Hey all. No, i am not updating this story. I finally have a new BETA, the amazing Lillyvee, who, not only s going to BETA this story for me, but also 18 :) i am so happy about this, and want her to know just how happy i am that she agreed to this :)

To those of you who have not read this story, and have just stumbled upon it, then think yourself grateful, you have missed out on my horrible grammar

hope you all enjoy XD

Stretching, I opened my eyes to the onslaught of bright light, attacking my eyes from the open window opposite my bed. Slowly I sat up and that is when I remembered, I'm seventeen! Without thinking, I grabbed for the wand that was stuffed under my pillow, in case of emergencies, and waved it, shouting with pride, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The quill that had been sitting on my writing desk, under my window, floated through the air towards me. It dropped to the bed as I lost concentration, instead delving for my door to go and see my parents.

I flew down the stairs in our modest two up, two down, semi-detached house. The white walls where dotted with pictures, some of family, some of my parents friends, but most of me as I grew up through the years. When I finally reached the kitchen, I burst through the door excited to see my mum and dad. "Happy Birthday!" my mum and dad screeched.

Shooting bolt upright in my bed, I wiped the sweat away from my forehead. I hated dreams like that. Dreams that reminded me of my life- or how my life could have been maybe even should have been. They always seem so real, and when I would finally wake, I'm always a bundle of sweat and sheets, reeling in the nightmarish land I just came from.

After I had collected myself, I silently made my way to my door, across the hall and into the bathroom. I couldn't bare looking in the mirror as I undressed and climbed into the shower, turning the tap and letting the warm spray wash away the dream. The reason I hated dreams like that, you ask? They always had my mother in them.

My mother had once been a gorgeous tall skinny woman, with long brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes and a smile that would make you forget any of your worries. She had been a caring woman, and it was always easy to see why she and my father had fallen in love. Then the disease interrupted that about three years ago. I hated myself because there was nothing I could have done. I was a witch for heaven's sake, and I couldn't cure my mother of a stupid muggle disease. She had died five months after being diagnosed.

The water turning cold brought me out of my thoughts. I climbed out of the shower, wrapped myself in my towel, and then picked up another one and wiped away the mist that gathered on the mirror. My bushy like brown hair was the first thing that I saw. Something that I'm sure will never go away. My gaze moved away from my hair, down to my forehead, landing on my eyes. They were the exact same eyes as my mothers, but now they seem dead.

I quickly skimmed my eyes over the rest of my plain body. I was average and I knew was. I tightened the towel, which I had let lose for my own inspection and wandered across to my room. I sat on my bed and piled on the make-up that I wore every day, to cover up the marks of averageness. Once I was done, I threw on a baggy top and a pair of jogging bottoms. Then I slowly made my way downstairs.

Like my dream, the walls were white and were covered in pictures. I knew it wasn't so that we could spend time thinking of family and friends, it was so if anyone came round we would look like any other normal family. I pushed open the door that led to the kitchen. Sitting at the kitchen table, with a cigarette in his mouth and a bottle of beer in his right hand was my father. "Morning Dad." I whispered, hoping that he wasn't in a bad mood, but that was just stupid.

"You're finally up." He muttered as I glanced at the clock. It was seven in the morning!

"Just because it's your birthday does not mean that you can slack off on your chores, girl."

I nodded and moved over to the fridge, pulling out the bacon and eggs; then moved over to the cooker and started cooking them

"I have taken the day off work, so that I could spend the day with my daughter." he spat, and then laughed "the men at work, where all wanting me to wish you a happy birthday, and that they hoped you had a good day."

I flipped the food over, listening to him, knowing that if I replied I would have hell to pay

"And we will have a good day, Wont we, darling?" My father said in a sarcastic tone.

"Of course, dad," I murmured.

"Good girl."

I plated his food and placed it in front of him, then tried to go.

"Stay." he growled, shoveling food into his mouth.

I watched him eat his food, then down his beer. It was seven in the morning and he was already drinking. Though I smiled at him, and tried to listen to him talk, I just couldn't manage it. My mind wondered to what my two best friends would be doing. They were probably at the Burrow, still in bed at this time. Mrs. Weasley would be downstairs getting a wonderful breakfast ready for them. I could almost smell-

"Are you even listening to me," my father asked. I hadn't even realized he had stopped eating and was now standing beside me.

"Of course dad," I said, acting as if I had listened to every word he said.

"Lying cow," he spat, stalking around my chair "You should know your manners by now, you should know to respect your elders. You shouldn't have killed your mother."

As usual, I slowly retreated from my body, slowly moving into my own mind rather than listen to his rant. I pictured my friends and all the times that we had spent together. I could see their smiling faces in front of me. I could see each freckle on Ron's nose; see the small flecks of black that nobody but me had ever seen, in Harry's otherwise brilliant green eyes.

"What is going on here?" Questioned a man's voice from behind my father, causing him to stop yelling at me and round on the man in our kitchen.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" My father barked from his position beside me.

"My name is Professor Snape, Severus Snape and I have come to talk to you about my daughter."

That is when I passed out.

"Happy 17th Birthday, Hermione."