I passed her in the street yesterday. She didn't recognize me, that much was obvious. There was a time when she knew me better then I knew myself, a time I worshiped her, and now… To be fair I didn't recognize her either, not at first. I thought she looked familiar, like a friend I'd had when I was very small and had forgotten about until now, which is rather accurate, I guess. She accepted her letter to a new world beyond all we had dreamed of and I lost Hermione, my cousin and best friend.
Growing up we were called the "Granger Girls" where one was, the other was sure to be. I was like Mary's Little Lamb, in that nursery rhyme we used to sing together; I would have followed her anywhere she went. Our fathers were brothers and we lived next door to each other. The whole family ate together at least three times a week. Two blocks from our street was the family dentistry which our parents owned and operated and three blocks in the other direction was our cozy, brick schoolhouse. Hermione's and my lives were perfectly planned out by the time we were eight and five, respectively. We would go to school and graduate top of our respective classes, and then go to the same college our parents had gone to, earn our degrees, and take over the family dentistry. We'd do everything together, the three years difference between us was inconsequential; it just let Hermione lead me through anything and everything. We weren't lonesome, though our classmates called us nerds or teachers' pets and our teachers a bit put off by our enthusiasm; we had each other so we became each other's sole friend and companion. To make up for other friends we'd read books and recommend them to each other. We were…inseparable.
"And Everywhere that Mary went,
Mary went, Mary went,
And Everywhere that Mary went,
The Lamb was sure to go."
Then one day in the summer of 1991, when she was 11, and I was 8, some trained owl came down and dropped a letter on Hermione. We thought somebody was experimenting with carrier owls instead of pigeons. She read the letter about Hogwarts aloud to me and we laughed it off as some cruel prank by a jealous schoolmate, admitting the delivery by owl was a nice touch. We laughed until a woman, with a tight hair bun and stern look, marched up to Auntie, Uncle, Hermione, and I and told us that it was real and even turned one of Auntie's china plates, the ones with the weeping willow pattern on them, into a rabbit and back for us. She gave us instructions to a place called Diagon Alley and a Platform 9¾. Looking back I'm pretty sure she thought I was Hermione's sister and doubt she would have let me stay if she knew I was only her cousin. Secrecy seems to be vital to witches and wizards.
This new development altered our plans slightly. Instead of taking over the dentistry we'd both go to Hogwarts and get some magical job together. In three years I'd be getting my own Hogwarts letter. Nothing would really change. We'd still be best friends.
When Hermione when she went to get her new magical supplies I accompanied her, quizzing her in the new books, learning all the history of the magical world side by side with her, for background information, and memorizing every little detail with her. I figured I'd start Hogwarts having memorized the first three years of material. The entire family came to the station to see Hermione off; Auntie crying about how grownup she looked and weren't we so proud of our little witch? We promised to write each other daily, so when the family got home I started my first letter but I had to wait for an owl from Hermione before sending it. Those owls didn't usually wait for me to write a reply so I always kept a letter ready to mail. I still have all her early letters which I'd memorized, I'd read them that often.
Her first letters told us that the magical world wasn't all we had dreamed it to be. Apparently a nerd was a nerd no matter what the world. I comforted her as best I could. In truth I was terribly lonely myself. I was unpopular with most of my peers, teased, picked on, and couldn't even share my suffering with my cousin. She had enough on her plate being away from home without my endless complaints. I began to draw as an outlet and discovered I had a gift for sketching. I decided to draw Hogwarts as I imagined it from her letters. I took a few liberties with the drawing, to make it more artistic, more the way I thought it should be.
With Hermione in school, my schedule changed a bit. After school I would go to the dentistry so the family could keep an eye on me. Business was doing well and I enjoyed sketching the different people who came in. I sent those sketches to Hermione in my letters, so she could see what was going on and didn't feel homesick. She praised the pictures in her letters to me and told me I'd have to show her all my pictures at Christmas.
Then at the beginning of November she wrote me about how she'd made two friends; Harry Potter, the boy we'd read about, and Ronald Weasley. She asked me not to tell anybody but there'd been a troll in the school and it had attacked her. I wrote a letter full of my worries for her asking, "Are you okay" countless times. I also advised her not to make friends with boys- they were icky. When her next letter (finally) came she told me to grow up. I'm sure she didn't mean it to hurt but I cried for an hour after receiving it. My only friend thought I was childish.
I couldn't stay mad at Hermione. Christmas was coming, and that meant Hermione'd be coming home for a while. I couldn't wait to show her my drawings and hear more about Hogwarts. I assembled my pictures days in advance. When she came she smiled at them but didn't really examine them. When I showed her the drawing of Hogwarts she sighed in a weary sort of way, and began to correct it. She asked if we knew who Nicholas Flamel was and we didn't. I tried not to be jealous that she got all the attention, she wasn't here that much so they were making it up to her. I also tried not to begrudge her her new-found friends, but it was hard, especially as when she returned to Hogwarts her letters became shorter, with longer intervals between them. And she no longer confided her problems in me; they were wizard problems I wouldn't understand. She told me to go out and make friends of my own. I couldn't; I was just as "Anti-social" as she and there was no troll to force friendship on me.
Immediately after Christmas holidays were over, I began counting down to the Easter break. However, a couple weeks beforehand an owl came, informing us that she had too much work to do preparing for the end-of-year exams; she'd see us in the summer. That was the first time she'd chosen Hogwarts over us. I sent a letter saying I could quiz her but she merely wrote back that I didn't know the stuff so I needn't bother trying to help her learn it. I don't remember if I cried or not after that letter. Mum told me not to worry, we'd see her over the summer, wasn't I happy she was making friends? I was happy she was making friends; I was upset because I wasn't one of them.
One day a letter came telling me they'd successfully seen Norbert off. There was no information as to who Norbert was, she'd never mention somebody named Norbert before, in fact all the letter said was "Norbert got off okay but Harry and I got detention." I asked her who Norbert was and she said it didn't matter; he was one of Hagrid's pets. I combed through her past letters until I figured out that Hagrid was the game keeper.
Finally she came home for the summer. I proudly showed her my new drawings, a few of which had won some minor awards at school, and she smiled and nodded absentmindedly. She told us a lot of stories and that You-Know-Who, the person we'd read about back in August, had come into Hogwarts and Harry had defeated him again. Auntie started getting worried about Hermione's safety but Hermione brushed it off. She was perfectly fine, she'd never been in any real danger, and anyway she was twelve and the best in her class in magic. She wouldn't demonstrate any magic though, claiming she wasn't allowed but I knew better. The summer before she went to Hogwarts she'd experimented with magic; Hermione just didn't want to show us anything now.
We went to Italy that year. Every year all of us would go off to some country for a few weeks and normally it was one of the best times ever. The family dentistry would close for a few weeks and everyone would relax and have fun together. This trip all Hermione could do was worry about some boy, I think it was the Harry we'd read about, who wasn't responding to her letters. I asked her about Hogwarts and all she said was that I'd see when I got there, could I please stop bothering her? At the end of July she received another owl from the Ron boy and went frantic with worry. I asked her what it said but she wouldn't tell me. I asked her if it was a love letter and she yelled at me to grow up. I went away hurt and Mum told me not to worry, she was just being a teen and trying to find her place in the world. In a huff I stalked off and drew the scenery. Mum yelled at me for leaving my pencils were people could step on them.
That year she didn't let me go to Diagon Alley with her; she said I shouldn't go until I got my letter, if I got it. That remark stung more than anything else she'd said that summer. She got back from Diagon Alley with Auntie and Uncle who were chuckling about Mr. Weasley (they said he had an obsession with everything non-magical) and worrying about a fight that had happened at the bookstore. Hermione just read her Defense Against the Dark Arts books until she could recite them by heart. She told me excitedly that their teacher that year would be the Gilderoy Lockhart. I couldn't see what she was so excited about but Mum and Auntie never did mind it when she left those books lying around. They scolded me if I left my sketch books anywhere but my room.
September 1st came all too quickly for me and soon my only contact with her was from the owls, which still wouldn't stay for replies. I learned that her two boy friends had flown a car to school and were in big trouble, that they'd been invited to a death-day party, that on Halloween a cat, I believe the name was Mrs. Snorris or Norris, had been attacked but it would be okay later on, that kids, muggleborns like us, were starting to be attacked, the Chamber of Secrets had been open, Harry could talk to snakes, and people thought he was the one behind the attacks. I told her not to trust boys; she utterly ignored me.
She didn't come home for Christmas that year, even with all the attacks. She said she had stuff to do, but wouldn't elaborate. A little while later we got a letter from her saying a potion she'd been making had gone wrong but she'd be all right, her tail was already gone. Then a letter arrived from Professor McGonagall, the one who'd visited us to prove magic was real. Hermione'd been attacked, she'd be fine later in the year, they were sure of it, and Dumbledore had been asked to step down for a while. We couldn't send Hermione get-well-soon cards as we had no owl. Auntie was frantic and would break into tears at the least little thing. I don't think time ever seemed to drag on as much as it did those weeks, months, years (it seemed). No owls came fluttering bringing us news, we just waited and prayed. I drew my heart out and read- I still didn't have other friends.
At long last a letter from Hermione winged its way to us. "Dear Mum and Dad, don't worry about me, I'm perfectly fine, they caught the person behind the attacks. Exams were cancelled; I'll see you soon. Love from, Hermione." Auntie read that letter over and over, all of us did. We memorized it we were so relived. Auntie kept repeating, "She's fine, she's fine, my little girl, my baby," constantly. A drawing of mine won first place in a regional contest and nobody noticed. The dentistry business, which had slowed to practically nothing while everyone worried about Hermione, picked up again. Life went back to normal.
When Hermione came back that summer we headed off to France. For the first week Auntie and Mum wouldn't let Hermione out of their sight. They'd hug her spontaneously, as if to reassure themselves that she was really there. Uncle decided to withdraw Hermione from Hogwarts. Hermione objected and they argued for hours on whether she'd be allowed to go back. Eventually she got him to agree to let her return, asking him "Where else would I go? Into a Muggle class with eleven year olds? I haven't taken Muggle classes since I was ten."
We decided to buy her a pet (aka an owl) for her birthday. That way we could always send her letters. Plus if we owned the owl it would wait for us to write back. My aunt and uncle gave her money and told her to surprise us. Well, she surprised us alright. She got a cat. You can't send letters with a cat. But it seemed staying in contact with her family was no longer the most important object in Hermione's bust, busy lifr.
She didn't write us much that year. I got a letter or two about Sirius Black, an escaped prisoner. It turned out he was really a wizard and was after one of her friends. However, those notes were short with large gaps between them. She said she was busy, too busy to come home for Christmas or Easter. Somebody named Buckbeak was going to be killed without her help (yeah right, like there's a person in the world named Buckbeak). She said she had a ton of homework and told me to never take Divination. One letter said Ron and Harry weren't talking to her. I tried to be sympathetic but then again she was my only friend and she rarely wrote to me. A bitter part of me said she deserved it. When that bitter part flared up I'd go out to draw or plan what we could do this summer. A picture I drew won a school contest. I think Mum said "Good job."
That summer she told us excitedly that Sirius Black had been innocent all along, that he had been framed by Ron's rat, who was really a wizard, who'd betrayed Harry's parents. She didn't as much as look at my pictures. We didn't go abroad that summer, the dentistry was busy, I was due to receive my Hogwarts letter, and Hermione had been invited to the Quidditch World Cup by a friend. She left halfway through the summer and didn't return. Every day I scanned the skies looking for my owl. When September 1st came without an owl I cried for a week. I wasn't a witch. I was never going to Hogwarts. Hermione and I no longer belonged to the same world.
"It followed her to School one day,
School one day, School one day,
It followed her to School one day
Which was against the rules."
That year I gave a final stab at making friends among my peers. I failed, after being laughed at and called a bookworm among other things. There were one or two people who used me to do their homework but no true friends. I had nobody to talk to, to laugh with. There was nothing left for me but my drawings, and I could at least rest assured that my art would never use me, taunt me, or leave me behind to suffer alone.
Some big contest, the "Triwizard's Tournament" was being held at Hogwarts. Harry was the fourth contestant. I questioned this until Hermione said there wasn't supposed to be a fourth contestant, wizards weren't stupid. They were, however, slave drivers. Apparently wizards made slaves out of House-elves. It was terrible and I asked myself why I wanted to be a part of that world. I answered that I didn't, lied to myself, and told myself I was glad I hadn't gotten a letter. After all, wizards were so stuck-up. They thought they were so much better then we non-magical, we normal people. The entire population had sticks stuck-up their butts. Excuse me, wands. I didn't care that Hermione wasn't coming home for Christmas, after all when did her family ever rank first for her? When did any of these, these freaks ever value anyone but themselves? But in the darkness of the night my lies fell away to heart-wrenching sobs as I discovered that heart-broken wasn't just an expression, but an actual pain. I cried myself to sleep nightly, and I prayed everyday to get a letter saying "We're sorry we missed you this summer do you mind coming a bit late?"
"Of course not," I'd reply, "I'll come right away." But I told myself that I didn't care until I almost believed it. I didn't reply to each letter the second I got it, let her see what it was like not to have your cousin write to her. She deserved it. If she wanted to spend all her time snogging some ugly boyfriend of hers it wasn't my problem.
She came back that summer saying that You-Know-Who was back. She left within a week to go somewhere. I don't know where, she didn't tell us. After all, why should we know anything, we were only her family. The adults decided to postpone the annual trip until her winter break so she could come. We were going to go skiing. That wasn't the best time for me; winter break was when my sketches were due for a major contest I really wanted to enter. Mum told me not to be selfish. Because obviously Hermione shouldn't have to suffer for going god-knows-where with her friend and doing god-knows-what. Suffering was my job. I walked off sulking and drew until it was too dark to see.
August 31st an owl came saying Hermione'd been made a prefect. Everyone made such a big fuss over it. Our Hermione was prefect at a school for magic. When I came in first in an art competition in September I received a "that's nice dear." That's when I first began to really hate Hermione. She wasn't even here and they cared more about her than me. Maybe it wasn't her fault, but it wasn't my fault that nothing I did would ever measure up to her.
That year I was enlisted to help out at the dentistry after school. It wasn't much, just fetching supplies or various odd-jobs. It cut into my drawing time but I was informed that the family business shouldn't suffer for my pleasure activities. Personally, I thought that the dentistry would benefit more from Auntie focusing on her job and not her daughter, but I knew better than to say so aloud.
Hermione owled us two days before we were supposed to leave for the ski trip. She said everyone serious about the O.W.L.'s was staying at Hogwarts. Totally unselfish. I never forgave her for that but I don't see why everyone was so surprised she wasn't coming home. She hadn't come home when it wasn't mandatory since first year. She didn't come back for Easter that year either.
She stayed less then a fortnight that summer. I spoke to her only when necessary. She told me, yet again, to grow up and stop being so petty and jealous.
"Oh, so you actually remember you have a cousin Hermione? I'm surprised. I thought it was all about you, everything is after all."
"No, it's not. Are you ever going to grow up and mature? And from the way you write to me it wouldn't be surprising if I forgot you existed."
"Well, I'm sorry if I don't drop everything when your owl comes every once in a blue moon. I suppose everyone else does that Lady Granger."
"Oh, you're just another Petunia Dursley!" She snapped. I'm not sure what she meant by that.
She said the war had started in earnest, somebody unimportant had died, that escaped prisoner from a few years ago. And Voldemort, she called him that now instead of You-Know-Who, was killing people. Typical wizard, lording himself above everyone else. The adults begged her to stay here, stay safe. She didn't listen to them. She, as usual, only did what she wanted.
We didn't see her again until Christmas. Oh sure we got the occasional letter. Ron was dating Lavender but she was perfectly fine with it. She didn't see why anyone thought she'd be bothered by it. She repeated that when she got home. I mostly ignored her, although I did make some comment on how I was so proud she had chosen to honor us with a visit. My parents sent me up to my room after that. I avoided her the rest of the season and didn't get her a Christmas present. I got yelled at for that. She didn't get us any presents either. Hogsmeade, the peculiar, magical village near the school, was closed for security purposes she explained. It was okay, they understood. Having her back was present enough for them.
She went back and we got the vague letters again. She was studying hard, missed us all, and don't worry about her. I didn't. I wrote her one letter back, all about how I had won first place in the regional art contest and honorable mention in the national. I received a trophy, medal, certificate, savings bond, and a good job sweetie, do you think Hermione's okay. I'd given up trying to make friends with anyone. I drew them instead because my art was the one thing that would never betray me.
That year we all went to the train station. We'd received a letter that the headmaster had died. Hermione would want to see some familiar faces after that horrible incident. Coming along to pick her up wasn't optional. At the station she saw us and broke apart from her friends for a while.
"Mum, Dad, Harry's got to go fight Voldemort. He's got to bring an end to this war as soon as possible. And he's going to need all the support he can get."
"What does this have to do with you dear?"
"Mum I- I'm going with him. To help him. Ron's coming too. I'm sorry, I love you, I'll hurry back." There were instant protests from every one of the adults. Hermione fought all of them. After making Auntie realize that nothing she said was going to change Hermione's mind she turned to me.
"Well, aren't you going to tell me not to go?" she asked. She seemed to be hoping I would.
"The time for that was seven years ago," I said. She left. I was the only one of all of us to ever see her again.
That summer my parents were constantly at my aunt and uncle's house or they were at ours. I think they drew strength from each other. One day when my parents were next door I went out walking, for inspiration in my drawing, as I often did that summer. It was late afternoon when I came back. My aunt and uncle's house lay in ruin with a green symbol above it. I recognized it from one of the books on Voldemort Hermione and I had read together ages ago, in a happier world. My parents' and Hermione's parents' bodies lay in the rubble. Both Hermione and I lost our parents but she wasn't the one to find their bodies lying there and desperately try to wake them. She wasn't dragged away by the police with them saying "It's too late, there's nothing you can do." She wasn't forced to identify them at the morgue because the bodies were so disfigured they couldn't positively ID them. She didn't have to arrange the funerals for them; heck she didn't even attend the funerals.
And it was her fault they died. Her stupid quest and her stupid world killed them. And I was the one who had to suffer through it. But that was always the way; I suffered for her selfishness. I suffered so that she could do whatever she liked. "Don't be selfish." "You're just another Petunia Dursley!" "Grow up!"
I grew up. Thanks to her, thanks to that. I grew up alone, drawing death, hurting too much to cry. That was nine years ago now and I'm 23, grown up, showing my sketches and paintings off around the world. The family dentistry we were supposed to take over lies in ruins. I'm rich and famous and dreadfully unhappy. It's said my works perfectly capture the spirit of grief, despair, and suffering that plagued England for so long. Of course they do, grief, despair and suffering were my only friends as a teen. People ask me where I get my inspiration. From the ruin of my perfectly laid plans. From the hell that is my life. From the feelings of anguish, betrayal and …loneliness that are my constant companions. From a letter, delivered by an owl one summer day in July of 1991.
"Mary had a Little Lamb,
Little Lamb, Little Lamb,
Mary had a Little Lamb
Then Mary went Away."
I don't know if Hermione's war is over or not. I didn't know she was alive until I passed her in the street yesterday. And she didn't recognize me when once we'd been inseparable.