Post by Hermione Granger on Jul 3, 2009 21:38:06 GMT
Hermione liked to be invisible. That wasn't always the case. Once upon a time she had dreamed of becoming a famous figure, an individual people respected and admired; so very different to the awkward, frizzy-haired girl she was as a child, with so little friends and such a teased personality. Now, Hermione hated attention. Everywhere she went there were always wide-eyed stares, mutters of disbelief, unsubtle pointing fingers. They turned Hermione's confidence, shut her up inside walls of safety, afraid of the outside world. Two boys named Harry and Ron had built her confidence from sand, little building blocks like baby steps, until someone (Voldemort, Death Eaters, the Ministry, everyone) had snuffed out the brightly burning candle - and there lay a destroyed sandcastle, no more.
It was a slow process, but Hermione had begun to feel more comfortable leaving her home in Hogsmeade, more able to face the world that had taken her best friend from her. Her friendship with Adam was reassuring, a pillar of support, although neither of them had noticed her growing reliance (Hermione would have panicked, Adam would have misunderstood). However, the glances never ceased, the rumours never paused for breath. Hermione grew sick watching the world stop around her. Eventually she abandoned the wizards altogether, choosing to shop in muggle city centres, down muggle Oxford Street where bags were over-priced but the apathetic public couldn't care less what she was wearing. She swapped Hogsmeade cafes for muggle pubs, where she could drink herself stupid and no one - not a single person - would give a damn. She had no identity; she was a nobody.
On this particular day, Hermione had merely been wanting to leave the house. The week before, just after Hogwarts had broken up for the summer holidays, Hermione had visited Adam's house for the first time. It had been an interesting and truthfully daunting experience; meeting Adam outside of work was a different environment altogether, coupled with his little sister, Sierra, whom Hermione taught, and the unexpected arrival of Adam's son, Jamie, who had caught her off guard completely (children, life, a future she made for him). On the whole, though, it had been a pleasant experience; she wouldn't be averse to visiting Adam again, though it would take time to feel truly comfortable, and Hermione doubted she could invite Adam over as soon as he had her. Although Adam was a Slytherin graduate, he was, ironically, much more warm and open than Hermione. She, on the other hand, was suspicious, a trait that had only increased since the War.
Visiting Adam had only worsened Hermione's sense of claustrophobia at home. Although there had only been the four of them, the Greene household had greatly resembled the chaotic noise of the Burrow, the Weasleys' abode, which Hermione had not set foot in for at least two years now (laughter, uninhibited, ringing everywhere). Returning to her own cottage, Hermione had felt a sense of loneliness that was not at all reassuring (she had left them behind, run away from him in shame). So instead, here she was, mingling with muggles, fellow muggleborns, happy to be invisible, craving human interaction. Even a loner like Hermione Granger needed company sometimes. Her pride, though, forced her away from Adam; for she was still wary of intruding on him, for expecting too much of their newborn friendship. Hermione didn't want to feel another painful loss of someone she treasured so much.
Evening fast approached, and Hermione found herself at a regular muggle pub on the outskirts of London. She entered, aimless, and ordered a drink, sitting in the corner and trying effortlessly to remain invisible. People came, left, laughed, leaving Hermione to herself, where she wanted to be. Eventually she needed to go to the bathroom. On her return, she almost bumped into someone, but stopped herself sharp. "Sorry," she said briskly, moving to step away, before a flash of ginger met her eyes and they widened to accommodate a face so familiar. Hermione's heart stopped. "R-Ron?" she whispered, both shocked and horrified. Her entire figure froze before her old friend (were they friends anymore? How she had abandoned him, too scared), and her first instinct was to turn and flee, but then she absorbed his drunken state, the glazed eyes, the recognisable image of Ronald Weasley off his face that Hermione had seen so many times (laughing with her and Harry, showing off to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, joking with Ginny, unable to face Harry's death). "Ron, dammit, what are you doing?" Hermione hissed as she tried to regain her composure in the face of Ron's tall, lanky figure. "What on Earth are you doing here?!"
It was a slow process, but Hermione had begun to feel more comfortable leaving her home in Hogsmeade, more able to face the world that had taken her best friend from her. Her friendship with Adam was reassuring, a pillar of support, although neither of them had noticed her growing reliance (Hermione would have panicked, Adam would have misunderstood). However, the glances never ceased, the rumours never paused for breath. Hermione grew sick watching the world stop around her. Eventually she abandoned the wizards altogether, choosing to shop in muggle city centres, down muggle Oxford Street where bags were over-priced but the apathetic public couldn't care less what she was wearing. She swapped Hogsmeade cafes for muggle pubs, where she could drink herself stupid and no one - not a single person - would give a damn. She had no identity; she was a nobody.
On this particular day, Hermione had merely been wanting to leave the house. The week before, just after Hogwarts had broken up for the summer holidays, Hermione had visited Adam's house for the first time. It had been an interesting and truthfully daunting experience; meeting Adam outside of work was a different environment altogether, coupled with his little sister, Sierra, whom Hermione taught, and the unexpected arrival of Adam's son, Jamie, who had caught her off guard completely (children, life, a future she made for him). On the whole, though, it had been a pleasant experience; she wouldn't be averse to visiting Adam again, though it would take time to feel truly comfortable, and Hermione doubted she could invite Adam over as soon as he had her. Although Adam was a Slytherin graduate, he was, ironically, much more warm and open than Hermione. She, on the other hand, was suspicious, a trait that had only increased since the War.
Visiting Adam had only worsened Hermione's sense of claustrophobia at home. Although there had only been the four of them, the Greene household had greatly resembled the chaotic noise of the Burrow, the Weasleys' abode, which Hermione had not set foot in for at least two years now (laughter, uninhibited, ringing everywhere). Returning to her own cottage, Hermione had felt a sense of loneliness that was not at all reassuring (she had left them behind, run away from him in shame). So instead, here she was, mingling with muggles, fellow muggleborns, happy to be invisible, craving human interaction. Even a loner like Hermione Granger needed company sometimes. Her pride, though, forced her away from Adam; for she was still wary of intruding on him, for expecting too much of their newborn friendship. Hermione didn't want to feel another painful loss of someone she treasured so much.
Evening fast approached, and Hermione found herself at a regular muggle pub on the outskirts of London. She entered, aimless, and ordered a drink, sitting in the corner and trying effortlessly to remain invisible. People came, left, laughed, leaving Hermione to herself, where she wanted to be. Eventually she needed to go to the bathroom. On her return, she almost bumped into someone, but stopped herself sharp. "Sorry," she said briskly, moving to step away, before a flash of ginger met her eyes and they widened to accommodate a face so familiar. Hermione's heart stopped. "R-Ron?" she whispered, both shocked and horrified. Her entire figure froze before her old friend (were they friends anymore? How she had abandoned him, too scared), and her first instinct was to turn and flee, but then she absorbed his drunken state, the glazed eyes, the recognisable image of Ronald Weasley off his face that Hermione had seen so many times (laughing with her and Harry, showing off to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, joking with Ginny, unable to face Harry's death). "Ron, dammit, what are you doing?" Hermione hissed as she tried to regain her composure in the face of Ron's tall, lanky figure. "What on Earth are you doing here?!"