I found some Harry Potter fan fiction lying around in my word files. I thought I should share it here. By no means do I credit myself as a decent authoress. Writing has never really been my forte, but here it is anyway. Comments are always appreciated, as long as they are constructive and (on the whole) nice ;-)
Losing Sleep (Harry Potter Fic)
Summary: Hermione has trouble sleeping. A childhood nightmare revisits her, as does the memory of green skin and ruby slippers. Many Wizard of Oz/Harry Potter parallels.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. It belongs to JK Rowling and companies, including but not limited to, Bloomsbury Books, Rainbow Books, Scholastic, and Warner Bros.
Sometimes I have trouble falling asleep. There are always too many thoughts flooding my head to sleep easily. Actually, I’ve always been plagued with insomnia. Even at the young age of four I could not sleep. During naptime in my day care classes, my eyes would not close. They would blankly stare at the ceiling.
I believe this fear of sleep began when I first viewed the muggle movie “The Wizard of Oz”. The Wicked Witch of the West made me cry and hold tightly to my mother. The high pitched cackle and green skin possessed by the witch were too much for me. She haunted my thoughts until I eventually became convinced I would be swept away to Oz and taunted by the evil witch. In all of my dreams, the Witch would appear on her broom and do the cackle that brought chills down my spine. I was so frightened by this nightmare.
These magical women became my childhood fear. I was too afraid of them to dream. As a naïve four year old I bought into the old fable that the thing someone fears most is living in their closet at night. I wouldn’t turn the light off. My parents tried everything to help me. They bought nightlights to cure my fear of the dark. When that failed they would let me snuggle between them in bed. On those nights, I felt so secure. I believed my parents were like gods and could defeat all evil. On those nights I felt so secure. The green skinned witch couldn’t harm me.
At age eleven, I was anxious to make the transition from Primary School to a Secondary one. Naturally, my parents were thrilled by their little girl beginning first form. Imagine my shock when I was informed I was going to be swept away to my own Oz. Only this place was called Hogwarts and I would be the witch! The tearful four year old version of me came into my mind. Imagine finding out that you are actually the thing you fear the most! Once I was over my initial surprise, I set a goal to clear the name of witches. I didn’t want for muggle girls to believe we were evil and only worked to inflict horror. I wanted these children to think we witches were intelligent women who intended to bring goodness. In short, I wanted to be Glinda the Good, who was not only well loved but had a considerably nicer appearance than her sister.
I threw myself into my studies in the summer before Hogwarts. I knew my textbooks forwards and backwards. That’s not saying my childhood fears were admonished when I stepped onto Platform nine and three quarters. I still held a small suspicion the Wicked Witch of the West would be lurking somewhere. I had to be prepared for a possible encounter. Naturally I still believed some of the old muggle stories about witches and wizards, but that changed after my first day at Hogwarts.
Needless to say, no one tried to take my life because I had stolen ruby slippers from their deceased sister. On the other hand, people want me dead because my blood is not as “pure” ruby as theirs is. The supporters of Voldemort- Calm down!- are the Wicked Witches and Wizards of the West. I can’t feel safe anymore. I only have a sense of security in the Hogwarts Castle. Here in my childhood home I feel so vulnerable. I can’t sleep. I won’t be able to until the holiday ends and sixth year begins.
I know my parents can’t offer protection against these Death Eaters. I’m sure they won’t mind if I squeeze in bed with them just this once.