Hardships

Chapter One

Dear Hermione,

Mum said that you could come out to the Burrow this summer, but only if its okay with your parents. Harry's coming too. I thought maybe since it was only a week till school, and that its last year that you'd like to come to the Burrow for the last time before school officially ends. I think it holds more meaning that way... Anyways… send back your reply.

Love, Ron

Hermione stared at the letter. She hadn't heard from Harry or Ron all summer; now she knew exactly how Harry felt when he was being ignored. It really wasn't a nice feeling. Rereading the letter again, Hermione noticed that there wasn't even a note of apology as to why they hadn't owled her all summer. She had felt left out, as if Harry and Ron hadn't wanted to include her in their plans. But she knew her friends would never do that to her; they were best friends, and there must be some reason as to why they hadn't written a message. Could it have possibly been about the Order? Eager to find out, and knowing that she couldn't possibly write about the Order in a letter than could be intercepted, she hastily wrote back a reply:

Dear Ron,

I would love to come visit you at the Burrow…

Hermione checked her calendar to see when a good time would be to go there.

Can you possibly come pick me up around noon on the 22nd? See you then.

Love, Hermione

Although she hadn't asked her parents, she knew it would be okay. After all, she had been allowed every other year hadn't she?

"What do you mean I can't go to Ron's this summer? It's the last week before term starts! We always get together before then!"

"I'm sorry Hermione, but we already have other plans!" Mrs. Granger looked desperately at her husband.

"Hermione," Mr. Granger started, "We're moving right away, as your mother and I have been transferred to another office, and we are expected to be fully moved in the new house before the 28. And in order for that to happen, you have to be there to help. I'm so sorry honey."

"We're MOVING? Oh, Mom how could you?" and with that, Hermione tore out of the room in tears and ran up into her bedroom. How could they do this to me? They didn't even tell me! And now I'll be moving… this thought brought even more tears to Hermione's eyes. This was her childhood home. She had lived here her whole life. She couldn't just move and leave all that behind.

Hermione glanced around the room that she used to think needed serious redecorating; but she didn't think that anymore. The curling wallpaper was of yellow ducks- the same thing that had been in her room since she was a baby in her nursery. On one side of the wall beside her dresser, there was a diagram of the human mouth thought it wasn't very good; a 5 year old Hermione had drawn it. With a wry smile, Hermione remember back to that time when she had been sorting through her parents' dentist pamphlets, and decided to draw a diagram on her wall with crayon so that she could teach her teddy bears all about your teeth. When her mother found out, she had nearly died of laughter.

And then on another side of the wall lay Hermione's drawing of Hogwarts. It many turrets and towers and stood hovering over the shimmering lake, the forbidden forest and Hagrids hut tucked safely away in the background. Drawn with watercolors, the painting of Hogwarts was almost the exact same likeness.

Then Hermione realized that she was moving; she would never see her artwork again that lay scattered across her wall, the duck wall paper peeled aside in spots so as to make room for Hermione to draw and paint directly on the wall. Whoever would be moving in would tear down her artwork without caring in the least of what it would mean to her. And she would never be able to redraw any of the pictures; they were the originals, and would always remain so. Nobody knew that Hermione was such a talented artist, save for her parents.

The only person she had ever bothered to tell was her best friend in third grade. Drusilla had liked to copy Hermione's work more than they played together. And so Hermione decided to tell Drusilla of her talents in the hopes of making their friendship more interesting. But Drusilla had only laughed at her and told her that all she could draw was a pig. Hermione had been heartbroken, and had never spoken to Drusilla again. She hadn't had a friend since then, until Harry and Ron. They liked Hermione for who she was, even though they too liked to copy off of her. But who could blame them?

On her desk, there lay pictures of Hagrid, Harry, Ron, and some of the castle. Oh how she longed to go to the Burrow… but obviously luck wasn't in her way. Mourning for her loss, she went downstairs in the kitchen to grab a snack. Halfway down the stairs, Hermione was met by her father who handed her a stack of empty boxes.

"To pack you know. The movers will be here tomorrow, so you better get a move on."

Realizing that any arguments would be futile, she walked back up the stairs, silent tears streaming from her face. Once in her room, she wondered where to begin. Wiping a tear off her chin, she decided she would start with her pictures and paints. Stuffing her pencil crayons markers, sketching pencils, water colors, pastels and all her pictures that weren't painted on the wall into one box, she used a black marker to label "Paints". She used another 3 books to pack her books (and boy was there ever a lot of them). After labeling those boxes, Hermione realized that all her memories of this house would be lost once all her things were removed from it.

It was then she actually had a breakdown. Grabbing a paper weight off her cluttered desk, Hermione threw it as hard as she could at the wall. It left a rather large whole, but it made Hermione a little better. The tears were really pouring down her face, and to make matters worse, she was starting to cry. It was quiet at first but then the cries turned into heave wracking sobs.

Trying to divert her attention back to her packing, she found a picture she had drawn before she was accepted into Hogwarts. It was of people, all bustling about or chatting with their friends in a large city. In the middle sat a shadowed figure slumped against a STOP sign, arms around her knees. It was Hermione all alone. And that's exactly how she felt; Alone. Her parents hadn't even let Hermione giver them her consent; which was important since the Grangers always made decisions with one another. It wasn't fair. Her parents had no right!

Hermione willed the tears to stop coming, but they just wouldn't. It aggravated her even more. After all her clothes and personal belongings were packed, Hermione called up her dad to disassemble her bed, dresser, and giant bookshelf, while choosing herself to go for a walk. She finally managed to control her tears as she walked into the living room to tell her mom where she was going. She noticed her parents did a pretty good job of packing everything up. The couch and the furniture were all covered in plastic, while the TV, DVD player and the DVDs were boxed up. This was the room where Hermione herself had taken her very first steps, and said her very first word (book).

Once again, the tears flowed. Geez, I'm a human hosepipe.

"Mom," she managed to say, "I'm going out for a walk. Ill be back in bit." And she left the room not caring what her mothers answer would be.

Hermione decided to take a tour of her backyard, so that meant that she would have to go through the kitchen. AS she entered the cooking room, she jumped back in surprise. Nothing looked the same. All the food from the cupboards were taped up in boxes, and so was the china and cutlery. The table and chairs were no longer there; but neither was the stove, microwave, or refrigerator. Her parents had packed up everything, much to her dismay. It was only another sign that showed that the new people would change everything.

Hermione pushed open the sliding glass door and went down the spiral steps off the balcony to the yard below. There was her favorite tree; right down in the corner of the yard. It provided shade in those hot summers when the burning sun had been unbearable. On one thick branch hung a swing that her father had built for her when she was 10. Gingerly climbing on it, Hermione began to pump her legs back and forth so that she went higher and higher…

"Higher, higher daddy!" a younger Hermione giggled.

"Anything for you pumpkin!" and then he gave her the biggest under duck she'd ever had in her life.

"You know that if you go high enough, you can touch the sky?"

"Really Daddy?"

"Of course!"

And up she went… when she reached the highest she'd ever gone before, everything seemed to go in slow motion. Hermione reached out her hand to try to touch the sky, but she didn't succeed; the swing came back down.

"That's all alright pumpkin, you'll get it next time"…. Next time…

Hermione was snapped out of reverie by the groaning of the swing. Too late, Hermione realized that the swing was breaking... her 17 year old frame was way too heavy for the child like swing. The rope snapped, and she was brought to the ground nearly twisting her ankle in the process. Sitting on the grass staring at her knees, a sense of helplessness flowed around her… she glanced at the broken swing. She sighed, as a tear escaped her eye, and this time she did nothing to stop it. She cried and cried until there were no tears left. She was empty. Utterly and completely empty. She had nothing left of her childhood now; it was all gone.

Brushing the bits of grass and dirt of her person, Hermione got up off the grass. She decided to explore the rest of the yard before she went to pack up her precious library. The flower garden was radiant. All the flowers were in bloom; the sunflowers towering 8 feet high. The rose bushes were beautiful, all soft and blossoming. There were also snapdragons, marigolds, tulips, buttercups, gladiolas, and many other flowers even the smart Hermione could not find a name for. This was the Granger family passion; the flower garden. All those long hard hours bent over on their back digging and planting and sweating. They had created something beautiful every year, decorated the backyard to make it look its best.

She even recalled that one year when Hermione had taken all the flowers off the lilac bush. Her mother had been furious with Hermione, but after she had set them on a tray in an artistic manner, the anger cooled off. She laughed at the memory, but jumped when she felt a cool hand on her shoulder. Her mother.

"Sweetie, I know it's hard, and I know it's going to take awhile to get used to everything, but sometimes you have to let things go. I'm sure you'll like the new house," and with a glare from Hermione she added, "Of course not as much… but you will like it."

"I know mom, I know… can we go pack up the library now?"

"Of course."

They headed off inside to go box up the few hundred books that Hermione had cherished so much all through her life. The books had all cost a small fortune, but she thought it had been worth. How many rainy days had Hermione spent here reading mysteries, romances, adventures, and God knows what else? Too many, yet not enough.