December 30, 1994
A/N: Shifted the birthdays of a couple of characters to be closer to the PJO series. (btw check me out on ao3: Heloixe, going to primarily uploading there)
"-It is too late, he drags me down; I sink, I sink, — my soul is lost forever!" With those final words, the Son of Life promptly collapsed on the floor, a sword in his side. The curtains fell with the roar of applause. In the third row, subsection 3A, stood the Granger's. After a few rounds of applause, the crowd slowly but surely began to leave the room, the family being no exception.
Richard and Helene Granger walked out of the theatre with their twelve-month-old daughter in tow. They projected an odd image, if you had to ask an on-looker, the sharp contrasts in appearance between the triad were enough for anyone to do double take, but the dead ringer of their familial connection had to be the hair. Some may call it an atrocious rat's nest, a comment that would rightfully gather a collection of glares if spoken, but the Granger's simply preferred to describe it as dishevelled yet distinguished.
Richard glanced over at Helene as they walked out of the theatre, taking note of the worried look on her face. It set Richard on edge, he had to admit he was the nervous sort, while Helene was the more outgoing one, so seeing his carefree wife look disturbed, sent a shiver down his spine. He waited with baited breath before Helene finally spoke up.
"Richard, my love, I believe I left something inside, how about you take Hermione, and call a cab?" Helene proposed, which Richard gave a nod of confirmation,
"Alright, love, don't take too long, or I'll drive off without you!" He joked, squeezing her shoulder which Helene nodded as a response, their amber eyes connected for a lasting, yet brief moment before Helene turned around, Richard watched her walk off and walked to the side street.
Richard, despite his worries, trusted his wife. "I hope you aren't as forgetful as your Mummy, Hermione," Richard cooed, smoothing a stray cowlick. Richard wasn't one to fawn, but she truly looked like an angel while being sound asleep in his arms. Though her temperament was anything but, Richard still wouldn't trade her for anything. His head snapped up from his almost eulogise like thoughts, disturbed by a whispy wail.
Slowly, but surely Richard felt the hairs on his arm raise, as if at any second he would be devoured by a lion; he turned his head around and only saw a little old lady. He chuckled to himself, feeling awfully silly to be wary of an old lady, especially one with such kind eyes, his embarrassment almost masked his suspicion, almost. Almost in shame, Richard lowered his gaze to the pavement, spotting a gilded coin. It couldn't be a pence, he mused, it was way too golden- Richard was broken out of his reverie by his wife's return. Her face was flushed, "Did you change your perfume? It smells smokey." Richard questioned Helene, she waved him off as to dismiss the question, though he did notice a strand of her hair seemed awfully electrified. But, Richard made a mental note to bring that up later.
The noise of the streets was enough to stir Hermione, and but seemed more engrossed in the stuffed animal she was holding; her palm dug its way into the owl's missing eye. Richard looked up into the darkening skies, holding Hermione closer. He signalled a cab, wrapping an arm around his wife.
The taxi screeched up near the family, the smell of petrol assaulting the senses of the family, wafting in the air like the stench of death. Richard hastily approached the cab's door, in a grandiose gesture, he swung the cab door open, "Miliday, your carriage awaits you.." He dramatically announced with a mock bow.
"Why, Richard, you shouldn't have, you're making me feel like a true Londener now!" Helene laughed, sliding into the car, her twang emerging with her laugh. He slunk right beside her, memories surfacing of the American woman who once cut in front of the queue for the train, subsequently capturing his heart.
"Names...Martha, where to?" A country accent asked, a thick stench of stale smoke seemed embedded in the cab. Richard observed his surroundings, an involuntary grimace appearing on his face, idly wondering if it was too late to request another cab, though as soon as the thought appeared, it fell apart. The itch of the lost thought still lingering within his mind, just out of reach .
"Erm, Shaftesbury Avenue, please." Richard politely requested, shifting in his seat as his hand sought out Helene's, the woman's bug-like eyes paralysing Richard in his seat, silently bound in fear with her gaze, Richard felt like he needed to wash his hands, several times.
Richard managed to muster up enough courage to check on Helene, only to be dismayed to see she wasn't faring much better, nervously raking nails against her skin, only stopping once their gaze met. He looked at the driver, which Richard thought the woman's features resembled a troll, or perhaps a variation of a gryphon—the flat hair reminding Richard of Medusa's hair if it was electrocuted.
Martha slammed on the wheel, jerking the family back; after five minutes in silence, the Cabbie spoke up again.
"Cute specimen...When was she...superfetated?" The Cabbie stiffly asked as Richard and Helene looked at each other, sharing the same look of worry. Despite the multitude of red flags having a parade at the moment, Richard knew well enough it was still London. Weirder things have happened, he thought with a shudder.
"Oh, I don't think we feel comfortable-" Richard began to say, wanting to keep his refusal polite and yet firm, as Helene nodded in agreement, choosing to not voice her thinly veiled anger before their expressions gradually went limp, their eyes glazing over before they jolted in their seats, their discomfort and outrage melting away.
After a few beats of silence, Helene attempted a sentence, "Oh, our Hermione was born...Well, I-" Helene's attempt ultimately failed as her tongue refused to move from the roof of her mouth, Richard coming in clutch as he persevered through the mental fog, "Erm.. I suppose.. Since she was born on September nineteenth, she must've been.. Conceived the twenty-first or twenty-fifth of last December.." Richard finished, rather dumbly as he slumped in his seat.
That seemed to appease the strange Cabbie and the line of questioning ceased. The euphoria slowly waned from the couple's body, giving them a sickening sense of reality, and panic.
Richard craned his head sideways and started to mutter, "Helene, I.. None of this seems awfully..err- I don't believe we should stay here…. We should say we're stopping off early; none of this feels right.." He stammered as quietly as he could, trying to stress the situation as calmly as possible. Helene couldn't agree more, her mind was muddled and she wasn't looking forward to spending a single moment more in this cursed cab.
"Pardon us, we just remembered that we have a friend that's going to pick us up. So you can stop here." Helene nervously chuckled as Richard nodded rapidly in agreement.
"I'm afraid I cannot let you leave." Martha croned, taking a sharp turn. The family crashed into one another with the impact, Hermione letting out shrill cry, her head colliding into Richard's elbow. Helene felt her insides tumble as her nose collided with Richard's head. Her vision tripling, feebly trying to shush her baby before she turned her ire to the driver.
"Oh honey, don't worry. She won't grow up motherless, and if I do my job, she won't grow up at all." Martha cackled, as Helen Granger's world went pitch black, the last image frozen in her mind, the car crashing over the bridge.
It was in the cold winter when a little Hermione Granger was orphaned. Snow dusting over every inch of the street, blaring lights and sirens disturbing the peace of the night.