Title: Letters from No one

Disclaimer: Sadly I am not J.K Rowling, therefore meaning that sadly, I do not own any of the originals or ideas... unless I do... own an original that is... but not one of J.K's... one of my own...

Rating: T for teen

Summary: Hermione writes her innermost thoughts and the events of her life in her diary, but what happens when one day she finds a mysterious note stuck to the inside cover of her precious book? Who is it from- and why is everything suddenly happening to her?

Author's Note: Yay! I got reviews on my very first day, so thank you to all who posted! (Well that's made me happy enough to update). Anyway- last time I wrote, Hermione had locked herself in her room after finding out the news that her dad was going to be moving to Australia to open his own clinic, and was against it because he would miss her birthday (which has moved to the 19th of September instead of the 9th, thanks to shiegurl) and her return to Hogwarts.


Chapter Two

StillFriday August 28th

Dear Diary,

It is official. This is the worst day of my life! I've just gotten news that my dad's not going to be coming back to England with me and mum and instead he's going to start up his own dentist clinic down here. I cannot believe this! I mean sure I'm happy for him, but these are the last few days when I'll get to see him before I go off to board at Hogwarts for the semester.

He's flooing home tonight to get his things packed. Apparently he's staying in some apartment that's been arranged for him- it's "conveniently located" by the clinic so that he can get there on time each morning. Our house was conveniently located near the old clinic back in England if you ask me- which clearly nobody has, and that's why I'm writing this while sitting up on the roof. I was in my room before, but now that I've stopped crying I just feel like being out in the open. It's spring here in Australia and I must say, it's rather nice. Not at all what I expected it to be. We're staying in a cottage house near this little creek in the middle of the suburbs. Not quite what you'd expect in "the great red country", but still, it's very peaceful here.

The door to my room's still locked, and I can hear mum and dad knocking on it for me to come out. The little boy who lives next door is poking his head out his window and looking up at me sitting on my terracotta-tiled roof. Ha. You should see his face- thinking I'm some sort of psycho sitting up here at seven o'clock at night.

Great- now mum's threatening to have my door taken off its hinges if I don't open it this instant. Well you know what? They can threaten me all they want- remove my door too if they really want to, because you know what? I'm here and they're not, and it's not like they'd think to look for me on the roof. Lestat's here too, circling the chimney and perching on my shoulder ever so often. He's really quite heavy for a bird, so excuse my handwriting if it's all squiggly in parts- that's from my arm going limp under Lestat's weight.

Hm- I think the knocking's stopped. Maybe if I crawl around to the side I can jump into the willow tree and see if they've gone from my door, or if mum's gotten herself a power tool.

Sighing, Hermione got up halfheartedly, creeping around the edge of the roof, with her pen and diary in one hand. If she was lucky, she could get to the side window by climbing down onto the willow tree, but the only down was that she probably wouldn't be able to get back onto the roof after that. It was quite a drop, and she still couldn't use magic out of Hogwarts as she was only 16. Making up her mind, she crossed to the chimney, steadying herself as she leant against it for support. Maybe she could hear voices coming from the living room? No luck, just the occasional draught of cold air whistling up the brick tunnel.

Scrunching up her nose in disappointment, Hermione sat back down, Lestat landing smoothly on the chimney beside her, nibbling her hair as she sucked on her tongue, thinking what to do. Nothing came to mind. She would have asked the little boy if he could see anybody through his view of her hallway window, but he had long since been shooed to bed by his mother. Sighing in defeat, Hermione put her head in her hands, closing her eyes as she waited for time to pass. But she couldn't give up. She wouldn't.

After waiting for another half an hour (in which time she had been listening carefully to the noises in her house), she heard- to her relief, the sound of the tv being clicked on while her mother made her and her father tea. Clearly they had given up on the hope that she might come down and join them. This was exactly what she had been hoping.

With a quick scramble down to the edge of the roof, Hermione lowered herself through her bedroom window. It was almost eight o'clock when she looked at her watch, and the night sky was noticeably darker. Opening her cupboard, she dragged her empty suitcase out from the bottom shelf and began packing. Soon enough she had crammed in all her clothes, books and belongings, with the exception of her diary, pen, a jacket and a small canister of floo powder, which she carried around in case of emergencies. She fished out a spacious shoulder bag and dumped the four things into various pockets, leaving herself enough room for food if she wanted any. Finally, she scribbled down a note to her parents, written on a ripped out page from her diary, coaxed Lestat into his cage with an owl treat, and grabbed a handful of money that had been sitting on the top of her set of drawers, pushing the rest into her bag.

This was it. She was ready to go, and yet somehow couldn't figure out how. Her parents were in the room next to the front entry, and with a caged Lestat, that was like admitting to the police that you had robbed a bank. There was only one other way for it. The window.

Breathing deeply, Hermione quietly edged the window open to it's extent, resting her suitcase on the ledge. It was a long drop and no doubt it would make a noise. Closing her eyes, she pushed, waiting to hear the curious footsteps of her parents as they moved to see what had made the noise, but nothing came.

'Probably thought it was the tv,' she thought, relieve.

Of course she wasn't going to drop Lestat out the window- so she opened the cage, ducking her head as he swooped out the open window indignantly, his wings brushing her hair as he went.

With her bag over her shoulder and a flimsy metal cage in one hand, Hermione eased herself out the window, searching for a foothold. After a moment, she found a place in the brickwork where the cement had crumbled away, then another and another. Eventually she was in line with the windows on the ground floor, letting herself drop soundlessly onto the grassy lawn below.

She was at the back of the house and could hear the tv going in the living room, the silhouettes of her parents enjoying their last cup of tea together, against the dimly lit curtains stretching across the yard.

Getting Lestat back inside his cage, Hermione took hold of the handle of her suitcase and wheeled it to the other side of the house- here she'd have no problems of escape unless one of her parents came out of the house. Walking to the end of the street, Hermione stopped, leaning against a street lamp as she looked in both directions. She had remembered Harry telling her about the Night Bus back in England, and wondered if they had one where she was in Australia.

Waiting some more, she realised that nothing was coming, and went to the nearest bus stop. There was a timetable stuck to the back of the shelter, showing the next one on the line would be arriving in three minutes. Patiently she waited, pulling her jacket out of her shoulder bag and placing it over Lestat's cage so as not to attract stares.

The bus came soon enough, and Hermione climbed aboard, slipping two dollars into the box by the driver in order to get a ticket, before moving to the back of the bus and placing her belongings on the seat next to her.

Still Friday August 28th, but a lot later

Dear Diary,

Well that's that. I'm currently on a public bus, traveling to goodness-knows-where. I'll try and cross lines or see if this one stops at the local all-night hardware store. I've seen it down on the main street and I'm pretty sure that they have everything to do with home hardwares and the like.

Lestat's making a fuss in his cage as usual, ruffling his feathers and such- I think that when I get a place of my own I'll have to have an aviary built for him. He really does hate to be cooped up- like he's some sort of higher ranking bird. I don't know. My thoughts are all mixed up at the moment and I can't even hold my pen right- my hand's shaking all over the place.

I have just run away from home. Why does that feel so strange to say? I have just run away from home. I have just run away from home. I have just run away... it gives me shivers just writing it. Now that I look back on it- I can see that it wasn't the most sensible thing I've ever done, but you have to understand that I was in a horrible mood and wasn't thinking straight. But even so- I'm kind of regretting leaving now. It's my dad's last night with us and you'd think that I'd be spending as much time as I could doing things with him- but oh no, smart old me goes and locks herself in her room then runs away from home... in the middle of Australia. At least I left them a note. It wasn't much- but hopefully it would stop them from worrying too much. I unlocked my door too, so they could see it obviously. I can't remember for sure- but I think it went something like this:

'Dear Mum and Dad,

I can't believe what you've done to me! You've wrecked me life! I'm going home to England where I can go to Hogwarts this Thursday and stay for the rest of semester. No need to worry about me- you clearly weren't before you read this.

I'll be just fine so don't start panicking or calling the police or anything, I'll write again when I get to Hogwarts.

Sincerely,

Hermione. xoxoxox'

Now that I look back on it I can see that I probably could have been a bit politer towards them- after all, they are my parents.

Oops- this is my stop. I'll write when I get back to England.

Hopping off the bus, Hermione dragged herself into the hardware store, smiling at the man behind the register who was giving the shifting lump (Lestat) the evil eye.

Walking to the back of the story, Hermione's eyes scanned the wall for what she was looking for- stopping on a large brick dome. A fireplace. Exactly what she had hoped for. Looking quickly behind her to make sure that the register-man wasn't looking her way, she took the floo powder out of her shoulder bag and took a pinch from the canister, before putting the rest back in her bag.

In a hushed but clear voice, she quickly murmured, "The Burrow," before snatching up her belongings and stepping into the warm green flames, letting them swallow her up. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gripped her bags so they wouldn't get scattered into other fireplaces, trying to overcome the nausea that was building up inside of her.

What felt like an age later, she opened her eyes to the familiar shriek of Mrs. Weasley's voice. The older woman was just about to sit down to a mug of coffee when she had been startled by Hermione's appearance in the fireplace.

"Good heavens!" She cried, jumping about a foot in the air as the sooty-faced teen stepped into the room.

Hermione smiled as much as she could as she heard the rushed footsteps as the rest of the household hurried in to see what was the matter.

"Hermione!" Ginny stated brightly, running forward to greet her friend.

"What are you doing here? I didn't know Ron invited you! Him and Harry are..." Ginny was cut off by the sound of her brother's voice.

"Right here," Ron finished for her, raising an eyebrow as he saw Hermione.

Ginny was right not to expect Hermione's arrival- Hermione herself hadn't either until just moments before. She was going to go back to her own house- but didn't think that that was the smartest idea, seeing as her dad would be going there tonight too.

"Hi- um Ginny would I be able to put my stuff in your room?" Hermione managed to say between the stampede of questions.

She always stayed in Ginny's room when she was over, and right now she just wanted someone to tell her what was wrong with her. Of course she didn't know herself- she'd be the last to know what was going on in her life. Ginny happily obliged, taking Hermione's suitcase and leading her up the stairs.

After they had gotten the camp bed out of Hermione and had let Lestat out to play with Pig (not that he didn't make it clear he was too good for the small bird), Ginny sat Hermione down and looked at her seriously.

"I may not be psychic, but I know when something's not right- and something is definitely not right with you. So what's up? I mean- usually you give us at least some notice before you arrive here," Ginny said bluntly.

Then for some unknown reason, Hermione burst into tears, the comforting arm of Ginny patting her reassuringly on the shoulder as she explained everything that had happened in the past few days. Maybe it was the fact that she had been so irrational, or that she had been welcomed into this house so naturally- who knew, but at the moment, Hermione was just glad to have a friend who could understand her.


A/N: Hmm- not my best chapter. I found it was lacking a bit in the middle, but hopefully it'll be better next time I update. And with more conversation! Anyway, hope you liked it! R&R.

Thank Yous: Ok- these thank yous go out to all the people who reviewed my last chapter: shiegurl, Dumbledor and TheRiddle but especially to shiegurl for the helpful info about Hermione's birthday. (I used 'mum' instead of 'mom' in this chapter too!) So thanks again guys!