A/N: Mind you, I've no idea whatsoever how testing works in situations like this, so I took some advice, some ideas, and created a subject testing system that's at least reasonably ambiguous. If it doesn't fit anything anyone's ever heard of, well, pretend it's a special set of tests, made up by some school or another for a graduation requirement, and that that's where she's getting her diploma from.
Hermione woke to darkness, and the solid coldness of a concrete floor. She couldn't tell whether she had come from unconsciousness, or simply removed herself from the blank… space… she'd seemed to enter. The feeling was far from reassuring, bringing to mind memories of another summer, years before… She shuddered. The sound of a passing car echoed oddly loudly from outside, and she caught sight, in the hazy glow of headlights through the cracks of the garage door, of neatly-organized wooden shelves, full of gardening implements, to her left. So she was in the garage, then, and still quite alive.
She didn't dare try to sit up yet, but waited, assessing her injuries, mentally feeling her way through her body. Even without moving, she could sense the incredible pain coming from her stomach, arms, and legs. Her back was a much duller pain, but she supposed that might be from the coolness of the cement floor. Cautiously, she raised her arms just a little. The burning sensation was nearly unbearable, and she had to swallow a sob, but it faded quickly. Just cuts, then, and no bruises. Ignoring, for a moment, the pain, she softly patted herself down, finding bleeding slashes from the belt covering her body, but they were shallow enough that the blood was already dried, for all but three, and… nothing more. And… there were no marks on her hands, or even the lower part of her arms.
A soft hope burned, then, and she reached up towards her face. She was afraid, so afraid, but there was some chance, if she hadn't really been beaten, that… Her fingers gently probed the flesh of her face, then her neck, and she had to choke back a second sob. Unmarked. Her face was unmarked. That meant… they planned to let her out, or at least have her around when company appeared. She must have passed, surely, and perhaps even done alright.
Hermione grinned into the darkness, an expression that was very nearly happy, and, very slowly, rolled to her side. The grin became more of a grimace, then, as she achingly pulled herself to her hands and knees. She made an attempt at getting to her feet, but gave it up for lost very quickly. The thought of dragging her bloodied legs up the stairs, though, was nearly worse. Thank God she'd at least had the sense to brew a pain potion, and a strong antiseptic, before she left school, just in case. She couldn't heal the wounds, or her parents would know, but she could at least keep the pain down and prevent infection.
Determinedly, she made her slow way towards the staircase, collapsing only once on the way. Reaching the foot of the steps, she snagged a flashlight she'd hidden years before underneath one of the shelf-sets, carrying it in her teeth to keep her hands free as she crawled. The pain fought a battle with her will, over her mind, and a cloudy sensation threatened several times. She couldn't pass out here, though, and she dragged herself up another step, and then another.
Her door, at last, loomed just ahead. Taped to it, far above her current reach, was what looked like some sort of packet. Obviously, her parents meant for her to read it, and, more than likely, they'd expect her to do so tonight. Carefully, she turned the knob, and opened the door. Spitting the flashlight out on the floor, she clicked it on. The beam was pointed in entirely the wrong direction, but the glow from it illuminated things at least a little. Enough, at any rate, to catch sight of her name in large print on the whatever-it-was on her door.
She heaved a sigh, knowing she was safely out of hearing range, at least for such a noise as that. There was nothing for it, though; she'd have to fetch down whatever they'd left for her. She scanned her room for something to use, but her eyes caught nothing that might work. She didn't have any idea how she could manage to stand, but then it occurred to her fog-riddled mind that she could reach it from kneeling. Not that kneeling was really very comfortable, but at least it was possible. She muffled a groan as she realized the mess she'd likely left from the garage to here, and the mess she was likely still leaving on the floor. No doubt she would have to clean it up.
But, really… no reason not to heal herself up, first. Just a few more feet, and she was at her trunk. A moment later, and not a moment too soon, she'd downed half a vial of pain potion. She could feel the numbing sensation take over her body; not surprising considering the strength of the dose she'd just taken. But as it numbed her body, it freed her mind, and she plucked the flashlight from its position on the ground to give herself a more thorough assessment.
There were, surprisingly, only a few gashes that hadn't closed yet, though several more had re-opened on her way up the steps. She plucked a vial of the antiseptic from her trunk, and the muggle gauze and tape from beneath her bed, and, starting with her arms, treated the wounds. She did a very careful, thorough job, and looked much less like a mummy than she'd originally expected. It must have taken hours, by the time she was done, but her wizarding timepiece still read "plenty of time", and it had never let her down before.
In the end, though, she remembered the package decorating her door. Gathering her courage, she retrieved what turned out to be an envelope. Settling herself on her floor (it was, at least, hardwood, and easy to clean. Better to make a mess there than on the crisp, white bed sheets, or the powder blue comforter. Carefully, flashlight in one hand, she pulled out the contents; two sheets of paper. One was hand written, and the other looked like a photocopy of her exam scores. With trembling hands, she picked up the sheet of scores, first.
While her English score was perfect, her math score was perfectly average. The other tests all fell in-between. They were… good scores. Nothing amazing in their own right, but… amazing considering she'd not attended a moment of school in five years. And they ought to have been good enough to have avoided last night's…encounter. There had to be something else, something she was missing…
Hermione studied the sheet, and flipped it over… Oh. On the back side, there was science. Her scores, all her scores, in the sciences were dismal… in everything except Chemistry, on which she'd also gotten a perfect score. Biology, Earth Science… below average. And Physics was the worst. Well, that explained that.
She didn't even want to know what her parents had to say, but it was better to know in advance than be caught by surprise. Besides, if they planned on anything serious enough, it would be best to run now, while she still had some chance.
Not allowing herself to flinch away from it, she plucked the letter from her parents off the floor beside her.
Our dearest Hermione,
Your father and I have come to the conclusion that we have given you far too much liberty, catered far too often to your whims over the past few years. We were saddened to discover that you did not even feel it necessary to study for, and do well on, your exams. You have been given every privilege, and every advantage, and we only asked, in return, that you take your future seriously. It is with our deepest regrets that we feel we must place you on restriction this summer.
We are only doing this to encourage you to realize your potential, dearest. Your father thinks that you need to realize the stark future that awaits if you neglect your studies, and I feel that you need to learn the value of hard work. And so, we will pay for you to continue your hobby, but you will earn that right.
There are two conditions. Firstly, you must earn the money that is spent on your pastime. You will be paid at the rate of two an hour for the rest of the summer, for chores done. You will be given a chores list, daily, and any unfinished chores will result in the usual restrictions for disobedience. In that light, we've sent Eliza and Franklin on vacation, to our usual summer place. We will be joining them there on August the first. You will be staying, and studying to meet the second condition.
The second condition is that you improve your grades in mathematics, and especially the sciences to the scores we know you are capable of. We've arranged a re-test for August the Twelfth, and for the results of those tests to be returned to us on the Fifteenth. At that point, should your scores be acceptable and the necessary funds gathered, the appropriate arrangements will be made, and you will have the rest of the summer free.
If you attempt to circumvent our efforts to help you, we will make use of Article Seven, section Ninety-Two. I'm sure you're aware of its contents.
Mother
P.S. Your father has informed me that you are rather worn out from your travels and return home. You will be allowed the weekend to recuperate. We expect you to begin your efforts at breakfast, Monday.
She almost lost control of herself, almost threw up, or screamed, or passed out from the horror of it all. To anyone else, the letter would seem perfectly reasonable, just as her parents intended it. But Hermione knew, knew exactly what they meant and how they meant it. The words were ambiguous to an outsider, but not to her: usual restriction for disobedience… no food for two days; your hobby… also known as returning to Hogwarts; the funds necessary… they expected her to raise the two thousand galleons to pay for school in… sixty-three days. That would be… thirty-two galleons a day… converted to muggle money… that was… impossible. No, they had to mean galleons in that two an hour, else they would have specified the money type.So… only sixteen hours a day. Seven days a week. From June until August.
That left no time at all for her Hogwarts work. Not a moment to study the books for next year; at least there was no summer homework this year. And if she failed? If she didn't get the grade they required? She could feel that threat hanging over her head as well; no more Hogwarts, and no more… leniency, in punishments. Yesterday had been meant as a warning. But what did they mean by Article Seven? Hermione dug in her trunk, anxiously, she just knew there'd been something, last year, in History. She flipped through her notebook, knowing it was sometime at the beginning of the year…
Article Seven. The Muggle Protection Act. Section Ninety-Two; the right of a non-magic parent over their magical child. She quickly skimmed her notes, but as she reached the end, she turned white, and read back over it all slowly.
Her parents had the power to withdraw her from the wizarding world entirely, and have her obliviated of all knowledge of wizarding culture, up until the time she entered her NEWT level classes. Up until this fall.
It explained so much, that article, and there was more to it than just what they were holding over her. It was why they'd demanded she graduate from a "normal" school this year; after she began this next school year, they lost control. She wouldn't be a legal adult until she turned Seventeen in the Wizarding world, but, as a Muggleborn, she had certain rights past this next fall. If she made it to school, began the semester, she could, at her choosing, be "fully emancipated from the Muggle world". The clause was a Pureblood slight to the Muggle world, but what it boiled down to for her was that, after this fall, she could simply decide to live on her own, as a witch.
She would be required to have a guardian, a witch or wizard, who accepted responsibility for her, who was at least thirty years of age. But that guardian could be of her choosing, and neither the ministry nor her parents would be able to as much as influence her choice. The only thing that could possibly hold her back, was that she had to prove she could support herself during the summer vacation from school between the sixth and seventh years; loans for her education itself were available, as ministry policy, to all Muggleborns in the NEWT years.
Hermione knew she'd have to meet her parents' conditions, anyways. It wasn't a matter of them actually paying, and, knowing that they'd read this, she honestly doubted that they would, even if she succeeded. But it was a matter of them letting her go, of her being under their control. They thought their demands were impossible, and they likely wouldn't allow her to leave, even if she met them.
But Hermione wasn't the smartest Witch of her year for nothing. She could write it up in a contract, use runes, written in invisible ink, to make it a magical contract; rune-magic was unmonitorable by the ministry, she wouldn't get into trouble for it. Her parents would just think she was going along with their plan, just making it official; they might even be pleased that she was taking their "offer" so seriously. She wouldn't tell them any different. Not until the end of summer, anyhow. Not until the magical contract forced them to let her leave, else be exposed to the ministry of magic and enforced by armed members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
It would never come to that, though. All she'd have to do, is tell them the consequences of voiding a magical contract, and they'd put up no further argument. Anything to avoid discovery, to avoid someone knowing who and what they really were. Knowing she had the power to reveal them, they might even help her pack.
At the end of this summer, she could be free. Free to be whomever she wanted, do whatever she wanted, and never come back to this wretched place.
All she had to do, was work hard, and pass some tests. The work would be a challenge, but she'd find, and make, potions to help her. Energy potions, wakefulness potions, potions to get enough sleep for a day out of a two hour nap. Everything she could think of.
And the tests? They planned to only give her twelve days to study, but with the aid of the potions, she'd have the nights of all summer. And Hermione Granger could get a perfect score in anything with a whole summer to study.