Chapter: Hermione.
Hermione Jean Granger loved books to an alarming degree.
A degree that occasionally frightened her parents.
Despite the pride they had for their only child, she terrified them with her intelligence and fast working mind. By the age of six she'd begun reading the works of Shakespeare and Jane Austen. She could analyse and comprehend reading material intended for nineteen-year old's at the age of eight. On her ninth birthday, she politely requested to be home-schooled as she no longer found her school curriculum engaging enough. By the time she'd turned ten, she'd begun university level courses.
Mr and Mrs Granger loved their genius daughter with all their hearts, but her intensity and hunger for knowledge terrified them. She never slowed down, almost as if she couldn't.
Once, Mr Granger had tried to talk her into pacing herself.
"Hermione, love, you have all the time in the world to learn. You are only a child once, sweetheart, why not slow down a bit?"
He would never forget the haunted look in her eyes when she answered. The honey brown of her eyes seemed dulled and distant, unseeing almost. A terrifying gleam to see on the face of a child.
"The world doesn't stop spinning just because I'm a child, dad. There's too much to see in this world, too much to discover. I want to see and learn as much as possible before my time is over. You only live once, but life can end at any time."
Mr and Mrs Granger never questioned her again. They did their best to ensure she was well rested and never overextending herself. They made peace with the fact they would never understand their strange little girl, and hoped loving her with all their hearts would be enough.
What Hermione didn't say to her father, was the nagging need that pushed her to devour whatever knowledge she could. She'd read the nagging sensation was classified as paranoia, but she had no idea what she had to be paranoid about. The nagging tended to haunt her late at night when her brain would grow weary and tired. It caused the scar at the back of her neck to itch like crazy.
Hermione didn't dream, sleeping to her was closing her eyes and opening them hours later. If she did dream, all she ever saw was darkness, a floating void of black. Some nights, she thought she'd dreamed of sounds- odd little whispers that she could never properly hear. It only served in bringing her headaches as it was a puzzle she could never solve.
When she's eleven, a letter arrives with her name. She'd barely spared it a glance, but the nagging persisted and so she irately opened the thing. When she'd finished reading, it felt as if her world spun and everything suddenly made sense in her brain.
When her parents asked her what it said, Hermione beamed at them with a wide grin so childish it shocked them into silence.
"I'm a witch!" she proudly claimed.
Of course.
Everything made sense now.
"Don't be silly dear, you are no such thing," her mother had assured.
But Hermione beamed and persisted in her claim, shoving the letter before her parents with excitement.
"Of course, I am. Everything makes so much sense now. I'm a witch and I need to go to Hogwarts!"
Despite the doubt on her parent's faces, Hermione grinned and hurried to look over her library. She needed to read up on every book she owned that discussed magic. The nagging was more of a caressing urge and she embraced it with giddy excitement.
Hermione Granger had always known she was strange, but now she knew why.