AN:

1. I am not a native speaker and this is my first longer story. Any suggestions or corrections are mostly welcomed.
2. The story is set after 7th book. AU starts during 4th book (only mentioned) and totally AU after that
3. Also posted on AO3
4. And of course I'm NOT the owner of HP or books etc...

"It's just a stupid lock, we will break it" the blow to the door caused the girl to look around the room in a panic. She really thought that closing them was enough to stop a group of drunk teenagers. It was no mystery what her cousin and a bunch of his friends wanted, and if they entered her room, no one would help her. Aunt and uncle decided that the best gift for eighteen birthday would be to leave their beloved son alone in the house so he could organize a party. Of course, in gratitude for a place to live poor cousin Hermione was obliged to help him with everything - she was going to be a maid and a waitress. As it turned out, the cousin's fantasies went much further. It was a possible explanation that his parents didn't suspect their son of such degeneration. Unfortunately, it didn't matter now. Their ignorance probably sealed her fate.

It wasn't a good summer, not for eighteen, almost nineteen years old Hermione Granger. In fact, the problem wasn't just in this particular season. For more than two years, every day was worse than former and only fear of being entirely alone kept her from leaving her current home. As it turned out now, it was a big mistake.

Hermione was never a sociable person, she didn't even have anyone she could really call a friend. At school, other kids often were calling her a bookworm or worst. She enjoyed reading books, and when she was younger, she just wanted to share her knowledge. Her peers were not grateful. Despite this, somehow, she managed to survive school days without much damage. A bit of verbal abuse, but nothing dangerous. Well, that was the teachers' opinion.

That was until vacation just before her seventeenth birthday. She did not remember the accident itself. Instead, only flashes of conversation with her mother, father listening to the match broadcast on the radio, then the screech of the brakes and the blow. When she woke up in the hospital, it turned out that her, maybe not perfect, but sorted world fell apart. She had to get used to the new word - an orphan.

Her father's brother took her in. Perhaps it would be better if she was placed in an orphanage. Fairy tales were never her favorite reading, but if she were to choose one that suits her situation, it would undoubtedly be the one about Cinderella. Unfortunately, there wasn't the prince riding a white horse, hurrying to the rescue. Only daily reminders of how much she costs her foster family. Sometimes she had the impression that they treated her like domestic help rather than a family member. On the other hand, at least domestic help was paid.

The only advantage of this situation was that no one in this house used physical violence - until today.

Dreams were the only thing that saved her from a breakdown. About a castle full of young people in strange clothes. A blond-haired girl who seemed a little crazy but had a smile that dispelled all worries. And the most familiar about a boy with a scar on forehead and the greenest eyes she'd ever seen. Sometimes she had the impression that they were real, that she had known them in another life, that they had been friends.

In the current circumstances, however, she knew one thing. Dreams weren't going to come to her aid, and the door lock, lame and installed with apparent reluctance by her uncle, was going to break in a moment. They were all drunk. Probably she could defeat one but not five. So, her options were limited. Stay and let them do what they planned or try to escape through the window. It is only the first floor. She tried to convince herself when opening it. The click of the releasing lock was the
impulse girl needed to jump.

She immediately became convinced that she should pay more attention to physical exercises. Yes, she jumped and was on the ground, but the fall was not very pleasant. She was bruised, and only adrenaline allowed her to ignore it. When she got up and started walking, she felt pain in her calf. It probably wasn't a fracture, it was too mild - more a stretch. It slowed her down, but she may succeed. Perhaps some car was going down the road, maybe they wouldn't want to chase her ... the sound of the opening doors behind her and the mocking laughter cured her delusion very quickly. Still, she tried to walk as quickly as possible, ignoring the slowly growing discomfort. The current
diagnosis was that she had torn her muscle up. In desperation, she turned into the dark of the lawn and almost collided with someone in the shadows.

"Behind me" there was a calm, confident voice, and she obeyed it without hesitation. To be honest, it was probably her only chance.

"Ok, no more running bookworm, time to have some fun" croaked her pursuers, confident that they finally had her. They stopped for a moment when they saw that she wasn't alone. Still, a stranger was without any visible weapons and was outnumbered. It turned out to be a fatal mistake on their side.

Her cousin attacked first and was immediately hit ... by a ray of red light that appeared out of nowhere and simply knocked him to the ground. The next one ran closer, even tried to pull a punch. His opponent simply dodged, and the second attacker met the same fate as the first. It discouraged the others a bit because they simply didn't know what was going on. However, the stranger didn't hesitate, and the similar rays of light knocked the whole band to the ground.

He turned to her

"Lumos" girl heard a strangely familiar word and understood that she was wrong. These rays of light didn't appear out of nowhere. Their source was a carved stick the stranger held in his hand. No, not stick - protested something in her memory - the wand.

In the end, it did not matter because now, in the light radiating from the wand, his face could be clearly seen. He was a little older than Hermione remembered, two or three years maximum. Even so, dark hair and the scar on his forehead didn't leave much doubt. She just had to be sure.

So she looked into his eyes. The greenest the girl had ever seen. Just like in her dreams.