Chapter Two

Neverland

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I'm just playing in Jo's sandbox.

Hermione Granger skipped through her mother's garden in her Easter dress hoping she would spot the fairy she had seen the day before. Her mum was crying again, so she knew she had at least a half hour to explore the garden, which at her size was a forest, without being told what and what not to do. She wanted to ask the fairy where it came from this time for she had been too surprised by seeing it the day before to think of anything to say.

She thought she saw something under the rosebushes, so she squatted down, careful not to dirty her dress, but still unable to resist a tottering motion which threatened the hem of her dress with soil.

Hermione gasped. There it was, hovering, oblivious to her presence until she spoke. "Where do you come from?" Hermione whispered for somehow she knew that she needed to keep the fairy secret from any prying neighbors. Hermione was very good at keeping secrets.

The fairy was green with dark brown hair that was just as frizzy as Hermione's, though it was not as fully dressed as Hermione with only a cloth to cover its "no-no place" as the little almost-two-year old called it. The fairy turned its back on her, something she thought Tinkerbelle would do, so she tried again. "Please? Can you take me where you come from? I don't want to grow up. All you do is cry and slam doors," Hermione begged, wide-eyed; and though it came out as babbling, the fairy understood.

Its wings fluttered and it sprinkled some golden dust onto the petals of a blushing pink rose. Hopeful, Hermione closed her eyes and thought of books, waiting to be covered with dust so she could fly to Neverland. After a moment, with no difference in how she felt, she opened her eyes. The fairy was gone, the only sign it had been there was the word "SOON" hovering in the air in golden dust. Hermione lost her balance and flopped gracefully to the ground.

What did that mean? Maybe it would tell her tomorrow! Or maybe it wanted her to tell her mum first!

Hermione bounded through the garden towards the house, opening the door to the kitchen carefully as it always squeaked. She wanted to change clothes before she asked her mum to go to the garden with her. Her mum caught her tiptoeing up the stairs.

"Hermione! What have you done to your dress?" cried Mrs. Granger.

Looking sheepish, Hermione turned around and tried to explain, "It was the fairy, Mum!"

Mrs. Granger sighed, "Not this again. You know very well that fairies don't exist!"

"Show you!" Hermione insisted and turned towards the kitchen.

Mrs. Granger caught her daughter's arm before she could get far. "First, we are going to put that dress in the washer. You need it to wear when you visit Grandma Granger next weekend."

"Fine, hurry," and Hermione promptly stripped down to her underwear, unabashed as only a toddler could be.

"C'mon, sweetie, there are some clean trousers and a t-shirt in the laundry room for you," Mrs. Granger said as she took her daughter's hand.

On their way down the stairs, Hermione kept hold of her mother's hand (she never understood why they had to be so high up). Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something missing. "Mum? Where'd the bump go? Did it hide like the fairy?"

Mrs. Granger touched her stomach and answered shakily, "No, Pumpkin, it…," she took a deep breath, "it decided it wasn't ready."

"For what?" asked Hermione, unaware of the pain she was causing her mother.

"I don't know."

"Okay, Mummy." Her mum knew everything and when she said she didn't know something, Hermione had learned it meant she didn't want to talk about it.

They dressed Hermione and put her dress in the washer, then Hermione grabbed her mum's hand and pulled, leaning her own body almost to the point of falling over.

"Hurry!" Hermione exclaimed, hoping the fairy had returned while she was gone.

Dubious, Mrs. Granger nonetheless let her daughter drag her up the stairs, through the kitchen, out the back door, and over to her rosebushes.

"It was just here!" exclaimed Hermione, resuming her squatting and tottering motion.

"Maybe it doesn't like adults," said Mrs. Granger as she squatted too, looking at the top of her daughter's precious head, rather than the rosebush.

"Let's sit, Mommy!"

Mrs. Granger drew Hermione into her lap as she sat cross-legged on the ground. She listened to Hermione describe the fairy and talk about Neverland and wished she could go there herself.

Hermione dressed as Tinkerbelle for Halloween that October. She walked in between her parents, using their arms to swing through the air. They were headed to a Halloween party at her dad's boss's house. He had a little girl her age and Hermione hoped she loved books as much as she did. She couldn't read yet, but her parents read to her all the time.

The worst possible sight greeted Hermione as she entered the playroom: dolls. They were everywhere. And what was worse, there was not a book in sight. Hermione didn't really hate dolls, but she noticed that the two other girls in the room were huddled together, dolls in hand. They were older. One of them looked up.

"Who are you?" asked the dark-haired one.

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione proudly. She loved her name.

The girls giggled, "Hermione?" asked the red-head, "What kind of name is that?"

"I don't know," said Hermione shyly. "It's just my name."

"Well, I'm Jennifer and this is Stacey," said the dark-haired girl. "Want to play dolls?"

"Book?" asked Hermione without thinking.

"What kind of answer is that? Oh, do you want to read?" Hermione nodded. "My books are in my bedroom; it's across the hall," Jennifer said as she pointed to her bedroom door.

"Thank you," Hermione said and bounded off to find a book. She heard Stacey say, "What a nutter," before she was out of earshot. Tears welled in her eyes and blurred the titles of the books as she looked at Jennifer's collection. She decided on a book about barn animals that had pictures and settled herself on the bed, looking at the pictures and desperately trying to figure out the words.

A couple of hours later, Mrs. Granger trudged up the stairs to gather Hermione, slowly removing her costume of a winning smile with each step she took. She had lost another child just three weeks before and was losing hope. She peeked her head in the playroom.

"Where's Hermione, girls?" she asked the two girls who were now immersed in a serious conversation with a giraffe, a panda, and a pig over tea and biscuits. The dark-haired girl gestured across the hall and Mrs. Granger nodded her thanks and turned to face the girl's bedroom door. Mrs. Granger couldn't help but smile at the image before her.

Hermione was laying on her stomach on the bed, book under her cheek, and a good amount of drool covering one of the pages. Mrs. Granger gathered Hermione, who mumbled something about chickens, in her arms and made her way downstairs. Mr. Granger was waiting for her at the door.

"It's a clear night," he whispered as he opened the door, putting his hand on the small of Mrs. Granger's back as she stepped onto the front steps. She immediately hurried out of his reach.

"Brr, it's cold," she said lamely as she hurried to the car.

Mr. Granger sighed after shutting the door after his wife slid into her seat. He had hoped that a night out with some adults would help them out, but it had only served to backfire.

They drove home in silence, oblivious to the several dozen owls swarming overhead and of the significance it held for their daughter's future.