A/N: For some odd reason it will not let me put Rowling's name in the disclaimers for the chapters. It appears during the editing process but is somehow lost when I publish the chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own this franchise or any rights associated with it.
Chapter Two
Morning dawned bright and early over the viridescent mountains of Scotland. The day had begun like any other at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. House-elves vigorously cleaning away the last vestiges of the previous day's activity before the inhabitants of the magical castle were woken from their slumbers. The castles unique magic strengthening its wards to prevent excess bouts of accidental magic.
It had been a normal day…before it all went to hell.
Hermione's day had started like all the others this year. She had awoken as the first rays of yellow light gradually made their way over the peaks of the Scottish mountains. Her Head Girl suite, hidden away from the inquisitive occupants of the House dormitories, overlooked the great Black Lake. The rays, shimmering off of the smooth undisturbed body of water, were her daily introduction to the rise of a new day.
Her morning routine was simple. Wake up, wash, dress, brush her teeth for exactly two minutes and thirty seconds, and then read even further ahead in all of her subjects so that she was armed with knowledge that would only be needed several weeks from the present. It always paid off to be prepared; who knew what could happen in the blink of an eye. That was her experienced opinion. She did live in a world filled to the brim with magic after all. One never quite knew what was around the next corner.
Although she would be hard-pressed to ever admit it to anyone she knew, she did occasionally indulge in the unknown urge to sing. This activity usually occurred while she was taking her morning wash, be it in the shower or bath. She was not vain, not by any stretch of the imagination, but Hermione was almost positive that she had a relatively pleasant singing voice. Not that anyone would ever be privy to this information.
"Lavender's blue, dilly dilly,
Lavender's green
When you are king, dilly dilly,
I shall be queen…", she hummed quietly to herself. It was her best-loved verse of the song.
The lullaby was a childhood favourite of hers, always sung to her by her mother's clear soprano voice; while she was still young enough to believe in fairytales. While she would never be on par with the level of excellence that was her mother, she had to admit; the acoustics in her bathroom were rather spectacular; and did their job in aiding her with hitting the notes normally outside of her range.
She now wished that she had loitered around while completing her routine; even if the act did go against her sensibilities. Maybe then she wouldn't have landed face first in the mess that was now her life.