Author’s Note: I am sooooooooooooo very sorry my updates are so far and few. I’ve been neglecting my Harry Potter fan fictions and there’s really no excuse for it. School has been a little time-consuming as of late, and I’ve had little inspiration with Harry Potter. This story will be finished though, it will not be abandoned. Thank you, everyone, for being so patient, and thanks for reading! Hope you all like chapter eight!

Caged
Chapter Eight

I’m grateful when Wednesday finally arrives.

Time has felt as if it’s been moving like a glacier these past few days. Every time I looked at the clock or watched the sun in the sky, it felt as if it was going by slowly, just to taunt me. And today, all day, I felt like the hours were dragging by. I found myself fidgeting all throughout my French lesson and my music lesson. Monsieur Reneau and Mr. Simmons both commented on my inattentiveness.

“This is not like you Miss Greene,” Mr. Simmons said from beneath his bristly white mustache. “You are usually so intent on perfecting your performance during the lesson.”

Monsieur Reneau snapped, “Mademoiselle! You’ve no accent at all today- what is this all about?”

How could I possibly explain to them that my world was spinning around me? I couldn’t even begin to think of what I would say to anyone, were I to tell them the truth. I couldn’t concentrate on conjugating verbs, I couldn’t focus on playing the harp. Why should such things matter to me today- the day I found out I might not be Papa’s true daughter, that my real mother might very well be alive, and somewhere in London? Even my eyes dart all over the place, and my hands twitch together. My whole life has been a lie, I fear. My parents were never really my parents, were they? And I’m a- I’m a witch. Who is this stranger I’m living with? Why should I call him Papa? And how did Professor Snape know Mrs. C. Granger was my mother? He did call me Miss Granger! Where does it all make sense? I feel as if I’m looking at a jigsaw puzzle, scattered across a floor. None of the pieces fit together, no matter how many times I replace them, and several pieces are missing. What am I to do?

And now it’s after midnight, and I’m standing alone in the garden, waiting. Although I’m dressed in thick skirts, and have a cloak over me, I’m shivering.

After the house had gone to sleep and I was sure I wouldn’t be detected, I snuck out into the garden. I was so confident and excited when I first came out here, but now I’m just anxious and nervous. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been outside. What if they’ve forgotten? Or what if they’re just trying to have a laugh at the pathetic Greene- Granger?- girl who is so desperate for company?

I hear someone push at the gate, but it’s clasped from the inside.

Because it’s dark and I don’t see whose face is attached to that hand, my heart speeds up and fear floods my brain.

“Hermione!” I hear someone hiss.

I hurry over to the gate and unlatch it, finding Harry just outside of it.

Relief fills every corner of my body, “I was afraid you weren’t going to show- but your friend’s not with you?”

Harry shakes his head, his eyes bright, “No- he’s waiting for us though.”

“Waiting for us?” I echo. “What do you mean?”

“Hermione, all of my friends who are wizards and witches are secretly meeting tonight,” he smiles. “We sometimes do that- and they want to meet you, we want to help explain to you what it’s like with magic.”

My world is spinning even more now.

I nearly choke as I say, “You want me to leave?”

“Only for a few hours,” he says encouragingly.

“Harry,” I swallow. “My father would be furious-”

He cuts me off, “Don’t you want to understand what you are- What you’re capable of?”

I do.

I nod.

“Then come with me!”

I hesitate, looking at him with anxiety burning through my skin. I don’t know this boy. What if he’s just telling me all of this- playing along- so he can get me alone and rob me of my virtue or kill me, or something of the sort. Maybe he’ll take me away and hide me in some hidden place, and hold me for ransom.

Harry sees my hesitation and smiles genuinely, “I promise, I will not let harm come to you.”

His voice is so kind, and his smile is so real. Just by looking into his eyes I know that he’s not going to hurt me. I’m safe with him. I trust him completely.

“All right,” I finally say. “Lead the way.”
____________________________________________________________________________________________

I’ve never walked the streets of London at night. Not alone anyway. And certainly not after midnight. But I love it.

The air is cold and sweet, and the damp cobblestones shimmer with the light of the moon. I’ve never seen a clearer sky, I almost want to count the pinpricks of stars twinkling in the night. Harry walks beside me, close, but not too close. We chat idly for a few minutes, before we turn to deeper questions.

“What does your mother think of your not being able to speak to anyone?” he asks. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

I don’t mind his asking, but I’m not sure I know the answer to the question.

I clear my throat, “I don’t know really. My mother’s dead- or, I mean- I think she is.”

Harry laughs a little, and then notices my seriousness, his pace slows, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” I shake my head pityingly. “Everything is so confusing and upside down right now.”

His emerald green eyes flicker away, and then back at me, “Do you want to talk about it?”

I look at him, wondering if I’ve heard him correctly. I’ve never actually spent time with anyone my age, so I’m not entirely sure if any of this is proper. Propriety seems to fall away with Harry and his friends and I. Everyone calls each other by their Christian name, and everyone seems to be friendly and open with each other. Is this the way with all friends? or just magical ones? Propriety has really slipped away anyway, I might as well talk to him about what I’d like.

“I found some letters in my father’s desk.”

Harry looks intrigued, but he doesn’t say anything.

I swallow, “They were all about me- to a woman named Mrs. C. Granger.”

“Well, is that so unusual?” he asks kindly.

I shake my head, “It’s only- She kept saying she was my mother- I think- and that she wanted to know how I was and what she thought about all our traveling and- and how she had given me up, but still wanted to care for me....” My eyes follow the line of the road, trying to find something I can hold onto, something that can keep everything from falling up and away.

“Are you meaning to say that you don’t know your real mother?” he asks.

I nod slowly, “I think that’s what has happened.”

“And your father? Do you think he’s your real father?”

The question is so forward, but I answer it. With tears choking my voice, I say, “I don’t think he is.”

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” I reply quickly. “I don’t mind talking about- it’s just all so confusing.”

Harry shakes his head, “But why? Why would your mother give you away if she wanted to care for you herself?”

“I don’t know,” I shrug.

We walk in silence for several minutes, before we turn into an alleyway and walk its length. When we reach a dead end, Harry turns and climbs through a large, broken hole in the wall. He helps me through it as well, and we walk through abandoned rooms of some kind of tenement building. In a room situated in the center of the whole building, is a ladder. Harry climbs up the ladder, and I follow him cautiously. In the second level of the building, there is another wall with a hole in it, only this wall is covered in a filthy old sheet. Pushing the sheet aside, Harry instructs me to step inside. I do so, and he follows me.

Suddenly, I’m bombarded with noise, warmth, light, and smells. Sitting around this rundown room, on crates and cushions and blankets, are a dozen or so people. They’re laughing and talking loudly, some are playing cards, or eating, or just sitting around. The girls are on the floor, with their dresses tucked under them, as if this is all part of life. I’ve never seen boys and girls together so freely. No one is worrying about propriety or chaperones, everything is light and fun. And in the middle of the circle they have all formed, are sticks all meeting together at lighted points. It lights up the whole room, casting shadows and beams like a fire. The room is warm and cozy like this, and delicately sweet smells waft around me. I smell chocolate, only richer and sweeter, fruity smells, spicy smells, sort of disgusting smells, sugary smells. It’s all so surprising, and all so wonderful, all at the same time.

“Everyone!” Harry bellows over the noise, and the group quiets down. “This is Hermione.”

Everyone looks at me brightly, smiling and looking excited to meet me.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone,” Harry says to me. “You know Ron,” he gestures to the ginger-haired boy from the other night. “And this is Ginny, Ron’s younger sister- she was there the day in the park.”

Ginny also has bright red hair, only hers is long and sleek, all the way down her back. Her eyes are bright, sparkling hazel, and her face is smattered with freckles. She smiles at me, waving a little. Dressed in a sort of shabby green dress, she still manages to look pretty.

Harry continues, “This is Luna Lovegood- she goes to our school, Hogwarts.”

Luna looks at me with eyes that are so dreamy, I’m worried she’s not right in the head. But she smiles at me and that thought flits away. Her hair is wavy and golden, tied into a braid that runs down her back. She’s dressed in a blue dress, but over this is a strange robe of shimmering periwinkle. She says a floaty, “Hello,” to me.

I nod to her, smiling, “Hello.”

“This is Neville Longbottom,” Harry says next, gesturing to a short, sort of nervous-looking boy on the other side of Ginny. He has kind brown eyes, neat brown hair, and protruding teeth. His clothes are neat and clean, but he’s wearing his own dark blue robe, like Luna. He looks at me shyly, giving me a small smile as a greeting.

“Fred and George are Ron and Ginny’s older brothers,” Harry tells me. “Watch out for them,” he murmurs good-naturedly to me.

I glance at the two lanky, ginger-haired twins who are sitting cross-legged arguing over something that is sparking between. It looks like a kind of sweet. They give me a little wave before returning to their argument.

I’m also introduced to Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Parvati and Padma Patil, and Lavendar Brown.

Ginny invites me to sit down beside her, on a soft pink cushion. With some hesitation I lower myself onto the cushion and look at the people around me.

“Do you all live in London?” I ask curiously.

Seamus tells me, “No, I live in Ireland, Padma and Parvati live in Cornwall, and Lavendar lives in Oxford.”

“We use floo powder to get here,” Padma says.

I knot my eyebrows, “Floo powder?”

“It’s a way of traveling magically, through fireplaces,” Harry explains.

My eyes widen in awe, “You c-can travel by fireplace?”

They all laugh a little at my surprise, “There’s a little more to it than that, but yes,” Harry says. “There’s a fireplace downstairs.”

“Harry,” George- or Fred- whispers. “Are you sure she’s a witch?”

“Ron and I both saw her do accidental magic,” he replies.

Dean asks me, “Why haven’t you gone to Hogwarts? Won’t your parents let you?”

“My father doesn’t know,” I reply, shaking my head.

A silence follows this.

“But you got your acceptance letter, didn’t you?” Ginny smiles encouragingly.

I’m not entirely sure what they mean, but I never received a letter accepting me to any Hogwarts, so I shake my head.

Another silence ensues. This time, no one breaks it. Everything is awkward and tense around us, and I don’t know why. Furtive glances are exchanged, and I wish I knew the secret they all obviously share. I know I’m new at this magic and the whole idea of it, but that doesn’t mean I should be so blatantly left out.

“How is that possible?” Dean whispers to Seamus. “Even Harry managed to get his letter and those muggles were flat out ignoring them.”

“Well, I’ve been all over the world all my life,” I speak up. “Maybe it was lost in the post....”

I trail off as they get a good laugh at that one.

“Hermione,” Luna says kindly. “We deliver letters by owl.”

“Owl?” I echo loudly. “How on earth do you do that?”

She shrugs, as if she’s never even questioned it before.

“It is odd,” Harry says.

I feel as if they’re all doubting me now. I can’t bear it, I want them all to be my friends. How am I to be friends with them if they think I’m not a witch? They were all so happy to meet me because they thought they could help me with my magic. I must speak up. I have to fix this.

I clear my throat, “I think- The fact that I might not know who my real parents are- that might have something to do with it.”

“You don’t?” Neville says.

“I’m not entirely sure right now,” I say, swallowing. “But I believe my real mother gave me up- Professor Snape did call me by the other woman’s surname.”

Dean nods, “That’s right! You know Snape!”

“He’s my geography tutor.”

Harry asks, “Have you spoken to him at all about magic?”

I nod, “I tried, but he pulled out a stick and tried to- I don’t know- I guess hurt me with it? Or erase my memory.”

They all stare at me, agog.

“I was afraid he would- And I got so frightened that I- I fear I accidentally erased his memory of the whole ordeal.”

Laughter roars around me.

Fred- or George- slaps his knee, “She got Snape!”

“You are amazing Hermione!” Ron claps.

Everyone whistles and hoots.

I smile, but I’m confused, “But why?”

“Snape is our potions teacher at Hogwarts,” Ginny tells me. “He’s a git.”

“Hogwarts?” I reiterate. “And what do you mean potions?”

They all exchange glances of secrecy again. As if asking each other questions and telling each other things I can’t decode from where I am.

Harry nods and says, “Why don’t we explain everything for you- as much as we can- from the beginning?”
____________________________________________________________________________________________

I fell asleep quite easily after returning from our meeting at Godric’s Hollow, as they call the abandoned tenement building. I was so exhausted, and my head was so full of facts about magic and the magical world, that I felt as if it would explode. I understand a good deal now. Not enough to avoid schooling or lessons in magic, but enough to understand what my friends are talking about.

My friends.

I smile just thinking about it.

But after only two hours of sleep, I was forced awake. Mrs. Jacobs helped me dress, forced me to down some breakfast, and pulled me outside for a walk before we would have to return for my poetry recitation lesson.

The sky is a bright, bright blue and the sun is shining warmly, but I am so tired that I drag myself down the sidewalk.

“Hermione,” Mrs. Jacobs berates me from where she walks ahead of me on the sidewalk. “You’re lucky I convinced your father that you needed this exercise, but you don’t need to be so lazy about it.”

I try to straighten my shoulders, but it takes so much effort, “I’m just awfully tired, Mrs. Jacobs.”

“Don’t say awful,” she snaps, taking my arm in hers. “And what have you got to be tired for? You went to sleep early last night- Are you catching a chill?”

I clear my throat and lie, “I’m not sure.”

“Well, we’ll finish our walk, and then you can sleep a little after your poetry lesson,” she tells me.

We walk several more blocks, down streets I haven’t yet ventured. Mrs. Jacobs chats on and on about her cousin and the scandal of how she ran away with her her best friend’s fiance or some such nonsense. I’m hardly paying attention. Sleep seems to be pervading my body, even as I walk down the sidewalk, but Mrs. Jacobs is pulling me along, so I don’t stop. I feel as if my eyelids are drooping shut, and I try to study my surroundings.

We’re on a street of shops and bakeries, with apartments above them. We reach the end of the street and I see it’s called Finely.

Finely.

Finely?

Why does that strike a chord in my mind?

I am currently working in a large seamstress shop, between Putnam and Finely. If you wish for Hermione and I to remain strangers than I suggest you keep her away from this area, and the area of my home.

Mrs. C. Granger works on Finely and Putnam! The woman who could very well be my mother! I’m itching to be able to know what she looks like, to see her and hear her, and to learn why she gave me up. Maybe she understands my ability to do magic- Maybe she could help everything make sense!

But Mrs. Jacobs pulls me past Finely and onto Brashord Way.

It’s fine. I don’t even know if Mrs. C. Granger is related to me at all. It’s probably just a coincidence. Silliness. That’s what all this is. I’m being silly and I’m letting my imagination run wild.

As we get farther and farther away from Finely, I find myself itching to go back, to search every seamstress shop until I find her. What does she know? What can she tell me? I just want everything to make sense. I want answers and I can’t stand being left in the dark like this- and about my own life!

I can tell you one thing though.

I’m not at all tired anymore.

Author’s Note: I know it was kind of short, but I didn’t want to reveal too much in this chapter! Hope you all liked it! Sorry for the long wait! Reviewing is always appreciated!