Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Today in school, I had "English Lessons" with my friend. She's teaching me how to talk 'English' style. So far, I've learned proper dining etiquette, proper speech, proper addressing styles, and a couple of ways to say some words. She's from England, and she's from around Orlando Bloom's hometown, and she has a couple of friends in England whose parents know Orlando Bloom. What do I think about this situation? I think they're lucky duckies. For this story, I decided to go for a different, changed Hermione. Instead of happy, carefree Hermione. Let's go to the dark side...... Shall I escort you?
She got off the train, and quickly exited the overcrowding station. She walked into the Muggle world after a short goodbye to Harry and Ron. She saw her dad, and ran towards him yelling, "DAD! It's me!"
He didn't say anything though. He just stared at her through eyes that were cold, hollow, empty, solemn..........expressionless. He didn't say anything, just picked up her stuff, and walked mechanically towards the car. All through the car ride home, neither of them said anything. He stared at the road through lifeless eyes.
'Like a robot.' She thought.
When they got home, she ran in through the front door, yelling, "Mum! Mum! I'm home mum! MUM! Mum?"
"She's not here." Her father said quietly. He was standing in the doorway, looking very weary.
"What do you mean she's not here? Where is she?"
"Well 'Mione. Look. I know you're going to take this hard......" his voice trailed off at this point.
"Mum?" Hermione half asked, half exclaimed in barely a whisper.
Her dad was silent.
Suddenly, something clicked. "She's........dead?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.
"Yes." Her dad said in an inaudibly small tone.
"No..... She can't be dead." Hermione said, thinking that this was some big charade, and that her mom would jump out any minute yelling, "Gotcha!"
But the tears on her fathers face didn't let up, and they were pouring down his face in streams.
"I'm sorry." Her dad managed to say through his tears. "We were driving back two weeks before you were going to arrive back home, and there was a drunk driver, and when it was our turn to go, he came zooming towards us at 120 mph. We didn't see him coming, heading towards us. He crashed into the passenger side in which your mother was sitting in. Nothing done could help her afterwards."
"It's alright dad. I understand. It's just............ it's such a shock to me..."
Her dad smiled at her sadly. "God. I loved her so much. Why'd she have to leave?"
"Dad, everyone has their life's beginning, and their end. Mom's fate was just not meant for a long life. Don't worry. She may be dead, be we still have memories. Memories that are happy, and not sad."
Her dad was silent, and Hermione decided to go up to her room, and unpack for the summer. Deciding to leave him there, and not bother him in his state.
After two weeks, she decided to go talk to her dad. He was not eating well, he never talked, and he looked like he didn't sleep at all. He was loosing weight at a rapid pace, and his clothes now hung loosely on him. It was around 7:30 in the morning, and so she decided she would go find him. Too late. The door swung open before she could walk halfway towards the door. There, in the frame of the door stood her dad, snarling.
"D-dad?" Hermione questioned, her voice faltering at his sudden change in attitude.
No reply.
"Dad?" Hermione repeated, more firmly, but still scared.
Her dad walked into the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud BANG that made Hermione jump.
"It's all your fault" he hissed at her.
"Dad? What's all my fault?"
"It's your fault that she died."
"But....how? How could I have killed her? I was at school." Hermione replied, knowing that he was talking about mum.
Her father had no answer. He just moved menacingly towards, and reached into his pocked. Hermione froze. What was he doing? As if reading her mind, he slowly pulled out something. Something that was hidden in his clutched hand.
He snarled at her, and said in a sickly evil voice, "Well my dear, look what I have..."
He unfurled his hand, and revealed his pocket knife. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. What was he doing with his pocket knife? Suddenly, without warning, he grabbed the knife, opened it, and threateningly moved towards her, with his right hand on the handle of the knife, and his left, in the middle of the air, stretched tensely out. He smiled, revealing his extremely dirty teeth.
"Dad?" Hermione asked, fear evident in her voice and in her eyes.
He lunged forward, grabbing onto her upper arm with brutal force. After a couple of seconds of struggling, Hermione found herself on her knees, and her father grasping her hair and holding the knife to her throat.
"You see, my dear? You are too weak, and I am strong. It all fits perfectly. Like master like slave." He chuckled crazily.
"Dad?" Hermione repeated again.
Slowly, her father dug the edge of the blade into the flesh under her chin, drawing blood. Hermione screamed, feeling the blood trickle slowly down her neck, leaving a trail of warm nothing in its wake......
Reviews please! I actually took a lot of joy writing this. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah...............
At least 10 reviews till I write/post the next chapter.......................................
Today in school, I had "English Lessons" with my friend. She's teaching me how to talk 'English' style. So far, I've learned proper dining etiquette, proper speech, proper addressing styles, and a couple of ways to say some words. She's from England, and she's from around Orlando Bloom's hometown, and she has a couple of friends in England whose parents know Orlando Bloom. What do I think about this situation? I think they're lucky duckies. For this story, I decided to go for a different, changed Hermione. Instead of happy, carefree Hermione. Let's go to the dark side...... Shall I escort you?
She got off the train, and quickly exited the overcrowding station. She walked into the Muggle world after a short goodbye to Harry and Ron. She saw her dad, and ran towards him yelling, "DAD! It's me!"
He didn't say anything though. He just stared at her through eyes that were cold, hollow, empty, solemn..........expressionless. He didn't say anything, just picked up her stuff, and walked mechanically towards the car. All through the car ride home, neither of them said anything. He stared at the road through lifeless eyes.
'Like a robot.' She thought.
When they got home, she ran in through the front door, yelling, "Mum! Mum! I'm home mum! MUM! Mum?"
"She's not here." Her father said quietly. He was standing in the doorway, looking very weary.
"What do you mean she's not here? Where is she?"
"Well 'Mione. Look. I know you're going to take this hard......" his voice trailed off at this point.
"Mum?" Hermione half asked, half exclaimed in barely a whisper.
Her dad was silent.
Suddenly, something clicked. "She's........dead?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.
"Yes." Her dad said in an inaudibly small tone.
"No..... She can't be dead." Hermione said, thinking that this was some big charade, and that her mom would jump out any minute yelling, "Gotcha!"
But the tears on her fathers face didn't let up, and they were pouring down his face in streams.
"I'm sorry." Her dad managed to say through his tears. "We were driving back two weeks before you were going to arrive back home, and there was a drunk driver, and when it was our turn to go, he came zooming towards us at 120 mph. We didn't see him coming, heading towards us. He crashed into the passenger side in which your mother was sitting in. Nothing done could help her afterwards."
"It's alright dad. I understand. It's just............ it's such a shock to me..."
Her dad smiled at her sadly. "God. I loved her so much. Why'd she have to leave?"
"Dad, everyone has their life's beginning, and their end. Mom's fate was just not meant for a long life. Don't worry. She may be dead, be we still have memories. Memories that are happy, and not sad."
Her dad was silent, and Hermione decided to go up to her room, and unpack for the summer. Deciding to leave him there, and not bother him in his state.
After two weeks, she decided to go talk to her dad. He was not eating well, he never talked, and he looked like he didn't sleep at all. He was loosing weight at a rapid pace, and his clothes now hung loosely on him. It was around 7:30 in the morning, and so she decided she would go find him. Too late. The door swung open before she could walk halfway towards the door. There, in the frame of the door stood her dad, snarling.
"D-dad?" Hermione questioned, her voice faltering at his sudden change in attitude.
No reply.
"Dad?" Hermione repeated, more firmly, but still scared.
Her dad walked into the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a loud BANG that made Hermione jump.
"It's all your fault" he hissed at her.
"Dad? What's all my fault?"
"It's your fault that she died."
"But....how? How could I have killed her? I was at school." Hermione replied, knowing that he was talking about mum.
Her father had no answer. He just moved menacingly towards, and reached into his pocked. Hermione froze. What was he doing? As if reading her mind, he slowly pulled out something. Something that was hidden in his clutched hand.
He snarled at her, and said in a sickly evil voice, "Well my dear, look what I have..."
He unfurled his hand, and revealed his pocket knife. Hermione's breath caught in her throat. What was he doing with his pocket knife? Suddenly, without warning, he grabbed the knife, opened it, and threateningly moved towards her, with his right hand on the handle of the knife, and his left, in the middle of the air, stretched tensely out. He smiled, revealing his extremely dirty teeth.
"Dad?" Hermione asked, fear evident in her voice and in her eyes.
He lunged forward, grabbing onto her upper arm with brutal force. After a couple of seconds of struggling, Hermione found herself on her knees, and her father grasping her hair and holding the knife to her throat.
"You see, my dear? You are too weak, and I am strong. It all fits perfectly. Like master like slave." He chuckled crazily.
"Dad?" Hermione repeated again.
Slowly, her father dug the edge of the blade into the flesh under her chin, drawing blood. Hermione screamed, feeling the blood trickle slowly down her neck, leaving a trail of warm nothing in its wake......
Reviews please! I actually took a lot of joy writing this. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah...............
At least 10 reviews till I write/post the next chapter.......................................