A/N: Enjoy
Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to JK Rowling and "The Second Coming" belongs to W.B. Yeats. Apparently you need to abbreviate your name to write well…something to think about, anyway.
The Second Coming
Chapter One: The Yellow Ribbon
Jane Granger knew that her daughter hated when she entered her bedroom while she was away, but she couldn't help pushing the door open on a sunny August afternoon to make sure that Hermione had left everything in order. She was almost disappointed when she stepped inside and found the room spotless with every book, pen and pillow perfectly aligned and all magical paraphernalia completely concealed, but allowed herself to linger over her daughter's belongings with more than a twinge of sadness and longing.
Hermione had said goodbye to her and her husband two days before, after staying with them for nearly two whole months. It was her longest stay in the house in three years and though it had been very pleasant, it had filled Mrs. Granger with a foreboding feeling.
Firstly, it made her realize just how much of Hermione's life she had been absent for. There was an obvious change in Hermione that Mrs. Granger had somehow missed in her last few visits. Though she still had a knack for perfection (as the current state of her bedroom could testify for), Hermione seemed more relaxed in almost everything she did. She was much more reserved in some matters, like when trying to prove herself right or assert her thoughts or feelings, while she was much more argumentative in others, like where she stayed for the holidays and how she spent her time. This womanly independence was a complete shock to poor Mrs. Granger for the first few weeks of Hermione's stay, but her husband had assured her that the changes were both an improvement for Hermione's sake and a result of her age and magical lifestyle. She tentatively grew to agree with her husband as she observed Hermione for a few more weeks and attempted to familiarize herself with the young woman again.
But then there had been more to worry Mrs. Granger. After informing them that she would be traveling to France with the Weasley's for their oldest son's wedding and staying with them for the remainder of the summer, Hermione told them that it was mandatory for all seventh year students to remain at Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday. When they asked why they had not heard of this rule before, Hermione had snapped that she had never been a seventh year student before. And though Mrs. Granger felt that this rule was quite important, seeing as the N.E.W.T's seemed to decide a witch's future, she thought that the new owl regulation was very unfair. Apparently students from non-magical families were no longer being permitted to send owls back and forth to their parents because it was attracting too much attention. Hermione told them that she would be allowed to send them mail in the regular post, but since no postmen could reach Hogwarts, they had to send their replies to some wizard named Remus who was in charge of getting the letters to the muggle-born students back at Hogwarts. When Mr. Granger had joked that Hogwarts should be able to come up with a better system than that seeing as they were a school for magic, Hermione had gotten very annoyed.
If all of this was not strange enough, Hermione's behavior worried Mrs. Granger more than anything. She had caught her crying in her room a few times in the first weeks of her stay and Hermione had blamed it on boy who had broken her heart. At first, Mrs. Granger was very sympathetic. She was secretly pleased that Hermione had gotten close enough with a boy to get her heart broken while Mr. Granger was openly infuriated about the same thing. But as Mrs. Granger thought about it more and more, she wondered why she had never heard of this boy before (since Hermione insisted that he was neither Harry nor Ron) and began to suspect another source of Hermione's distress. Overall, there seemed to be a terrifying finality about the whole summer. As Hermione was leaving, Mrs. Granger made her promise that once school was finished the three of them could take a long family vacation. Hermione had burst into tears at this and hugged her for a very long time before promising. Later, Mr. Granger reassured his wife that Hermione merely missed them as much as they missed her, but the whole ordeal had left Mrs. Granger's stomach in knots.
But Mrs. Granger tried to clear her mind of such thoughts, knowing that if she worried like this all year she would drive herself mad and hoping that when they did take their family vacation Hermione would have ample time to explain herself properly. She stepped over to the lilac bed and ran her hand over the comforter, which seemed so ruffle-free that she was sure Hermione had used some charm or another on it. The large pillows were also lilac and only a shade lighter than the walls. For some reason, before going to her second year at Hogwarts Hermione had demanded that they decorate her entire bedroom lilac, but when she returned after the school year was finished she seemed much less enthusiastic about the color. Apparently young witches could be just as confusing as young women.
Just as Mrs. Granger was preparing to leave the room, defeated by its cleanliness, she spied something out of place on the oak desk against the far wall. An old book was lying in the very center of the desk but it was not one of Hermione's, magical or otherwise. Mrs. Granger recognized it as one from her own bookcase in the living room. It was a book of poems she had always tried to get Hermione to read years and years ago. Hermione had always been too busy reading about wands and potions and whatever else were in those strange volumes she brought home, but yet there it was. She walked over to the desk, picked up the book and examined it. The faded yellow ribbon attached to the spine had been moved from the front cover (because Mrs. Granger loved all the poems too much to mark just one) to somewhere near the middle of the book. Curiously, she opened up to the page and read:
The Second Coming
W.B. Yeats
Turning
and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the
falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere
anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed,
and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best
lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate
intensity.
Surely
some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at
hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast
image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands
of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A
gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs,
while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The
darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of
stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And
what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards
Bethlehem to be born?
Mrs. Granger ran her fingers over the page. The paper was raised in several tiny places as though it had been wet with many droplets of water. In the right corner of the page, in neat and recognizable handwriting something had been written in pen: With Endless Love, Hermione.
Mrs. Granger looked up from the book to gaze out the window while sunlight filtered relentlessly in. As the tiny wrinkles on her forehead deepened, she bit her lip.
A/N: I know this chapter is ridiculously short, but it's just a mini prologue. Most of the story will be in Hermione POV and it's going to be relatively lengthy, so expect lots of plot. Also, expect lots of R/H, because I love it. Reviews and feedback would be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!