AN: Soooo... let's get this over with. There will be cursing. There may be smut, I don't know about that yet. Usually I'd try to write a few chapters ahead, but with this, I'm just writing to write. I have some small semblance of an idea and I'm going with it. This is basically a Dramione Eight Year AU. I can't promise scheduled posts. I can't promise chapter lengths. If I don't post a chapter for more than a month or two I'll say it's on hiatus. If I have any grammar errors or if you have any questions, say so and I'll address the questions in the next AN. If you have any ideas for the story please say them because I have no fucking clue where this is going. I'm gonna be honest, these ANs will vary in mood. Right now I'm in a bad mood. If my computer hadn't restarted in the middle of me writing this AN earlier today, it would be in a good mood and you wouldn't have to deal with my shit. If you want to comment/review, go ahead, I'm not going to stop you. I don't want to stop you. If its being overly bubbly or constructive criticism or even fucking flames I honestly don't give a damn. Do whatever you want.
U_U
~~~ AlicornEagle11
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. I only own my plot and whatever OC's that I might include.
Hermione Jean Granger was tired.
She was tired of the masks she wore and the expectations she was held to. Tired of how everything had changed but everyone expected her to be the exact same. Tired of how everything started to feel wrong now. She was so aware of everything that every word she said and every action she did felt like it was wrong, but she couldn't possibly perceive anything for her to say to be right. Tired of how she was used to people finding it normal to unintentionally (or intentionally, depending on the person) ostracize her, again and again and if she were ever to say anything things would become so much worse. And she was tired of how everything always felt so numb that she stopped dreading her nightmares and started happily welcoming them, and started bringing herself pain during the day, physical or emotional. She didn't mind that as much, but everything else weighed down on her like the burden of all the books she used to carry to cement herself a reputation.
So she decided to stop.
She couldn't change the unending tiredness, but there were a few things she could change. Her friendship with Harry and Ron and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys seemed to harm more than help, especially with the guilt plaguing her. So she stayed away. The guilt from how she treated Luna, too, held her to where she sat in her apartment bought by the funds she had from the awards the Ministry had given her and the rest of the main saviors after the war.
The apartment was cozy, but not cramped, two bedroom with an attached kitchen and living, one full bathroom, one powder room, and a balcony overlooking a garden. She was glad it overlooked the garden instead of the city, because the city and its loud noises never helped. The apartment was in muggle London, magicless, and she preferred it. It was easier to give herself an excuse for lacking the energy to do anything. Sometimes she mustered up enough to grab a razor or a sharp knife and head to one of the bathrooms. Sometimes she'd just lay in bed, just her thoughts. Sometimes she'd trace all of her scars. Self-inflicted and war-inflicted.
Until mid-July, when she fully decided to set change in motion. By now, her curls had tamed themselves so they were looser and easier to manage. She started to pin in back with silver onyx hairpins, then decided to burn all her clothes and went on a shopping spree for new ones. Change, change, change echoed in her mind. And she accepted it. She bought black and silver and dark hues, no more bright colors or Gryffindor-themed stuffy jumpers, she couldn't take it. Tank tops and crop tops and strapless shirts and flowy shirts, leather jackets and loose cardigans, black lace stockings, several sets of black leggings with cutouts or laces up the sides, tight-fitting jean shorts, jean and leather skirts, and leather and fabric heeled boots, black high-tops, and all sorts of heels in dark hues and silver. Scandalous makeup: thick mascara, dark eyeshadow and deep maroon and burgundy lipstick. Her skin was pale and the dark makeup would accent that. She hadn't burned her jewelry, but she bought new stuff. Just about anything that caught her fancy that was black or silver, particularly chokers and rings. She bought several beaded black lace chokers.
For the final change, she headed to the tattoo parlor. Over the course of the next month-and-half, revisited several times. The end result was numerous tattoos over her body, almost all in black ink. Some were floral designs, some mandala designs, some were pictures of magical creatures, but each one accentuated her scars and wove them into beautiful images while still letting her be the person she wished to finally get to be.
This helped her stop from resorting to the pain as much, seeing the tattoos, and she felt the tiredness fading a little bit. Her parents might be gone forever, unreachable in Australia, but she could have this much. She didn't have to be that innocent, protected bookworm that ended up left behind. She was her own person, and anyone who cared to say otherwise could fuck themselves and see if she gave a damn.
Oh, she'd changed. For the better, she hoped. And then the letter came and messed everything up.
It was August 25th, and she had been lying on her bed, the black curtains draped over her window as to prevent any light from coming in, tracing a finger over her tattoos and scars. Well, she was, until an incessant pecking sounded from her window.
Groaning, she moved and slid out of bed, walking over to the window and pulling back the curtains, and scoffed. An owl. A fucking owl was pecking at her window and being the epitome of an annoyance.
Rolling her eyes at how long it's been since she'd had to do this, she opened the window and let the owl in. It dropped the letter on her nightstand before flying back out and she was thankful that it didn't stick around.
Hermione fell back in bed and grabbed the letter. It was in a parchment envelope and had the Hogwarts seal. Ripping it open rather aggressively, she pulled out the contents and began to read it.
Dear Miss Hermione J. Granger,
As per the new Ministry of Magic requirement, all students expected to attend a year of Hogwarts are required to come back and redo their year, for either they didn't attend or it was incomplete. This redone year is necessary for you to take your N.E.W.T.s and get a proper career afterward. Please find enclosed a list of the necessary supplies.
The term will begin on September 1st. Please take the Hogwarts Express at Platform 9 3/4 in King's Cross. We are pleased to see you again.
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Hermione sighed. She supposed that she'd have to go back, as she'd never be able to get a job in the muggle world, and she'd only be able to get a job in the Wizarding World after completing her N.E.W.T.s. Even though the funds were enough to last a century of luxury, a career might stable her.
Looks like she would be heading to Diagon Alley.
She pulled the supplies list from the envelope and scanned it.
Seventh-year students will require:
- Uniform
One to Two Sets of Dress Robes for Special Occasions
Three Sets of Plain work robes (Black)
One Plain Pointed Hat (Black) for day wear
One Pair of Protective Gloves (dragon hide or similar)
One Winter Cloak (Black, silver fastenings)
- Books
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage
A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
Advanced Rune Translation by Yuri Blishen
Defending Against the Dangerous by Vellydia Turren
Numerology and Grammatica, Pt. 5 (Advanced) by Julian Albert
Creatures of Afar by Lana Duri
Advanced Guide to the Stars Above by Pierre Dysvon
- Other Equipment
1 Wand
1 Cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set of grass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set of brass scales
Students may also bring an Owl OR a Cat OR a Toad
Students may bring their own broomstick.
The hat was useless. She wasn't going to buy that. She'd skip out on History of Magic and Astronomy, too. They were pointless classes that were just a waste of time. There wasn't even a point in buying the books for them. Or the telescope for astronomy. And once she figured out what the dress robes were for, she'd buy them on her own time.
Carefully, she cast glamor and color-changing charms on herself, too hide who she was and the tattoos. The magical world didn't exactly approve of tattoos. Then she apparated to Diagon Alley, a place she had hoped to never have to go again.
It didn't feel too different from before, but she could sense the underlying sorrow. She averted her eyes from the bright signs of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and headed to Madam Malkin's, ready to get this over with.
The bell on the door rang when she opened it, and Madam Malkin rushed over.
"Hogwarts," Hermione told her blandly when the woman opened her mouth. "Just the robes and cloak."
"Of course, of course, dear. We have a few others getting fitted up here, I'm sure you won't mind."
"Just get it done quickly." She pulled a galleon out of her cloak and discreetly fingered it. "I hope you don't mind," she purred in a sudden change of tone.
"Of course not, dear. Come, follow me."
Madam Malkin led her over to a section of the store and began measuring her, then had her put a robe on and began pinning it. It was done rather quickly, and Hermione tipped her with the galleon she had silently promised. Then she headed over to Flourish and Blotts. It was crowded, but she managed to push her way through, grabbing the necessary books off the shelf and paying in less than ten minutes. She finished up at the various shops required to get the gloves, scales, cauldron, phials, and a trunk to put it all in before apparating back to her apartment.
Hogwarts would be a different experience. She'd have to work to stay away from the Weasleys and Harry, and without Crookshanks by her side, it would be a struggle. She hoped she'd be able to make it.