Happy Birthday Granger
She had never told them. Why, you ask? Because, it wasn’t important. She would never feel happy, or fulfilled. Everyone let it all out for Harry, but she was just second best.
Ron had tried to find out once. Just once. He had spent an entire week searching and questioning, and even leafing through her diary, but it was no use. She was a smart girl, and didn’t need to keep important dates written down. She hadn’t even told Ginny, her best girl friend.
She walked around the gardens, leaves falling all around her. It was so peaceful and quiet, and she was alone, just how she wanted to be.
It was September 19th, 1997. Hermione’s birthday.
No, she wasn’t special enough to have a party. It wasn’t worth it to get all worked up over one silly little day, when there was a war brewing. Ron had given her flowers at the end of last year, saying they were for her "birthday, whenever it was." She had laughed, and told him that it surely wasn’t that day.
Ron was such a sweetie. He had asked her out at the end of last year, right before they battled Voldemort. She had said yes, of course, and it had been a dream ever since. Well, except for the fighting, but really, it was a small glitch in and otherwise happy relationship.
Rather boring though.
There’s only so much you can discover about someone, and after six years, Ron was an open book. Hermione knew his favourite colour (orange), favourite smell (apple blossoms), and even his underwear size (medium, 32 waist). Hermione was a studious, curious soul, and she needed someone to analyze, badly.
"Why, look what we have here!" Evil chuckle. "A wild Mudblood."
Speak of the devil. Hermione groaned loudly, and continued walking. Malfoy will undoubtedly follow. It’s in his nature. Sure enough, he plodded along after her.
"Was the Mudblood having a little romp in the bushes? Had to have a little snack, did it?" Malfoy chuckled. "Stup…"
Hermione whirled around, a smug look on her face. "…Stupid little Mudblood, yes, yes, I know."
He looked a bit shocked, but recovered quickly. He was about to open his mouth, but she interrupted him loudly.
"You know what your problem is Malfoy? You are too sodding predictable!"
"I….what?"
"Predictable! Here I was, thinking that at least someone would be interesting today, someone that would make this day just a bit out of the ordinary, but then you walk up and use the same insults you always use!"
"What?" Malfoy shook his head. "You think that I’m predictable?"
She nodded. He stared at her, and then began to laugh.
"What are you doing?" Hermione said, quirking an eyebrow.
"Laughing……" he choked out, "at you."
Utterly confused, she turned, and began to walk away. Malfoy stopped laughing, and yelled out;
"Weasley and Potter forgot your birthday again, didn’t they?"
What?
"Wh-what makes you say that?"
She turned slowly around, and saw him leaning up against the stone, garden wall, smirking devilishly. "Because, it’s your birthday, and you aren’t with them."
"It’s not my birthday."
She prayed to God that he would just go away. He wasn’t entertaining when he was so damn smug.
"Yes, it is."
"No…it’s not."
"Listen Granger," he said, jumping up from his perch. "You can’t play coy with me. I know today is your birthday."
"But how?"
He went to examining his nails. "I have my ways."
Hermione felt the intense urge to swat his rat face right off his head, but restrained herself. Her curious side was beginning to kick in. "Surely a pureblood like yourself isn’t concerned with lowly Muggle-borns?" she accused.
Malfoy looked up at her. "Only when planning to slaughter them."
Her mouth instantly went dry, and her throat constricted. "Slaughter?" she squeaked.
"Yes, that is what I said."
Her heart began pounding. "You can’t do that!"
"Our Lord can do whatever he wants. Slaughter two mudbloods, five o’clock, September 19th? Piece of cake."
Hermione looked wildly for the clock, and saw that it read…five minutes to five. She fought to keep calm.
"I….no! You can’t!"
He gave her a mildly amused smile. "I can’t. But I know people who can. Did you say your goodbyes, Mudblood?"
She had heard enough. Even if this just was one of his sick jokes. She had to talk to her parents.
If they were still alive.
"Five Minutes, Miss Granger."
Hermione nodded eagerly at Dumbledore, then walked into the fire. The flames enveloped her, and before she knew it, she was in her living room.
"Hermione? Is that you?"
Waves of relief washed over her, and she smiled at her mother. "Yes mum, I just wanted to check and see that you and dad were alright." She looked at the clock in the corner. Seven minutes after five.
"Dad is at the office, I just talked to him a second ago. Is everything alright at school?"
"Yes mum. I…. I don’t have much time."
Hermione’s mum gave her a hug and kiss. "We miss you, ‘Mione. Have fun at school."
Hermione hugged her mum back, then let her go, and walked back into the fire.
Stupid Malfoy. Stupid me.
"What is in your head, Malfoy?"
He looked behind him, and saw Hermione standing by one of the dank, dungeon walls. "What do you want? This is my route!"
She rolled her eyes at him. "You know what I mean. Why do you enjoy messing with people? Me especially."
"Because you’re so easy to fool." It was the truth, of course. Granger was so uptight, and such a know-it-all.
"It’s not funny to joke about my family, Malfoy," she whispered dangerously. He snorted.
"Sure it is. But I wasn’t joking."
It was Hermione’s turn to snort. "Right. You have enough power to influence the death of my parents."
"Don’t be stupid. The Death Eaters really want to get under your skin, since you and Potter are like that." He crossed his fingers. "Dumb Mudblood, even I know that you’re a mite important, however unbelievable."
"Right. And what would make them change their minds?" she asked sarcastically.
Malfoy scowled, and rustled around in his robes. He produced an important looking letter, which he handed to Hermione. She reached to take it from him, but he pulled it back before she could.
"It’s cursed, Mudblood. Death Eater’s hands only."
Her eyes widened. "You’re a-"
"Shut up," he snapped, deftly opening the envelope. He held open the letter, and Hermione read;
To My Humble Servants, Lucius Malfoy and son,
Grangers’ house at five, 0919.
She looked up at him. "Riiiiiight."
He folded up the letter, and stuffed it back into the envelope. She watched, amazed, as he slipped it into her pocket.
"Go to your Headmaster now. Show him that."
She squinted at him. "How did you get that?"
"It came to my house. Don’t ask questions."
"Why are you giving it to me?"
"I told you-"
"I’m serious. Dumbledore has an armed guard of Aurors stationed around my house. The Death Eaters would be stupid to attempt a murder."
Malfoy nodded. "I assumed that."
She stared at him quizzically. "You did?"
"I did when I intercepted that letter. I assumed that the smartest witch in her year would request an armed guard for her parents, just to play it safe. I suppose I was right."
"But why did you intercept it?"
He seemed determined to look anywhere but at her. "I thought I was boring and predictable?"
Stupid, stupid, stupid. "You aren’t, I suppose." He smiled triumphantly, and began to walk away.
"Why?" she asked again. He turned, finally meeting her eyes, a blank look on his face.
"I just figured that it would be a nice present. Happy Birthday Granger."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the murky black dungeons.
The End