Author Notes: This is just something that inspired me when I was running up and down the exorcist stairs with my father just for fun.
Thoughts Limited to Hermione"Words being spoken"
Hermione's large and round brown eyes glazed over the blazing fire in the fireplace. She was sitting on a plump pale green couch sitting in the middle of a pale yellow room with pastel paintings of flowers hanging on the walls. The couch faced the ivory tiled fireplace, the fire blazing inside the incandescent source giving off the only light in the room. As the fire flickered it gave the room a slightly haunting appearance.
Hermione's hands were folded in her lap for seconds and then she would grab the ends of a strand of her curly brown hair. Her brown eyes had a glassy look as another silent tear slid down her cheek. The tear's trail down her soft cheek left a streak down her sun kissed skin. She then gasped and crossed her arms ignoring the itch of her maroon turtle neck. Her round face looked thinner when she cried. This time her quiet sobs felt like life was eating her soul away.
This winter break she came home to visit her parents. Expecting to be home and spending quality time with her father. Maybe she and her mom would go get last minute presents for cousins and family friends. As a family they would make a gingerbread house and make Christmas treats. They would go out singing Christmas carols. Hermione's favorite was Silver Bells. Christmas Eve they would put up their stockings and leave cookies for "Santa." In the morning the cookies would be gone as if Santa Claus had eaten them and a note left from "Santa" but when Hermione was little was sure that that was her father's handwriting.
On the eve of Christmas they would build the biggest snowman they could if it was snowing. Usually the snowmen looked like a pile of snow, and not have and human or animal like resemblance at all. They would eat a roasted ham dinner and go to sleep early to get presents "quicker" as her father put it when she was little. In the morning they would be awoken by a loud alarm clock that screamed Christmas carols loudly. They would sit around the Christmas tree and Hermione's mother opened hers first, then Hermione, and then her father. Afterwards they would eat their large breakfast and play with their new gifts all day.
This Christmas, things were different, way different, a redefining different. When her parents picked her up from the train station there were no words exchanged the entire ride back home. When they entered their cute house in a friendly neighborhood, they sat her down in their living room on that same pale green couch. They sat next to her wrapping their arms around her and in unison sighed deeply.
"Honey…we need to talk."
Hermione began to worry if they knew about the party she threw over the summer where there was only a little beer. But something told her, that was not it. Something was definitely wrong and it slowly began to tear her heart apart.
"You see…along time ago…"
"When you were just a itty-bitty baby…"
Hermione's eyes widened, jumping to a conclusion,
"AM I REALLY A BOY!?"
Her parents both jumped, "No honey…you are definitely a girl."
Hermione's heart began to race, what was wrong? Everything was perfect, picture perfect, the best as it could possibly be. Why was there always something wrong with things that were good? Her heart was beating so fast, she was almost sure that her parents were getting nervous because they could hear it.
"Honey…when you were just a little baby, your mother did not exactly…carry you to term."
Her eyes widened.
"What do you mean? Was I a science experiment? Did you go to a lab because you couldn't have children? Are you my mother? Dad is she my stepmom? Or was I a science project but was there a mistake? Was I a mistake? Holy shit, I was a mistake?! Did you get the left over child? Or did the hospital make a mistake?...Are you guys even my parents?"
They both looked away from her. Tears threaten to spill from her burning eyes; it was typical for her to stress like this, but she felt like she had a reason to.
"Darling…almost sixteen years ago…you were sent to us…from a witch like you…"
"She was in big trouble…and she was one of our friends from grade school…"
"She died the day after you were dropped off…"
"You were about three months old…but we were never sure… when your birthday was exactly."
"She never told us who your father was…but we knew…you looked like him…"
"She told us that the charm would be lifted…when you turned sixteen…we mean really sixteen…"
"We think you were born in Janurary….instead of April…."
Hermione froze her eyes burning red and watery. Her mind was blank and she looked at her so called father… or Mr. Granger. She opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.
"Concealing charm?" She asked, saying word more for her own benefit. Her parents nodded.
"Who's my mother?"
He rubbed his eyes, that were also glassy and anyone could tell he was on the verge of tears.
"Her name was Sheila Greengrass…"
I am a pureblood? Sheila Greengrass, like Daphne Greengrass?
"Is that my name, Hermione Greengrass?"
They both shook their heads and looked at their feet. Oh fuck, it can't get worse can it? Watch my name be Cordelia or something…
"Your name is…Carolina Greengrass." Her mother said.
"Wasn't it Catalina? Remember, we almost choose to stick with that name…"
Hermione blinked for a second, and as if her world began to break apart piece by piece she broke into a heavy sob. Jane Granger tried to wrap her arms around her comfortingly, but Hermione shrugged them off. Jane Granger shouldn't be comforting Catalina, it was her mothers job to do that.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters created by J.K. Rowling. She owns baby.