Hermione's Eyes
disclaimer: I have no legal rights or privileges that have anything to do with Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling. There is no profit being made from this or any infringement of any legal bindings intended. I come in peace and offer my largest cow (lol) if I have broken any laws.
Note: I couldn't get the italics and things to work. Terribly sorry. :(
Thinking
The cool room made the rain outside seem as if it were colder than it was. Hermione looked out of the window, resting her elbows on the edge, thinking of what she was about to do. She wanted terribly to escape to the library and hide herself in a book, rather than face what she had to. A sigh escaped from her, spilling out her woes to bounce off the window pane and come springing back to hit her in the face. She didn't want to believe it. She wanted it all to be a lie, a sick joke, anything but true.
Her thoughts spiraled in her head and made her dizzy with enervation of mind. She wanted to sit down; her legs didn't. They seemed to be in league with her feet which wanted to stay rooted to the spot until she had convinced herself that it was something else. No amount of studying and homework had ever caused her so much stress. She had much more piled on her plate at once, many more times than she would have liked, but she didn't dare tell anyone. Her pride held her to her promise and her name. But this, this was different.
Morals were very important to Hermione. She had been the one to keep Harry and Ron from doing stupid things or from being mean to even *her* enemy, Malfoy.
Malfoy made her sick to think about. The boy she so despised, the one who had been so immature to call her uncivil names, the one who had teased and tormented her so many times before, made her almost angry, but not for any of those reasons. She couldn't help but feel awful for feeling like this though. It wasn't Harry's choice. It just happens that way. *No,* she thought. *Don't let yourself think that.*
But part of her did think it. She knew there was nothing she could do even if it were true. Why would it even matter? But *it* did matter. She thought is should matter. *It was wrong!* Her world was not a happy place to be in right now. The usual calm and happy disposition she kept was no where to be found. Her head swirled with gray clouds smirking at her and throwing their horrible cries across the sky within her mind. Branches of trees creaked and snapped under the pressure, and mean beady-eyed birds kept swooping down on her. All her thoughts were awful.
The window sill she had been supporting herself on felt like it didn't want to hold her anymore and she felt herself fall through fluffy clouds that screamed when they were touched by her like she was contaminated with an illness they didn't want to catch. Her whole body vibrated and she felt like she was being pulled by her arms from behind in fast circles with her feet still dragging along behind. Then came cold. Horrible icy cold, came crashing through her like raging rapids running through her head.
"HERMIONE!" Ron shouted as he splashed her again with water. "Hermione, are you alright? Hermione?"
In a short amount of time they were surrounded by a crowd of eager Gryffindors gathering to see what had happened. The common room was nearly full, due to the rain pouring down outside, and an eerie quite fell upon it suddenly. No one dared to speak up and ask what was wrong or why she had fainted. Then Hermione spluttered and gasped for breath, rising up almost as quickly as she had fallen. It seemed as if nearly five minutes had passed but it had only been a few seconds of unconsciousness.
"Somebody go get Madame Pompfrey NOW!" Ron roared in the silence. There were a few students who ran toward the door to rush to the hospital wing and Ron shouted again. "And go get McGonagall, too!" he said before they had made it to the portrait hole. As they swung it open to scurry out, they bumped into a very wet, very muddy young boy carrying a broomstick, Harry.
He immediately started to swear under his breathe and then he spotted Ron hovering over Hermione who was frantically looking around the room while everyone gawked at her. *Ron couldn't be teasing her could he,* Harry thought. Then he realized that no one was laughing and threw his prized Firebolt to the floor. He ran towards the crowd leaving the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team that was still straggling in, unaware of what was going on, another obstacle to get over after a horrid practice of being beaten with rain.
"What's wrong with her? What happened? Is she ok?" Harry spit out quickly and demandingly. "Hermione are you ok?" He looked from Ron back to Hermione. She looked up at him where he was standing, about to drop to his knees to her, like he was vermin. He noticed this repulsive look on her face and felt a wicked hate radiating from her directed at him. He dropped his jaw and left his mouth to hang open. "Hermione?" he said timidly as he stayed standing.
She was going to approach him maturely and in a way that he felt at ease and that she wasn't pressuring him in any way. She was going to keep her head and check to make sure she hadn't been mistaken. She was, but she didn't. She became one of the beady-eyed birds trying to attack her in her head toward him. What would have made her happy was to spit on him and kick him as hard and as many times as she could without killing him. He was filth in her eyes now, her beady, little, bird eyes.
Harry's confused face made him look so fragile and pale when he was already beaten white with rain. "Her-Hermione?" he asked, "you're – okay, right?" She starred with cold unforgiving darkness and Harry stepped back so very slightly. A few people saw this hate that Hermione had and turned to look at him with doubt and discombobulation. There was a moment's silence although not in Harry's ears. He was in a different world now.
The funneling clouds spun overhead and an eerie whistling rang in his ears. The wind whipped and gray filled all that he could see. Harry was seeing what Hermione had been most unfortunate to feel. Pain leapt in his stomach trying desperately to get out, trying to rip its way through his skin to freedom. He felt nauseous and SLAM!
The door of the Fat Lady's portrait swung open and McGonagall ran over to the fallen Hermione on the floor. A look of horror in her eyes and her small lips pursed together more tightly than Harry had ever seen. A bony hand trembled as she wretch it out to bring the stretcher to her side that Madame Pompfrey had sent. Harry doubted if Madame Pompfrey ever left the hospital wing. The scared students moved aside quickly and Hermione was placed upon it gently with her eyes still transfixed on the sopping wet Harry, menacingly.
"Weasley, Potter, you come with me. The rest of you – back to whatever it was you were doing," said McGonagall, "hurry now!" She rose to her feet and began toward the portrait hole, with Hermione hovering in front of her. Harry and Ron had followed as they were told. As the jumped through the hole the Fat Lady's mouth gapped and her hand rose to her mouth. "Oh dear," she said half shocked to see Hermione.
The brisk trot down to the Hospital Wing was horrible. No one spoke a single word or even dared to cough. Harry's water logged shoes squeaked annoyingly on the cold floor beneath him. Hermione tried fervently to turn around to glare at Harry, but McGonagall insisted that she lie down and wait until they'd seen Madame Pompfrey to do anything else. Finally Hermione spoke.
"You remind me of her, you know. Madame Pompfrey," Hermione whined, half irritated. "Lie down. Rest, rest, rest," she mocked. Never had Hermione acted so strangely before to either Harry or Ron's knowledge, but McGonagall didn't seem to notice her odd behavior at all. She just kept them walking quickly to the Hospital Wing, refusing to look at either Ron or Harry.
Please, PLEASE, review this chapter!! Tell me what you think is going on. Thanks!
disclaimer: I have no legal rights or privileges that have anything to do with Harry Potter or J.K. Rowling. There is no profit being made from this or any infringement of any legal bindings intended. I come in peace and offer my largest cow (lol) if I have broken any laws.
Note: I couldn't get the italics and things to work. Terribly sorry. :(
Thinking
The cool room made the rain outside seem as if it were colder than it was. Hermione looked out of the window, resting her elbows on the edge, thinking of what she was about to do. She wanted terribly to escape to the library and hide herself in a book, rather than face what she had to. A sigh escaped from her, spilling out her woes to bounce off the window pane and come springing back to hit her in the face. She didn't want to believe it. She wanted it all to be a lie, a sick joke, anything but true.
Her thoughts spiraled in her head and made her dizzy with enervation of mind. She wanted to sit down; her legs didn't. They seemed to be in league with her feet which wanted to stay rooted to the spot until she had convinced herself that it was something else. No amount of studying and homework had ever caused her so much stress. She had much more piled on her plate at once, many more times than she would have liked, but she didn't dare tell anyone. Her pride held her to her promise and her name. But this, this was different.
Morals were very important to Hermione. She had been the one to keep Harry and Ron from doing stupid things or from being mean to even *her* enemy, Malfoy.
Malfoy made her sick to think about. The boy she so despised, the one who had been so immature to call her uncivil names, the one who had teased and tormented her so many times before, made her almost angry, but not for any of those reasons. She couldn't help but feel awful for feeling like this though. It wasn't Harry's choice. It just happens that way. *No,* she thought. *Don't let yourself think that.*
But part of her did think it. She knew there was nothing she could do even if it were true. Why would it even matter? But *it* did matter. She thought is should matter. *It was wrong!* Her world was not a happy place to be in right now. The usual calm and happy disposition she kept was no where to be found. Her head swirled with gray clouds smirking at her and throwing their horrible cries across the sky within her mind. Branches of trees creaked and snapped under the pressure, and mean beady-eyed birds kept swooping down on her. All her thoughts were awful.
The window sill she had been supporting herself on felt like it didn't want to hold her anymore and she felt herself fall through fluffy clouds that screamed when they were touched by her like she was contaminated with an illness they didn't want to catch. Her whole body vibrated and she felt like she was being pulled by her arms from behind in fast circles with her feet still dragging along behind. Then came cold. Horrible icy cold, came crashing through her like raging rapids running through her head.
"HERMIONE!" Ron shouted as he splashed her again with water. "Hermione, are you alright? Hermione?"
In a short amount of time they were surrounded by a crowd of eager Gryffindors gathering to see what had happened. The common room was nearly full, due to the rain pouring down outside, and an eerie quite fell upon it suddenly. No one dared to speak up and ask what was wrong or why she had fainted. Then Hermione spluttered and gasped for breath, rising up almost as quickly as she had fallen. It seemed as if nearly five minutes had passed but it had only been a few seconds of unconsciousness.
"Somebody go get Madame Pompfrey NOW!" Ron roared in the silence. There were a few students who ran toward the door to rush to the hospital wing and Ron shouted again. "And go get McGonagall, too!" he said before they had made it to the portrait hole. As they swung it open to scurry out, they bumped into a very wet, very muddy young boy carrying a broomstick, Harry.
He immediately started to swear under his breathe and then he spotted Ron hovering over Hermione who was frantically looking around the room while everyone gawked at her. *Ron couldn't be teasing her could he,* Harry thought. Then he realized that no one was laughing and threw his prized Firebolt to the floor. He ran towards the crowd leaving the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team that was still straggling in, unaware of what was going on, another obstacle to get over after a horrid practice of being beaten with rain.
"What's wrong with her? What happened? Is she ok?" Harry spit out quickly and demandingly. "Hermione are you ok?" He looked from Ron back to Hermione. She looked up at him where he was standing, about to drop to his knees to her, like he was vermin. He noticed this repulsive look on her face and felt a wicked hate radiating from her directed at him. He dropped his jaw and left his mouth to hang open. "Hermione?" he said timidly as he stayed standing.
She was going to approach him maturely and in a way that he felt at ease and that she wasn't pressuring him in any way. She was going to keep her head and check to make sure she hadn't been mistaken. She was, but she didn't. She became one of the beady-eyed birds trying to attack her in her head toward him. What would have made her happy was to spit on him and kick him as hard and as many times as she could without killing him. He was filth in her eyes now, her beady, little, bird eyes.
Harry's confused face made him look so fragile and pale when he was already beaten white with rain. "Her-Hermione?" he asked, "you're – okay, right?" She starred with cold unforgiving darkness and Harry stepped back so very slightly. A few people saw this hate that Hermione had and turned to look at him with doubt and discombobulation. There was a moment's silence although not in Harry's ears. He was in a different world now.
The funneling clouds spun overhead and an eerie whistling rang in his ears. The wind whipped and gray filled all that he could see. Harry was seeing what Hermione had been most unfortunate to feel. Pain leapt in his stomach trying desperately to get out, trying to rip its way through his skin to freedom. He felt nauseous and SLAM!
The door of the Fat Lady's portrait swung open and McGonagall ran over to the fallen Hermione on the floor. A look of horror in her eyes and her small lips pursed together more tightly than Harry had ever seen. A bony hand trembled as she wretch it out to bring the stretcher to her side that Madame Pompfrey had sent. Harry doubted if Madame Pompfrey ever left the hospital wing. The scared students moved aside quickly and Hermione was placed upon it gently with her eyes still transfixed on the sopping wet Harry, menacingly.
"Weasley, Potter, you come with me. The rest of you – back to whatever it was you were doing," said McGonagall, "hurry now!" She rose to her feet and began toward the portrait hole, with Hermione hovering in front of her. Harry and Ron had followed as they were told. As the jumped through the hole the Fat Lady's mouth gapped and her hand rose to her mouth. "Oh dear," she said half shocked to see Hermione.
The brisk trot down to the Hospital Wing was horrible. No one spoke a single word or even dared to cough. Harry's water logged shoes squeaked annoyingly on the cold floor beneath him. Hermione tried fervently to turn around to glare at Harry, but McGonagall insisted that she lie down and wait until they'd seen Madame Pompfrey to do anything else. Finally Hermione spoke.
"You remind me of her, you know. Madame Pompfrey," Hermione whined, half irritated. "Lie down. Rest, rest, rest," she mocked. Never had Hermione acted so strangely before to either Harry or Ron's knowledge, but McGonagall didn't seem to notice her odd behavior at all. She just kept them walking quickly to the Hospital Wing, refusing to look at either Ron or Harry.
Please, PLEASE, review this chapter!! Tell me what you think is going on. Thanks!