"In prehistoric times, mankind often had only two choices in crisis situations: fight or flee. In modern times, humor offers us a third alternative; fight, flee - or laugh." – Robert Orben

By the time she was nine years old, Hermione Jean Granger already knew she was destined to be great.

At least, that is what she kept repeating to herself in her head as her father cursed her existence and said how she was a waste of time and money and that he had never wanted children but if she just had to be born why could she not have been born a boy?

Having had years of this abuse screamed at her, Hermione did not let it bother her much. She knew she was a failure and had already berated herself for the single B plus on an otherwise straight A grade report so she just let her father's words wash over her. That did not mean what he said did not hurt… but she learned long ago that tears would only enrage him even more.

If there was one thing her father hated more than mediocrity, it was weakness.

Dan Granger had grown up as the youngest of four boys and his bookish ways as well as scrawny build meant he got picked on a lot by his more athletic brothers. He endeavored to be better than them and he ended up becoming a very popular cosmetic surgeon who was sought after by the wealthy and celebrities. If his clients demanded no less than perfection from him, he expected no less than perfection from his family.

"We will not accept failure in this house. Your mother and I spend more money than we should on you and we expect that you will pay us back for all our hard work. That won't happen with these grades and I refuse to spend my hard-earned money or allow anyone unworthy to live under my roof. Do you understand?" Dan said coldly, holding her crumpled grade report in a tight white knuckled fist.

Hermione wondered if one day he would get angry enough and actually hit her. She would not put it past him.

"Yes father, I understand." Hermione said in a calm voice. As she did a slight curtsy she happened to catch the eye of her mother who was standing in the doorway to her father's private study. As usual, she refused to look Hermione in the eye.

Emma Granger was an only child of an upper class family who owned several chains of hotels. Being an heiress and very beautiful with straight brown hair and large expressive green eyes, Emma was the epitome of a trophy wife so her parents expected her to marry well. They even had hopes that she would marry into the British Royal Family.

Marrying the handsome and distinguished Dan Granger was almost as good as a wealthy Lord with a list of titles so Emma decided to push her parents' aspirations for her onto her future children, even though Dan had been adamant that he did not want children for at least their first ten years together if at all.

She had been beyond ecstatic when she found out after seven years of marriage that she was pregnant and almost delirious when she found out she was having a girl. With Dan wanting as little to do with their child except that she should never negatively impact their social image, Emma put her plans into action as soon as little Hermione was born.

A premier private school for the gifted where Hermione would rub elbows with the future movers and shakers of their country, lessons for ballroom dancing, French and Latin as well as etiquette; Emma was determined that her daughter would be somebody.

Despite being thrilled at how fast Hermione soaked up this knowledge and retained it, Emma could not help but be heavily disappointed in her daughter's looks.

She often wondered if she should've just never had a child.

"I expect better from you Hermione in the fall quarter. Do not disappoint me." Dan finished gruffly before rising from his black leather ottoman chair. Already dressed in a dark blue Armani suit with sterling silver cufflinks, he grabbed his briefcase, nodded at his wife and strode out the front door to go to work.

It was silent for a moment, as Hermione kept trying to force her mother to look at her and Emma refused to.

"Breakfast is ready." Emma finally said, turning around sharply and walking down the hall to the kitchen. Hermione sighed quietly and smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in her tan and white checkered sundress. By the time she slid into her seat at the small island counter that jutted out from the wall, a plate of toast with grape jelly and a poached egg along with orange juice was waiting.

Her parents preferred to take their meals in the formal dining room while Hermione ate alone in the kitchen. She liked it a lot better, the few times she had eaten with her parents the silence was so suffocating she felt like she might choke to death on the lump that rose in her throat.

Hermione often wondered what it felt like to be loved. Well for a year or two she had her nanny Nicole, a very young and blonde French woman who would give her hugs, tuck her in at night and comfort her with kisses when people would pick on her looks and that she was a know-it-all.

"Mon Cheri, I love you very much." Nicole would always say and clean her face of tear streaks before making her whatever dessert she wanted. Hermione loved being called Mon Cheri because she felt like she meant something to someone finally.

Hermione actually was physically ill for two weeks when her stone-faced mother informed her that the "French tart" was the day after Hermione had heard her father making Nicole cry hysterically behind the locked door of his private office.

Hermione was interrupted by her musings when her mother came into the kitchen with her plate and she quickly finished her juice before hopping down to bring her own plate to the sink. Emma still refused to make eye contact as she took Hermione's plate and said, "I'm going to run a few errands today and neither your father nor I will be home until it is time for supper. Since it's the first day of your summer holiday, you may do as you wish up until that time."

"Yes Mother." Hermione said before rushing out the kitchen and down two hallways before running up three flights of the white marble staircase to her room on the uppermost level of the house.

There was only one large central room on the third floor of the house with a single bathroom attached to it. The walls were painted a soft pale green with caramel colored hardwood floors and a white door that led to the small balcony that overlooked the backyard. There were several floors to ceiling windows with white billowing curtains that made the room seem more airy.

A large queen sized been with a lavender and rose patterned bedspread was in the middle of the room against the wall with thick white canopy curtains for privacy. Emma had a white princess-like vanity with a large mirror set up filled to the brim with makeup and other beauty accessories only to be disappointed that Hermione didn't even touch it.

She spent most of her time in her slightly bedraggled maroon beanbag chair that sat next to the huge bookshelves that lined one whole wall of her room. Her mother had almost had a heart attack when Hermione had brought the thing home from their neighbors down the street's curbside trash.

Hermione went to her closet and put on her tan sun hat with a white ribbon tied around it and grabbed a tote bag to put books in. She went to her mini fridge and gathered some snacks before looking in the mirror at herself.

"Am I really that ugly?" Hermione asked her reflection. It didn't answer her with words but instead showed her appearance. Mousy brown hair that curled into a tangled mess and dull brown eyes with pale skin that burned easy in the sun and splotchy freckles covered her face. Her nose was too small for her face and she was chubby for her age especially compared to her doll-like classmates. Large buckteeth came into existence when she opened her mouth and her eyelashes were way too long.

"I guess I am." Hermione said slightly sad but she straightened herself up and repeated her mantra. "I'm smart, I'm dedicated and I'm destined for greatness."

Making sure her keys were in her bag before she left, Hermione walked down the three blocks to Islington Park, humming a little jingle she had heard several times from a commercial on the telly. Despite the attitude of her parents and peers, Hermione was a rather cheerful girl although she did have terrible self-esteem issues once someone pointed out her self-perceived flaws.

Her usual perch was a small grey bench that was somewhat on the very edge of the park, deep enough where the hustle and bustle of cars didn't bother her but close enough to run to safety should anything happen. Unfortunately there were several kids her age playing by her bench and Hermione slightly hesitated.

"Get a grip!" Hermione whispered under her breath and squeezed the straps of her tote bag as she drew closer to the children. Upon seeing her, the kids stopped playing and looked at her with various expressions of confusion, expectancy and something that bordered on hostility.

Hermione swallowed and offered them a shaky smile. "Greetings, my name is Hermione and I w-was wondering if I could… have my spot please."

One girl stepped forward and with blond ringlets she looked identical to the same kids that bullied her at school.

"I don't see your name on it. So it's not your spot." She said rudely. Hermione pursed her lips.

"But it's where I always sit to read." One boy with brown hair and angry green eyes snorted. "Who reads at the park?" Some of his friends laughed and Hermione felt ashamed to feel the heat that was beginning to flush her face.

"Well I- "Why don't you just go away freak. We don't want you here." The blond girl interrupted her. The other children agreed and started saying their own slurs.

"Ugly!"

"Freak!"

"She probably doesn't have any friends."

"Freak!"

"Aw look at the baby cry!"

Hermione couldn't take any more and as the first tears fell she spun on her heel and ran deeper into the park. Their words echoed in her head and only seemed to confirm what her parents would tell her with their eyes and how they treated her. No one loved her and no one cared about her.

She was too ugly for love.

Hermione didn't stop running until she almost ran into a large tree. She looked around with blurry eyes and saw that she seemed to be at the very center of the park, farther than she had ever been, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She dropped to her knees and snatched off her bag to look for some tissues as she continued to cry and hiccup softly.

"Uhm… are you okay?"

Hermione looked up and saw a boy about her age standing in front of her awkwardly shifting from one foot to the next. He was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt and was carrying what looked like a thick black coat in his arms. He had straight black hair that came to his ears and slightly concerned grey eyes. Funny, she didn't see him in the group that she just ran from.

Hermione swallowed thickly and turned her head. "If you followed me all this way just to call me names, go on ahead and get it over. I doubt there's anything you can say that I haven't already heard."

The boy's eyebrow furrowed. "Why would I call you names? I don't even know you."

"It hasn't stopped anyone before!" Hermione retorted and ducked her head as a new batch of tears sprang forth. Where were her tissues?!

"Well whoever called you a name is stupid. You don't seem too bad to me." Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm ugly, I'm a freak and I have no friends."

Hermione started when the boy squatted down to her level and peered intently into her teary eyes. She flushed but continued to keep up eye contact with the strange boy and waited for him to inevitably see what so many other people apparently saw.

"You don't look ugly to me." He declared and stood up. Hermione gaped at him rather unladylike as he dropped his coat on the grass and started climbing what she saw was now a large oak tree with its lowest branches starting merely a foot off the ground. He pulled out a bright red apple from his pocket and tossed it toward the shocked girl before pulling one out for himself.

"What do you mean I don't look ugly?! Of course I look ugly!" Hermione yelled. She gripped the apple tightly and stood up when the boy merely smirked at her.

"You said you were ugly and I looked at you and said you weren't ugly. Simple." He shrugged as he took a large bite of his snack. Hermione couldn't believe him, how dare he mock her?!

"Don't lie to me! Tell me I'm ugly!" Hermione ordered and the boy looked at her with shock and amusement. "You know… you're the first girl I've met that's told me to call her ugly."

Hermione felt her temper flare up and all the etiquette lessons fly out the window. She swore she was seeing red.

"Don't lie to me!" The boy now frowned at her. "I'm not lying. You aren't ugly."

Hermione stamped her foot and the boy snickered. "Well, somebody has a temper."

Hermione didn't mean to, she really didn't but he just infuriated her so much… that she acted without thinking. Just as the boy went to take another bite of his apple, Hermione's own apple connected directly to his forehead, causing him to fall off his branch.

Hermione gasped and grabbed her skirt as she ran over, praying he wasn't injured. Except for the small red spot where the apple had hit that he was gingerly rubbing, he was alright and was looking up at her with a look of shock, delight and slight awe.

"I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me!" Hermione said quickly as she helped him up. He shook his head and held out his hand.

"I'm sorry for not introducing myself first. My name is Sirius Black." Hermione grabbed his hand and felt her face heat up as bowed slightly and kissed her hand.

"My name is Hermione-" Sirius held up a finger and grinned. "Since you decided to attack me, I think it's only fair I call you what I want."

Hermione eyed him warily and somewhat wearily but she nodded.

"I'm going to call you fire cracker!"

And so starts a friendship.

Trying something new that I've yet to see in all the Harry Potter fanfiction I've read and yes I will begin to update my older stories! Tell me what you think! Any ideas or things you'd like to see, just let me know!

Your reviews channel my imagination

- Verdant