The smell of an old book—
There was nothing like it or being able to hold the object in her hands. Books also provided a place of escape and sanctuary starting with the "once upon a time." Many fairytales began with happy endings, which seemed out of grasp whenever her father was away on business, something many of the books that weren't fairytales also held for her as she got older.
Fairytales, though—
"This one!" came the sweet, childish voice of her younger sister, her half-sister Sybil. "Read me this one!"
Hermione looked up from her schoolwork, having braced herself for the appearance of her step-sister Ethel, her mouth twisting into a smile at one of the other bright lights in her life. "Which one is it this time?"
"Snow-White and Red-Rose," Sybil chimed in, hopping onto the edge of the bed looking like a little princess with her pale blond hair braided into a crown on top of her head, her green eyes like gems, and her slight smile and fingers ever so dainty. She walked like one, too, yet lacked the staunch heirs Ethel threw about.
"Ah. Not to be confused with Snow White," Hermione said, moving over to the bed, taking a break from her homework even if it meant—
"Ever wonder if fairytales were real?" Sybil said, opening the book up to the two sisters.
"That would be nice, I guess," Hermione said, reaching up to brush a strand of curly brown hair away from her face and her brown eyes, things that reminded her father of her mother, the woman he said he still loved even though he—
She read the book, hoping the session of reading to her youngest sister wouldn't be interrupted before the ending by someone coming and telling her about some chore they wanted her to do, which seemed more often than not.
Yet, she finished it right as the door to her room opened, and Ethel stuck her in. "As if you'd ever marry a prince and have a happily ever after. I mean, you're so homely."
"She is not!" Sybil protested, her small, delicate mouth forming a pout.
"You've not yet cleaned the sitting room today," Ethel said, putting her nose in the air and sniffing.
Hermione stiffened, her fingers tightening around the book, trying to think about whether she'd missed cleaning the sitting room where the Hallow members of the family, which included Sybil, would sit and drink tea like proper ladies, where Hermione only spent time relaxing there when her father was there.
"I needed it cleaned fifteen minutes ago as I'll be hosting young ladies of my own caliber, but you will be serving tea," Ethel said. "As usual."
"I'll tell Papa!" Sybil said, her tiny mouth twisting into a frown. "That you're being mean to Hermione! You and..."
"If you tell your papa, Sybil," Ethel said. "And he and mother get a divorce; you won't be able to see her or your papa."
Hermione bristled. "Hey."
Ethel batted her eyes, her silver-gray eyes giving the impression she was related to Hermione's father, Regulus. "Sorry. I misspoke. Sybil will not get to live with all her sisters immediately if they get a divorce."
Sybil's mouth pressed together, her small hands twisting into fists. Hermione turned to look at her. "Hey. It's alright."
"It's not," Sybil pouted. "Why do maman and Ethel need to be so mean, particularly when Esme is so nice."
Hermione's eyes blinked., but didn't verbally acknowledge that her other older sister tried to be excellent. Instead, Ethel acknowledged it by saying, "Good thing she's away at school most of the time." She placed a hand on her chest. "Which, I will be going to the same school next year, and Sybil the year after. That's why today is important: I'm forming connections with other girls who will be attending the school. A place you'll never end up."
Hermione noticed the sniff.
Ethel clapped her hands. "Hey! Chop, chop!" She held her head up high. "I need the room cleaned ages ago, and the best tea for my guests."
"I'll help!" Sybil called out, hopping off the bed.
"No, you won't," Ethel said, grabbing Sybil by the shoulder, which resulted in Sybil giving Ethel a rather hurt look.
Hermione sighed. "Sybil. You know you're not allowed to do chores. You're too—you've always been too sickly. Like father as a child."
"Yes," Ethel said. "Grandfather says so."
"But I can make tea and snacks," Sybil pouted. "I like making tea and snacks as Daddy does."
"That..." Ethel frowned.
"We don't want to make Ethel's friends mad," Hermione said, knowing full well the kind of trouble that would occur if her stepmother found out things didn't go Ethel's way in front of those of similar social status.
"I can still help," Sybil pouted.
And there was that upsetting Sybil, making her cry, something Hermione often took the blame for when her father wasn't around simply because Ethel would whip her way out of whatever trouble she'd caused with the family's youngest daughter.
"I'll get to it," Hermione said. "Don't start making snacks or tea until I get to the kitchen, Sybil."
"Oh. Alright," Sybil said.
Hermione headed downstairs, her mouth twitching upon seeing Ethel sabotaged the sitting room, having spread dirt and ashes across the place, swallowing as she shook her head, glad that—
"What is this?"
"Sorry, Mrs. Ursula. I'll get it cleaned before Ethel's friends arrive," Hermione said through gritted teeth, wishing she could tell her father how her stepmother treated her while he was gone without hurting Sybil.
"You'd better," Ursula said, glaring at her step-daughter, holding her head high in an arrogant way, making it clear she thought herself better than Hermione. "And you'd better not mess up tea. These guests are important."
"Guests Ethel wouldn't bother to invite over if the father was home because she knows the father would insist," Hermione said, shaking her head.
"Are you going to disobey?"
"No. That was," Hermione took a deep breath. "Something else. There aren't any allergies I need to worry about?"
"Allergies?" Ursula said.
"Are any of Ethel's friends allergic to anything? It would really not look good if one were to become ill?"
She watched her step-mother shake slightly before grabbing up her skirts. "I don't appreciate this sharp tongue you've inherited from your father, dear."
Hermione said nothing about one of the few things she could use in her situation: carefully cleaning everything before meeting Sybil in the kitchen, helping make tea, and picking out what were hopefully the right snacks.
Then, Sybil went to pick up one of the treys, and Hermione held out her hand. "No."
"But..."
"You're sickly like a father as a child, remember?" Hermione said, yet in the back of her mind, she wondered if this was simply a way for Ursula to keep Sybil under her control.
"Papa would let me."
"Papa's not here, so we must do our best..." Hermione paused. "Why don't you go and ask Esme if she wants some tea? I'm sure she could use a break from her studies right about now, right?"
"Oh! Yes!" Sybil said, taking off, allowing Hermione to breathe a sigh of relief as the youngest daughter of the house became aptly distracted. She took a deep breath, heading towards the sitting room with the tea and snacks.
The three girls sitting with Ethel were dressed like proper ladies, even sat like ones as well, reminding Hermione of how her father would insist she and Sybil both be as ladylike as possible with appropriate posture.
One of the girls wore her brown hair in a high ponytail with a fancy clip, keeping the hair away from her hazel-green eyes, while a younger girl sat nearby, watching. Still, even though her hair and eyes were darker, Hermione knew them to be the Greengrass sisters, Daphne and Astoria, as they'd visited before.
The other girl—
The other girl's black hair framed her face with a neatly cut pixie cut, potentially drawing more attention to her pug nose and dark eyes. She looked at Hermione, having the same smug look on her face as Ethel, a stark contrast to the softer, more ladylike expressions on the Greengrass girl's face.
Her head nodded up, "So this is your Muggle servant girl. I've heard so much about Ethel?"
"Pansy," Daphne Greengrass hissed while her sister looked on in horror, her mouth hanging open.
Hermione's eyes blinked, confusion setting in as Pansy's mouth twisted into what Hermione considered a very unladylike sneer. "Shut up, Daphne. I can say what I want, to..." Pansy paused, looking up and down. "To this filth."
Hermione held back shaking her head, instead focusing on setting the tea on the table, when—
She tripped, but she knew the culprit—for once it wasn't her step-sister Ethel, but Pansy, but even worse—
Hermione looked at the floor, at the broken teacups and scattered snacks wondering what would happen when her step-mother found out, what kind of blame and punishment she'd receive for something not her fault, when—
A tapping came at the sitting room bay window, and she looked up to see the girls looking at the bay window where an owl tapped on the window but watched as Daphne's younger sister Astoria stood up and let the owl in without hesitation.