Disclaimer: Me not own. Me = stupid primate. JKR own. JKR = goddess.
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se détacher [= to break away (from); escape suddenly]
She awoke to the first rays of sunlight that shone through her window and tickled her. For once, Hermione luxuriated in the feeling of waking up slowly, as she rolled around and hugged her pillow tighter. Just a little longer…
A loud 'merow!' and a soft paw tapping her face pulled her out of the land between sleep and dream.
"Morning Crookshanks…" she yawned, and stroked him lazily. "You can't possibly want something to eat again, can you?"
Crookshanks watched her with an expectant
look on his face. Food it was, then.
Swinging her legs out of the bed
and pulling the covers from her body, Hermione stumbled to the cupboard
across the room and got the cat his breakfast.
Her parents had disapproved of feeding
one's cat in the bedroom, when they had first noticed this habit, but it
had turned out that Crookshanks detested eating elsewhere. And so, just
as at Hogwarts, he was silently gulping down his food in her presence.
Hermione walked over to the window and pulled the filmy curtains aside, letting the clear light of the morning sun immediately fill the room. Then she opened the window, pushed her head out of it, and breathed in the fresh and cool air. It was some kind of ritual she had developed because she had to get up so early for class. Which sometimes wasn't easy, especially if you had spent the better part of the night in the library, caught up in an interesting book. Come to think of it, she had always been more a night person.
After a few minutes she felt thoroughly refreshed and far more awake. She went over to Crookshanks, who had curled up on her bed after finishing eating, and petted him absently. Her digital clock read seven thirty. Definitely too early in the morning for a vacation's day.
But since she was already up, she figured she may as well get some still-warm croissants from the bakery. Preparing breakfast had always been a thing to get her parents into a light mood, and considered what she was planning to tell them, the lighter their mood, the better it was.
Hermione decided to take a quick shower – icy cold – then dried her hair with a quick spell. Afterwards she dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and quietly, as not to wake her parents, left the house.
Crookshanks had again chosen to accompany her on her little walk. Hermione had heard her neighbours say that it was decidedly peculiar for a cat to stroll along with its owner, but then, they said a lot of things. The reason just had to be this strange boarding school the girl was attending, rumours went, because what decent school would allow students to take a pet with them, anyhow? And so, from some of her more curious neighbours she was getting furtive glances, when she was home, from others not so much, for they didn't care about her, or discarded her strangeness as stupid old-ladies talk.
The owner of the bakery belonged to the second group. She had owned the small shop even when the Granger's had just moved to this part of outer London and hence Hermione had grown up around her. A nice woman she was, not that young, but definitely not much older than her own mother, and Hermione had developed a fondness for her in the early days. Even Crookshanks always got a little treat whenever he went here with Hermione. It was just the same today.
She allowed herself a small chat with Miss Madley, as usual, bought four croissants for herself and her father, and a small apricot tartlet for her mother.
The sun was rising slowly about the company of houses. The sky was a clear, bright blue with just a few sprinkles of cloud in it. Everything was perfectly fine, and Hermione knew she should feel comfortable. She didn't, though, at least not to the extent she expected.
'Do not trouble your mind overmuch…' the voice of the Headmaster rang in her ears again. Funny. She didn't want to trouble herself by withholding the fact from her parents that she wasn't going to a muggle university. Which was why she wanted to tell them as early as possible, meaning this very first morning of the holidays. Which was, at the moment, troubling her a great deal.
There was no way of stepping back, though. She was aware that her mum and dad wouldn't approve of these new plans; still she couldn't estimate how bad it was going to be. So, while she walked up the way to her door, noticing that the curtains of her parent's room were drawn back, too, she felt a slight knot form in her stomach.
As she entered the kitchen she found her mother making coffee. Deciding to make a good impression Hermione started to set the table and managed a quite cheerful, "Good morning, mum! I got us some breakfast from Madley's." The paper bag was waved in front of her mother's nose who looked decidedly surprised.
"Is there anything special today?" Her long slim fingers – Hermione had always admired those and been angry that part of her heritage had missed her – pulled three mugs out of the cupboard, pouring the steaming coffee into them.
Caught me! it flashed through Hermione's mind. But she shook her head and tried to look wholly innocent.
"No. It's just first day of the holidays and all that, right?"
Her mother seemed to accept that as a reason, and so Hermione settled comfortably on her favourite chair, sipping her coffee and plucking at her croissant. Nicholas Granger didn't notice anything odd about her behaviour either, as he joined them at the table and pulled open his London Times. But all the while Hermione felt a slight apprehension. She almost wished him to never finish the paper, for when he did, she would have to tell them. She distracted herself with little mind-games: Reciting several ingredients for potions backwards the way they were added, lining up all the transfiguration spells she knew in their alphabetical order…
The half hour that it took her father to leaf through the Times seemed to stretch endlessly. Her mother wasn't very talkative, either, she enjoyed these quiet mornings and was used to them, with Hermione seldom there as company. Finally he laid down the enormous mass that had been covering his face and smiled at his daughter.
"So, do you have any special plans for the holidays?"
Hermione shifted uneasily in her chair.
"Not really. Ron offered me to visit his brother in Egypt and I'll probably take up on that. Apart from that… informing myself about my university and getting to know it. That is, if it's possible to visit the campus a week or so before the term begins."
"You've already decided where to go?" Elizabeth set down her cup of coffee and stared curiously at her daughter. "When did that happen? Is it Blackpool or Oxfordshire, then? They were your favourites, weren't they?"
"Well, actually… it's neither." She sighed. "I know we've talked about this before, and it's probably ruining both of our holidays, but I want it over with."
"This isn't about that witch-nonsense again, is it?" Her mother's brows were knitted together in a furious frown. Oh boy, this was not going to be easy.
"It's not nonsense. It's as good a profession as being a lawyer is. Witchcraft…"
"We already finished that discussion. Letting you go to this school was one thing, letting you slip entirely into this… this strangeness and this community of weird people is different! You need to be around real people more, or you'll…"
"I AM around real people, mum!" Hermione had risen and glared at her mother, "Harry and Ron, and everyone I got to know at Hogwarts is as real as you or I! Only thing that's different from normal folk is that they can do magic. I know you don't approve of it. But you have no idea how much this is hurting me."
"You could well do without magic." she said, enunciating every word. "You're a smart girl, Hermione. You could be anything. You don't need this."
"You really don't understand, do you?" Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. This was not looking good, but she wouldn't give in, not even for her mother.
"This isn't about what I could do. This is about what I want, what I excel at, what I am. Magic is a part of me, and just because you can't understand it, it doesn't mean you can shut me off from it. I'd rather do this with you accepting it. You don't have to like it, only put that much trust in me to know I'll be okay."
Elizabeth still didn't look convinced. She shot a half glance at her husband.
"Say something to her, Nicholas. You don't support these plans, do you?"
For a few seconds there was a terribly tense silence in the room. Hermione watched her father pinching his nose, something he seldom did, and only if he was troubled very much.
"I have to agree with your mother, partially, Hermione. I think you would do much better getting an employment somewhere in real life."
Her shoulders sacked. At least her father should offer her some respect, or so she had hoped.
"But I also understand that you want to decide about your own life yourself. In fact, I've had quite a similar discussion with my parents when I was your age, only they didn't want me to study."
"You never told me that." Hermione stated blankly.
"There was no reason to. I think it will be fair to leave you a bit of choice in this matter. But like your mother and I decided long ago, we won't sustain these studies. If you want to do this so much I know we can't keep you from it – but you can at least work for having your own way."
A sigh of relief escaped Hermione's lips.
"That's already taken care of. I managed to get a scholarship at a university with a very good reputation, and for the rest I got a job at my former school during holidays. That wasn't what I was worrying about."
Her mother's expression spoke volumes about how she thought of the situation.
"I still don't like it. And don't you dare think you can just show up here again, if things aren't going the way you expect them to!"
"Beth…" Hermione's father tried to soothe, but the stern look on her face didn't waver. I'd use the dad's name, otherwise the stern look sounds like it's referring to Hermione.
"Don't 'Beth' me. I don't even want to think of what the implications to this are. But since you'll be spending all of our times either at this university or at the other school, I suppose it's not like I'd see much of you, at anyway." She pulled back her chair and stood stiffly. "I think I'll be taking a short trip to my sister, now. And when I return, I hopefully won't have to concern myself with any of this again."
With that she briskly moved out, leaving Hermione desperately trying to keep her tears at bay. It didn't work this time. Soon she was curled up on the floor, sobbing like the little girl she had once been frightened by a storm.
Her father kneeled down beside her and took her into his comforting arms.
"She'll come around eventually, pet,
I promise. She just needs more time." He shushed into her ear and Hermione
badly wanted to believe him. Right now it didn't feel like his words were
true. Right now she only perceived the loss of her mother.