A girl named Hermione Granger: Year Four
Chapter Four:The Girl Nobody Thought Of
Disclaimer: Not mine, but please see bottom for super long, appologetic authors note begging forgiveness of being lazy.
Hermione looked around, at the bare walls, and stacks of boxes, taking in what would probably be her last view of Julie's flat. It seemed like ages ago that she had lain sprawled over the couch, calling Harry at his aunt and uncle's, hovered in the kitchen, watching Julie brew potions; and having the door open to reveal the cloaked man.
A sudden knock made the young girl jump, and turn her wide eyes to the door with shock, until Julie's voice called out from the depths of the flat, "Hey, can you get that? I think its mum and dad." The thought of Jane and David prompted the bushy haired young girl to nearly run to the door, and yank it open. She was engulfed in the warm embrace of Jane Granger as soon as her hand left the handle, "Oh, Hermione! You've grown so much!"
Hermione returned the hug with fervour, and for a moment, wondered how it could have possibly been so long since she had seen her adoptive parents. Her eyes landed on David, before flickering over Danny and Sarah, and she was almost shocked to find she felt no pang of guilt for not having seen them in so long. "It's been a long year," the young brunette said grimly, feeling; not for the first time, like she had been through far more than a year. And, in a way, she had.
Julie emerged from the depths of the flat then, drawing the attention of Jane and David onto herself, and leaving Hermione standing awkwardly beside her former brother and sister while the adults spoke softly in the kitchen. After about five seconds of the awkward silence, Hermione bustled away from the door, and busied herself with cleaning the windows, as she had been doing before the arrival of her family.
It wasn't long before Jane and David came back into the living area, and they began to take the packed boxes down the lift, to be piled into the moving van by her father. She helped in silence, as David joked with Danny and Sarah, and poked fun at Julie, commenting on how fat she was sure to get as the baby grew. All the while, the fourteen year old tried to keep out of the way, feeling like an outsider.
She did a fairly good job, too, until she returned up the lift to grab the very last box and lock up for Julie. When she placed her hands on the box, she heard the sound of the moving van start up, and she hoisted the box up quickly; only to stumble back and fall down as she realized it was empty. She scrambled to her feet as she heard the unmistakable sound of the moving van drive off, and the crack that meant her father had now disapparated.
She felt her eyes burn as she realized that they had left without her; something that had never happened before. Jane and David always kept tabs on where their children were, and Hermione could never once remember them having forgotten anyone or anything. She sank back down to the floor, and tucked her knees into her chest. She gripped the keys in her left hand so tightly that she could feel the jagged edges digging into her palm, and she waited.
Darkness was falling before the landlord came and found her sitting there, the bitter old man took the keys from her and told her she had to leave; sending her out into the street with no sympathy, declaring that a girl her age should be able to find her own way home.
London was a daunting place at the best of times, but as she wandered the streets in the failing light of the day, Hermione found herself beginning to panic. She had been here for hours now, and no one had come looking, it was likely that they wouldn't notice she was gone until morning, if she was right in assuming both Julie and her father each thought she was with the other, if, she thought with dread, they were even thinking of her.
For another hour, she walked, trying to figure out where she was, and trying to figure out where to go. "Great." She groaned, finding an alley to duck into, and throwing herself down on an over turned trash can. "They probably don't even care." She moaned, gripping her hair and tugging painfully in frustration, as she watched the shadows of people passing by. She had attempted to ask a police officer for directions, only to be brushed off as a prankster because she had, in her panic, mentioned she was looking for the Leaky Cauldron.
She brought her purse into her lap and opened it up; her wand lay in the bottom with her wallet, innocently taunting her. She knew she could call the knight bus, and it would come take her home, where she could even go on to pretend she hadn't been forgotten. But part of her wanted them to notice her absence and worry. She snapped her purse shut and got back to her feet, "Let them worry. I can take care of myself." She said aloud, determined to prove to herself that she was capable of caring for herself.
She stepped confidently back onto the street, and felt a familiar chill sweep over her. The street was deserted, and the street lamps slowly began to flicker and blink out of existence. Her hand dove into her purse and immediately clamped around her wand, and she drew it out slowly, looking around herself for any sign of movement. Footsteps echoed suddenly behind her, and she spun around quickly, coming face to face with a werewolf.
She threw her wand up in front of her face, and kept her eyes locked onto the animalistic, amber eyes of the grey beast. "Oh no…" she gasped as she stumbled back into the open street, the lanky beast following her step for step. Her heart was doing a mini-marathon inside her chest, as she tried to recall the chapter on werewolves in her Defense Against the Dark Arts book. A dozen spells came to mind instantly, followed by the face of Lupin. She hesitated, wondering if the werewolf advancing on her was like him; misunderstood and without control.
There was a sudden loud bang, a cry of shock, and she was yanked off the street onto a bus, and then the werewolf was gone. She lowered her wand slowly, as someone spun her around, asking if she was alright. She blinked several times and took in her surroundings. She was on the knight bus. "I'm fine, thanks." She breathed in response to the rapid fire questions being shot at her, "L-leaky Cauldron, p-please." She dropped a fistful of gold into the hands of the man that had pulled her onto the bus and collapsed on the closest bed.
She lay there, ignoring the concerned looks being sent her way by other passengers, wondering what would have happened had the knight bus not shown up when it did. Would she have ended up being killed? Would she have had to attack the werewolf, and been expelled from school?
"Leaky Cauldron, Miss," The voice of the nineteen year old Stan Shunpike broke her out of her reverie, and she hurried off the bus. The street was quiet and eerie, and she all but ran into the dingy little pub, happy to find it full to the brim with patrons, including one very large, very familiar one in particular.
"Hagrid?" She carefully weaved her way towards the back corner table where the unmistakeable form of the Care for Magical Creatures professor was sitting, along with (and she could hardly believe her luck,) Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore!"
The shock on their faces when they realized it was her was priceless. "Blimey, Hermione, are yeh here alone?" Hagrid asked, looking around for any sign of her father. "Err…yes. We were moving Julie today and…" she trailed off, sitting at the only empty chair at their table with a sigh. "I…wandered off alone, and got stuck out here." She decided she did not want to have to deal with anyone realizing she had been left behind by any fault of her father's or Julie's. It was bad enough that she knew.
"Your parents must be out of their minds with worry, Miss Granger." Hermione shifted uncomfortably under the Headmaster's gaze, "Yes, I suppose so. I'd best go see if I can use the floo, then." She stood uncomfortably from the chair and made her way towards the bar counter; she had no intentions of using the floo tonight, however. She felt thoroughly drained, and all she wanted was to sleep.
She spoke to Tom, the toothless, balding bar keeper, and rented a room for the night, and ordered herself a butterbeer. She climbed the stairs with the warm slopping mug in her hands, and as soon as she was in her room, she downed the warming, soothing drink in one go. "What a day." She groaned, placing the empty mug on the bedside table as she slipped off her shoes and buried herself under the warm, heavy covers on the monster sized bed.
Severus Snape awoke in a state of panic, in the early hours of the morning. He climbed out of bed and made his way down the hall, throwing open the door to his daughter's room. When he saw her bed was empty, he rushed next door, and knocked on Julie's door until she opened it, looking nearly as irate as he was afraid. "Please tell me Hermione's here." He said quickly, only to see the colour drain from her face. "I thought she was with you." Julie whispered, forgetting that it was three in the morning, and she ought to have been sleeping.
Severus swore and spun on his heel, looking out over the deserted street, his eyes darted around until they fell on the reflection of the moon in a solitary left-over puddle from the over-watering of another neighbour. "I left her in London…on the full moon…" He croaked, suddenly feeling very dizzy. Julie came up behind him and gripped his shoulder tightly, "We," she corrected, not wanting him to take the blame entirely upon himself. She had forgotten Hermione just as much as he had.
"I have to go look for her –" He tried to pull out of her grip, but she latched on with her other hand, "Severus, be reasonable. She's smart, she'll be fine."
"There's a werewolf population in London, do you even realize what could happen –" He found himself facing the angry brown haired witch before he could finish his sentence, her hand print burning on his cheek. "I know that, I lived there. You and I both know that if she pulled her wand, the knight bus would have picked her up, and she's very likely in the Leaky Cauldron at this minute. If she were attacked, she'd already be in St. Mungo's and we'd already know about it." She hissed, storming back into her newly acquired house, slamming the door before he could retort.
He stood there, gaping slightly at the closed door for several minutes, wondering if he had actually just been slapped for worrying about his daughter being alone in London.
Early morning light filtered into her rented room, through moth eaten brown lace curtains, and she lay there, staring at the canopy of the massive bed on which she lay. In the light of the new day, she was beginning to feel fear bubble up inside at how apoplectic her father was bound to be when she waltzed in through the grate in two hours, (she refused to go and be immediately grounded on an empty stomach, so she was going to eat first,) after making no move to contact him or Julie the night before.
Visions of bars on her window and a cat flap on her locked bedroom door; (tokens of the stories she had heard from Harry at the beginning of their second year,) swam before her black-coffee coloured eyes. She snuggled further into the massive bed, drawing the covers around her like a cocoon, "Wonder what it would cost to rent a room here all summer…" She whispered to herself, thinking of the future. She didn't want to be so grim, but she was afraid that one day, she would be forced to leave her father's, with nowhere else to go.
There was a rapid knock at the door of her room, and she turned her eyes to the heavy wooden door, "Go away, I'm still sleeping!" She called out, thinking it was housekeeping making the morning rounds. The knocking persisted, and a muffled voice called out, but she couldn't make out what it was saying. Regretfully, she climbed out of bed, keeping the blankets wrapped tightly around her, and edged towards the door. She pulled it open just enough to make out the form of her stumbling father.
She yanked the door open wide and gaped at the dishevelled form of her usually meticulous father. "Dad – what are you – are you drunk?" She watched in astonishment as he caught sight of her, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree, "'Mione!" He threw his arms around her, and began mumbling into her hair about how worried he'd been. She helped him into her room and led him over to the bed she had just vacated, "I think you need to lie down." She unravelled herself from the blanket and tossed it over her father's form as he leaned back on the bed.
He was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillows and Hermione groaned softly to herself. Who knew what kind of damage had been done, if her father had come stumbling into the Leaky Cauldron this drunk. Unable to even think of how bad the situation could now be, she grabbed her shoes and found a piece of parchment and a quill on the dresser in the room, and scribbled out a message for her father.
Dad;
Sleep off the firewhiskey. I'll be back to check on you at two. I'm going into Diagon alley.
She didn't bother signing it, as she placed it on the bedside table and left the room quietly. She tip toed down the stairs, and found the little pub surprisingly full. She made her way to the bar and told Tom she had left her father in her room, and she would not be checking out until later that day, and made her way out the back door, wondering if all those people in the pub now knew, or not.
Severus Snape awoke around one o-clock, his head feeling as though he had fallen from a broom, into a stampede of Hippogriffs. He sat up on the spacious bed, and pressed the palm of his right hand over his eyes, cursing the day light filtering into the room. As soon as he got his head to stop spinning, he began looking around, realizing he was not in his own house. The smell of mead and stale smoke assaulted his senses, and he breathed a sigh of relief, "Leaky Cauldron." He grunted, spotting a piece of paper on the bedside table. He sighed once again as he read it, recognizing the handwriting, "Hermione's room."
His eyes landed on the tall clock in the corner of the room, next to a small bathroom. Deciding he had probably already shamed himself enough in front of his daughter, he decided to clean himself up before the time she had written that she would return.
Hermione was exploring a stationary store, looking at new quills and inks, when she heard a clock chime from the depths of the shop. She left quickly, not having found anything to buy, and made her way back to the Leaky Cauldron, dreading whatever version of her father would be waiting for her.
She was pleasantly surprised to find him awake, and clean, when she walked into the room. "I didn't think you'd be awake yet." She said flatly, taking a seat on the end of the bed, cautiously keeping her expression pooled into a look of boredom. She didn't yet know his mood, and she wasn't giving him any openings to attack.
"Things may have gotten a little…out of hand…when I awoke in a cold sweat this morning to discover my daughter missing during a full moon." He was facing the window, as he spoke, though the curtains had been drawn so that no light was peeping in. She rolled her eyes from her place on the bed, and leaned back, folding her hands behind her head. "I think whatever display you must have made in a crowded pub, constitutes more than 'a little out of hand'."
She was hoping that he could remember whatever it was he'd done, so she could know the damage now. His condescending scoff was reassuring, as he turned to face the bed, "Don't be ridiculous, the pub was empty when I arrived." She shrugged non-committedly, from her place on the large bed, before sitting up again, "Perhaps we should go home. I'm sure housekeeping will want to clean the room." She left before he could reply, and had already gone through the floo by the time he reached the landing.
End Chapter Four!
Apologies: I haven't the strangth to proof read this chapter...should be fine, because Word didn't alert me to any spelling or gramar errors (though that's not saying much as it once tried to tell me 'I have no intentions' ought to have been 'me have no intentions'. I still roll my eyes at that.)
Yeesh, it's been a while, sorry my fans. Take pride in the fact I've not forgotten though.
I admit, I've been a little...obsessed, I gues syou could say, reading every Legend of Zeda story I could get my hands on that was SheikXLink (Sheik being preferably male, as I just never settled well with Sheik and Zelda being one and the same...I'd imagine Link to be too mentally damaged to want much to do with women anyway...but that's off topic.)
However, I'm still writing this series! Eh, granted this chapter has been waiting to be posted, I've some great ideas to come. And possibly some legend of zelda one-shots...What can I say? I've been a busy bee.
Now, about this chapter; it's important, for the rest of the series. I'm not gonna give it all away down here, you should be able to pick up on what I mean in the chapter itself.
Also, I never exactly intended for drunk Severus Snape to wander off to find his daughter - that just kind of happened, and I can't think of anything to replace the scene, so it stays.
Sorry the chapter is so short, that'll change as we get further in. Eh, that's not as forgivness-begging as I had originally intended. I'm not in the mood for such rambles right now. I awoke today to a bleeding ulcer, and anyone who's ever had one knows what that entails. It's rather grating on my nerves to have little stabbing pains and black blood. I feel like shadow link. Oh well. At any rate, I'm alive and kicking, and the story is being written, and decisions are being made about whether I want to make a link costume for an anime convention, or a sheik one. Also ideas are being panned out for a real novel I can call my own.
Hmm, would you look at that, maybe I feel a little better already, I'm rambling uselessly again.
Ah, and to a recent reviewer (though they're still on year three, and haven't seemed to gather much of where this is all going, when they get here they'll understand if they read this.) I think you must surely be mistaken. While in the Harry Potter series, Hermione marries Ron; in the A girl named Hermione Granger series, she does not. While I loved that piece when I first read Rowling's epilogue, I've become much less of a Ron Weasley fan as of late. I don't know why; quite possibly he's just not enough of a bad boy for me. It's nothing on him, he's just really not the kind of person I see Hermione loving. Perhaps the next chapter or two, from this one on, will point you in the direction I have Hermione headed down for love.
AN 2.0 - eh, nope. don't feel better after all. But I am posting, so it's not all bad. Now to pass out and sleep for preferably ten hours; to kill my headache, and not wake up with a mouthful of gross bleeding ulcer gunk. Farore just kill me now. (Yes, I did just ask a Hylian Goddess of life *and courage, according to the triforce* to kill me. I feel just that crap-tastic.)