Although I would like to say that all ended happily ever after, I am afraid, I must disappoint you.
Hermione was staring at the lake. It was the Easter holidays, and the sun shone, but offered no warmth. So why was the girl, standing at the edge of the water, seemingly staring at the water? What was that black envelope she was clutching onto so tightly in her right fist? Why did she hide behind the trunk of the nearby tree when her friends ran past, calling her name?
Hermione sighed. This just did not make sense. Her parents were not supposed to return home early. Their owl must have been intercepted. She laughed mournfully. What was the point? They were dead. Her beloved father and mother - dead, because she had said 'no' to Lord Voldemort. She guessed that he wasn't the kind of person who could lightly take 'no' for an answer. She laughed.
Sliding against the bark of the tree, ignoring the pricking of the bark into her back, Hermione shivered. She was only wearing a T-shirt and trousers, since it was a weekend. She fingered the envelope. Before she could take it no longer, and, in a fit of fury, tore the letter up into tiny squares. There, that had been therapeutic enough. She gazed at the surface of the lake, savouring the view of the light of the setting sun, dancing gaily upon the rippling tides.
Suddenly, an owl appeared in the horizon. The dot grew bigger, and bigger, and finally, it settled down on a branch above Hermione's head and dropped the envelope on her head. It hooted happily and loudly, alerting her friends of her hiding place, before disappearing once more, to a far away and unknown land.
Well, not unknown, since it said on the back of the envelope that it was from a lawyer in London.
Hermione ripped open the letter and read.
Dear Miss Granger,
I would like to offer you my sincere consolations to your recent losses.
When lawyers put the word 'sincere' in their letters it means bad news.
According to the will that your parents drafted and left in my possession, all of their money, possessions and estate have been transferred into your possession, and I have new contracts for you to sign so that you can claim all of these.
By law, once your adoptive parents have died, you have a right to know who your original parents are (unless an item that has been verified certifies that you are never to know even their names, because it would place you, others or themselves in danger). Unfortunately, no such document has been found, so if you would pass by my office some time soon, you can sign all the legal documents (providing you are over eighteen years of age) and you can receive the information of your birthparents, should you so desire.
Hermione skipped the rest of the letter, which mainly consisted of random comments. What kind of a lawyer was this? Hermione did not have to ponder over this before her friends arrived.
"Hey! Hermione! We've been looking everywhere for you!" Will said.
"Did you not hear us call you?" Phoebe asked.
Hermione smiled and shoved the letter into her book bag, which had been carelessly thrown aside.
"I fell asleep. I've been really tired." Hermione said, yawning.
"Well, you have been staying up late, every night, for the past five weeks, revising for NEWTs. Merlin Beard, you're making me nervous." Ron said.
"I want to do my best in these exams, and you know that you do as well, somewhere inside that thing that you call a brain." Hermione snapped, losing her patience.
"You still haven't told us what you're planning to do after school. Will and Phoebe say that you're going to go into Healing, Ron thinks you're going to train to become an Auror. I mean, I thought so at first, but… you seemed to have changed your mind." Harry said.
"I don't really know what I'm going to do… I don't think I'll become an Auror or a Healer." Hermione said.
"But Hermione—!" Ron began.
"You'll tell us when you've decided, right?" Phoebe stepped in.
Hermione was once again thankful to have a person with a bit of tact in this little group of five. Suddenly, something stirred in her mind and she pressed two fingers against her right temple and pressed, as though, if she tried hard enough, she could push the thought out the other side. Her mind was too heavy for thinking, and so she let go, wondering at what had triggered off her thinking wheels.
"Hermione? Are you all right?" Harry asked.
"Do you need to go and see Madam Pomfrey?" Phoebe added.
"No. I just. I just need some time to think." And grieve. But Hermione did not say those two words; she did not want their pity, she wanted their friendship.
The others nodded and scattered, leaving Hermione to sit back down in the cold and stare out at the lake. So, she was adopted? Yes, that she could gather from the letter. But why didn't her parents tell her? That was the most daunting thought. What if her real parents were convicts or… or… something in Hermione's heart seemed to doubt that idea. Her parents would never have accepted a convict's daughter into their household. That's when Hermione realised: Just because her parents were her birth parents, didn't mean that they weren't her real parents. They were the ones who had a place in her heart, and in her heart, she loved them above anything.
Hermione broke down.
She only realised she had been sitting out of doors for six hours when the sun began to set. She was numb from grief and had probably turned blue from the cold. Even the shivering ceased to snap her out of her trance-like state. Hermione had been thinking of her parents, dredging up her old, happy memories, when she realised that she had been neglecting them for the past seven years – since she arrived at Hogwarts. This fact made her feel extreme guilt, and she prayed to whatever God that existed that her parents were resting in peace and that their deaths had not been painful.
She made her way back to the castle in a daze. It was as though she had forgotten how to walk. She stumbled, swayed from side to side, tripped over air, and lay on the ground, where she had fallen, sitting in a trance for a few minutes, before she remembered what she was doing and continued stumbling back towards the castle. She only made it half-way when she no longer had the will-power to move, and she sat, cross-legged, on the ground, with her eyes shut.
"Miss Granger? What in Merlin's name are you doing out here?" a deep voice floated from behind her.
"Good evening, Professor Snape." Hermione said.
Her voice was thick with phlegm and tears. Not a sight for sore eyes. Her own eyes were sore enough -bright red and puffy, her lips were swollen but chapped, and dark eye-bags were present under her eyes. She was trembling from the cold, but this calmed a little when she felt herself being wrapped by a black cloak. She was extremely surprised.
"Professor?"
"Miss Granger, I do not want to have to be sent to Azkaban because I found you and left you out here, in the cold, to freeze to death." He said harshly.
His words cut through her fogged mind and she smiled. Things were clearing up in front of her already.
"Professor, may I apprentice under you for Potions?" She asked.
There was a loud snort, followed by a long dragged out sigh.
"I should have known that you would not choose Defence Against the Dark Arts or Arithmancy."
"If you don't want me as your apprentice, it's fine, sir, I'll just-I'll look elsewhere." Hermione highly doubted whether there was another Potions Master in Britain who was better than him in the field.
"Miss Granger, if you write a proper proposal, I might consider it."
With that, he disappeared back to the castle, sans his extra cloak.
Hermione wrapped the cloak around her as she, unsteadily, made her way back. The cloak was very large, and dragged behind her as she walked, and she attempted to bunch it up to prevent it from dragging, but it was too heavy for her numb fingers to keep a good grip on, so she decided to let it drag. Why did Professor Snape have an extra cloak on him? How random. She somehow managed to return to her common room without sustaining any serious injuries, and she slept very deeply that night.
The next day, she began writing a proposal as soon as she woke, wondering what on Earth Harry and Ron were going to say. It was a clever thing Snape did. He left her his cloak, and therefore she had to return it, giving her an opportunity to give him the proposal without feeling completely foolish. Since when had Snape begun to consider other people's feelings?
She picked up the cloak and stared at it. Suddenly, she buried her nose into the coarse material and breathed in deeply. Then, she quickly looked left and right, making sure there was no one else in her private dormitory, which she shared only with Crookshanks. Then, she sighed. Why was she so paranoid? It wasn't as though she were breaking the law. And Professor Snape wasn't going to suddenly appear in her bedroom, demanding why she was smelling his cloak.
"Coming to that, why am I smelling his cloak?" Hermione asked.
Her question was, obviously, not answered, since walls don't actually talk and stone can't actually hear, but Crookshanks appeared and scratched her leg, wanting attention. Hermione picked him up and returned to bed, allowing the half-Kneazle to lie on her stomach and purr as she stroked its fur. She wondered why she had done that. The cloak was now in a pile on the floor, where she had dropped it, and she stared at it once more.
She supposed that her curiosity merely got the better of her and she let it pass. Now, she wondered about the scent that clung on his cloak. There was her smell of strawberries on it, but the other smell… She couldn't define what it was, but it definitely suited Snape. It smelt of some sort of spice, combined with the smell of musty books. There was also a feeling of reliability that came with the cloak, surrounding the black item, as well as security.
"This is absurd!" She exclaimed out loud. "Why would I feel safe clinging onto an item of clothing?"
Suddenly, there was knocking on the door, making Hermione jolt upwards. Crookshanks disappeared hissingunder the bed, and Hermione pulled on a dressing gown and hurriedly ran her fingers through her near tame curls. She winced as she encountered large knots, but she little time to fume over this. The knocking began once more, more insistent.
"Coming!" Hermione said, smoothing down the sheets and quickly airing the blanket before smoothing that down and hurrying to the door.
She opened the door, and smiled.
"'Morning, Lavender."
"Hey Hermione! Harry wants to know if you want to go to Hogsmeade with him and Ron?"
"I'd love to," Hermione started, but then, she remembered Snape. "but I have to finish this work, it's really important."
"Hermione! Can't you take a little break?"
"Lavender, you know how important this stuff is to me. I really would love to go, but I'm behind with my work already, I took the whole of yesterday afternoon off."
"What about this morning?"
"This morning? What time is it?" Hermione asked, reaching for her watch.
"It's early afternoon."
Hermione groaned, she slept through the whole morning as well, no wonder she felt so refreshed and tired at the same time.
"I can't believe I slept for so long! I really must get to work. Tell Harry and Ron to have fun for me."
"All right." Lavender said, defeated. "I'll see you soon then."
Hermione smiled and waved good bye to her friend before shutting the door and cursing. She had wasted so much time! She immediately went to the bathroom and took a nice long shower, before rushing about like mad. She then sprinted down to the dungeons, hair still slightly damp, clutching the cloak and the proposal in her hands.
No matter what, her parents would not have wanted her to give up on her future. Especially not because of their deaths.