Thank you people SO much! I've been on a "review" high all week! Yes, those things actually exist (my drug reviews). YOU PEOPLE ARE THE BEST! I did the whole "silent screamo" thing for about an hour on Saturday night! THANK YOU SOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH!
And I promise to not apologize for everything I say, write, whatever. But…that may take a while…
Anyway…
Disclaimer: Okay, dude-person-thing-person-dude, if I DID own Harry Potter and if I WAS J. K. Rowling, do you seriously think I'd spaz for a straight hour because I got twelve reviews in two weeks? Yes, I'm pathetic, which goes to show you that I am NOT J. K. Rowling, the queen of fantasy literature.
How She Came To Be…
Chapter Three:
Are You Talking to Me? (1985)
Dedicated to everyone that made me do my silent scream for a straight hour.
"Goodnight Hermione," Mrs. Granger whispered as she tucked the comforter under her six-year-old daughter's chin. "Are you sure you don't want me to turn on your night light?"
"Mum," Hermione, whose lisp gone along with a front tooth, "I'm almost seven and I'm starting school tomorrow. I'm practically a grown up!"
Mum sighed as she played with one of her daughter's brown curls. "I suppose," she said slowly as she ducked down to give Hermione a quick peck on the cheek. "Goodnight."
"Now since you're all grown up," said a man a with a cap of sleek brown hair from his perch on the threshold of the bedroom door, "I suppose it's okay for me to give this to the neighbor's dog." He waved a stuffed otter before him.
"Daddy!" Hermione shrieked in horror, hopping up from her nest of blankets to grab her stuffed animal. "Not Olive!"
Dad chuckled, "I was kidding." He swung her up off the floor and onto the bed. Mum tucked her in again with a slightly irritated expression.
"Now, be a good grown up and get a goodnight's sleep," he said as he brushed his lips on her forehead.
"Okay," she said in a high tone as her parents retreated to the door.
"And if the monsters come out, call me, and I'll come and kick them to the next universe," he added.
"Christopher!" Mum said warningly.
"I mean, I'll tell them to go away," Dad quickly corrected himself.
"Night, sweetie," Mum smiled.
"Night, night," Hermione waved.
"Anyway, how would you beat it to the next universe?" she heard Mum ask as the door closed. "If my memory serves me right, you were the one that squealed like a little girl when Hermione brought that lizard home last week."
"It was…I thought…!" Dad's sputters faded as thumps of feet going down a staircase echoed through the floorboards.
Hermione giggle quietly but quickly stopped. Now that the sound of her parents' voices was gone, darkness engulfed her, pressing against her eyes and ears. She pulled her blanket over her head and cowered in fear.
"Now, really, Hermione," she scolded herself, her eyes squeezed shut. "What would everyone at school think if they found out that you're still afraid of the dark?"
The floorboards squeaked in response. Something scraped across the window over the head of her bed.
"I'm not afraid," she whispered, her eyes shut tight. "I'm not scared of the dark. There are no such things as ghosts. The boogie monster does not exist. They're all just make believe…"
"You don't have to be afraid," said a voice to her left.
"What?" Hermione sat up, throwing the sheets back, ignoring the bubble of fear when darkness muffled her. She was the only person in the room. Gulping slightly, she darted her eyes around her shadowy room. "Hello?"
"Hello," the voice responded, slightly muffled.
"Wh-where are you?" she asked timidly, almost too afraid to ask.
"Under your arm."
"Under my?" Hermione threw the cover back. "Olive?"
"Hi," the thread of the otter's lips curved upwards as its head tilted up.
"But you're a—a—you're alive?"
"Shh!" the otter scurried up her arm and put a stuffed paw to her lips. "Don't tell anyone that I spoke to you, okay?"
Hermione nodded.
"You opened the window, by the way."
She looked up at the wall behind her where the scraping came from a few minutes ago. Sure enough, the window was up, puddles of moonlight staining the floor next to her.
"How did I…?
"Oh, you're a special one," Olive nodded. "My parents told me that I can only speak to those that are special."
"I know I'm special," Hermione said in knowing tone as she took the stuffed animal in her arms. "My parents tell me that all the time. Grandpa, too," she swelled with pride. "He says I'm smarter than most kids my age, but I have to work harder than everyone else tomorrow because I'm smart."
"No, not that kind of special," said Olive as she climbed up Hermione's arm.
"How many types of specials are there?" she asked, turning her head to watch the otter climb onto the windowsill.
"I don't know," it shrugged as it took a seat on the frame of the window. "But you're definitely as special as special can get." It turned and gestured a paw at the night's sky. "Now, why are you so afraid of night? It's just as pretty as day."
"No, I'm not afraid of the nighttime," Hermione said in a defensive tone. "It's…that," she waved at the shadows that surrounded her.
"Well, then don't look at it like that."
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confused.
"Look at the good side of things," said the stuffed otter. "Like darkness is good to hide in. And mean people will realize how dumb they are in ten years. And getting braces will straighten your teeth. And starting school will expand your horizons."
Hermione blinked. "You're pretty smart for a toy."
"Thanks, I think," the otter shifted slightly as Hermione got out of her bed and stood by the window. Once the girl was positioned next to the window, it asked, "Do you know anything about stars?"
She shook her head, "No, all I know is that they're certain names for groups of stars called constellations, or something like that."
"Yeah, that's right," a paw shot up in the air. "Look over there, that's Draco, and that one group over there, that's the Ursa Minor. And there's Pegasus, and Cassiopeia…"
"Hermione!" shrieked a voice.
She sat up and was surprised to find herself sitting on the hard wood floor of her room. Sunlight now replaced the puddles of silver moonlight. Her mother was at the door, her eyes wide with shock, staring at the six-year-old.
"What is it, Mummy?" Hermione croaked as she said her first words of the day.
"Your toys," Mum said weakly.
The girl looked around to find her toys strewn about the room. They were patterned like…
"It wasn't a dream," she whispered to herself as she studied her building blocks that were arranged like the constellations of the previous night.
"Did you sleep at all last night?" asked her mother.
"I couldn't sleep because…" Hermione quickly trailed off; she was about to tell her mother about Olive. No way was she going to break her promise!
"You were worried about school?" Mum finished the sentence. Hermione nodded mutely. "Oh, honey, you'll do great! Now clean up your room and get ready."
Hermione nodded again as she scooped her dolls and building blocks up and threw then into her toy box. She then got into her uniform and grabbed her little book bag. She was about to leave the second floor landing when she remembered. After looking down the stairs to find her mother in the kitchen making breakfast, Hermione hurried back to her room, threw back the unmade covers and retrieved her favorite toy.
"I didn't tell her, Olive!" she whispered excitedly. "I kept my promise!"
The otter didn't respond.
"Olive?" she shook it slightly.
"Hermione, breakfast!"
"Coming!" she yelled as she quickly crammed the stuffed otter in her bag. Maybe she's just tired, she thought as she raced out of her room.
"Hi, Mrs. Granger, I'm Ms. Finilly," a young woman with a cap of sleek brown hair shook Mum's hand. "And this must be Hermione."
Mum nodded. "That's our bright little girl."
"Well, since you're such a bright little girl," Ms. Finilly handed her a sheet of paper with 'Hermione' printed across it, "why don't you go into the cloakroom and pick out a cubby hole before your classmates arrive."
She nodded shyly as she took the sheet of paper. There was tape on the back.
"You can put your bag in there if you like," Ms. Finilly added.
She nodded again before leaving the room. There was a long row of square cubbyholes. Hermione picked the one closest to the door and put her sheet of paper across the top. She then took off her book bag and stuffed it into the square locker. She unzipped the bag and took out Olive.
"Wish me luck," she whispered as she gave it a quick squeeze before putting it back. She could almost swear that its smile widened as she put it back in the bag. But she didn't zip it back up. After all, it was alive.
Well, there you have it. Not exactly my best work, but that's 'coz I feel writer's block sneaking up on me again. Plus my English teacher's going all out evil and I have another essay due on Tues. Bleh.
Actually, I'm surprised I even got this chapter typed up in less than a week. My skin's been acting up lately and it's slowly deteriorating or something. So now I have to wear gloves until the insanely cold weather goes away (even when I'm typing).
Anyway, enough about my skin problems. Did you like the chapter? Personally, I think it's just okay. And, yeah, I'll definitely make the next chapter better. DEFINITELY. But it'll be kinda sad, though. I'll definitely put more effort into it, especially since I know people are actually reading this thing now.
THANK YOUR PEOPLE SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS!
Here are a few responses to some of the reviews:
Old-Crow: Aw, thanks. I was going for something outta the ordinary! And I wub gwanpa!
BlondieEmily: Don't worry, I don't think I have enough energy to do another "spazzy Hermione". It IS weird and VERY OOC…but it was fun to write, so I didn't really care.
Prin69: Yes, I asked a 3 year old what it was like to be three. The poor kid wouldn't stop crying so I had to give all my fundraising candy to her… Yeah, being THE INSANE CHIKIN WANG can be a bit overwhelming at times…
ProclainKiller: YAY! My writing's not depressing! I'm sending out happy thoughts to everyone!
Padfootlives101: YAY! My fic's cute! I'll try to cut down on the number of times I apologize, honest! But, like I said, it'll take a while. By the way, your penname sounds like some college course…just saying, you know.
Maybe I should go back and write more about three-year-old Hermione. All of you loved her! It was…weird. But in a good way!
Okay, enough of the rambling-ness. Next chapter should be up in a week or so, if I'm lucky. Okay, gotta go read the Odyssey (HUGE amount MEH- and BLEH-ness).
Okay.
Until next time, my young muffins :hands out boxes of Kudos: YUM!
Farfanugans,
The artistically challenged Chikin Wang.