A Note- Hey! I just wanted to do this. This is a general psychological survey in the form of a story. I want every reviewer of this story write about how they feel about love. Yes Hermione is Obssesive compulsive in this fic. I have OCD (No I don't wash my hands or clean my room all the time, I just walk different when I'm upset) and I know what a book obsession is like so... BAH! I don't own much.
Love. What a stupid word.
The word doesn't really have a clear definition in dictionary, or medical journals, or philosophy or any science in the world. But people still use it. Each person has a different meaning attached to that word. There is no majority no minority nor is there any similarity in any of those definitions.
Yet, Hermione wanted to know. She wanted to know if there was any thing that would entirely fit that definition. She searched through the entire library, but alas every book had the word under a different meaning. Some called it a boon, others a bane.
She tried look through every single book in Hogwarts, even in the restricted section. Harry didn't know what she was looking for. Only that she was looking. He was too caught up in other things anyway. There was no reason to disturb him.
Slowly, her dinners turned into library sessions, her lunches a hurried affair, the breakfasts nonexistent. Her face was slowly crumbling, like those old books she often spent her nights poring through, her hair crackling with all the pressure put on her mind. But the world was oblivious and she would've liked it no better.
She still made an effort to smile and talk to people. She even said yes to Cormac McLaggen, a person she had never imagined she would ever go with. Her mind was never really free, always occupied, obsessing over that one word.
This was the last book in the library. She feverishly turned the pages over, her eyes looking for that one word. Nothing. There was still a whole world of muggle books waiting for her when she went back home for the summer before her seventh year. Not all was lost.
With that thought in her mind, she kept the book back into the shelf, her eyes poring over the number of titles she hadn't read. There wasn't a single one she hadn't leafed through. She wasn't dissapointed, not yet.
Slowly, she gathered her things up, trying to think up all the books she would have to buy. Her parents won't be able to afford all of them, maybe she should get some kind of job, preferably at a bookstore.
At that very moment, Ginny Weasley came rushing into the library. Her pale face looked even paler, if that could be possible, ever freckle standing out like dark currants in a vanilla cake.
"Hermione it's Ron! He's been poisoned!"
That, had been the first time in months that Hermione Granger had dropped her books and completely forgotten of the word that had plagued her into insanity.
Maybe, love didn't need a definition, it just needed time.