Author's Note/*Disclaimer*
Alright. So, pardon me for not posting this on the previous chapter... BUUT...
just to make it clear... out of all obviousness, I do not- absolutely do not own Harry Potter or any type of fiction mentioned here.
That's all J.K Rowling, and whoever else's work I'll come to mentioning.
So, now that we've gotten than taken care of, let's hear it for Its-A-Metaphor-Granger, who deserves to own a majority of credit
for this FF, especially for Hermione's perspectives. The most I ever do is write for Draco and overly edit, and revise...
Anywars, here's a thanks to all the lovelies who had either 'Favorited' or 'Followed' A One-Way Ticket Home.
Thank you~
... -Eli ...
Hermione Granger:
This was the only opportunity I had to tell Ron, and he just walks out.
Every since we got married, all at once, he had become someone I had never recalled him to ever be. He has become this beast, a nasty swine that has been deluded by the falsity to control every aspect of my life, oblivious of my own independent thoughts and reasons.
I asked him to join me in some tea in order for him to receive our divorce papers. Mind me, it seemed to be the only possible way to approach this. I know he'd receive them through the mail sometime this week, but a proper explanation seemed vital. Well, in this case...
I kept an eye on the door, hopelessly convincing myself that Ron would eventually calm down and return.
It soon became obvious that he's been gone far too long to ever return at this rate. In response to such pathetic rudeness, I picked up my bag and left to flat.
Within a few blocks, I've reached my small apartment on the side of town.
The place was miniscule, but it was just enough room for one person. Considering the price paid for it, an unfriendly neighborhood was anticipated. For reassurance, a casted spell has bounded security for a place I've called home.
Tossing my bag on to the couch I approached my diverse library, picking up one of my most cherished books. Binded in Victorian, all ratted up was The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
I sat down beside my cozy woodburning fireplace and started to read about the mysteries of historic London. Novels like these took my mind away from the world with Ron and onto a fictional reality where life would seem more adequate.
My eyes shift along the page, wandering amongst this other reality that soon become a complete daydream.
I found myself among the old bricked streets of London. reigned under Queen Victoria. It was like one of the American Noires where the streets were dark and the street lights were lit. There'd be a fog of some sort, giving you that eerie feeling that some event would soon occur. But, this was London.
A stranger shrouded in shadows appears over my shoulder. I toss myself around, gleaming over to the mysterious figure. His outlines hinted a frockcoat and top hat, as he stood behind the casted light given from the lamppost.
"The game is afoot!" He cries. He threw his finger in the air and he dashes toward the darkness with his coat riding against the wind. I felt a force pull me forward, and now we're running.
I tried to speak, but within my attempt, I hear him shout "Not a word, Watson! We must go at once. A murder down in Bristol, we have no time to spare! No carriage can compare this rush within the wires of my brain, nor will it ever compare with this adrenaline that scurries through my veins. We must hurry! There is no time for words."
I follow him down the desolate streets, to the point I can no longer run. I hear a yell and then groan. I cascaded through an alley to find Mr. Holmes collapsed and placid against the floor.
Standing beneath the lamp post, I rushed forward but not making any distance. I go further and further till the black has already swallowed him.
His gray eyes that had reflected off the light, slowly fading.
I was pulled suddenly out of this manic dream that I've fallen into. With the book fallen on the floor, I picked it up and placed it on my wooden table beside me.
A knock at the door throws me out of the lingering specs of my previous dream. Looking through the peephole, I glanced at an older man whom I've seen across the halls. The dark bags below his eyes, I fell into worry, yet with kindness I turned the bolt on my door and it opened with a creak.
"Hello lass, I was curious if you could help me with my computer. Young people these days with their fancy technology, I thought for a young neighbor like you- may be able to help me in this ruckus." Like I've mentioned earlier, I recall seeing him in the past. He'd always sit in the the apartment's complex.
"Sure. Just give me one second, please."
I left my flat, locking the doors and following him through the halls towards where he lived.
"Would u care for some tea?" He asked in his rough voice, as he lead me into his flat.
"That sounds lovely thank you."
He placed a kettle on the stove and turned on the burner.
"The problem is... is that It won't seem to turn on." He showed me his old boxy computer with sticky notes covering almost the entire surface other than the screen.
I've always had a basic skill in technology. A bit different than the Wizarding World, considering it was run by electricity… not magic. I crawled beneath the desk searching through the tangled cords, moving them, and then finding the power cord disconnected from its outlet.
The sound of the hissing kettle made me jump up from the floor. I turned around to find the man handing me a cup placed on a saucer.
"Here you are. Take a break." He says, pouring (presumably) Earl Grey into my cup. I hesitated to accept it.
"Please drink." I got up and took a tiny sip of the tea. I was right, Earl Grey.
The warm feeling came over me as the liquid went down my throat, reminding me of home and the parents that has no memory of me. We stood there in silence.
"The computer just unplugged", I explained.
"What?," Baffled.
"The computer. It has a power cord you plug in for the power source."
"Technology these days. I will never find a day where I'll understand it.," he exclaimed shaking his head. I looked down at my watch, hoping to leave as early as I can.
"If you would excuse me, I must really go." Walking towards the door, he stops me.
"Leaving so soon?" he said, blocking the exit. I gave him a questioning look. Out of habit, my hand automatically reaches towards my built in wand pocket of my jacket, it was empty.
"Well it would be a shame for you to go so soon without a gesture of gratitude." His face pales and his brittle gray hair thickens into a luscious ginger color.
"Sarcasm." He says with a rusty giggle.
I stepped back against the wall. Feeling a movement along my leg, over my spine, and up my shoulders. My entire body jerks.
He hushed me and says "Hush my darling, you don't want to startle them, do you, my dear?"
"People like you shouldn't be allowed in my world. It's not ethical. . You're a mudblood. You'll be doing the world a favor." He says. Something coils over my mouth and a sound of hissing comes across my ears. Attempting to scream, the bind tightens over my mouth.
"Have I not warned you, you bloody fool? Is it that you refuse to listen?" Yelling through his clenched teeth. The serpents let out a harsh volatile hiss, and I whimper against it's scaly skin. One. Two. Three heads rose from the the serpent's lengthy body. Its black arcane eyes reveal the most obscene obscurity, showing no evidence of direction. The eyes were as if there were the most absolute epitome of my current place in time.
Disoriented.
"Now," he says. "Where's Potter?"