August | Hermione Granger x OFC

Chapter Four

CW: child abuse

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1st of September 1992

'Apparently I do have shadows,' Robyn thought to herself as she sat once more at her bedroom windowsill and watched as the sun lit up the sky with fantastic oranges and pinks. It was going to be a clear day. 'A contrast to the storm inside of me,' she thought, then, 'Ew, that was far too melodramatic for 6am!' she rolled her eyes at herself and looked around her room. She was all packed and ready to finally go to Hogwarts. Winnie had insisted that she prepare the night before, of course.

'Miss Robby can never be too ready! If Miss Robby stays ready, Miss Robby does not have to get ready!' Winnie would insist.

Robyn agreed, for the most part. Yet there was a yearning inside of her for spontaneity; for adventure, which she suppressed. Deep down, she wanted to see the world, meet all kinds of people, and learn as much as possible. She was only eleven years old, but she was already bored of the same old stuffy aristocratic pure-bloods she had to entertain. But she rarely allowed those thoughts to fester. It was almost as if she had two versions of herself; one which dreamed of freedom, the other which kept her eyes on what was right in front of her. But the girl who looked on, who looked past the high teas and galas and proprietary, that was her true self, she acknowledged reluctantly, bitterly. 'Naïf, fool, dunce, ignoramus,' she listed in her mind, 'imbecile, dunderhead, nincompoop!' Well, now she was distracting herself by thinking of synonyms for idiot. She sighed and reeled in her thoughts.

What would her father say if she were to go frolicking around doing who-knows-what with Merlin-knows-who? No, she would perform her duty as a proper pure-blood and a representative of her family; she would behave, study hard, and mix with the right people. 'Prim and Proper means Perfection' was the mantra her parents had drilled into her and her siblings for as long as they could talk. And she would do them proud...she hoped. Though, she secretly thought her father was rather a hypocrite, as he always seemed to have a certain ruggedness to him. She moved from the windowsill to slam her trunk shut and head downstairs for breakfast.

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"Right you are, Children," Zenith Rosier stood tall on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters commanding the respect of the surrounding witches and wizards. "Remember, you are representing our family. No misbehaving, no impropriety," he insisted.

"Unless we're bullying Mudbloods?" Lloyd asked, half-joking, half-serious.

Their father hummed and put a hand on his son's shoulder but did not give a verbal reply. Dylan simply looked away, while Robyn rolled her eyes which caught his attention.

"Something to say, Darling?" he asked with a threatening look in his eyes.

"No, Father. Sorry, Father," she said immediately. He was about to respond when her mother gave a nervous laugh.

"She's just nervous, is all. Pull yourself together, won't you?" 

Robyn was not nervous, not yet anyway, but nodded obediently. Mother then proceeded to smooth out their clothes clothes and hair while saying, "Now, top of your classes please, Children. Top three at the very least," she added as Lloyd began to protest. "Do your homework the day you get it. Good marks are a must, no exceptions. Particularly you, Robyn, if you still want a Kneazle. You do, don't you?"

"Yes! Er, Yes, Mother," Robyn corrected herself immediately while avoiding her father's harsh gaze.

Her mother continued her spiel, "Good posture at all times; remember your table manners- don't talk with your mouth full," she looked to Lloyd. "No falling asleep in class. I will send you a howler if I find out any of you are behaving improperly. Do not be mistaken; we—" she motioned between herself and her husband, "have eyes and ears everywhere." A pause, then, "Anything else, Dear?" she turned to her husband.