Chapter Text
She heard whispers around her in the darkened room. It’d been going on all night, and Hermione didn’t know what to do. Something was out to get her. She wasn’t insane. She couldn’t possibly be imagining it. It was real. Real and scary.
Hermione was huddled up on the corner of her spacious sofa. Well, actually it was her mother’s sofa. She was in her mother’s beachhome right now. Normally, Hermione lived with her father after the divorce. But this summer, in celebration of Hermione finishing up her education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hermione’s mum had insisted on Hermione coming to spend time with her before Hermione started next year at her new fancy Ministry job with the Department of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Hermione had agreed because she’d thought it might be relaxing. Like a fool, Hermione had even left behind her wand, as her mother had requested.
Little did Hermione Granger know that this would be the biggest mistake of her short-lived life.
Thunder boomed outside of the house. Hermione pulled the blanket over herself tighter, scooting closer to the side of the sofa that was farthest from the window and door. In one hand, Hermione clutched at her bottle of vodka — the only thing that was keeping her calm from the Bad Things that were out to get her. In her other hand, Hermione was tightly grasping her Muggle mobile phone; she cradled it to her chest like a baby — for after all, if the Bad Things were planning to strike at her tonight, Hermione knew that her Muggle mobile would be her best chance at calling for help.
Her breath caught in her throat when she heard a loud hacking cough reverberating throughout the house. Who could that even be? Hermione was supposed to be alone tonight? Hermione rocked back and forth, her knees pulled to her chest. She prayed to Circe’s tits that she would escape from this place alive. What was she even thinking — fool that she was, to ever go on vacation without her wand?
A witch needs her bloody wand! Hermione could hear Ronald Bloody Weasley’s belligerent voice in her mind scolding her smugly. Her arch-rival in Gryffindor — the ignorant bloody gingerbread only existed to be the bane of her existence ever since he’d stolen her only friend Harry Potter away from her, and he’d then proceeded on some sort of a failed crusade to try to one-up her in her classes from then on! But that duffer Weasley had a point here, Hermione had to concede. — Without her wand, Hermione was a sitting duck, no stronger than a frail Muggle girl. She had doomed herself this summer, and she did not like it. Panic tightened around her chest.
The phone rang, still clutched in Hermione’s hand.
Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound. Then she chided herself afterwards internally. She felt like a fool. This was nothing. Just an innocent, normal phone call. Hermione didn’t need to call the bloody Aurors for something this simple and stupid. She didn’t want to see Harry Potter’s and Ronald Weasley’s stupid trainee Auror faces anytime soon.
Hermione picked up the call.
“Hello?” Hermione murmured shakily into her mobile phone.
“Do you like scary movies?”