Pseudo Cinderella and the Slytherin Prince

Chapter 9 Let Her Cry

Hermione's POV

A/N: Okay, so here's the continuation of Hermione's breakdown. The title was insired by the Hootie ad the Blowfish song of the same name. Ad cry she does in this chapter. Well, this is where Mione's regular life comes back into the picure. But after what happened last night, will she fit into it the same way as before? And how will her thoughts be influenced by her traumatic experience?ENJOY!

I lay there crying for hours. I eventually cried myself to sleep. There was so much to cry about. I cried about my past that had apparently been a lie. I cried about how now that past was gone; I had grown up in this house, it was the only home I'd ever known, until Hogwarts. I cried because now all of those memories had just disappeared, along with every single trace that I had ever lived here. Except for my initials. I wonder why they didn't cover that up. I was eleven years old when I carved my initials into my window sill. That was right after I got my letter of acceptance to Hogwarts. I didn't want to forget who I was, even though I had just found out I was something I never would have thought real. I cried even more at this particular memory. If only I had grown up like all the other pureblood children. Well, accepts for families like the Weasleys. The Weasleys. I cried about them, too. How they were so nice me. And now my parents are probably Death Eaters or something. Oh, Merlin, tell me I don't have to get a Dark Mark!

I cried for what I almost did, and everything I let happen. I cried about what my friends would think, especially Harry and Ron. I cried about how they'll feel when I tell them I'm a pureblood. I cried thinking about how I can never face anyone again. But I can't do that. I can't run from everything that scares me. And that's why I'll just have to keep everything a secret.

It's early morning now; one of the last of early sunrises for the year. I sit at the top of the staircase thinking about things. I refuse to start crying again, even though I'm pretty sure my tears all dried up. I don't think I could cry any more even if someone killed my parents and then punched me in the gut. Not that I want to think about that. I wander into the kitchen, and imagine the table's still where it always was. The table where Headmaster Dumbledore helped my parents tell me I was a pureblood witch. I wish I could see Dumbledore's friendly face again. That man is a bit mad, as Ron says, I'll admit. But he's also one of the most brilliant wizards I have ever seen. Scratch that; he IS the most brilliant wizard I've ever seen. I walk over to the fire place and realize I've still got my Cinderella dress on. I wonder if this is one of those enchanted dresses. Like the wearer lives out the story of Cinderella. I did get it at a magical shop. But if this dress really were enchanted, then that would mean… NO! That's okay, I'd really rather not think of that at the moment.

I stand on tip-toe to see if there's any trace of floo powder up on the mantle. Aha! Oh thank Merlin! I take a pinch from the small, worn-out cloth satchel. Hold on. I thought mum and dad said that we didn't have any floo powder left? Then why… oh man, I've got too big a headache to think about it right now. I step into the long-dead fireplace, throw the powder down, causing green flames to spring to life instantly, and shout "THE BURROW!" I hope it takes me to the Burrow; my voice was a little hoarse from all that crying. My eyes hurt like Hell, too. Oh, am I still swearing? Well, I guess this is all a side-effect from last night. Wait a second, what exactly did I do last ni –

"Hermione!" What was I thinking about again? I can't remember, because I'm now crushed in a huge hug from Mrs. Weasley. "Oh, Hermione, dear!" She lets go of me and backs up a couple of paces. "What are you doing here? And so early in the morning?" Well…what do I say to Mrs. Weasley? I can't lie, she can see right through that.

"I, erm, see, Mrs. Weasley, I – "

"HERMIONE!" I'm now engulfed into a hug by Ginny. "I haven't seen you for ages!" Ron comes rushing down the stairs at the mention of my name.

"Hermione? HERMIONE!" He too comes over to hug me, but stops. Oh right, I still have my dress on. And Ron's a typical guy.

"Ahem. Ronald?" I say, forcing him to look at my face.

"Oh, yeah. Um, so, how you doing?"

"A little confused, but alright, I guess." That's the truth. Not the whole thruth, but the truth,

"Confused? Why, dear? Where are your parents?" Mrs. Weasley, always the mother.

"Well, you see, that's what I don't know. I sort of…lost them." Yeah. Probably in some fancy new mansion bought with secret money they weren't even going to tell me about.

"Lost them? Well then. We'll just have to find them, won't we? I'm sure all the kids will help. Won't you, Ron, Ginny?" She looks at her children in turn, and they nod back. "FRED! GEORGE! GET YOUR RUMPS DOWN HERE NOW!" Excuse me while I go get my EARS FIXED. Merlin, Molly. Could you shout any louder? Thankfully there's no need to, because here come the twins, bounding down the stairs like they're on fire.

"Yes mum?"

"I'm sure we didn't do it, mum."

"Positively certain, in fact."

"So whatever it was,-"

"-It was all ickle Ronniekins over here." I just have to laugh at the twins' attempt at getting out of trouble. Unfortunately for them, Molly doesn't see the humor.

"We'll be discussing what you "didn't do" later on this evening with your father." Ooh, vicious mother look. Sorry boys. "Right now, we're all going to help Hermione here find her folks."

"Oh, hello, 'Mione…"

"Yes wonderful morning, isn't…it?" Oh great. Now the twins are staring at my chest too. Damn this gorgeous dress. And my body. Why me, of all people? "Well, we'd better be going," Fred says, elbowing his identical brother, who's still drooling. Right before he turns around, Fred gives me a subtle wink, that only I catch. Ooh, keep that up and I'll just have to do something about that, twinny. Of course, Ron would be extremely jealous. Harry'd probably be furious as well. Not quite sure how Ginny would react, though. But you've got to admit, Fred's got a bit more charm than George…and a cuter-

"Hemione, dear, why don't you follow Ginny upstairs so you can find something…more appropriate to wear?" Good old Mrs. Weasley. It's times like this I LOVE having a friend who's roughly the same size as I am. Ginny's got a slightly smaller frame than I do, but she likes to wear some of her clothes kind of baggy. We trudge up to her room, which is almost at the top of the swaying old house, and I pick out a dark red tank top that's just a bit too small, but works on me, and a pair of baggy, faded blue jeans. I magically undo my hair so that it hangs in complicated and tangled curls. I just throw it into a simple ponytail and slip into a pair of Ginny's generic shoes.

"Well, let's go find my parents," I say. And so the search begins…

To my first reviewer this time around, FaErIexFaItH: I'm so glad you liked the intro! Hopefully you'll like the rest... I know It's kind of a lot, but I figured posting all of whatI already had on the first day back would motivate me to write more sooner. I'm REALLY excited about FINALLY continuing this at long last. Hope you'll stay along for the ride!

I;I