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Behind Her Eyes by BrownxEyedxGirl

Format: Novella
Chapters: 3
Word Count: 5,419
Status: WIP

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Language

Genres: Drama, Romance, Action/Adventure
Characters: Hermione, Draco, OC
Pairings: Draco/Hermione

First Published: 07/11/2009
Last Chapter: 08/30/2010
Last Updated: 08/30/2010

Summary:


Hermione Granger has been missing for over ten years. No one has seen her. Except one person, her daughter. She's Hermione's best kept secret, but she's on a mission to uncover the secrets of her mother's past - starting with the father she never knew. [Banner by me]


Chapter 1: Prologue
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A/N: I'm back to writing after a very, very long break. I've had this story in mind for even longer than my break and I've had the first for chapters written for just as long. They've been constantly reread and rewritten. I've finally gotten inspiration back - so I hope to be updating often. Please review, it really motivates me and helps me improve!

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything. The plot and any character you don't recognize are mine.





Prologue:

It was cold and windy; the chilly December air held a silence that could only scream snow. It was getting late but I could still see people walking along the streets from where I was hidden. A few would pause or hesitate awkwardly, having spotted my shadow or a brief moment when the light hit my hair.

I didn’t blame them for not stopping – I would do the same. I’m small and insignificant; no one knew who I was.

I had found a good hiding spot for the night, if I said so myself. Tucked away in a small alleyway, hidden mostly from the wind, I sat curled in a ball. My clothes were light, clearly I hadn’t planned well for this little expedition of mine. I gathered the flimsy cloth harder against my body, trying to create warmth.

I was cold, I was tired and I was ready to give up.

I could be warm in my bed at school. I could be learning, laughing with my friends – wait, scratch that. I’ve never had any friends and I doubt that would change now.

I only have one friend, my best friend.

My throat tightened and I could feel the wetness pool in my eyes as I pictured her in my mind. Her eyes alight with excitement, the corners crinkled from years of laughing.

My mother.

The pain of how much I missed her hit me full force, causing me to let out a strangled sob. The sound startled a little boy and his father as they exited a door near the entrance of the alley. They glanced my way but then continued on.

Once I gained control of my emotions, my thoughts wandered back to my mother. I was so much like her. Which probably explains why I’m still huddled in the cold and determined to do not give up, after all, I’m not just doing this for myself, I know it’ll help her in the end too.

Pulling an old newspaper out of my pocket, I opened to the centerfold. The page was wrinkled and worn – most likely from me staring at the same picture all night, every night.

And tonight was no different. I stared at the picture in the center; the reason that I ran away, that I’m sitting here, alone in the cold.

I knew that I was getting closer to my destination, to getting my answers. I was closer than I’d ever dreamed of getting – but I was still so far away, I’m not sure if I can make it through this cold. Folding up the paper, I laid on the frozen ground and closed my eyes, it must’ve started to snow. I could feel the frozen flakes land on my bare skin. I shivered once and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2: Persephone
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A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews everyone, you guys are really lovely. Here's another chapter for your enjoyment.




I'm only ten years old and it’s obvious I've inherited my mother's intelligence. In fact, I'm just about the spitting image of my mother. Except, of course, for one pale, silver eye. Yes, just one. Before you start picturing me as a Cyclops or something, let me explain.

When I was born, I had two chocolate brown eyes, just like my mother. As a toddler, I still had those pools of chocolate for eyes but, occasionally, they would take on a pale blue hue. My mother told me this when I was younger. By the time I was four, I no longer had two chocolate brown eyes. I had one eye identical to that of my mother and the other eye, well, I can only assume is identical to that of my father.

I have never met my father. My mother talks about him rarely. However, I remember once, after coming home from school and being teased for my unmatched eyes, asking her why I was cursed with this evil, cold silver eye. Why couldn't I just have the warm, smiling, chocolate brown eyes that she had? My mother gathered me up in her arms and sat me on her lap. I remember burying my head into her cotton sweater as she rubbed my back slowly.

"Persephone," she said, "you are the most beautiful person I know." I continued to cry. She had always told me I was beautiful but the truth was, I felt ugly, awkward, and just all wrong in her presence. She was the most beautiful woman, the most amazing mother, the best friend I could ever ask for, and I felt like nothing compared to her.

I remember responding to her attempts to soothe me. "B-but my eye's d-don't match." I said quietly, wiping my tears on her sweater. I remember this perfectly now. She lifted up my chin and her chocolate brown eyes, swimming with tears, bore into mine. "Oh, Perse," She said, slowly caressing my cheek. "You'll soon learn that your eyes are beautiful. They make you unique."

I stared back into her eyes and realized just how amazing my mother was. Every emotion was shown in her eyes and I knew then, that she could read me like an open book. I remember avoiding her gaze. "B-but I want your eyes, Mummy. I h-hate this light one. It's j-just so cold an-and ugly." I was still crying uncontrollably as she held me closer to her.

"Persephone, look at me." I slowly looked up at her. "I want you to know something." She took a deep breath as she wiped some tears off my face. "Your father had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. They were pale pools of silver and I fell in love with them." She started crying too. "They brought me comfort when I was sad and they rejoiced with me when I was happy." I remember sitting there on her lap, no longer crying but in shock; my mother never talked about my father. "You should be proud to have that silver eye, Perse. It makes you more beautiful than you know."

We both sat there quietly, enjoying each other’s company. I remember sitting there for what may have been hours before I finally spoke. "Do I remind you of him?" My mother looked at me, a watery smile on her face. "Yes, very much." I remember being immensely happy at this comment.

"That still doesn't explain why I have mismatched eyes, Mummy." She laughed. "Well, Perse, I think you should know that your parents were both very stubborn people." I didn't notice it then but her face became vacant for a second as her eyes seemed to be remembering something, then she turned back to me. "I suppose even our genes were stubborn as well, so they just couldn't decide if you'd have my eyes or your father's. That's why you have one of each." She smiled and played with my hair.

I was no longer upset, in fact, I remember being completely ecstatic. We sat there for awhile. "I love you, Mummy." She smiled. "I love you too, Babe." We laughed as she began tickling me. I screeched in laughter. She stopped, all traces of any of our tears gone. "So, what do'ya want for dinner?"

That was about two years ago. I remember it perfectly. It was one of the very few times that my mother has ever mentioned my father. The only things I know about him are that he was stubborn, had silver eyes and that he was gone way before I was born. I know it wasn't much to go off of, but I was determined to one day find this man that my mother once loved but left us both behind.





Now I'm ten and I know that I can find him one day. It will take time, determination, and brains. I suppose it's a good thing I've inherited my mother's cleverness. Oh, Mother, there is no way I can ever let you know of my plans to find my father. I don't want to worry or upset you.

I knew that my father had left her hurting. Her heart was broken; I could see that clearly in her eyes. But my mother is so strong. She is the Hermione Granger after all. Although, few people in our town are aware of this. The Hermione Granger they know does not have a daughter. The Hermione Granger they know is supposed to be in London with her best pals, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. The Hermione Granger they know has not been around for more than ten years.

I know of my mother's adventures with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. She's told me about every single one, multiple times of course. She told me about her life before she loved my father, before me. After those stories, I wanted nothing more than to meet Harry and Ron but I knew that I couldn't. I could see that my mother loved them both very much and that she missed them. I never knew the whole story though. She never told me about the secrets that she kept from them, from my father and even from me. I was bothered that she kept these secrets from me. I am her only daughter, she could tell me everything, right?

I remember one night before bed she told me the story of her favorite adventure. It was during her third year at Hogwarts, when she was given a timeturner. I was snuggled in my bed, my pale green comforter up to my chin and tucked in around me. My mother was wearing her favorite flannel pajama bottoms and a white shirt. Her curly hair was wild and pulled back from her face, which was lit with excitement. "So, Harry and I went back three hours in time." She smiled as she got up and pretended to be turning the timeturner. "We knew that we had to save Sirius Black but Dumbledore told us another life could be saved. This is where Harry and I were stumped." I remember sitting in my bed, anticipation course through my veins. "Buckbeak!" I shouted. "You had to save Buckbeak!" My mother jumped up. "Yes, of course! Buckbeak, he was a hippogriff, needed to be saved as well. So, we set out to Hagrids.."

She always got into the stories; acting out and doing voices. My favorite was when she told me that Buckbeak was sentenced to death because he apparently attacked a student. At which point she scoffed, saying that was the biggest piece of crap she's ever heard. Telling me that some foul-git named Malfoy had insulted the hippogriff, causing him to lash out and scratch him. I always laughed at my mother's impersonation of Malfoy's girly screams and yells.

But tonight was different. This was the last night of August, the last night of the summer, not to mention the last night that I would be home. Tomorrow would be my first day of school. My first day at Beauxbatons School of Magic. I’m very excited, nervous, and scared. I would be leaving behind my mum, the woman that was by my side whenever I needed her and taught me everything that I knew. But most of all, I would be leaving behind my best friend, my only friend. As much as I wanted to go to Beauxbatons and learn magic, I would much rather stay here, with my mum, or if I could only attend Hogwarts, the place where my mother grew up but she won’t allow it.

She says it’s because we live too far away. I say we could always move back to London but she won’t hear any of it.

My mother moved away from London when I was an infant. She left behind everyone she knew and brought us here, to a small village in France. She got a job as a healer in a small, wizarding hospital in St. Malo. She loved her job and she loved living in France. I loved being here too, but I couldn’t help but feel that something was missing, like a huge piece of the puzzle was left behind back in London and I felt like I needed to go find that. As my mother tucked me into bed that night and climbed in next to me, I had no idea that the next morning I would find a major sign towards what was left back in London.

Chapter 3: Beauxbatons
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I guess you could say that I’m very observant. I often find myself looking at families. Looking between the parents and their four year old child, I see immediately that the child has his father’s eyes, his mother’s nose and mouth, but his hair is almost a perfect blend of his parents.

Seeing this always led me to spending an absurd amount of time looking in the mirror at my face. I see my mother’s mouth and facial structure. I see her one brown eye. I see that I have the wild curls like my mother, but the color is lighter. Her hair is a rich, darker brown where mine is a sandy, dirty blonde. I can only conclude that my father had blonde hair and I, as a result, have a hair color that is most likely a blend between my parents. I found myself staring in the mirror on the morning that I was leaving for school.

 I fingered the bridge of my nose. I had yet to conclude whose nose I had inherited. It could be my mother’s but then I suppose it could be my father’s. I have no clue what his nose looked like. I sighed. “Dad, what did you look like?” I said quietly, staring into the mirror. I slowly jumped down from the bathroom countertop and walked downstairs into the kitchen.

 My Mum was there, standing in front of the stove flipping pancakes. “Good Morning, Perse. You excited?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table. The moment I sat down my Mum placed a huge plate of chocolate chip pancakes (my favorite) in front of me. She handed me a fork and kissed the top of my head. “I’m going to miss you, Perse.” She sat down across from me with her own plate of pancakes.

 “I’m gonna miss you too.” I pushed my pancakes around.

 “I have something for you.” She got up and went over to the hall closet.

 “Really?”

 She smiled widely and nodded. She pulled a cage out of the closet and in it was the most beautiful storm gray owl.

 “Oh! Mum! An owl?”

 “Mmhm.” Her smile had overtaken her face.

 “I love you!” I wrapped my arms tight around her waist and buried my face into her shirt, “Thank you! Thank you!” I said once I finally unwrapped my arms from her. I took the cage from her outstretched hand and placed it on the table. Picking up a piece of pancake, I reached into the cage and fed the beautiful bird.

 “What’s her name? Is it a her?” I asked excitedly.

 “Yes, and you can name her whatever you’d like.” She ran her fingers through my hair.

 “Hmm..I think you look like a Helen. Do you agree?” The owl hooted happily in agreement as I feed her some more pancakes.

 “Helen is a beautiful name, Perse.” She handed me a packet of owl treats. “This means you can write to me anytime you want.” She sat down next to me.

 “Really?” I asked.

 “Of course!” She smiled. “I want to hear all about school and the friends you’ll meet.”

 I sat on her lap and hugged her. “I love you, Mummy. I’m gonna miss you a lot.”

 “I’m gonna miss you too, Spark.” She hugged me and I laughed at the nickname. She made it up years ago and I fear I will never live it down. It was all because of my lack of control on my magic when I was younger. For a whole week, nearly everything I touched started to spew red sparks. I nearly drove my Mum mad touching everything within my reach. From then on she called me Spark.

 Sitting on my Mum’s lap, I continued to eat my pancakes. “I can still come home for Christmas, right?” Christmas was my favorite holiday, well, besides Halloween (which is also my birthday). My mother and I always had so much fun decorating the house with tons of lights, drinking egg nog and eating lots of cookies in the middle of the night.

“You better come home, silly. I can’t imagine a Christmas without you.” She stole my fork and ate some of my pancakes.

 “Hey! Stop stealing my food!” I laughed.

“Come on, Spark. Let’s go get your stuff. You don’t want to be late.” She lifted me off her lap, picked up our empty dishes and walked to the sink. “If you wash these plates, I’ll go get your luggage.” She fed Helen a few owl treats.

“Okay.” I said, standing up and turning on the faucet, rinsing off the plates. Mum turned around and went back upstairs to get my things out of my room.

 I hummed to myself, scrubbing the plates with a sponge when I heard a tap on the window. Looking up, I saw the usual brown owl that delivered the Daily Prophet every morning. I opened up the window, picked up a knut that my mum usually left lying on the window sill and placed it in a pouch attached to the owl’s leg. I put the Daily Prophet on the counter as I put the clean plates into the cupboards.

I sat down at the table and opened up the Prophet to a random section. Flipping through, a face seemed to jump out at me.

“Perse!” My Mum yelled from the living room. “Hurry up, Spark, we’re gonna be late.” I quickly shut the paper and shoved it into my pocket. “Coming, Mum.”

I entered the living room to see mum standing by the door, my luggage piled high next to her. “Don’t forget Helen.” She pulled her wand out of her pant pocket and levitated Helen over to us. Sitting the beautiful bird on top of my luggage, she placed her wand back in her pocket. “Come on, Hun. Put on your trainers. Okay? Ready?” She grabbed my hand.

 I looked around the house quickly. “Yup. Let’s go.” I was excited now.

“Okay, hold on tight!” My mum grasped my hand tight and turned on the spot. I only apparated a few times but the feeling was still unpleasant. The feeling lifted a few seconds later. I opened my eyes to find myself in front of a dingy looking hotel.

“Um, Mum? This isn’t it, is it?” I asked slowly.

 She laughed. “Of course not, Spark!” She smiled. “This is where I leave you to travel to Beauxbatons.”

“You’re leaving me? Here?”

“No, not yet. We have to go inside.” She grabbed my hand and we walked towards the doors. The place looked completely deserted. The hotel was about seven floors high; windows were broken and boarded up, the white walls were dirty and looked tan. We reached the doors and pushed them open.

The inside didn’t even compare to the outside. The hardwood floors gleamed and lights floated close to the ceiling. The walls were a deep golden yellow and beautiful paintings hung from the walls. Unlike outside, the entire hotel was packed with students, their family and piles of luggage.

 A man in a red velvet uniform with gold buttons rang a bell. The lobby of the hotel went quiet. “O’kay. I need zee firss yeers to go down zee ‘allway to ze left.” My mother started pushing me to the left. As I went into the hallway, I heard the man tell the second years to go up the stairs to the second floor.

I entered into the hallway with a bunch of other first years and their family. The hallway was long and there were rows of doors on each side. We met another man in a red suit. “Pleese pair up and line up next to zee doors.” His accent wasn’t as bad as the first man’s.

“I have to go, Spark. Write me, Okay?” My mom squatted down to my level.

“Okay, Mum. Love you.” I said, hugging her goodbye.

“Love you, Perse.” She stood up and backed away with the other parents. She waved with one hand and brushed tears from her eyes with the other.

I waved back, smiling, then turned to the students that were wandering all over the place. Grabbing my luggage, I tapped a girl on the shoulder. “D’you want to pair up?” I asked.

“Sure.” She said, shrugging her shoulders and grabbing her bags. We began to head towards the man with the velvet suit. He handed us a key and pointed to room four. I turned back towards my mom and waved. She blew me a kiss and I turned back around and put the key into room four. Turning the knob, we stepped into a decent sized bedroom.

“What are we supposed to do?” The girl asked me.

 “Um, I don’t know.” We closed the door to the room.

"I’m Susie, by the way.” She held out her hand to me.

I took it and smiled. “Hi, I’m Persephone.” She smiled.

The moment our hands dropped, a cool male voice filled the room. Unlike the other men, this voice spoke in clear, smooth French. “Please leave your bags by the door. They will be transported to the school later. If you could please take a seat on the bed.”

Susie and I looked around, confused. Then we slowly stepped away from our bags and sat in the middle of the bed. “Please hold on tight.” The voice continued to speak in French. “You will be arriving at Beauxbatons within a few moments.” We grabbed onto the brass headboard as the bed began to spin. Bright colors started flying past us and wind blew through our hair. A few minutes later, the bed touched down in a hallway along with a few dozen other beds. I saw the confused looks on all the other students as we all began to descend from the beds.

Just as we all got off the beds, a tall dark haired woman entered the hallway. If I had to guess, I would say I would reach about a little past her knees. I knew this had to be Madame Maxime, the half-giant woman that my mother mentioned a few times. With a swift movement of her arm, all the beds disappeared. “Bonjour, new students! I am Madame Maxime, Headmistress of Beauxbatons.” She spoke in rapid French, something that took me a second or so to pick up. I was so used to speaking in English at home.

“In a few minutes we will enter the Grand Room where you will be separated. Remember, here at Beauxbatons, the first thing we learn after magic is, of course, manners and how to present yourself as ladies and gentlemen.” She stood up straighter and clasped her hands together. “I’m sure you are all wondering how you’re going to be separated.” She giggled a bit and flipped her hair. My neck was getting sore from craning to see her face.

“Unlike other magical schools, Beauxbatons takes great pride in producing some of the finest young wizards and witches. Young boys and girls, you will be separated until your fifth year. There will be separate classes and dormitories. The only classes that you will have together is Ballroom Dancing and study hall.”

There were quiet murmurs around the room. Some of the others obviously had older siblings here, as they were not fazed by this separation. Other students, me included, were slightly baffled and found it strange but were too scared to ask questions.

“Please, if you could line up, we will enter the Grand Room where you will be seated. Girls, your tables are on the right. Boys, yours is to the left. ” All of us students formed into a line fairly quickly. We then followed Madam Maxime through the hallway and stopped in front of a pair of gigantic golden doors. She opened her arms dramatically and the doors flung open. We all walked in. The hall was gigantic and absolutely magnificent. The ceiling was high and the walls were a shimmery, opal white. The walls were adorned with golden candles that were bright with light and there were thousands of sparkles in gold, silver, red and green were raining down from the ceiling around a gigantic gold and silver chandelier.

There were four oblong tables, each with a shimmery silver tablecloth that was almost transparent. There was a long, rectangular table near the end of the hall, where I assumed the teachers were sitting. Behind the table, the whole wall was an enormous window. Through the window, I saw mountains in the distance and the setting sun which put an orange hue over the entire room.

We finally reached the front of the room. Teachers and older students stared at all of us standing there. Madame Maxime stepped forward. She motioned to the right, “Girls, please be seated.”

The sound of shuffling feet filled the quiet room as the few of us nervously walked to our seats.

Madame Maxime nodded to the boys to take their seats as well.

This sort of sorting of students was a lot different than I had thought. My mother had told me that at Hogwarts a hat was placed on the students’ heads. The hat would then delve into the students’ minds determining which house the student should be placed in. My mother had been placed in Gryffindor. If I was able to go to Hogwarts, that is where I would like to be sorted or maybe perhaps Ravenclaw. But I’m not in Hogwarts, I’m in Beauxbatons and things here are completely different. I never would have imagined separating an entire school by gender.

The uniforms here are also different from that of Hogwarts. My mother showed me her wool gray shirt, white sweater, tie and normal black robes. Here, it was different. The boys had to wear robes of black silk and always had to have their shirts neat and of course a tie. The girls, however, were much different. We were required to wear these thin, blue silk robes. Our hair must always be done neatly and we simply need to look like the epitome of perfection. This seemed a little bit outrageous to me. Apparently at Beauxbatons, appearance means a great more deal than brains.

“Welcome back, students and teachers.” She smiled warmly as she towered over the staff table. She lifted her glass, “Here’s to another wonderful year at Beauxbatons School of Magic.” Everyone cheered as they took sips from their goblets.

The moment she sat down, butterflies erupted from within the table tops. The room was filled with the sound of the fluttering wings of thousands of deep blue butterflies. They flew towards the ceiling and disappeared into its vastness. I looked around. All of the new students were looking extremely confused. The older students were most likely used to this. I looked down at the table to see that it was now covered in every kind of food imaginable.
 






Everything about this school was grand and elegant. And so far, everyone that I’ve seen and spoken to fits into that category as well – everyone except for me. I shared a suite with four other girls. They seemed nice enough at first, but I could tell that we were different. Changing into our bed clothes, I pulled out one of my mother’s large shirts and an old pair of sweats. The other girls looked at me oddly, as they buttoned up their new silk pajamas.

I shrugged, not caring and climbed into my bed. I sighed as I sank into the mattress and pulled the lace curtains to cover my bed.

Our suite was beyond enormous – bigger than the ground floor of my home. The floor was covered in carpet as white as snow and as soft as fur. Each of us had our own beds, and each bed was decorated differently. I could only assume that they each were designed to appeal to our personal tastes, although they were all the same size, with the same thin lace hangings above the beds.

It seems that this school has an obsession with silk fabrics. Our beds were sheeted with silk, the chairs located around were also fitted in silk. I sank further into the cool sheets, listening as the rest of my roommates clambered into bed also. It wasn’t long before I heard their breathing deepen, signaling that they have fallen asleep.

I waited a few seconds before quietly slipping out of bed and grabbing my bag. Glancing around the room to make sure everyone was still asleep, I slowly tip-toed out of the room. Exiting the room, I found myself in the lounge area that was in the center of all the girls’ dormitories. I sat on a deep blue lounge chair in front of the fire and pulled this morning’s newspaper from my bag. I opened to the center and pressed along the crease to keep it open.

Leaning closer, in the dim light, I saw the face that had been haunting me since breakfast. A face that I had never seen before but looked so familiar – perhaps it looked so familiar because I saw a similar one every time I looked in the mirror. However, there were a few differences. This photograph was of a man and he did not have a silver eye; he had two.

My nose was practically touching the paper, I was so close. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until I felt faint from the lack of air. I sucked in greedily. It couldn’t be, could it? All the faces I’d searched on the streets looking for those silver eyes had got me nowhere.


This man had to be my father.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face. It was like staring at myself, it was so frightening how similar we looked. How could I look so much like my mother and my father? There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that this was the man that I had been looking for more than half of my ten years of life. He wasn’t like anything that I had imagined but then he was just like everything that I had imagined.

My eyes were like his and I was correct in my assumption that he had blonde hair. I scanned his face again, he looked unhappy. As the photograph moved, a smirk graced his features for a second or two. A smirk that I’ve been known to put on once in a blue moon. I shivered but not from the cold air.

I finally moved my eyes from his face down to the caption underneath the photo. It read:

 Draco Malfoy, the new face of Malfoy Co. is pictured here with his  newly pronounced fiancée, Astoria Greengrass.


The paper dropped from my hands as I jumped back.


It couldn’t be!

The same Malfoy from my mother’s stories is my father?

Footsteps approaching the lounge distracted me from my thoughts. I quickly grabbed the paper and ran as quietly as I could back to my room. I slipped back beneath my sheets but sleep never came to me.

I was haunted by the face of Draco Malfoy, the face of my father. There were two things I wanted more than anything in the world at this moment.

I wanted to meet my father.

But more than anything, I wanted to know the story of him and my mother.

I would accomplish both of these, even if my life depended on it.

 


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