REAL ME

Chapter 1

Death is final I used to think so. I thought that after death all of our pain, all of our suffering would stop.....
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But
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Death isn't final. At least, it wasn't for me. When my lingering soul slipped into another body, I knew that I'd have a whole new life in front of me again. And frankly, I wanted this chance. I wanted to live again. I'd tried lived my life to the fullest, and I'd gone out with a bang. Literally. I'd been at airport, waiting for my flight to go back home for Christmas  when an bomb went off, and I just went to pieces. I was never going to see my family again, I never got to tell my parents that I loved them, I didn't get to tell my little brother that I could never hate him, that it wasn't his fault, I never got to see my sister getting married to the man that she fall in love with. After that agonizing experience, I really wanted more time to live. I hadn't been able to finish anything I wanted to do, and when my life ended in a flash, I regretted everything I hadn't done. I just needed more time.....only little bit. And this time, I'd make sure I lived with no regrets.

I didn't realize how much I missed my  family until I started searching for my sister's familiar presence, my brother's cheeky voice, my father's strength and my mother's warm stability. Their voices lingered in my ears, and I ached for them.

I was brought into a world of laughter and warm chatter. The woman holding me, presumably my mum, was cooing at me and showing me off to a man maybe my new dad.

"Look, it's our little princess, Hermione." She said softly, affection filling her tone.

My dad, who was standing next to them, smiled broadly.

"Just look at her, Jean. She's beautiful and so tiny." My mum glowed happily and raised me up towards him.

"Here. Why don't you hold your new daughter?" My dad took me gently, treating me like a porcelain doll, and I instantly knew that I was loved by my family, that my parents loved me.

I accepted it with open arms. I locked my previous family memories into a special place in my heart, a place that only I would ever know. I'd never see them again, but I'd continue to love them in my memories.

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My life as a newborn baby actually passed rather quickly; I slept most of the time, and worked on training my annoyingly weak muscles (which is still not working) . This exhausted me quickly, but I was glad I was progressing at a fast pace, based on the shower of compliments my parents awarded me with.

"Dada!" I called out to my Dad, deciding to let that be my first word—he cared for me and loved me so much that I was afraid he was going to smother me with affection sometimes.

"Look at my little genius!" he squealed joyfully, "Look, Jean! She's already said her first word!"

My mom grinned widely, "You are smart little baby, aren't you. You're going to be little trouble-maker aren't you Hermione Jean Granger ?"

Warmth filled my chest at her words, for some reason. So, despite the glaring implications, I couldn’t help but smile.

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GLARING IMPLICATIONS?

What the bloody FUCK was I thinking? Why the motherfucking FUCK was I in the bloody Harry Potter universe?