A/N: Okay, this is a new story inspired by the Challenge by Carlo. It's based on the song "Runaway Love." This is not a fluffy story. This is not a story that will end in a happy ending. It will of course, end H/Hr, but it won't be a good journey for them, especially Hermione. For all y'all reading Ain't Life Grand, I'm still writing, but I really want to write this story. This story is NOT fluff. I don't care if you don't like it. Real life isn't about fairy tales and happy endings. This story will contain sensitive subject matter (child abuse). If you want to read it, good. You realize life is hard. If you don't, please don't flame me. The story can stay, I'm not going into any graphics. But it's rated NC-17 because of sensitive subject matter. Now this author's note is getting to be too long, so let's get on with the story.
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Twelve year-old Hermione Granger sat with her back against her headboard and tried hard to drown out the sounds of her mother and stepfather's voices by reading Hogwarts, A History for the fourth time since she'd come home for summer break. It wasn't working.
Maybe that's the reason she's read it so much, because that was the only thing that could actually take her mind away from her situation at hand. But not this time.
Hogwarts most prevalent Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, improved the school system by-
"Well I don't care what the fuck you say! Who the hell do you think -"
-by adding a-
"I never asked for your opinion! Why don't you just get the FUCK out of here!"
-adding an excellent grading system that-
SLAM!
The slam of the door startled Hermione and she dropped her book. She looked up and saw the picture on her wall come crashing down. The glass on the frame broke. She got up from her bed and walked slowly towards it. It was a picture of her, Harry, and Ron. She picked it up and sat back on the edge of her bed.
Hermione smiled sadly as she remembered her times at Hogwarts with her friends. It was the best year of her life since her father left. It was so fun at Hogwarts…plus she was away from home.
Only six more weeks, she thought. Six more weeks and I can get out of here…and go home. She smiled at the thought. Nothing but hang out at the lake with her friends, her true friends, with no worry, sleep comfortably at night without being…
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She heard her mother banging around in the kitchen, no doubt looking for some alcohol to drink herself to oblivion. She looked back at the picture.
They were her first and true friends, Harry and Ron. When she went to muggle school she couldn't be friends with anyone else. She was just too scared that people would figure out what was going on with her at home. She never had any friends. Well, except for one. But Hermione didn't like to think about that. She sighed and put the picture down.
She got up and walked to her desk and pulled out a picture from the draw, a picture of her and her father when she was seven. She looked at her father and felt a tear roll down her cheek.
Hermione didn't know where her father was. He just disappeared. She remembered it so clearly. He came in at night to say goodnight to Hermione, and in the morning he was gone. She remembered asking her mother here her father had gone, begging her to bring him back, but to no prevail. That's when it all started.
Her mother had started drinking heavily after he left. Soon after that her mother would get angry at Hermione for no reason and would hit her, ever since she was seven. And then when she was nine, her mother met a man, Michael, and they were married within six months.
Hermione didn't like to think about Michael. She hated Michael. She'd never hated anyone more than that man.
She ran her fingers over the picture of her father. He'll come back, she thought. He'll come back and save me.
The door opened slowly and Hermione hid the picture under her pillow. She looked at her visitor and sighed in relief. It was just her little sister. Unfortunately. Hermione hated her little sister too, as well as her mother. Nobody bothered her little sister. Nobody bothered Becca. Just Hermione.
"What do you want," Hermione asked. Becca walked to her bed and jumped up on it and sat down next to her. Becca was seven, she didn't know about her and Hermione's real father. She thought Michael was her father. She thought Michael was the best thing. And Michael never bothered Becca. Hermione felt a surge of anger just thinking about that. Becca held Hermione's hand.
"Mum says to go get some milk from the store," Becca said. "Can I come with you?" Hermione sighed. "Whatever."
It didn't matter if Hermione hated her little sister. She had to protect her. She always hung around Becca, and made sure nothing happened to her. Nothing did, and Hermione hated her.
Becca stood up. "Well let's go Mione! Let's take the long way to the store, it's nice outside."
Hermione stood up and slipped her shoes on. "Okay, let's go."
Hermione and Becca walked into the living room. Hermione's mother was sitting at the kitchen counter, her eyes full of tears and one eye black. Hermione stared at her mother and scoffed and shook her head. She hated her mother. Serves her right, She thought. It's her own damn fault.
She grabbed some money from her mother's purse (not like she'd notice) and grabbed Becca's hand. "C'mon, let's go." The both walked out the door of their apartment and climbed down the steps and walked out into the sunshine.
"Are we taking the long way Mione? It's really nice, I don't want to go back home yet."
"Me neither."
They took the long way to the store, each enjoying being away from home for different reasons.
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