Tomboy chapter 2

Never fear for it is I, JustSuperMione... Even though I rewrote some of this in a coffee shop I am NOT J.K. Rowlings or Warner Brothers so don't sue me!

This is dedicated to that awkward moment at 3am when you realise that a fic you posted 3 years ago is missing the KEY middle chapter. DOH!

P.S. Even though it has greatly improved with the rewrite; I can't spell, or use grammar for toffee!

August 1st 1991

The girl felt a bit like a spy on a recon mission. This disguise was more than avoiding the Princesses as her mother shopped though. Everything around her was new and exciting, she held back her enthusiasm. Free to stare at people thanks to her father's masked sunglasses masked her most of her face. Her most feminine feature, her long bushy hair, was tucked safely inside a battered baseball cap. She was wearing a plain baggy t-shirt and jeans. She glanced back at the bookshop she'd just exited and noticed the boy her reflection appeared to be.

I don't look like a boy, Hermione thought, I look like a muggle born wizard buying school supplies.

Hermione Jean Granger was surprisingly excited buying these school supplies. Her arms were already full of new and interesting things; supplies' for the adventure that would be her new life. She always loved books, reading alone; in her tree house was her favourite activity. Now she had some important new material. Quickly, she followed her beaming parents, fascinated by everything around them. This wasn't the kind of shopping trip for just pens, pencil and a new uniform. This was a magical shopping trip.

Her mother stopped by nearly every shop window, wondering quietly how they could have not seen the wizarding community, which was all around them, until now. The Alley was full of the extraordinary people Hermione had often thought she'd noticed popping here and there. She was extraordinary too.

This Alley, for example, was full of people and shops that would look more at home in a children's book than the 'real' world. Here, Hermione was surrounded by people like her. They were wearing cloaks but they were like her; normal witches and wizards, all going along their normal day; with their magic, their wands and everything. It was just so very exciting.

Just ahead, her parent's, were waiting patiently outside of a shop, peering anxiously in. Hermione grinned; now for another first on Diagon Alley; her first potions ingredients. She'd already bought her text books; text books about magic, magic that she would learn and do. Later, she would her first wand, a wand, a real magic wand.

Purposefully, Hermione walked into the apothecary her list in hand. As she handed it to the lady behind the counter and marvelled at the potion ingredients like boomslang, lacewing and wolfbane, as her order was filled.

The heavy packages she carried tethered her to this new world that seemed so much like a dream. The world around her was a dream come true. As excited as she was, she still had a scared unsure feeling. As she continued to walk, she reeled off the odd things that being magical explained as evidence she belonged here.

Like the time she'd seen a fairy; an actual, real life, fairy. It had been in her garden, bold as anything and vain as the preening tweenage princesses that bullied her. Not that Hermione had ever dreamed of telling anyone – they'd think she was mad and send her to a special 'doctor'.

There was the time her mother focused her to taking ballet classes and the only thing she enjoyed was the pirouettes because when she was alone she spun so fast she would floated. For a few moments, she forgot that she was plain, un-pretty Hermione with no friends.

Her father insisted on carrying her potions ingredients. Her mother insisted on using her new cauldron like a handbag. Joking about how pretty she looked. Hermione rolled her eyes, glad she wasn't as beautiful as her mother. Hermione was actually happy with her plainness because she knew when boys started noticing girls as 'girls', she would be left alone to her books and own thoughts. She'd rather stop reading forever than be concerned about what boys thought about her; unlike the other girls in her class. Always make believing about the man they'd marry in their perfect wedding.

As they left the shop, a gaggle of young witches passed by talking about their classes. Hogwart's girls were already so different from the ones at her old school. Obsessed about love; love, she'd noticed in her younger years, made girls in her school crazy. The girls in her year all idolised the older girls that used the lower school bathrooms, to cry or giggle over their latest beau. Hermione thought she'd prefer to have boys as friends rather than obsessing needlessly over them. Not that she had any experience in that area. She went to a Private Girls School catering for young ladies from three till eighteen years old. That was the odd thing about her school; no boys there and yet, they were always Spending valuable free time preening and gossiping; Hermione reckoned she would miss secretly laughing at them when she went to her new school.

Her current classmates were now obsessed with their appearance and only now spoke of nothing but fluff. Which was mind numbing boring. Distracting when Hermione was trying to concentrate on the ballet moves she needed to pass the class and have a dance free life. Apart from magically pirouetting, Hermione hated the dance classes her mother made her attend. Hermione had laughed; her mother had rolled her eyes:

"Why would one need to know how to dance, mother?" Hermione had earnestly asked safe in her tree house. "It isn't like I'm going to be going to a ball, am I? I'm not like Cinderella or any other fairy tale type character in a movie. We live in the suburbs not an enchanted castle. I will never be invited to a ball. And even if I were invited, why would I even want to go? I'd have to wear a dress and tame my hair; that would torture and torture is against the Geneva Convention. What would make me torture myself like that? I would never have reason enough to do it."

Somehow, to further dance classes she'd found herself!

As she stepped out of the shop she noticed the window display across the street: Twilfit and Tattings. The robes in there looked suitable for special occasions. A stray thought struck her, as they often did; now she was going to live in an enchanted castle. What if there was a ball? She still didn't think she'd want to go but anything seemed possible. How would she survive the ball? How would she survive the enchanted castle itself?

How would I cope in this new world? She wondered as she followed her parents again. By being with your own kind and making friends... she thought gleefully. She'd always been a jigsaw piece in the wrong puzzle; but now she'd fit.

The first piece of the puzzle was finding out she was a witch. An owl delivering mail was certainly the oddest thing that had happened to her dentist parents. But, it hadn't felt odd for Hermione because it explained all the odd things that happened to her. The letter explained that a teacher would come to take her and her parents to get her school supplies.

That's how, that very morning, she'd met Professor McGonagall, who had taken her and her parents to Diagon Alley. Meeting Professor McGonagall had been, well, just the biggest thrill because she was someone so like Hermione and yet different. She was old, but smart and graceful; with an air about her that said don't-mess-with-me. Just the kind of woman Hermione aspired to be.

Professor McGonagall had impressed Hermione with her kind and helpful nature. She could tell that McGonagall was a hard but fair teacher; her new priority was to impress and please her. She didn't think that anything could be as important as that. There certainly wasn't anything that would delay her in achieving that goal.

As soon as they'd reached Gringott's, Hermione peppered Professor McGonagall with interesting questions about the wizarding community in England. How they communicated, what kind of entertainment they had... as soon as they got to the bank Hermione became distracted by the chatter of the people around her. Yesterday, someone had managed to successful break into a vault. Hermione was struck with wonder; she couldn't help but imagine how it had been done. Professor McGonagall seemed just as interested and they'd had an engaging time theorising various scenarios.

Goblin's, seemed so clever and scary; Hermione wondered what would ever possess a wizard or witch to even attempt it. Her mind had been contemplating such things when they'd started shopping. Professor McGonagall, however, had to go after that.

As she left, Hermione fleeting wondered whether her hair would fit under a witch's pointy hat. She reasoned that it wouldn't and when she got to school she'd have to manage it. She sighed frustrated, she hated her hair because it went everywhere and made her look like a girl. Having short hair would fix both problems, then she'd not have to deal with it anymore.

Her mother had refused to see reason. Even when she'd argued that short hair would allow her more study time... Her mother retorted that – seeing as Hermione had spent the last few years 'coasting': that was invalid. She hated losing arguments.

Arguments, in the Granger home, in actuality, were only ever minor disagreements. Everyone had a view and could discuss it when they needed, in a rational way. Minor disagreements, like questions were what made life fun. Her mother and she had always had minor disagreements. In fact, the opportunity to have minor disagreements with someone was something Hermione would miss most about home. Arguing just made her feel alive and challenged: these exchanges, with her mother, were some of her best memories; like the time she wanted a tree house, to read in instead of a Wendy house to 'play dress up or dolls in... well her mother had had the last laugh there because Hermione was scared of heights. Not that that ever stopped her.

In fact, one of her first signs of magic was because of a disagreement. When she was six, there was a non-school uniform day and her mother had picked out a dress for her. Hermione had recently started to assert her identity, choosing baggy and non-descript clothes instead of the feminine clothes her mother favoured. Her mother had compromised; letting her go to school in jeans but insisting she wear a pink t-shirt. However, by the time she'd arrived at school, it had turned 'boisterous' navy. That's when her mother had stopped fighting it and accepted she had a Tom boy for a daughter.

Today, whoever her mother had a moment of victory... Hermione was sure when she was trying on her robes and it looked like she was wearing a dress. Now, for a minute, Hermione was going to verbally extrapolate the cultural differences of the magical world; as she knew the so far. The mere fact that her mother was confusing her new cultural attire, for a dress, was downright, disrespectful, to the wizard's and witches, whose cultural practice it was to don robes. So, she should stop smiling like that because it was insulting, on a socio-cultural level.

Hermione, for the first time, refrained from arguing: enjoying instead the experience of being magical in a magical place. Her mother couldn't understand this and it made Hermione feel sad. Her parents might have felt that way too but they were determined to hide the fact. This made Hermione smile at her parents, and then she closed her mouth quickly.

By the time she was nine; all Hermione's baby teeth had fallen out. All except for her two front teeth. They didn't bother her but for some unknown reason her teeth bothered the bullies. Her parents whom could have helped decided to 'let nature take its course'. As such, her smile had bothered her when she was out.

So for nearly three years all those giggling Princesses had teased her for four reasons; her hair, her books, cleverness and her teeth.

To Hermione's immense relief, both baby teeth had fallen out a few days ago. It was, she'd decided, an extremely strange sensation, walking around without front teeth; but Hermione was smart enough to know that it was a sensation she wouldn't be enduring for long. With a dash of good fortune, her smile would soon be worth smiling in public, and wouldn't get her bullied by her new peers.

She had always been bullied for her intellect. She was just plain smarter than them, even though, she didn't try to be. Sure, she would get on with her work, and be finished first; but it wasn't difficult for her. Once she finished her set tasks, within the lessons, she would read; or engage naturally with adults about what was going on in the world. So while her peers had to complete tasks for homework; she didn't.

Also, she found it hard not to answer questions in class because she wanted to be engaged. She was in school to learn. She wanted to learn. She longed to be challenged. She wasn't a swot, it wasn't like she actually went out and applied herself. She didn't need to apply herself; her mind was quick enough without the need to try. She just sucked up knowledge and understanding like a magical super sponge. Then, the answers just fell out of her mouth naturally, she couldn't stop them.

Hermione not applying herself was actually the aniseed of another bunch of arguments she'd had with her parents. They thought, if she'd only apply herself, she could be a catalyst for change, alter the course of history, even save the world.

Yeah RIGHT she'd always thought. She sighed; maybe, in this new world, it was possible for her to do all those things. Anything was possible now, she thought happily. She looked to her parents to ask their opinion when she realised she'd fallen behind them and they were ahead of , her parents hadn't noticed; they'd stopped at another shop window. She started making her way to meet them when it happened.

Heading towards her she saw him.

Years later, she still didn't remember much about it or even exactly what happened.

She remembered that there were a tribe of nine redheads heading in her direction; like a loud sea of warm autumnal colour. She didn't remember that there was an air about them, an air of being well cared for, even, though, by their appearance she could tell they didn't have a lot financially.

She didn't remember that there was a stout mother walking purposely ahead. Or that she was flanked by a tall but stocky redhead with longish hair and an older, taller and handsomer redhead. The mother was smaller than both of them but that didn't stop her fussing them. So they didn't notice what was going on behind them.

Hermione didn't remember that behind those three there was a teenager boy, wearing a shining badge, ideally stroking a rat in his pocket with one hand and proudly carrying an owl cage with the other. She forgot that he shooting the youngest boy, behind him, worried looks while deeply engaged in conversation with an older kindly man; or that they both wore similar glasses.

She didn't even remember that the kindly man was holding hands with the youngest redhead, a girl, with long hair falling around her homemade summer dress. If it had registered, Hermione might have paused to question why, the young girl was talking to the owl; seemingly reassuring it that 'the Burrow' was very nice.

None of this registered to Hermione because her entire attention was focused on a youngest redheaded boy; stuck between twins, trailing behind them all. As they drew closer, she automatically tuned her ears to hear that exchange; it was an odd sort of conversation really. They, the twins, were laughing almost musically as they spoke quickly. The boy, in the middle, had been obviously trying to ignore the twins teasing. He was doing quiet a good job of it as well. His head was held high, willing them to shut up; which made him look nearly as tall as his obviously older brothers.

So, one twin, mid-conversation, sick of not getting a rise out of his younger brother, pushed the boy into his twin's side while they were walking. This went on a few times, to and fro, to and fro; in rhythmic time to their conversation.

"What if you end up in Slytherin?"

"You've got the pure blood…"

"…and if you don't survive wrestling the troll…"

"Generations of family have but…"

"… it would be such a shame if you couldn't manage it because…"

"…If you're not in Gryffindor…"

"… We'll disinherit you…"

"… but no pressure."

It was then, as she just passed him, and turned to look back at him; when it happened.

The young boy lost balance and toppled into Hermione.

The packages full of books and other supplies went flying around them in all directions.

Hermione and the redhead landed hard on the ground; together.

Amazingly, even though he landed on top of her, they weren't touching. He'd managed to put his hands out in front of him, on either side of her, so even though he should have flattened her; his face seemed to hover over hers, for a split second. Reflexes like that, her football crazed father would describe as being keeper like. As he quickly got up, she caught sight of the twins, looking guilty as they sped up to catch the rest of the redheaded tribe.

The boys face went as bright red as his untidy hair; the blush crept all the way to his ears. He had dirt on his long Grecian nose; which was cute and endearing. Also, he was muttering something, undoubtedly rude, under his breath.

She slightly smiled, because even though his face was sprinkled with freckles, the ones around his mouth weren't; they were chocolate crumbs that had melted.

Then, as he sat just in front of her and hurriedly picked up her books; he joked like it was perfectly understandable for them to be interacting like this. That the two of them being sat together like this, in the middle the street, picking up her kamikaze books, happened daily.

"Sorry bout them – Fred and George, I mean, they just get carried away… but never far away from Me." He said in a voice that she was sure she could listen to all day.

She smiled wide enough for the gap to show. Hermione knew she should say something; but for the first time in her life her voice and vocabulary failed her. She couldn't say anything because she was in shock from what had just transpired. It wasn't the colliding and being on the floor with a redhead but a moment.

Just a moment that could have been like another: but wasn't. It was more.

It was the moment. A look; not even a touch; because she was sure she would have known if they'd touched at any point. An eternal moment when his eyes met hers, even though hers were hidden by sunglasses, they locked. They were the most remarkably expressive and beautiful eyes she'd ever seen. Even through the sun protection, she knew that there were no words to describe the rich blue hue of his eyes.

Those eyes were like the Pacific Ocean under virgin sand. Or like the sky on the most brilliant of days. In that moment, she was sure his eyes were the reason the sky was blue; so it could be compared irrationally and unsuccessfully to his blue. She knew they were her reason. The reason she was born into this world; was to be able to look upon those windows to the soul and see something more in them than anyone else.

He was a puzzle to be figured out through a lifetime of friendly bickering.

She saw warmth; a kindness; an undeniable intelligence in those eyes.

In short; the man the boy would become.

All this Hermione figured in a moment.

"Are you ok?" he smiled, a lopsided smile that made his eyes sparkle like pools of light. That smile didn't help her regain her composure; it made her want to melt but she was too busy.

Way to busy.

She was swimming in his eyes; drowning in them. His look was intense, as if unknowingly willing her to understand something. She smiled for him, with a special smile only for him, telling him with her heart and eyes that she did; she understood.

She slowly nodded, not having the words or will to speak because that moment had changed the course of her life; a fact she didn't fully comprehend, until some years later, while in a tent mourning his departure. She didn't utter a word to him that day. She wasn't going to tell anyone, not even him when she found her courage; it was a secret for her heart alone.

But she knew. Right then, she knew.

She was a girl. She was a girl and for the first time in her life, she didn't mind.

They stood up slowly. He gave her back her books, smiled, that smile, again before running off into the crowd towards the tribe.

The mother redhead, it seemed, was now doing a head count. As the boy rejoined them he smiled and looked totally at home and adored. The twins it seemed had finally lost interest in their brother and had turned their attention to an empty shop; number ninety six... Why..? She didn't notice anything else about the redheaded family or care about why the twins were looking at that shop like that because she realised something; something important.

The twins had joked about the cute boy being sorted. With a jolt of joy, nearly knocked her down for the second time that day, the thought struck her. He was going to be a first year too. It was then that she realised that that moment had changed her.

In total, that eternal moment and their whole interaction lasted less than a minute. But the minuet wasn't important; it was the moment. Hermione processed the new information as she walked up towards her parents.

She noticed they were busy looking in the window of Eeylops Owl Emporium; watching a large orange cat that resembled a small tiger.

On her way she caught sight of her reflection; and stopped. She looked like a young wizard; not a witch. He heart stopped cold. On the first of September when she saw him again, he wouldn't recognise her. She would have his face engraved on her mind because of that eternal moment. But for him...

For him it would be like he'd never seen her; because he hadn't. He'd bumped into the tomboy Hermione; hair in a cap, no front teeth, and big sunglasses clad. Not the Hermione she was now. She started walking and thinking fast.

By the time she reached them her decision was made. It was time for a change. She was a sure as she felt it was possible to be. She didn't want to be a tomboy anyone. She wanted to be a girl and a friend. She wanted to be near that redhead and his eyes and his smile; even if it was just as friends. She wanted for him to see her as a friend and as a girl. But what would make her stand out to him? She wasn't pretty, but she could work on that as she grew up. What she was, she knew; was smart. Everyone told her so; her parents, her teachers, even the bullies said so.

So, logically, Hermione knew he would know lots about the wizarding world; probably spells and history and all sorts of interesting things. She decided she would do background reading and apply herself. Then, on the September 1st on the Hogwarts Express, she would meet him. Engage him in conversation, be interested in him and maybe he'd do the same.

With a fact or a spell and he would be impressed that she knew these things, even though she didn't hail from the magical community and then they'd be friends.

"Mummy, Daddy" Hermione said, surprising herself by how strong her voice was even though she felt a new weakness. "Can we go back to the book shop? I need to get some background reading so I know what to expect when I enter Hogwarts." Her parents looked at her like she was someone else's child. Hermione devoured books for fun; never study.

"I saw some books that would be good. One was called Hogwarts: a History. I want you to be proud of me and I've decided I'm going to apply myself. And Proper, Preparation, Prevents, Poor, Performance." Her parents nodded dumbfounded as they turned to go back into the bookshop. Her father took the now slightly batter books and packages off Hermione, deciding to carry them so she could get all she wanted.

"And mum." Hermione continued as they entered the shop. "I think you were right not to let me cut my hair" the shock on her mother's face turned into a dazed smile.

"And you know that you wanted to send me off to Hogwarts with a new wardrobe" she said as she absentmindedly looked for appropriate reading material. "So I 'look more like a young witch then wizard'" Her mother nodded; shamefully remembering that she'd actually said to her daughter.

"I've changed my mind. I'd like that. Only, I was thinking, nothing too girly because I'm me still, Hermione, a witch not a preening tweenage pink fairy."

Her Mother smiled linking arms with her daughter.

"Right, Hermione dear whatever you want. And my I ask what brought on this change in attitude?"

"A moment. Just a moment" Hermione sighed remembering his eyes. She wandered aimlessly off; humming to herself.

Her mother and father recognised that look. Hermione had a crush. Probably on the tall redheaded boy they'd seen darting away from her a minute ago. For once in their life; they played dumb.

That night Hermione had a dream.

She dreamt, for the first time, of a redheaded groom, with blue eyes to get lost in and a smile that made her melt. Hints that their journey to here started as a friendship, a friendship strewn with arguments and make-up's; but finally today was their day. Friendship had grown to become love and everyone they knew was here to celebrate that. It was a beautiful wedding and she knew, in her heart of hearts, that there had been lots of magical moment between them.

A life time of moments, she knew that would really start, for them both, September 1st on the Hogwarts Express.

Hello reader –

The first version of this story ended here; this version has anotherchapter: special guest appearance from the troll and Hermione's POV of their 'first' meeting.

a tweenager – is the Mary-Kate and Ashley consumer market – between the ages of 9 and 12 too old for dolls but too young for boys. Hermione is six weeks off being 12 in this (Her Birthday is 19th September this is set the day after Harry's 11th birthday.) so she is within the normal range to feel these feelings.

I hope my regular cannon missing moment readers will like this because it for me explains a lot about the Hermione riddle (not to be confused with Riddle-Hermione and the Horcuxes, of which I am writing my first DH fic).

So, I'm actually playing with the idea of telling Ron about this meeting... It's either going to be in one of my many HBP fic's or the DH ones I have planned but not written. What do you think.

Please review; they help me write and in some cases rewrite!

JustSuperMione

aka

She-who-must-be-reviewed