Petrified Hermione Novels & Stories

HERMIONE’S POV [FLASHBACK] “Stop, Hermione!” Bernard yelled, he was trying to get a hold of me in our bedroom as I was going mad. I just confronted him about something I found out but hoped that it wasn’t true. “Hermione, please. Just hear me out, I’m sorry.” He continued, I couldn’t hear him over the boils of my anger. Red was the only thing I could see at that moment, I was tearing down our bedroom. I was smashing the vases on the floor, tipping over my drawer with my skincare, and throwing objects at him.

Screams were coming from if particular corner and it was sounding very much like Guinevere but I did not want that to be true I beckoned on Henry to follow my lead as I walked to where the sound was coming from just as he had predicted, she was being tortured. They were using the knives and pulling out pieces of her skin. I wondered how she had not died and then I saw every part that was being cut up was self-healing almost immediately

he whispered “This is exactly what I’ll do to that baby was it’s born and I get my hands on the filthy thing” ~~~ Far away from the forest, in a dark room, Hermoine stood alone. Her eyes were locked on a large monitor in front of her, showing a live feed of the feast. She had found a way to hack into the pack’s hidden cameras. She watched Elena smile. She watched Salvatore lean close to her. Hermoine’s hands clenched into fists. “I should’ve been Luna,” she whispered. “That should’ve been me.” Her chest burned with hate. She grabbed a glass bottle beside her and smashed it against the floor. Then another. Then another.

Hermione tends to go off track whenever she has a confrontation with her mother. I've witnessed two instances where Hermione lost her temper after confronting her mother. The first time, she drove recklessly, causing me concern as I trailed her. The second time, I was the target of her aggression, until she eventually came to terms with her reality and found the courage to stand up to her mother. Given her history with Mrs. Pierce's overbearing nature, Hermione strikes me as a resilient individual. Many would have been broken by her mother's behavior, which tends to dominate and disregard Hermione's decisions.

"Oh please, stop gaping like a fish out of the pond. He will live. I am just heating him so he does not get hypothermia." Incredulous! If this is the white witch, then I dread the dark ones. Honestly, how can she simply say that she is warming him up when she is obviously cremating the guy? Petrified. That I am. She is like a stick of dynamite. Small but the devastation too great to embrace. I cannot help but shudder inwardly. I make a mental note never to piss off a witch for the rest of my existence. My thoughts are cut off as I feel faint sparks on my hand. I look at her and see that she is having a hard time controlling her anger. Hermes has really crossed her bottom line this time.

It can't be her. “Was that someone? Talk to me Hermione. That book was actually given to me by my grandmother before she was killed in the war between the witches and werewolves. I can't loose that ...” My grandmother sobs for the very first time ever, Ketura pulls her into a hug. I fight the urge to roll my eyes at them. “So, what do we do now?” I ask with my arms akimbo.

Amelia answered Lexy. "Werewolves don't exist, though," I tried to reason with Amelia because it seemed like she really believed this. Amelia just looked at Romeo, his ear slightly twitched upwards but his eyes remained closed, "apparently the wolves are as big as cars, they're abnormally large...a whole lot like Romeo, Pandora."

"That you are her long lost Aunt. That her mother conceived her by using black magic." "Don't be ridiculous," Petra laughs. "I plan on helping her learn to control her powers so she can stop using those ridiculous gloves." I let out a gasp. "How do you know about her gloves? Have you been spying on her?" Petra turns it right back onto me. "How do you know about her gloves?" "I have seen them," I roll my eyes at her. "She met Osiris at my bar." Petra's hardened stare softens. "You have seen her? You have seen our Seraphina in person?"

Now, as my fingers brushed against the faded glossy surface, a strange sense of premonition washed over me. I pulled it out. It was a picture of a much younger Earnest, maybe ten or eleven, his hair a tousled mess, his smile wide and gap-toothed. He was holding a trophy, beaming with pride. Standing next to him, her arm slung casually around his shoulders, was a girl. Her hair was a dark, glossy cascade, and her eyes, even in the grainy photograph, sparkled with an almost mischievous intelligence. It was Victoria. But not the polished, sophisticated Victoria of today. This was a girl, unrestrained, her youthful exuberance a stark contrast to the calculating coolness she now projected.

She would still be alive if I didn't become hardheaded. It was all my fault! "Stand up!" My father commanded but it can't... I don't want to leave my mother... I want to feel her embrace even just for the last time but it seems like no one wants me to do what I want because my father pulled me with all his strength for me to stand up but he won't be able to stop me. I used my ability to surround myself with fire just so no one can stop me from doing what I want. "I said stand up, Hermione!" His shout echoed all over the palace but I pretended that I can't hear him and cried my heart on my mother's chest.