Disclaimer: About all of Hermione's house was made up, and nothing written here belongs to me (though it would be nice-) (sorry the story's a bit slow right now!)
I also have had difficulties with the internet lately, hence the reason I hadn't posted
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Chapter 1
Hermione awoke in her own bed at home. As she blinked away the blurriness, the familiar surroundings came back into view.
Around her she saw the usual whitewashed walls and the simple blue and purple border. Along the walls stood her two ceiling to floor bookshelves, each of which were filled with magical and muggle books alike. Her desk in the corner had neat piles of paper and parchment, and quills, pencils, and pens shared room in their holders. Though not open, her closet would open to reveal long black robes, and many sweaters and shirts, with a large trunk at the bottom nestled between a backpack and a seldom-used lunchbox.
To any ordinary muggle, this room would have seemed more than strange. Especially if closely observed, the binoculars that hung innocently on the door could watch something that happened about thirty seconds ago in the spot it watched. Also, the homework that was done here would seem to be composed mostly of made up incantations and ingredients.
So most muggles would just say that this girl was "bloody mental."
But Hermione Granger wasn't ordinary, and wasn't a muggle. Even to her surprise, she was a witch. A witch that attends Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and cares for her part kneazle, part cat, Crookshanks. Her best friends were Ron Weasley, and the Boy who Lived, Harry Potter.
As Hermione got out of bed and made for the doorway, she paused and wondered, Should I add boomslang skin to the list of rare ingredients… Naw, then Snape would wonder how I knew about it.
She smiled as she thought of little exploit during her second year at Hogwarts.
When she reached the kitchen, she saw that there was a barn owl on the table, watched interestedly by her parents, who was waiting for her.