Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews! You know I love them! Here's chapter three. Hope you like it.
Caged
Chapter Three
"Mrs. Jacobs, have you seen my wooden walking stick?" Papa asks as he enters the upstairs drawing room.
She thinks for a moment, taking off her glasses as she does so, "I believe I saw it in the hall sir, behind your umbrella."
"Oh yes," he agrees, "I do believe you're right Mrs. Jacobs, thank you," he turns to leave the room but I stop him.
"Papa?" he turns to look at me. "Are you going out?" I ask hopefully.
He nods curtly, "To the bank, I have a meeting with Mr. Merdock."
I swallow, crossing my fingers behind my back, "Might I go with you?"
"No-"
"Oh please father! Please," I beg. "I haven't been out of the house since we arrived, I need some air-"
"No, this smoggy city air-"
"I need to go outside, oh please Papa!"
He inspects me for a minute, then says, "Hermione, I don't understand what you think being outside will do to benefit you?"
My eyes grow large, my forehead crinkles, and I strategically pout my lips, "I won't leave your side, I won't even leave the carriage."
He's silent for a few long seconds.
Please. Please. Please. Please. Please-
"All right," he gives in. "But you will not leave the carriage, do you understand?"
"I understand."
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The carriage pulls up in front of the bank. It's tall and wide, make of white-washed stone. There are many tall windows along the front of the building. Some people are sitting along the large steps going up to the building, but it's mostly very young street urchins.
"Now listen to me Hermione," Papa says. "You are not to leave this carriage, do you hear me?"
I nod, "I'll stay right here, Papa."
He gives me a stern look before getting out. He tells our driver, Charles, that I'm not to leave the carriage. Charles agrees to watch over me while my father is within the bank. Our trusty driver also assures Papa that no one will approach the carriage or speak to me, indirectly or otherwise.
I roll my eyes as father disappears into the bank and I'm left inside the carriage. I rest against the seat and then lean against the window, looking outside. Disappointment swirls around my brain, emptying all other feelings. Yes, I managed to get out of the house, but I'm stuck in the carriage by myself. There's no question that a small part of me hoped I would be able to get out somehow and meet someone my age. A friend.
I feel as if I'm waiting for years in this carriage. I might as well be home if I'm going to be tortured with this kind of boredom. I tap my chin with my index finger. I wonder what Mrs. Jacobs is doing today, Papa gave her the afternoon off since I would be with him.
A yawn escapes my mouth and I don't even try to stifle it. As long as I've known Charles he has always tried to make small talk with me, so I expect some sort of comment from him. Something like, 'Sounds like someone wants a nap, eh little miss?' But I receive no comment at all.
Father's been gone nearly five minutes, but it feels like an eternity. Oh infernal boredom, wretched life that has given me a father that locks me away like a precious gem, never to be looked at by anyone else. What am I to do? How am I to live at all during my lifetime?
And then, a sound of hope.
Charles is lightly snoring, dozing uncomfortably in his seat.
I devilish thought enters my brain.
But I couldn't-
Couldn't I?
I sit back again, biting my thumbnail. No, I told Papa I'd stay put and I shall.
Just as my resolution to remain a good daughter sets in something stills my heart. A group of five or so people, my age, walking down the street. They're talking animatedly and all laughing together. They're all dressed oddly, wearing long black cloaks over their clothes. How strange. But they're my age! And I think there's a girl there.... Friends?
As they draw closer my heart speeds. I examine their clothes, their voices, the way they wear their hair, everything. They all seem so naturally friendly with one another, even the girl. My breath catches in my throat. Friendship must be magical, this everlasting bond between people that makes them so fond of one another. Sharing secrets, laughing together, giving advice, and just preventing the other from feeling so lonely. This magical, fantastic thing my father's kept me from me.
As the group walks passed our carriage I look toward the doors of the bank. No sign of Papa. I listen for Charles. His snoring is deepening.
I slip out of the carriage and run down the street to catch up to them, only stepping on the balls of my foot. Even if
father did come out of the bank now, he'd never be able to catch me. Besides, I won't follow this crowd long.
Only long enough for me to speak to one of them, create a friendship of some sort. Then I'll sneak back before Papa
even knows I'm gone.
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I follow them down the road and to a lush, green park. There are many wooden benches lining the pathways crossing through the grass and trees. There's also a fountain, spouting walter into a pool. And there's a lake across the way, with children sailing boats with their governesses. It's not very far from the bank, but along the way I lose myself in the city. I forget my purpose of leaving the carriage just because I'm thinking of the sky and the road, and the people around me.
Once at the park though I right myself, remembering why I came this way. The group starts to sit on a bench. There's one girl there, with fiery red hair, pulled half-up and falling around her shoulders. There's two boys as well, one, also with red hair, tall and lanky, with sort of tattered pants and a dirty shirt under an unbuttoned a jacket filled with small holes. And the other boy is tall as well, but not so much, with short, untidy black hair. Even from here I can see his eyes are bright, somewhat hidden behind round glasses. And he's wearing rather nice black pants, a little loose though, and a clean, white shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and a vest over that as well.
He and the other boy are tossing a ball back and forth, laughing and talking with the girl as well. I move closer subtly as to be able to hear what they're saying.
"Work over the summer, it's cruel," the red-haired boy says.
The girl shakes her head, "Quite horrendous."
"What do you have to read Ginny?" the boy asks.
"Hogwarts: A History," she replies.
The taller boy catches the small leather ball and says, "Boring!"
What are hogwarts? And what's their boring history?
I inch closer to them, trying to hear more of what they're saying. Suddenly they're talking about school, teachers and lessons. Even the girl seems to understand what they're saying. Does she go to school with them? How?
I pretend to have something caught in my shoe and stop at the bench across from them to adjust my footing. As I sit down I hear them begin to talk about something particularly odd.
"And did you see what happened to Longbottom's potion the day before the second Hogsmeade weekend?" the red-haired boy laughs. "Explosions everywhere!"
The other two laugh along with him.
"I remember, Lavendar told me it was like a firework show!" the girl says.
Potion? What's a Hogsmeade weekend?
The boy with the black hair tosses the ball into the air, catching it again before throwing it back, "Snape must have loved that," he says sarcastically.
My ears perk up and my boot slips against the bench, hitting the ground below me with a dull thud. Snape? Are they talking about my Professor Snape? Why are they talking about my history tutor? Do they know him?
My hands are shaking and my heartbeat's quickening as I stand up and walk over to them. What have I got to lose if I go up to them and start a conversation about Professor Snape? We could talk about how odd he is together and maybe I could become friends with them!
I clear my throat as they're laughing dies down, they turn to look at me.
"I'm sorry if I'm intruding in anyway, but I couldn't help overhearing you mentioned a.... Snape?" I begin softly. "You didn't happen to mean Professor Snape did you?"
They exchange glances and the red-haired boy asks, "How do you know Professor Snape? What house are you in?"
I knot my eyebrows, "House?" I shake my head. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean-"
"But how do you know him?" the raven-haired boy asks kindly, and I notice his startling green eyes and rare lightening bolt scar for the first time.
I smile politely, "He's my history tutor," I reply. "Quite an odd man actually. I mean I suppose if you like dreary, snappy old men who can't bear to have someone else who knows the answers to their questions then he'd be your-"
"She's a muggle," the taller boy whispers vehemently to the other two.
"I beg your pardon!" I say loudly. "I most certainly am not!"
Although, I'm not sure what a muggle is.... But it's probably one of those foul words the servants use all the time that I'm just not sure about right now. At any rate it sounds rude and I don't think this sooty boy has any right to call me one. Who does he think he is anyway?
They look at me a little more friendly now.
"So you're a witch then?" the girl asks.
My mouth falls open, "Well, I didn't expect to get this kind of reaction when I decided to be friendly today!" I put my hands on my hips. "What with calling me a witch, and th-that-that other word!"
They look at each other, clearly confused.
I'm about to turn on my heal as I say, "Fine, that's fine, if you don't want to talk I'll just-"
"HERMIONE!"
I stop completely dead. The hairs on the back of my neck stand pinstraight and my blood runs cold. If I thought my heart was beating quickly before it's just one long heartbeat now. My limbs are stiff and my teeth feel itchy. I feel my hands trembling, balled up into fists against my skirt. Goosepimples form on my scalp and I don't move one bit.
I know who said my name.
And I know what's coming next.
"Hermione Jane Green how dare you disobey me!"
I swallow hard, finding the numbness in my body fading away. I turn around and face my father who is currently standing with a haggard, out of breath Charles.
"Papa, I'm sorry-"
"Don't you dare speak! Don't you even think about opening your mouth!" he practically screams this at me.
He's livid. His face is growing nearly purple and there's a vein pulsing on the inside of his forehead. I watch his eyes dart from me to the three behind me and then back to me. He's nearly emitting a torrent of anger and hate my way and I try to shield myself from it, all to no avail.
Heat creeps up my face as I realize how embarassing it is to be scolded in front of these three people I just met.
"We are going home, now," he barks at me, taking hold on my wrist and dragging me along like a rag doll. "Don't you think you'll ever be allowed out of the house again, not with this behavior. I don't care if you're with Mrs. Jacobs, myself, or even the blasted queen of England, you're not to go out again!" he shouts. "Do you hear me?"
I don't respond as he pulls me along harshly, tears are ripping at the back of my throat but I don't let them fall.
As Charles apologizes numerous times to my father who doesn't even acknowledge him at all, I look back.
The three are watching me as I'm pulled away. They all seem kind of panicked and they begin to talk hurriedly, watching me as I go. I don't understand why they seem so frantic. Or why I feel as if I could care less at this point. All I know right now is that I probably won't get to see them ever again, the three people that are the closest things I will ever get to friends.
Author's Note: Uh oh, what's gonna happen next? I don't know, I'll guess you'll
have to keep reading! Hope you liked it.... Please review.