The Worst Summer of My Life

lilymione1203

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 18/01/2010
Last Updated: 18/01/2010
Status: in_progress

My first "Hermione rant" chapter fic! Hermione's point of view, storyline is under lock and key! You'll just have to read to find out... Reviews MUCH appreciated :)

Chapters

1. Mud

1. Mud

Yes, yes, didn’t she just do a really long chapter fic that wasn’t that great? Yes- but I need something to do and this is totally different. I’m really excited to write this and I hope it gets good reviews. Hermione’s pov. That’s all I’m going to say. Details will come later- speculation is all part of the fun, right? It shouldn’t be confusing- you’re just going to have questions. Probably….hahaha Anyway, hope you like this one- happy reading!

Rain. Again.

Of course it would rain today; I should have known. Is my monthly bill going to arrive later as well? Swarms of acne plague my face? Deodorant fail to do its job? My guess would be all of the above, because, after all, this is my personal hell.

D’you know what the rain does to a head of hair like mine? Have you ever heard of a little thing called Chewbacca? Yeah...

I faced the gates of satan’s fortress, my arms and other wondrous parts drenched in perspiration from the muggy air- not that you could tell in this weather. Fat drops of rain splattered off my canvas hat, drooping over the sides of my face as buckets of water poured off the brim. Glops of mud clung to my wellies, streaks of dirty water running down my bare legs as I stood there, surreptitiously disgruntled.

Hahahahahahahahahahahaha

I’m just kidding. I was blatant and overtly disgruntled.

A look of purest loathing worked its way across my face, streams of liquid gliding down my nose and diving to the filthy earth. My bags were glued to the ground on either side of me, sticking out at odd angles as they slid deeper into the mud. I held onto a small, crumpled satchel, the drenched material quivering in my fist as the rain stung at my hands.

I mentally cringed, cursing everything from Merlin to my satin knickers, soaked in all the wrong ways.

A heavy breath escaped my lips, mingling in the sticky air as tiny droplets danced around it. I closed my eyes and reopened them slowly, hoping I had somehow transported to somewhere else- anywhere else, but found to my great displeasure that I was still in the exact same place I was standing.

The Burrow.

What kind of a stupid name is that anyway? The Burrow. Who names a house? Is it inhabited by a family of bunnies? That almost sounds cute, but I’ve done my research. Do you know what a burrow is? IT’S A HOLE. Why would you want to live in a place called ‘the hole?’ Like a rat hole? That’s the first word that comes to mind when you think of the words ‘live’ and ‘hole’- it just doesn’t make any sense.

And do you know what kind of animals live in burrows? I’ll give you bunnies- if I had to pick one It’d be that; who doesn’t love bunnies? But I’ll provide you a list and you tell me if it gets more appealing: let’s see, there’s worms. Lovely. Spiders- how dashing; Ron adores those. Sea urchins- does the word ‘urchin’ have any positive connotations to you? I think not. Crabs- hopefully nobody here has that. I’ll go to the loo outside thank you very much.

A sudden urge to flee sprang to my mind, a voice telling me to run as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Images of Forrest Gump swam into view, replaced by my own sprinting figure...in an evening gown. With flowing chestnut ringlets cascading down my backless dress, swirling in the glow of the waning moonlight. A slight flush to my cheeks as pouty lips panted in the darkness, ruby red and shimmering with desire. Boasting cleavage bobbing in slow motion as I turned to glance behind me, dainty hands brushing my face while batting lashes fluttered with mystique.

Yeah, I’d never look like that.

Have you ever seen the Patterson video? You know, the homemade movie from the 1960’s- of bigfoot taking a stroll through the forest? That’s me.

I don’t think running away would really work out to my advantage. Not only because I haven’t run in forever, but I might end up taking the entirety of the Weasley’s backyard with me, thoroughly caked on my boots. Another sigh made its presence known, my eyes wandering about the grimy porch littered with tangled shoes. A gnome was huddled in the corner, sniffing a grubby sneaker before passing out from the stench. How I envy him.

I continued to ponder my options- drowning, starvation, some sort of poisonous concoction I could whip up in the shed- but none seemed to ease my avail. If only my shoes had laces! Then I could strangle myself with the coiled hemp. I wonder if that gnome’s finished with the sneaker…

I craned my neck around the leaning post that stabilized the entrance, splintered wood jutting forward at an awkward slant. Stretching ever closer, I peered at a grubby lump toward the far edge, squinting my eyes to get a better focus. Rain continued to pour relentlessly upon my sopping form, frazzled and frayed no doubt from the monsoon.

My weight shifted to the left side of my body, waders glued to the ground like cement. Was the wicked thing sleeping? Balancing a finger on the handle of my trunk, I careened toward the dozing creature, unconsciously holding my breath as I did so. My eyes were nearly slits they were straining so hard, my forehead hurting from the pressure exerted on it. Is it taking a dump?

Suddenly, the edge of my hat plopped in front of my eyes with a ‘splash’, water gushing from the folded brim and flooding my face and shirt. I shrieked in surprise and tried to jump back, throwing myself off balance. I wobbled and teetered, arms flailing about in a wild frenzy, trying with all my strength to regain my composure, when denim collided with sludge.

I felt my rear end hit the ground with a sickening smush- my eyes round as saucers with mouth held agape. I wanted to die. To make matters worse, I was eye-level with my ugly black boots, hand-me-downs from my father and smelling of fish - still standing upright where my feet had been moments ago. Mocking me.

I looked down at my feet, which I could no longer find, and flitted my head to the left- smacking myself in the face with sopping wet tendrils. My trunk had decided to spontaneously spring open, the sum of its contents spilling out onto the lawn that was now primordial soup. Quills and parchment littered the ground, textbooks and ink bottles sinking before my very eyes. Could this day get any worse?

Slightly louder than the patter of rain on the earth, I heard a quiet laughter ringing out behind me, poorly suppressed sniggers ridiculing my misfortune. I turned my head at a snail’s pace, praying it was just my imagination, when I blushed the color of a ripened tomato- sizzling the raindrops right off my face.

This was going to be the worst summer of my life.

A/N: Whatdja think? You don’t really know a whole lot yet, but that’s all part of the fun. I know it was short, but the chapters will get longer, I promise. This is going to be like a chapter Hermione rant…I think lol. I don’t know if I can outdo Hermione’s Misfortune, but I’m going to give it a go : ) Hope you enjoyed, lemme know what you think!!!!!!!