A/N: Here's another one…

Chapter Four: Secret admirer

Hermione suddenly awoke from her odd, but vivid dream. She wondered what event had summoned a dream so different.

"Hermione!" her mother pleasantly called to her.

"Coming, mum!" she yelled back, jumping out of her bed and pulling open her blinds. She quickly dressed into blue jeans and a t-shirt.

"What would you like for breakfast, hun?" she asked as Hermione saw toast, bacon, eggs, pancakes, biscuits and waffles smothering the counter top.

"Oh, just some eggs and pancakes I suppose," she answered, trying to tame her wildly bushy hair.

"Hurry dear, we haven't got much time," her mother said, shoveling two pancakes and one egg onto an empty, clean plate.

"Yes, I know mother," she politely responded. Today was the day her parents were going on a business trip for the dental office.

"Now remember," said her mother, starting her lecture all over again, "No one at the house after six unless you have your father and my's approval, understood?"

"Yes mum," Hermione replied as if she had never heard this rule before. In actuality she had heard it several times a day the last three days that her parents were at home.

"No phone calls after nine, and absolutely no one you don't know in the house, understood?"

"Yes mum," she said, cutting her pancakes into little squares.

"I don't want you to drive the car unless it's for groceries or an emergency. In either of the situations I positively do not want anybody in the car with you, understood?"

"Yes mum."

"Unless of course, I've already talked to you about the emergency situation. Your father and I have left a bit of money in the safe under our bed. I've already told you the combination. It should hold you out until we get back. If not…well, we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Yes mother," she said, her mind wandering to her dream. What had it implied? Why was she dreaming of houses running away from her? She didn't understand it.

"Well, we're off, Hermione. Oh! And keep the windows and doors locked after six or when you go out."

"Yes mum," she said standing up as her mother picked up the suitcase, which was resting by the door. She kissed her mother on the cheek and hugged her father.

"Be a darling now and don't have any parties!" her father teased her, making her smile.

"No worries, dad, I won't," she said, holding the door open for them. Once they had piled everything in the car and had started backing out, Hermione waved good-bye to them and went back into the house, shutting the door. She stood there in the entry way for a moment, wondering what to do next. She had never been home alone for so long before and wasn't sure how to go about doing things.

She finally decided that after she had finished eating breakfast and putting the food away she'd clean her house a little. It wasn't desirable for her to live in a house that was the least bit cluttered. She couldn't think or do what she wanted to do in a dirty house.

Half an hour later a large eagle owl flew in through the open window. She had taken the screen out to wash it and was just about to nip it back in when the owl arrived.

She gazed at it a moment, wondering who's owl it was. She walked over to it and stroked it's back while she untied the letter with the other hand.

"Dear Hermione," it began in spiky scrawl, "I have watched you for many years, but it was only up until just recently that I've taken a liking to you. I would most appreciate it if you would inform me when you are to arrive at Diagon Ally. I would like to know so we can meet somewhere," she read as she slowly sat in the kitchen chair.

"Oh my," she muttered.

"Anyway, best wishes, you're secret admirer."

Hermione didn't have the slightest clue as to who could have written that letter to her. She certainly didn't know of anyone who would like her in such a fashion. At first her mind had immediately jumped to the conclusion of Harry or Ron (she was leaning more toward Ron), but she knew neither one of them owned an owl like the one that had delivered her letter.

"Odd," she said, flipping the piece of parchment over to see if there was anything else, but it was blank. The writing was what she had first noticed. It was spiky, but quite readable. It was written in a fashion she would only associate with evil or dark people or in this case, wizards. But she knew that in her scenario a dark or evil wizard couldn't have written to her like this.

Several times through out the day while she was cleaning, she would suddenly pick up the letter as if the answer as to who might've written had suddenly appeared on it.

"Ridiculous," she finally muttered, throwing it in the bin. Soon after she had forgotten it completely until there was a knock at her door.