"Do you like this one?" She should have known it would only be a matter of days before her mother took an off day and dragged her to one of the many shops in London to look at clothes that they would be wearing to Greece, her mother being more than excited to be venturing into the wizard world again after so long, the only exception being when she and her parents all got their glamours done and ventured to Diagon Alley in her second year, to buy school books. They'd done their best as amazed muggles, though the entranced state that they had gone in was very much real, as they were seeing the magic world for the first time in over a decade. Her mother had behaved oddly while they were there, so they hadn't been back since.

The dress her mother held in her hands was undoubtedly lovely. It was a lavender boho style dress that split well up the legs, though it wasn't as noticeable as one would think (I actually have visual representation of the outfit on Polyvore, but I have no idea how to link it.). With it, was a set of rings that would adorn her fingers, much like the ones that her mother currently wear. They were gold, which complimented her beautiful dark skin perfectly. (I've decided that I will go with Taraji for Hermione's mother. She's just so beautiful and I've really been having a hard time imagining Michelle for her mother now, even though I was convinced that Martin Freeman and Michelle Hurd would make a beautiful couple.). Her rings were silver, and she liked the way that they looked against her pale skin. She gave a thumbs up, watching as her mother went to go and find odd ends to match.

"What about this?" She held up a pair of black flared pants and a burnt orange off-shoulder belted blouse, watching as her mother's eyes lit up at the thought of how many different accessory possibilities she could have on with the clothes of choice. It was an obvious yes, the two of them hurrying off to another part of the store to find more things.

Once they were weighed down with bags, the two of them climbed into the family car, Hermione buckling her seatbelt as she scanned the road. She was a bit antsy, but it was more because of the letter that she'd left unopened at home. It was from Parkinson, she could tell by the overly extravagant handwriting that the girl used to take up space when writing essays in Hogwarts. She didn't know why, but she was desperate for Parkinson to forgive her. Sure, it didn't keep her up at night, but it was a lingering thought whenever she was doing something.

"You can just leave the bags here, love. I'll sort through them and take them upstairs. It was no secret that her daughter was anxious. She could tell from the way she constantly wring her hands, he nervous tapping as they turned onto their street, and the constant glances thrown at the stairs. She watched her daughter nod and make her way up the stairs, much more pep in her step than when she'd come.

When she got in her room, she closed the door tightly, her eyes immediately going to the letter that sat on her desk. The material was obviously high quality, that much she could tell when she touched it. The paper was nice and thick, though she could tell that it was very flexible. Making her way to the plush chair at her desk, she grasped the letter, breaking the seal on it. Before she went shopping, she'd performed a plethora of examination spells on the letter, assuring the security of the contents. It didn't occur until after that the ministry would catch wind of her use of underaged magic, but i had already been done.

Granger

You're right, this is weird. Right now, I'm sitting in the bay window of the Slytherin common room. We don't have a view of the grounds, but I can't say that our view of the depths of the Great Lake aren't likely more magnificent. It basks our common room in an ethereal glow. Maybe you can ask Potter and Weasley if they remember it from when they were sticking their nose in what wasn't their business.

I guess you can consider us even. But don't think it makes us friends, I'd never be caught dead in the company of a mudblood like yourself.

You're right about Draco. He and I aren't fucking. My mum was too much of a stuck up bitch to even try and seduce my father to create another child, so Draco is the sibling I never had. We've grown up together, know all of each other's deepest, darkest secrets, and that's good enough for me.

Nice try on the war thing. If the muggles are as plentiful as you say they are and have gone to war, if they're even intelligent enough to do so, they'd have likely wiped themselves out. Everyone knows how you muggles live, so don't try to think I'm stupid.

Now if you don't mind, I have a summer ball to plan.

X

She didn't know why, but Parkinson's letter made her laugh. It was very strange, having a handwritten letter from Pansy Parkinson in her hands, but here it was, sitting in her lap. She could read through bitchspeak better than many thought she could. Parkinson was grateful to have received an apology and she was shocked that Hermione felt terrible after all the horrid things Pansy had done to make her life at Hogwarts a living hell. Placing the letter to the side, she brushed off her shirt and walked to her window at the sound of a car pulling up in their driveway. When she got a glimpse of who was inside, she nearly leaped out the mahogany frame.

"HARRY!" She didn't know how she'd gotten her mother to convince Petunia Dursley to allow her nephew to spend a good portion of the summer at their home, but fifteen minutes on the phone before their shopping trip and she'd said with a smile that Harry would most definitely be on his way.

"Hey," her brother breathed out as she tackled him into a hug, his arms quickly lifting to envelop her, making her heart soar. Harry had always been a bit odd when it came to physical affection, probably due to she sheer amount he had be deprived of growing up. Instead of cursing the Dursleys in her mind, she held onto him tighter until a throat clearing sound broke them apart. Turning, she saw her mum and dad standing there, both smiling happily. Grabbing him by his hand, she pulled him over to them.

"Mum, Dad, this is my brother, Harry Potter." Sure,they'd met him before, very briefly, when they were twelve, but he hadn't really been properly introduced. Her dad stuck out a hand, shaking Harry's firmly before her mother pulled him into a large hug, one he returned awkwardly as she rocked him from side to side.

"Come, Harry. Let me how you where you'll be sleeping." She pulled him behind her, leading up to the second floor landing. Mum, Dad, and I got everything especially ready for you to come." Her cocked his head as they walked on. Leading him down the main corridor, she stopped at two halls facing one another. "This hallway leads to my room and this one leads to yours," she said, pointing to the left and right hallways respectively.

Making their way down the hallway that led to Harry's room, she pointed out the three rooms, one on each side and another in the middle. "This is where your temporary study will be," she said, opening the door on the right to reveal a room with deep forest green walls and a plush, beige carpet. There were bookshelves filled to the brim with books, a large globe in the middle of the room, the window showing the expanse of the neighborhood, giving him a perfect view of the park not far away, filled with lovely shade trees. In front of the mirror was a large mahogany desk, fully equipped for both wizard and muggle post sending.

Making her way to the left door, she opened it, revealing a rather nice bathroom. There was both a tub and a shower, her father having had liked the idea of the both being separate. It was fully stocked with a variety of mens' bath products, as well as towels, sponges, washcloths, and loofahs. The walls were painted a deep blue, which she thought was very befitting of a bathroom, if he did say so herself. She had wanted to stick with more blue based colors, loving the way the color seemed to calm people.

When they moved to the center door, she turned to him. "Let me know if you don't like it. It may seem a bit creepy, but I've been preparing for the day your family finally allowed you to spend the summer here for years. It's very embarrassing, but I wanted you to be comfortable if you ever came." He nodded, watching her nervous stance as she opened the door slightly before shutting it firmly. "If you don't like it, don't hesitate to say anything. I'm sure I might not have gotten everything exactly to your li-" She let out a squeak as she felt herself being moved aside, Harry opening to door, a gasp escaping him as he dropped his chest.

She stepped into the room, sighing in relief when he didn't scream about how much he hated it. She'd painted the walls a blue based red, having paid someone to draw a moving mural of a snitch on the walls. It had been hard to find a wizard living in the muggle world, but she had found him, a young graduate from the wizarding school called Ilvermorny, coming to London on vacation. He was also a muggleborn like her and they maintained contact all the way up until his suicide at the end of her fourth year. His name was Michael Lycett.

There was a narrow bookcase in the corner of the room, filled with every quidditch book she had been able to find at wizard markets in France, Hogsmeade, and Diagon Alley. His bedroom window opened up to see the spacious backyard, just above her parents' small duck pond. Her room showed the opposite end of the yard, giving her a lovely view of her favorite reading spot, which was the oak tree.

His bed was rather large, it was a large California King with a custom made headboard, a cushioned one she'd seen in a catalogue. There were black comforters and red pillows to match. His carpet was the same color as that of his office. There was even a large converted ferret cage for Hedwig to play around in. She looked to Harry to see him still staring around the room.

"Do you like it?" He jumped, turning to look at her. "No," he said, turning in a circle and falling at the foot of the bed. "I love it," he said, his voice muffled by the covers flying up around him. The noise that she made was indescribable. It was somewhere between a squeal and a laugh. "Well that's good, Harry. I'll give you time to freshen up and then we can go explore the neighborhood!" With that, she closed the door behind her and ran to her own bedroom, closing the door behind herself.

Once she had fully dressed for the day, her outfit consisting of a simple black cropped top and a pair of high waisted black jeans. She paired it with her Doc Martins, applying a tinted gloss to her lips as she spun in the mirror. She could show him all of her favorite places to go, all while getting Crookshanks the exercise he needed. Though she hated to say anything about it, she feared for his health. He was very fluffy, but he was also very fat, and she feared for his longevity of life.

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts, turning to see Harry standing in her doorway, an odd look on his face. Smiling widely, she walked over to him and pulled him into a hug, breathing in his scent. Harry always had a peculiar undertone to his scent, one she could never quite place. Pulling back, she gave him a look over, scanning for any signs that he had been hurt in any way by those Dursleys. She didn't like that Harry was living with them, that Dumbledore was allowing his relatives to abuse him and mistreat him so. She saw it, he didn't have to tell her. He was always too thin, he shied away from physical affection, always carrying a confused expression when someone offered him a concerned look.

Clearing her throat, she lowered her hands from his sides, she stepped out of his space, pulling her hands behind her back. "Are you ready to go?" He nodded, though he didn't seem very interested in the idea. "Come on, if we leave now, we can be back before dinner's ready." He nodded, hurriedly following her as she went.

"That cat is a menace." She huffed, sending a glare Harry's way as she crooned at Crookshanks, waving an apple slice in his face to get him to come from under the park bench. "Son of a bitch," she hissed as he made a similar noise, viciously swiping at her hand as the sounds of children shrieking reached her ears. Sticking her finger into her mouth and suckling on it, she glared at the agitated feline "Crookshanks, get your furry arse away from under that bench this instant," she whispered sharply, only receiving a threatening sound from him. She didn't need a translator to tell her that he'd likely just told her to piss off. "You're not allowed in this park anymore, Crookshanks! If Miss Bonita caught you out here, you'd be in a world of trouble." Her mind flashed back to the a memory of the summer after her second year in Hogwarts, when a child had disrupted the ginger cat's nap to pull an entire handful of fur from his rear. It was safe to say that he was no longer welcomed there with open arms. In fact, not a lot of cats were, save for her neighbor, Bonita Griffith.

As if she felt her name being thought of, a dainty sniff alerted them to the presence of another person in their area. Taking a deep breath, she turned to stare into the face of the elderly woman who often strutted through the park as if she owned the place. It never ceased to fail she was dressed as if she had somewhere important to be, wearing a pair of green sweatpants and a white tee shirt, her trousers pulled up her stomach. Her once brown hair had turned white with age and sat in tight curls above her head. A testament to her old age, she wore large glasses that made her eyes look several times larger than they really were. In her arms was a large, snow colored cat who looked about three days older than dirt.

"Hermione Granger," she said, looking the young woman up and down. "Mrs. Griffith," Hermione offered back frostily. Harry stood in the background, watching the two women stare each other down, venom in their gazes. "I see you have no care for the requests of others," the woman drawled disdainfully. "This is a public park, you can't ban Crookshanks from here just because you don't want him here." The old woman scoffed, placing a hand on her hip.

"That vermin is a threat to the safety of others who choose to spend their time enjoying the day." Hermione clenched her fists as she glared at the woman. "How DARE you?! Crookshanks is leagues better than that rat with hair you're carrying around, I will not stand for you insulting him like this!" Sticking her nose in the air, the elderly woman looked at Crookshanks out of the corner of her eye. "My grandson works for the animal control center, he'll see to it that that flea bitten bag of mange is euthanized." It took every bit of self control she had not to smack the old woman into oblivion, though it didn't stop her from speaking.

""You lonely old hag, my Crookshanks has never had a flea a day in his LIFE! He's half Kneazle, you know that!" Harry's eyes widened to the size of saucers at Hermione's mention of the wizarding animal, but the woman simply sniffed. "More of a reason to and that creature back into the wild where it needs to stay. This is a park for civilized creatures, not filthy half-breeds that don't know how to behave in the presence of children." Hermione was seething by the time she felt Crookshanks brush against her legs, her hands balled into fists as they lay on her side, her pale face turning a rather vibrant shade of red as her frame shook. Grabbing her arm, Harry led her away before she could scream at the top of her lungs and her voice took on that screeching quality it was often known to.

"How dare she," Hermione fumed, stomping down the streets of her neighborhood, Harry trying his best to placate her. "Crookshanks isn't a bad cat, they should just bloody well leave him alone!" Her lip quivered as she kneeled in front of her cat, pulling him into her chest. "You're a good boy, Crooks. She'll get hers, you wait." The orange feline purred in understanding, resulting in Hermione letting out a sigh, turning to look at Harry. "Sorry you had to see that," she said, an apologetic smile on her face.

"It's alright, Hermione. I'd feel the same way if someone insulted Hedwig." She smiled, grabbing onto his arm as Crookshanks made himself comfortable on her shoulder. "I want you to meet some friends of mines." He threw her an odd look, but she kept her eyes forwards, leading him several blocks away from the park.

"Does my nose deceive me or is that a Potter I smell?" Harry jumped at the voice that called him by name, Hermione's laugh reaching his ears as they approached a large Victorian home. The entire block was filled with abandoned houses and he didn't understand why Hermione had been leading them there. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Hermione led him towards the porch, pulling him behind her after Crookshanks climbed down from her shoulder. "Hermione, is this safe? I'm getting a bad vibe." She shushed him, stopping at the top step, her eyes scanning the dark, covered patio. A squeaking sound caught their attention, their heads snapping to the side to see a woman sitting in a rocking chair.

She was beautiful, there was no other word for it. Though she looked to be no older than thirty, her eyes spoke of years well beyond her looks. If he weren't completely sure, he would have mistaken the woman for some sort of magical creature, a Veela even, but there was no desperate need to get closer to her. If anything, he wanted to sit at her feet and tell her his whole life story and all of his problems.

"Auntie," Hermione started, taking a slow step towards the woman, quickly moving when a jet of red light hit the ground near her feet. Harry reached for his wand, but a quickly extended hand warned him that he'd best not. "It's me, Hermione," she said again, watching as the woman relaxed her posture.

"What are waiting for, Girlie? Get you arse up here and give your old Auntie a hug." Finally relaxing, hermione made her way over to the chair, bending over and embracing the woman fully. When they separated, the woman's eyes moved to Harry and he got his first glimpse of the milky spots in the center of her vision.

"Harry James Potter, my how you have grown." He cocked his head, giving her an odd look. "What, she started. Have you never seen a blind person before?" He shook out of his trance, taking on a confused expression. "How did you-" "I remember the day your mother came here. Pretty as a Georgia peach, she was. She was scared out of her damn mind. I touched her hand and she trembled like a leaf." She stared at him, nodding firmly. "Girlie did a good job of bringing you here, you are where you need to be, yes you are." Looking away from him she turned towards Hermione, grasping her by either side of her face and pulling her towards her, close enough that their noses were almost touching.

"You take care of him, Adad Dimitriou. You watch over him and you protect him. You two are all each other's got right now and if you deviate from one another, I will come and beat the living bloody hell out of you both, do you understand me?" Despite the evident threat to their persons, Hermione smiled, kissing the woman on her cheek. "Your mother came about ten minutes ago. Your father came with her, but he left as soon as she was settled in." Nodding, Hermione rose to her feet, turning and making her way towards the door, Harry following behind quickly.

The first thing they heard when they entered the home was the sound of screeching, then a door being thrown open. Before he could think of what to do, a body crashed into him, he and the mysterious person falling to the floor in an entanglement of flailing limbs, him being unfortunate enough to be at the bottom. When his vision managed to clear, he was staring into a pair of enlarged eyes that he knew all too well.

"Professor Trelawney?"

Yeah, yeah, I'm still unreliable. I've embraced it, I shouldn't be trusted with deadlines. I wanted to keep this chapter going, but I think it's best to stop here, I don't want to make the chapters unbearably long. In the next chapter, we're going to see what the hell Sybil Trelawney is doing in the muggle world, in such close proximity to Hermione's mother, but all will be revealed, as well as a new rivalry, which is between Josephine and Sybil, though a few things will be revealed about Josephine as the story goes on, pertaining to a certain Slytherin. I you can guess which one, you can be a character, maybe even be his love interest, if you're interested in that.

I know I said in an earlier part that I have visual representation for her outfits and such, but those have since been purged from the internet with the deletion of Polyvore, which was bought by a site which promptly erased them and they're left as nothing but a fond memory.

Also, reading from a reviewer, I may have accidentally implied that Lyra was a house elf. To set the record straight, she was not a house elf, but a little girl that Hermione befriended in her childhood, from the village her family's home overlooked. I don't want to put too much into explaining, because Lyra will be brought up again and her friendship with Lyra will be discussed via memories Hermione has and stories she will tell someone. I don't know how this will end, that much is certain. I find out as you find out.

Until next time,

Stay weird.

Momo