So this chapter is going to be something different from all the other's I've written so far for this story. So by all means feel free to tell me your opinion.
Now This Chapter is dedicated to my New Beta: The Chaminator
Here's the next chapter...
Heaving a heavy sigh, Hermione made her way down the familiar pathway towards her childhood home. Aside from Hogwarts, her parents' home was her haven; located in a tranquil and private neighborhood.
Her parents where nowhere near poor, since both her parents where proud owners of a prestigious dentistry, yet they weren't anywhere near rich people either. They lived in a modest two floor house; with one master bedroom, two bedrooms, and two bathrooms. Aside from living room, and kitchen, there was also Hermione's favorite room in the house aside from her own, and that was her parent's study; where she used to keep all her valuable books. The house was white, with a long drive way, and garage for two cars.
And it had a front and back yard where any child would love to run and play in, or in Hermione's case to find a nice spot in the shade to read in. It had a stone paved pathway leading towards the front door, on which Hermione found herself following.
While walking Hermione found herself staring at the drive way, remembering how after much insistence on her father's behalf to stay close to her muggle heritage that she should learn how to drive a car. Smiling to herself she remembered the catastrophe that had been…
(Flashback)
Her father on the passenger's seat, reminding her which pedal was which. Hermione in the driver's side, making sure her mirrors where rightly positioned. Her father repeating the same words she had read in the intro page of her driver's manual.
Rolling her eyes in a mockingly, while informing him that she had studied the manual two days prior. But that was one of the times Hermione was reminded that sometimes there was a huge difference between vigorously and thoroughly reading instructions then actually acting out the real thing.
How she had forgotten to open the garage door, while excited to show her father how well she could learn things on the first try, not that her parents ever had any doubt in her. On the contrary they were beyond ecstatic that their only child was considered one of the brightest witches of her age, and therefore had complete and total confidence in her capacity to perform things either they be Muggle or Magic related.
She crashed into the door while backing out, by shifting the weight of her foot onto the other pedal. It had been complete and total mayhem, one of those situations in which Hermione had frequently found herself while in company of Harry and Ron, in which she had absolutely no control in.
She felt comfort in remembering how her father had squeezed her shoulders, while she held back tears saying that she would find a way to pay the overall cost of the garage door repair. How he had chuckled and told her that there was no need, and most of all how her mother told her no one could master everything on the first try. But how she knew that one day her "'Mione would be able to accomplish such tasks as driving blindfolded." Which of course her mother than followed with a speech of how she never expected her to try to do it and how she didn't want her to abuse her magic, and use it in such an easy task like making it drive the car itself,
Her parents had always told her that they were happy, and had always known that they had a gifted child. But also how such great gifts such as her magic should never be abused of, and Hermione saw the truth in their words and agreed with them as well.
(End of flashback)
Hermione made her way past her mother's now wilted flower bed, feeling a dreadful feeling settle into her chest.
Her mother had always had her flowers in bloom, and in a tip top shape of perfection. No weed was ever seen for more than one day, before her mother had already taken care of it.
She could still replay the image of her mother tending to her garden. How she'd sometimes ask Hermione to bring her a cup of fresh water. Of how she would bring out a book, and sit down Indian style on the grass to accompany her mother, or how she'd tell her mother in vivid details of all her adventures with her friends.
So then why weren't there any flowers in bloom? Or any live flowers at all? How would she have known that one flowerbed would hold such a close connection to her mother for her? Who would have told her how much it would pain her to see all those wilted flowers?
The dreadful feeling in her chest began to tighten. She knew they may not be found at their home, but she had to make sure. She had to search for them thoroughly, so why not start at the beginning, or at the end; at the place where she left them.
Taking in a deep breath Hermione braced herself for the following disappointment, she knew she was about to endure alone.
Gathering her wits about herself, she walked up the last steps towards the front door and hesitantly reached for the door knob, only to find that it was locked.
"Of course," She muttered to herself. Of course the door wouldn't have been left unlocked. It was still dawn in this part of London. She wouldn't find it appropriate to use her magic to break into anyone's home. But it had once been her home as well.
So after muttering a quick 'Alohomora', she stepped into what used to be her home.
Everything was the way she remembered, or similar at least all the furniture had been changed. There were no photos on the walls, or picture frames with any familiar faces on them.
She walked thought the whole first floor, only to find it empty. And to find more changes in her childhood home, the kitchen had all new appliances, and apparently they had refurnished the whole house. Since there was no trace of the old pieces of furniture Hermione had once known.
Taking a deep breath Hermione made her way up the steps towards the second floor. She didn't bother opening any of the other bedrooms, and immediately making her way to her parents' bedroom. Taking another deep breath she opened the door, to what used to be her parents' bedroom.
Since there was another couple in the room, Hermione had drawn conclusions faster than she could keep up.
They had sold the house. They had moved. And without her.
But all of that she had expected, she knew it, but she needed to see it. And that just made everything much more surreal.
She felt the hot weld of tears behind her eyes, and knew that was her cue to leave. So silently closing the door, she made her way down the stairs holding back tears. She wouldn't let herself cry. She couldn't, because she knew that this would be the first disappointment of many to come. And she needed to be strong.
And while making that her resolve, she headed towards the front door. Opening the door to let herself out.
Only to come face to face, with none other than Viktor Krum.
Okayyy so don't hate me if you're confused. But I tried writing the story in a third person point of view and found that I liked it better. My beta and I both agreed though that it would be best if I changed all the chapters before this one as well.
So I'll be updating those rewritten ones sometime this month.
