Hermione Dark-An Offering

Hermione Dark-An Offering

Copyright 2003 Kathleen A. Carbone

It was deep midnight and she'd had an exhausting day, but sleep would not come. She slipped out of bed, past her sleeping roommates to the arched Gothic window and did not feel the icy draft that murmered through its ancient casing.

The bright thumbnail of a quarter moon shone down, lending a blue violet hue to the snow covered grounds, and reflecting dreamily in the water of the moat that surrounded them. She had always considered the moat a comfort, a protective barrier between she and her schoolmates and the outside world of nonbelievers. Now though, at seventeen and in her final year at school, it gave her a claustrophobic feeling that occasionally roared into silent panic. She felt pent up within the walls of this, this...bastille (she smiled to herself)

The outside world of muggles held no fears for her now-she would find her way amongst them successfully, she was sure. Coming from a family of them held advantages that the pure blooded magical broods lacked: she was not afraid. She harbored no ridiculous superstitions or predjudices toward muggles and their fast-paced, angry world. They preferred things in black and white, cut and dried, the clear unmuddled truth of the cold scalpel and the laboratory. And, truth be told, so did she.

It was so unusual to feel this way but she longed to be free of this place . So many things only bored her now: Ron's constant moony-eyes falling incessantly to her chest, Harry's unapproachable professor-like demeanor. She'd long ago outgrown her fondness for the house cup competition and quidditch-it was a game for Christ's sake-she longed to prove herself in the real world.

She was tired of the presumptions that she would marry into a wizarding family and become an instructor here. Years before, when she'd been a novice, she thought nothing could be dearer to her heart. But now...There was a whole world beyond these grounds, a world filled with history, and gourmet food, and Hollywood movies, and plays and science-perhaps she would go to medical school! The possibilities made her ache to be on the train back to London.

Something else had been making her ache as of late, and it stirred within her once more as she gazed upon the romantic winter landscape and off toward the dark forest. Something dark inside of her was making itself known to her now. As if sensing her thoughts and responding, one of her roommates sighed in her sleep, a soft pleading sound coming from her throat that made Hermione clentch her thighs together unconciously. She glanced down at the front of her nightgown, and smiled. It was indeed chilly in here...

A few more weeks passed, there were exams and then, finally, Christmas vacation! She packed her trunk and got her cat safely inside his carrying case with a warm blanket and some treats. Harry was staying at school of course, but she would have to get through the long train ride with Ron, Ginny and Susan in tow. She was quite fond of her old friends of course, but the cloying claustrophobia that they elicited in her could be unbearable sometimes. She longed to have a compartment to herself, to look out the window and let her thoughts fly free, but knew that it would be impossible.

Back in London, she bid them a fast farewell as she loaded her trunk and the cat onto a trolley. They'd been asking her to come to their home for Christmas dinner, or at least a visit, and she'd been politely evading an answer. Now, with Ron looming over her, his eyes filled with confusion and disappointment, she wished them a final Happy Christmas, and ran her cart through the platform that divided their worlds.

Father and Mother were waiting for her, and a flood of affection warmed her heart as they embraced her. She was tall as Mother now, and close to Father's height; a fact that never ceased to amaze them these days. But despite her obvious growth, they plied her with questions about the house cup points and quidditch matches as though she was still thirteen.

"We're doing very well this year Mother" she informed them indulgently.

"Such a shame she never went out for the team, don't you think?" Father commented as he did every year. And then came Mother's usual reply.

"I'm quite glad she never went out for quidditch, thank you! Dreadfully dodgy, that game. Dreadful!"

Sometimes it was hard to remember who was the child and who were the parents.

Her room had been stripped of its Gryf colors and many of the books and posters she'd hung up as a child. Now it was sparse, booklined and functional, the single bed pressed against the wall and out of the way of her chemistry experiments. Even these did not interest her just now. It was lovely being home again, surrounded by the warm unyeilding love of her dear mother and father. The knowledge she now possessed-knowledge that would only make them worry for her own safety, and that they would never understand- only endeared them to her further as she grew. Draco's venomous outpourings about mudbloods and muggles brought forth a wave of indignation and anger now. Cruel and ignorant boy, she felt in her heart that one day it would be her lot to protect her kind from the likes of him.

Day trips into the city became her passion now. She and Mother went shopping, and then on to all sorts of restaurants-Indian, Chinese, Italian-it was wonderful. The gaily decorated stores and shops, the museums and galleries, even the rude bustling crowds invigorated her. It felt like she was finally breathing fresh air again instead of the stultified, dusty atmosphere of school. Because it was more than just cold fresh air she was ingesting here in London, it was life.