Author's Note: FINALLY! An update! I have the worst writer's block ever! This story is going downhill! It will surely be far from something funny. Expect confusing plots, weird things, and strong emotions galore!
Thanks for all those who reviewed!
Seth watched his daughter walk into the room, her steps almost zombie-like. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. He was heartbroken. His daughter had been stolen from him, and now, finally, after almost a decade of waiting, he received her back. Seth knew she would go back to where she belonged: Hogwarts. Yet he wept already at the thought of seeing his daughter leave him, again.
Hermione sat down beside her, face being deciphered by Severus. Seth had felt the urge to touch Severus's face as he had walked in. How he had became old! What had happened to him? Maybe he as well had lost everything, just like himself.
Suddenly, Seth felt how everything was slightly fading around him, and he remembered. He remembered the cruelty of love.
His baby's eyes were staring at him. He tried to reach out and hold her, yet his arms couldn't reach out for her. Anxiousness was rising in him as suddenly he saw her disappear in water. Her chubby little angel face was malting away under his eyes.
He quickly dived to fish her up, he held her close to his heart. He watched her, and wondered how it was possible for her to be dry. His sorrow was leaking so heavily from his eyes. It was trying to drown him from the inside; yet he tried to control himself. He cried so hard he was afraid his tiny daughter would drown in his tears.
Now they were alone. They were orphans.
Hermione felt the deep sorrow. It was an umbrella, casting watery shadows on her sunny mind. She realized in her what it meant: nothing was never going to be the same.
They both closed their eyes and held dearly to each other. They were two lonely figures in brightly coloured cloths with the saddest expression on their faces. They were mourning. They were two rocks standing up against the sea of sorrow that gulped and swallowed them. They didn't move.
There was no point of moving anymore. She wasn't there to accompany them anymore. Seth knew she couldn't be replaceable. No one could live up to be someone as grand as her. No one could have ever loved more than she.
She returned from where she came from. Her fellow angels took her where she belonged.
Angela… was no more.
She was cremated, and her ashes weren't buried in a cemetery. The planted a pot of her under a cherry tree in some forest they had driven through with a borrowed car. The rest was thrown through their flat's window. Those on the street had stopped talking and watched with grave faces the little girl cast her mother into the air.
The street was mourning, and the sun was shining. The sun was warm and the air was light: Small leaves in trees waved her good-bye. She dies; nature came to life. It was a perfect cycle. Nature had given its power to Hermione. Nature took Angela's life back in return. Yet nature had given her five years to live with her love and their child.
Seth held his daughter against him and wondered slightly how they would survive. The answer had come earlier than expected: he wouldn't survive to it all. He was about to go down.
It had happened so quickly, Seth's head was still dizzy when he thought of it all. His sister-in-law had one day simply knocked on their door. She hadn't been alone: a man in a brown suit had followed her inside and cast a disgusted look at the insides of the flat.
The floor was littered with both little girls and 'adult' cloths; black ribbons were strewn over the floor, among tissues, candles pieces and toys. The man in front of him was swaggering on his feet. He wasn't drunk; or at least he didn't smell of alcohol. They heard a sloppy wet sound and the noise of water running from the bathroom.
"- Mister…. Seth Granger?"
"- Who are you?"
"- I am from the social services. We have reasons to think your daughter… er… Hermione Granger could need a new custody."
Seth eyes widened and he watched Marigold. The woman shrugged her shoulders, a sad face on, but her eyes gleamed greedily. Her hands nervously clicked and clacked; it was obvious she has called the social services.
Hermione of course! She wanted Hermione. That terrible woman hadn't seen Hermione since almost four years. Now Hermione was motherless and a father with a very questionable history.
He knew he was doomed. Hermione was going to be taken away from him. No way he could stand up against his sister-in-law or against his parents. They would win; they would take his daughter away from him. They would surely think it would be for the best for him and his daughter. They couldn't comprehend that the only thing that kept Seth alive was Hermione.
They never understood, never.
He couldn't recall what happened after that. He just couldn't. His brain had shut away the trauma of it all. He recalled vaguely his daughter in a pink dress, wondering why she was going to court. She remembered the apologizing look of his brother, the stern face of the judges, the papers he had to sign. The only memory he had from the court was so horrifying he hoped to forget it. Yet try as he might, he couldn't.
"- DAD! Daddy! Don't let them take me! I want to want to leave! Daddy please! Please! I'll promise I'll be good! Daddy? DADDY?"
Her voice was piercing their ears and Seth hid his face in his hands. He couldn't do this; but he had to. They would offer Hermione more than himself. He straightened himself and walked towards his sister-in-law and his brother who held the little girl against his chest.
Hermione kicked and screamed, reaching out with her arms towards her father. Her arms were clawing the air, her eyes were enormous. She looked like a horrible, grotesque version of a Borittcelli angel.
He walked to her, forcing himself to smile. He took his girl in his arms, feeling the part of his heart that hadn't died with Angela being hit and crushed under his daughter's pleas. He held his daughter close to him, feeling their heartbeats mangle and beat together, pumping the pain in them.
He kissed his daughter on her forehead, a thing he had never done before. Usually he kissed her mouth or covered her face with butterfly light kisses. But this kiss was final. It was distant, and slippery, wet of tears.
He delicately took off his daughter from his arms. She watched him with her eyes, sensing his betrayal.
He gave her to them. He extended his arms towards Marigold. The woman took the girl in her arms. Hermione's eyes hadn't shifted nor blinked her eyes. Her gaze was planted firmly into the eyes of her father. She understood now. She was given away.
At that moment, the moment she realized she wouldn't go home to her flat with her dad, she opened her mouth and screamed. Her scream echoed through the hall they were in, attracting the attention of everyone. That scream made them all deaf, except her father.
But her father would have so wished to be deaf as well at that time. His daughter was screaming at him; she was releasing all her emotions of anger, betrayal, sadness and confusion. Seth wanted to scream as well, but he wouldn't. It was for the best. Really.
"- I hate you. I hate you so. You betrayed mommy! You let me go. You know she would have never allowed that! You know it. I hate you. I don't ever want to see you again."
Hermione changed then. From one moment to be an angel like creature, she transformed into something plain, even grotesque with a disturbing aura of hate. When Hermione was five, she stopped believing the world was good. But she knew, those like her, those few chosen ones, would have one day the whole stinking world at their feet. And she'll laugh then, and spit at it like it spit at her.
Seth blinked his eyes and was lost for a split second. He was back at the flat, and Dumbledore still talked to him. He smelt Hermione next to him; he felt her trembling next to him. Maybe she remembered those same things. He had never understood how painful love was. It was a weapon with an incomparable force.
He shut his eyes again and opened them. He forced a smile up on his face. He would be ready to whatever he could to make his daughter happy. She deserves it with all the pain he bought her.
When Hermione landed at her adoptive parents, she decided to play a game. She pretended she was orphan- which was true in its way, and that 'Hermione' was a part she was suppose to play.
Her fake parents helped her with that. They didn't call her Hermione, and she refused to be called 'Mione by them. She was for them their little 'Mimi'. The girl they always wanted.
Mimi was sweet and perfect and girly and bubbly and bouncy. She wasn't afraid of starting her sentences with 'and' and was the perfect epitome of little girl-ness. She pretended to be happy, she pretended she was joyful. Her laughs were high-pitched and long; and she threw her head back and showed her teeth.
Late at night, she would be in her bed and think to herself that it wasn't her bed. Her bed was smaller and harder: this one was too new. She closed her eyes and listened to all the noises made by the house. She was a spy; she was being trapped in her enemy's base.
The house, yes, house, she was living in was situated in a calm street. No noises were heard expect maybe for the humming of the refrigerator or sometimes a neighbourhood dog would bark. Hermione liked watching outside the window then: the landscape was dark blue, black and white. It reminded her of her beautiful mother.
Hermione liked this game. But it was also confusing. In the end, she didn't really know what to think. She had noticed that her mother gave her those strange looks she made when squinting in the mirror, trying to remember her real mothers face. Her parents laughs were like hers: fake.
It was then the realized they were just as fake as her. Only they couldn't remember who they used to be.
At this point the girl started to get really scared. She didn't dare to talk or laugh anymore: she didn't want to forget her true self. She ate herself up from the inside. Her mother's beautiful eyes started to get covered by Mimi's childish toys, unimaginative drawings and cliché-drawings. Something had to be done, or Hermione would forget herself completely.
That day was the last day she was pretending for real to be Mimi. Her acting became so synthetic and fake; she was a parody of her former game. Her parents worried when she didn't smile anymore: she whether grinned, showing off her sharp teeth, or her mouth was shut tight, posed in a dramatic line.
Her parents had sent her everywhere in hope to have Mimi back. Nothing worked. She started school with other girls her age and made herself friends. Those friends made sometimes fun of her, yet she didn't mind. Each of Hermione's teachers always called her 'parents' to discuss about their daughter. Hermione sometimes seemed to fade away, and become transparent. Everyone had noticed that, yet nothing could have been done against that.
The only time it changed back to 'normal' was when Hermione received her Hogwarts letter.
Dumbledore noticed how absent both his interlocutors were. He even himself was bored by what he was saying.
So he finally asked the question that ahd been pestering him the whole day.
"- Where is Hermione going to continue her magical education?"
"- That's Hermione's decision!"
Yet Seth couldn't stop himself from passing his arm around his daughter's shoulders. He didn't want to pressurize her. He would support her decision whatever her choice was. He had no idea that his daughter had officially refused to return to Hogwarts.
Hermione shifted uncomfortably on her chair.
She knew Seth didn't have money; yet she also knew she still could go to Hogwarts if she wanted to; Dumbledore and al the others will provide her the support she would need. Yet did she want to go back to her school; was she ready to leave her father whom she missed for during ten years?
The answer was simple: no. She wouldn't loose her father again. She Hermione again; she was her true self. Her mother might have died, yet she lived within the walls of this apartment. She wouldn't leave her tiny, one member family again. Too much time had been stolen from her father. Wasn't the fact of her adoptive parents being murdered a sign for her to stay?
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