HERMIONE'S TH1RTEEN R3ASONS
Summary: A mash up of Jay Asher's hit novel and the HP series we all love. Hermione is dead, there is no doubt about that. But two weeks later, thirteen people will hear her voice again, over a grainy muggle device. Each of these people, she claims, is in some way responsible for her death. What they discover will change their lives forever.
Prologue: In the Post Office
AN: I recently read "TH1RTEEN R3ASONS WHY" by Jay Asher, and absolutely fell in love with it. Everything about it, the writing style, the plot, captivated me. Of course, as a fanfiction author, the idea to incorporate such a narrative into my favourite fandom popped into my head. Much of the original lines from Hannah Baker's narrative will be used. I mean no plagiarism by this, please understand that. So much of it just fit so well. This story was also originally written with Luna as the main character, but really, Hermione fit better in the grand scheme of things, although Luna was the more obvious choice at first. I may also post a version using Luna, if anyone is interested. Now, on to warnings.
This story will contain: mild language, violence, sexual themes, third-person subjective non-con (ie: witnessed, not experienced), and both canon and non-canon pairings. If you find any of these objectionable beyond tolerance, please do not proceed any further. For those of you still interested, welcome to my story. I hope you enjoy the ride.
"Sir?" the old man at the counter repeated. "How soon do you want it to get there?"
I blinked slowly, coming back out of my thoughts. The postmaster looked at me expectantly. I struggeled to focus on his question through the throbbing headache that had settled in the left side of my temple.
"It doesn't matter," I mumbled. "It isn't going far. Just to the castle."
Just to the castle. I could have just used the owlery, I guess. Or my own owl. But I was sure that would be too recognizable. I didn't want anyone to know that I had ever touched that package. Anyone other than the twelve – well, thirteen others, really – who would have to know. If I were spotted in the owlery, someone may find out. That was why I had traipsed all the way to Hogsmeade this morning.
The clerk takes the package and weighs it carefully before hobbling over to one of the cages and taking out a small barn owl. I blinks and ruffles his feathers irritably in the bright light of the lobby. He secures the package, once more wrapped crudely in wrinkled parchment paper, exactly as I had received it. But now it was addressed to the next person on Hermione Granger's list.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts rushing through my mind once more.
"How much is it?" I ask. He tells me, and I pull a few coins from the pockets of my robes, setting them on the counter.
"Bit early in the morning, is it?" he rasps. I look at him questioningly and he gestures to the coins. "You're short a sickle."
I stare at the coins. So I was. I set another silver coin on the counter. I must be half asleep. That was okay. It might make today more bearable, actually.
"It should arrive tomorrow morning," the man says. "Mail only arrives once a day at the castle, isn't that right?"
I nod dully. Maybe I should have held onto the parcel for another day, to give Lavender another day of peace. Though she doesn't deserve it.
But who am I to judge?
When the owls arrive tomorrow, she'll find a package landing in front of her. And she'll be excited. I was excited. A package with no return address? Did they forget, or was it intentional? Maybe a secret admirer?
Lavender would think it was a secret admirer. No one would hate Lavender.
"Would you like a receipt?" the clerk asks. I shake my head. The clerk had written one out already, probably out of force of habit, but now he crumples it in one gnarled hand and lets it fall into a wastepaper basket beside the counter.
This is the only post office near Hogwarts. I wonder if the others on the tape came here, or if they daringly stole up to the owelry, careful not to be seen by anyone who may make a connection; anyone who may recognize the package. Did they keep their receipts as sick souveniers? Tuck them in the bottoms of their school trunks? Pin them up on corkboards? Tuck them under their mattresses as a silent reminder of their dirty little secrets?
I almost ask for my receipt back. I almost say, "Sorry, can I have it after all?" As my own reminder.
But if I wanted a reminder, I would have found someone to make copies of the tapes, or saved her map. But I never wanted to hear those tapes again, though her voice will likely never leave my head. And this school, and the nearby town, the places mentioned, they would always be there to remind me.
My memories were tainted forever.
The package is on its way; I leave the post office without a receipt.
Chapter One: The Evening Before
A shoebox-sized package was sitting on my bed. It arrived with the post in the morning, a simple paper-wrapped, unremarkable package, marked with my name and nothing more. No return address, no hint of its origins remained. Only the hurriedly scrawled Draco Malfoy.
I took out my wand and mutter the spell to unseal the package, letting the paper fall away. It was a shoebox, after all. I took the top off to expose two rolls of some plastic-like material, filled with small pockets of air, I supposed to protect whatever was inside.
I unrolled the first one to expose a small black box, unlike anything I'd ever seen before. It was made of a hard plastic, and had a hinged door that opened less than an inch by hooking your finger into a slightly raised edge and pulling. Along the top were five thin buttons, marked with strange symbols: a triangle pointing to the right, two verticle rectangles, a square, so on, so forth. A thin wire ran from the box to what looked like a headband with two round cushions on the ends.
What was this thing?
I sat it down carefully, keeping an eye on it, I suppose in case it suddenly came to life and did something. I picked up the other roll of plastic and unfurled it, letting seven thinner rectangles fall to the bed. Each of these had two spindles in them that held a length of some sort of ribbon in place as it wound through the plastic. A piece of black tape was on each side of all seven rectangles, marked with blue numbers: one and two on the first, three and four on the second, all the way to thirteen. The second side, manufacturer marked "B" on the last tape, was not numbered.
I sat these down, as well, and looked in the box once more. There was a small folded piece of paper, and I opened it, hoping it held some sort of explanation. In neat, tidy writing, it read: To start, open device, insert tape widest-edge up, and close. Press button marked with triangle and place headphones over ears to listen. If device does not work, the batteries may be dead. Find a muggleborn for replacements. Also, do not use magic while operating device. Magic interferes with muggle devices.
I seriously hoped that the "batteries" were not dead, as I had no desire to speak to a muggleborn.
I followed the directions, inserting the first tape as the note had instructed, and put on the "headphones". I glanced in the mirror and was intensely grateful that I had my private quarters this year, as a step of protection after the war, when many of us had returned for "eighth year". I looked stupid with this muggle device on my head.
I shook my head and pressed play. A faint whirring sound began through the headphones.
AN: Casting Draco as the one to listen to the tapes was a really difficult decision, as he doesn't match Clay very well. But, as with the Hermione vs. Luna decision, he fit better on more levels than most of the others that I had considered.
I hope you enjoyed this bit of an intro. The next chapter will be up soon! :D
Please review! It would mean so much to me!