Sorry, not that chapter update you were looking for.
All I did was elaborate on the scenes; the content is still the same - mostly.

Forgot about a disclaimer: I don't own any of this.

John and Jean Granger lived a wonderful life, perfect you might say. They lived in Knightsbridge*, owned their own dentists' office, and serviced only the most elite of cliental. They didn't want any kids either, nor did they see any reason to change their minds. They especially wouldn't have wanted any magical children, had they known such children existed. So, when they found out Jean was pregnant… well, saying were unhappy would be putting it mildly. No, the best way to describe what they were, would be furious.

"How could this happen!" Jean exclaimed; frustration and anger rolling off her in waves.

John's gaze was steady as he simply stated, "You are a grown woman, Jean. I think you know exactly how this happened." This earned a glare from his wife who was not amused in the least by his sardonic comment.

Shaking her head, Jean continued on with her ranting, "Yes, but we were so careful! This child could ruin our lives." Sighing she settled down into one of the chairs in their living room, cradling her head in her hands.

A malicious grin spread across John's face as he voiced his thought, "Not if we train it right." His wife picked her head up, confusion clear in her eyes. John gripped her by the shoulders as he leaned towards her in his excitement, "We can condition it! Train it so that it'll be afraid to even breathe without our permission."

Jean grinned a smile as well, her entire body relaxing at the idea her husband now presented. "Oh, honey, that's the perfect idea!" Her brow furrowed as her smile suddenly dwindled a little when a thought suddenly struck her, "We won't be able to send it away to boarding school then, will we?"

"No, but we can send it to a private school." John replied dismissively. He pressed a kiss to his wife's forehead as he lifted her to her feet. When he pulled away there was just the faintest trace of sinister thoughts that lingered in his mind as he stated "Come, there is much to buy, things to learn and only nine months to accomplish all of this."

With that the couple began the long process of getting the house ready for a baby. When out in public, they put up a front of excitement over the unborn child all the while plotting to make the child's every living moment a living hell.

Hermione Miriam Granger was finally born at five in the morning on September 2, 1979. Unfortunately for her, the conditioning started as soon as the Grangers took her home. Because she was a newborn, there was not very much they could do without killing her. So they let her scream for hours on end, only relenting when they couldn't stand the screaming any longer. It was during one of these conditioning sessions that Hermione showed her first burst of accidental magic.

The event in question happened when Hermione was only three weeks old.

They had fed her, bathed her, changed her, and put her in her crib. Hermione had been wailing for over an hour and a half. The cause of her distress was that her pacifier was on the book shelf, nowhere near enough for the child to reach. Just as Jean opened the door, with the intent on silencing the baby, Hermione reached out her hand and the pacifier flew into it.

Jean's eyes widened in shock and her gaze snapped from the shelf to the crib rapidly. Hermione simply stared back at her mother, happily sucking on her pacifier, completely oblivious to the distress that she had just caused her female progenitor. Jean quickly backed away, eyes trained on the baby until she turned and fled down the stairs screaming for her husband.

John rolled his eyes when he heard his wife's shouts of distress, wondering if he would ever achieve silence in his house again. Setting his newspaper in his lap, he made sure any trace of his felt exasperation was erased when he looked at his panicked wife. "What is it, dear?" he questioned, sure to add emphasis on the concern in his tone.

"It just caused it's pacifier to fly!" Jean shouted, gesturing frantically back up the stairs. John raised a disbelieving eyebrow at his wife, idly pondering if he could get her psychologically evaluated without her knowing. Jean frowned at his look of disbelief and stomped an insistent foot, "I'm serious, John! That thing just caused its pacifier to fly!"

Humming in thought, John stood and set his paper aside before quickly striding up the stairs. Jean followed slowly after him wringing her hands together nervously. John pushed the door to the child's room open and strode up to the crib. Snatching the pacifier from the child's grasp, he ignored the wailing child as he turned to his wife, "Look, we'll just prove if she can make it fly or not."

He set it down on the shelf and took a step back towards his wife, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the child. Hermione wailed for a few more minutes, sensing her parents were in the room and hoping they would listen to her cries. When they made no move, she reached out for her pacifier once more, willing the comforting object into her tiny hands.

Both adults stared in shock as the pacifier made a beeline across the room into the awaiting hands of the child. Jean's chin tilted up as she pointed towards the child and crowed, "See! I told you that little freak made it fly!"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, because obviously he had just seen the object fly he didn't need his wife pointing it out, John consented that she was correct. "Alright, you were right, honey. But don't let it worry you. It's just one more thing we can use against her," John reassured the woman, pulling her into a tight embrace. He gently stroked her hair, "Don't let the little freak get to you, darling. Everything will turn out perfectly."

Three years had passed and tiny occurrences of magic flared around this strange little girl. The next major appearance of her occurred right around her third birthday. It started with a normal day of chores, yelling and hiding. Currently her Mother was doing the second of those activities, anger directed at the cowering three year old. "Hermione, what did I tell you!? I wanted these dishes scrubbed as soon as you got home from school! I didn't tell you that you could use the loo!" the woman all but shrieked at the child, eyes blazing in anger as she gestured towards the pile of still dirty dishes.

"But I needed to use the bathroom." Hermione whimpered quietly, toe scuffing the floor as her eyes traced the patterns in the tile. She didn't need to look up to know her mother's face was filled with rage. Nor did she need to look at the sink to know there would only be a few dishes in the sink.

"Did you ask!?"Jean yelled, looming over the small girl Hermione shook her head, no. As if this now confirmed she was the devil's spawn, Jean's screeching now reached a new decibel, "No! You didn't!" As Jean raised her hand to strike the girl, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and a horrible pinching sensation wrapped around her stomach.

Suddenly she was no longer in front of her raging mother, but right in front of a very pissed off John. The man reacted immediately and grabbed a fistful of Hermione's hair to keep her from going anywhere else. He proceeded to lift her from the floor, causing the young girl to cry out in pain and shock as her hands desperately clawed at his hand in an effort to be released.

John shook her violently as he sneered, "Stop that now!" Hermione froze at the command, tears still streaming down her face as she dangled from his hand. Shaking her again, he question harshly, "What did you do?! How did you move from one place to another?!'

"Please, stop." Hermione cried out, desperately trying to get her little feet to touch the ground and take some weight off her neck and head. John threw her to the ground, both granting Hermione's wish to be realized and hurting her at the same time. A loud pop was heard as she hit the tiled kitchen floor, the shoulder having been forcefully removed from its rightful place in her socket. The young girls screamed in pain, grasping at her throbbing shoulder.

"Shut up, bitch!" Jean snapped, yanking Hermione up by her injured arm.

Hermione cried out again, desperately trying to accommodate her mother's demand to stand and the need to cradle her arm at the same time. "Mummy, please." Hermione begged, turning large tear filled eyes on the woman who had given life to her.

Anger flared in Jean's eyes again as she ordered, "Don't call me 'mummy'!" Roughly the woman popped Hermione's arm back into socket, causing Hermione to cry out. "Now, answer your father's question." She demanded, spinning the girl round to face her towering father.

The little girl's terrified gaze darted between her two angry parents, holding her still throbbing arm as she replied pitifully, "I don't know how I did it."

John's eyes narrowed dangerously at the less than satisfactory answer, knowing the girl was dumber than dirt and was useless when it came to answering questions. Sneering, he pointed towards the sink, "Go do your chores, freak. And next time you need to use the loo, you will have to ask." Quick as lightening, he delivered a swift kick to her side, sending the girl tumbling away with another shout of pain.

Slowly she picked herself off the floor, trying not to rub her quickly bruising ribs she replied dutifully, "Yes mother, yes father." Moving around the table, she climbed atop the stool and began cleaning the few dishes left in the sink, ignoring the two glares that still burned into the back of her head.

By the time she was five Hermione had learned that she was not to speak until spoken to, that mother and father were always right, you must do your chores before you do anything else, and if the adults saw you reading a book you would be left alone.

She had also learned that she mustn't use her abilities in front of the adults. Unfortunately, since she was only a child and a very powerful one at that, Hermione was prone to bursts of accidental magic. Every time that happened she was severely punished.

It was Hermione's fifth birthday and, as usual, the adults ignored that fact that she existed.

Hermione sighed, I wish that…I don't know what I wish for.

"Freak, get your ass down here! Now!" Jean yelled.

"Coming!" Hermione placed a bookmark in the original Russian version of "Crime and Punishment", put it down, and slipped off the bed. She slowly made her way down the stairs.

"There is our precious little girl." John sneered.

Hermione just stood in the door way - head down, shoulders hunched, and hands clasped in front of her.

"Brat, go get us the refreshments you made earlier." Jean snapped.

"Yes ma'am." Hermione murmured.

She walked into the kitchen and started the tea and got the biscuits ready. After the tea had whistled and steeped, Hermione brought it out. Unfortunately for her, her foot caught the edge of the sofa and she fell, strewing tea and biscuits all over the cashmere carpet.

"Hermione" Jean said in a falsely calm voice, "Go to your room and sit on your bed. We will deal with you later."

Hermione scrambled to a standing position and dashed up the stairs. From the landing she heard Jean tell her friend, "I am so sorry about that, she is normally not this clumsy."

"It's quite alright. But, why don't you send her to a boarding school. She seems like an awful lot of work."

"She has…issues." John delicately stated.

Hermione chocked back a sob and dashed to her room, where she sat on her bed and pulled her knees to her chest, placed her chin on them and cried silently.

Outside a thunderstorm suddenly started.

The Grangers friends only stayed for a few more minutes and when they left, Jean and John went upstairs to pay Hermione a visit.

The door was opened with so much force that it slammed into the wall, causing Hermione to jump.

"Bitch! What was that down stairs!?" Jean screamed in Hermione's face.

Hermione whimpered and cowered back, until her back hit the wall.

Jean grasped a handful a Hermione's hair, and jerked her forward so that she landed face first on the floor. "You will answer my question!"

"I-I-I tr-tr-tr-tripp-p-p-ed." Hermione whimpered, tears streaming down her face.

"Yes, well now you have a mess to clean up. Don't you?" John sneered.

"Ye-ye-yes, father." Hermione stood up to make her way to the sitting room.

"Where do you think you're going?" Jean shrilly asked.

Hermione flinched, "I was go-go-going down stairs to clean up my m-m-m-mess."

"Are you trying to get out of your punishment?" Jean sweetly asked.

"No, mother, I would never try to get out of a punishment. I-I-I know th-that I deserve them. I am a freak and I ne-ne-need to be punished." Hermione assured them.

"Go see your father then." Jean smirked.

Shaking, Hermione approached John.

John struck out with his fist, hitting Hermione on her right side, cracking two of her ribs.

Hermione screamed and clutched her left side.

"Now, go clean up your mess." Jean order and slapped Hermione right where John had struck her, causing Hermione to cry out.

A/N : Hello, I'm back! I hope to post something every week; but with school I don't know if I'll be able to. Reviews will be read this time :) - Sincerely Melodi

You can thank Cindermist for the amazing title and being my Beta - helping me to elaborate on the scenes.

*Knightsbridge is a very expensive suburb in London (according to Google).