.
Her steps faltered as she walked around the bed in her Gramma's room and sat herself down on her bed. The familiar scent of apples mesmerized her soul.
Lying back down on the bed, she felt she was in a limbo. She sighed an incomplete sigh that was interrupted by a hiccup. A tear fell down her cheek but she remained oblivious to it.
Tilting her head to the side, she saw a beautiful large ornamental box seated on her grandmother's dresser. She stood up and walked to it. Opening it, she saw several ornaments of her grandmother's that seemed decades old. Beside the box, was a picture frame.
It held a much younger Gramma Jeannie with an adolescent Hermione hugging her tightly.
Both smiling back at the camera. Both had deep chocolate curls adorning their faces that blew in the wind. Both seemed happy.
Taking the photograph out of the frame she held it within her hands. Turning it, she saw words written in her grandmother's hand.
With my angel.
Tears began cascading down her pink cheeks as she quickly put the picture into the box and pocketed it. She immediately apparated back to her apartment. Reciting a few intricate spells, she turned the box into a safe.
It glowed a gold glow as she whispered the password for the safe, "Gramma Jeanie."
She did not know how long she had been standing there, reminiscing the past, but her chest burned with emotional pain and her face felt wet with tears.
Wiping away the watermarks from her warm cheeks, she looked into the box once again. She gazed endearingly at the photograph of her with her grandmother with a watery smile.
Unwillingly tearing her eyes away from it, she grudgingly put her contract sheet within the box. Anger searing through her heart.
She could not believe she was tarnishing her grandmother's memory with something of Malfoy. That loathsome criminal deserved far worse. She felt angry not just at him, but at herself as well.
She felt incredibly guilty for putting Malfoy beside her grandmother. It felt like a crime against nature. What could be worse than placing the epitome of evil beside something as pure as her Gramma Jeannie?
Yet at the back of her mind, a more sensible part of her, argued.
The pain that she had felt and was still feeling, was akin to the pain she had observed in Malfoy's eyes. The pain of losing his mother.
Delusional or not, she had promised to herself to help him. She then discovered more to her choice of helping Malfoy than just a professional reason. It wasn't just for the sake of finding answers to his case. It was because she found a former part of herself in him.
He bore the same emotional scars as her when she had lost her parents and grandmother. Closing her eyes, she tried to quell the feeling of guilt and shame.
It wasn't wrong to help Malfoy that much was it? He needed help, albeit questioningly so. Denying him help would mean denying one thing that her family had taught her. That was compassion.
Her family had taught her that no matter what the circumstance she must endure it by preserving her principles. God always loved those who were strong and compassionate. If she judged every situation she was thrown into, and tried to escape it, then she was in turn devaluing her own principles.
At that moment, it was her principle to support and help those who needed it. Be it Malfoy or someone else.
Shutting the box close, she pushed the thought of tarnishing the sanctity of her Gramma's box with Malfoy aside.
Readjusting her appearance, she looked at the clock.
Quarter to six.
She was still early, but she didn't care.
With steady steps she walked to the fireplace, grabbing some floo powder she said firmly, "Azkaban."