Kudos to my big, brave beta-reader of doom,
Valkyrja. You're a doll. I told you I'd write more angst-ridden fics
eventually.
Silence
"The cruellest lies are often told in silence."
~Robert Stevenson
Have
you ever done things simply because they're what you're supposed to do? Because that's what everyone wants you to
do, expects you to do? Because it's all
you've really done? Have you ever just
gone with the tide until you've been so miserable for so long, you've forgotten
how to be happy?
I
should be happy. I should count my
blessings every night. I'm head of my
class, Head Girl, even, as if that was ever a question. I have a boyfriend who adores me. I should be happy.
So
why is it that I have to keep telling myself that? And why is it that it never, ever is true?
I'm
one of the Three. Harry, Ron and
Hermione. Every witch and wizard up and
down the British Isles knows about us.
Hogwarts buzzes when we do something daring. I'm the smart one, Ron's the loyal one, and Harry is…the Boy Who
Lived. We're the sidekicks, he's the
hero. So the boy sidekick dates the
girl sidekick, and everyone is happy.
He dotes on me, tries to protect me.
He tries to be everything to me.
And he's oblivious.
There
are times, Ron, when I simply want to hit you, to crack you upside the head and
watch you fall. There are times I can't
stand your very presence. There are
times I wish I wasn't "Hermione, Ron's Girlfriend." I want to simply be Hermione Granger, Head Girl, Gryffindor 7th
Year. That's enough for me.
So
why can't I tell you?
Why
don't you notice?
And
why am I so afraid to let go?
It was an autumn day too much like any other, at
least, so it seemed for Hermione. The
wind blew, gently playing with her chestnut curls, tugging at her cloak like a
puppy anxious to romp around in the late afternoon sunshine. The golden light was beautiful as it played
across the various figures zooming around on brooms above the Quidditch
field. Time at Hogwarts had been kind
to Hermione Granger, transforming her from the awkward, imperious girl she had
been into the lovely, self-assured young woman she was now, her eyes lifted skyward,
almost mercurial as they watched Ron and Harry fly. One hand was lifted to her brow to shield the sunlight from those
eyes, and she tried her best to feign some kind of interest in the antics of
her best friend and her boyfriend. But
it was hard, nearly too hard as she clutched some books to her chest with one
arm. It was as if the Potions text was
some kind of shield between herself and the rest of the world, a shield behind
which she could vanish into her own thoughts and leave Hermione, dutiful,
smiling girlfriend and Head Girl, in her place. But she couldn't hide, and all too soon, Ron caught sight of
her. With a grace that defied
description, Harry descended, Ron trailing behind.
It
was a good day for them, and Hermione could see that almost immediately as they
touched ground. Lightly, they bantered
back and forth, debating Gryffindor's chances against Slytherin this year,
interspersed with teasing and good-natured ribbing. Ron, as if finally realising he had a duty to perform, came over
to Hermione and kissed her cheek. "Slytherin
can't touch us this year, right, love?" he asked her eagerly.
"No,
can't touch us," she responded automatically with a smile that somehow didn't
reach her eyes—or her heart. Though she
turned to Harry, and the half-smile broadened, becoming genuine. "Hullo, Harry."
A
grin, and Harry ruffled her curls gently.
"You look beat, Mione. Long
day?"
A
nod, and Hermione realised dimly that Ron had slipped his hand in hers. "Unlike some people, I can't spend my time
larking about on a broom for hours," she quipped.
"You're
not lucky enough, that's all," came Harry's reply, accompanied by a cheeky grin
as he looked up at the sky, the sweet turquoise of it. "It's going to be a good year, I think."
Is
it? Hermione wanted to ask, but she kept her thoughts silent as Ron and
Harry went back into their endless banter, leaving her forgotten as they began
the walk back to the castle. It was
always this way, or so it had seemed last year. It appeared that this year was going to pick up right where the
past one had left off. Hermione, quiet,
dutiful, doing her part as the girl sidekick.
Ron and Harry, bantering constantly, joking constantly, leaving her
their forgotten shadow. She didn't
really blame them. Is she had been in
their positions, she wouldn't have necessarily remembered herself, either.
"Dinner,
then, love?"
The
sound of Ron addressing her directly caught Hermione off guard, and out of
habit, she replied, "Yes, dear, of course."
"Great. I'll meet you there in a few. I need to talk to McGonagall for a
second." With that, Harry was gone, and
Hermione was left wondering what exactly had been going on as they had walked.
"You
know, love, you ought to get some rest.
Harry's right, you do look beat.
Lay down for a bit, later, maybe?"
"No,"
Hermione responded softly. "I'm fine,
honestly. Just have a lot of
work…things on my mind, you know?"
Ron
smiled, drawing her closer as they walked to the Great Hall for dinner. "My angel, always working."
"Something
like that."
"Harry!"
The
call gave Harry pause as Ginny Weasley rounded a corner to grab his
attention. Hermione was not the only
one to whom the past few years at Hogwarts had been kind. Ginny, the youngest of the Weasley brood,
had developed curves that Harry swore needed a warning sign and a veritable
lion's mane of shining copper curls.
Her face, too, had matured, sweetened, giving her a devastating
combination of sass and innocence. She
had the potential to be a heartbreaker.
Harry knew this full well; after all, Ginny had practically cut her
teeth on his heart. He sighed softly, a
gentle smile touching his lips as he waved.
"I'm
glad I caught you," she panted after her mad dash to catch up with him.
"You're
awfully excited to see me, Gin," Harry responded brightly.
"Well,
you're hard to catch, Mr. Quidditch-Star-Seeker-etc…"
Harry
couldn't help but laugh at that, at the face Ginny pulled as she said it. "I suppose you're right. What's up?"
Ginny
looked around, then put her hand on his arm and drew her closer. "Look, is everything all right with Hermione
and my brother?" she asked in a hushed, furtive voice.
Harry
frowned a little. "I don't know,
why? Everything seems okay, doesn't
it?"
A
shrug, and a pause. "There are times I
think you only have eyes for the Snitch, Harry." She looked distinctly unpleased, and Harry really couldn't shake
the feeling that he had missed something monumental and obvious.
"Gin,
a little more information would be great."
Another
shrug, and Ginny brushed imaginary lint from her robes. "I don't know…I just get this feeling. She has that look in her eyes."
"What
look?" The distinct gut reaction that
Harry had indeed missed something of importance was growing.
"You
are blind," Ginny told him. "Just this
look in her eyes…no wonder you don't have a girlfriend, the way you pay
attention to women."
Harry
gnawed thoughtfully on his lip, looking from Ginny to the floor, then back
again. Had he really been ignoring
Hermione? That wasn't possible. "Look, Gin, I really think you're over-reacting
or something. She and Ron looked
perfectly happy a little while ago.
Mione's just tired. She works
too hard, this is a given, and with NEWTs coming up and everything…well,
honestly, what do you expect?"
Ginny
gave him a look that would have frozen the Thames. "You're oblivious. Men,"
she breathed angrily, then turned and flounced angrily back towards the
Gryffindor Common Room, leaving Harry to stare after her, befuddled as could
possibly be.
"They
have to be all right…I mean, this is Ron and Mione. They just have to be," Harry murmured to himself, heading down to
dinner as he mulled over the distinct possibility that it didn't have to be
that way at all. He didn't feel like he
had been ignoring her, but then again, it was hard to tell. After all, he was Harry Potter. The world just wouldn't be the same if
trouble, disaster, heartbreak and heroics didn't follow on his heels wherever
he went. At the moment, however, none
of those things trailed him. Merely a
sense of doubt, and a concern that seemed to grow in the pit of his stomach,
threatening to devour him like some kind of parasite.
The
Great Hall was a bustle of activity, a cacophony of voices and laughter. It was soothing, in a way. Normal, expected and welcome. Automatically, Harry went to the Gryffindor
table, his green eyes fixed on the couple in question. Ron was eating hungrily, talking between
bites as Hermione stared at her plate, nodding and giving an affirmation to
reassure him of her continued consciousness, never mind her opinion on whatever
the subject in question may have been.
She looked…miserable. Harry
wondered if he had really been this blind all along, or if this was a recent
thing. He rather hoped it was a recent
thing. He'd like to think he paid more
attention to Hermione or Ron. With a
sigh, Harry took his usual place next to Ron, but not before tousling
Hermione's curls affectionately, making her smile a little. That made him feel better. Things couldn't be all bad if she still
smiled. Could they?
Too many times, I don't know how to
talk to you, how to talk to anyone. I'm
more comfortable with my books, with ambitions for the future. Do you even have ambitions, Ron? I never hear you talk of anything in the
future, save for things that involve me.
You want to be my husband, and there are times I think that is all you
want out of life. Don't you know how
that sickens me? How it makes me feel
trapped, a bird in a cage left to beat her tiny wings against the bars
helplessly. I want so many things. I want to do it all, to be the best person I
can, to help as many people as I can.
I've often thought of training as a medi-wizard, and with a conflict
with Voldemort looming in the future, I'll be needed. Are you oblivious to this, too, Ron? Are you convinced Harry will save the day and we can just skip
off to somewhere else and not have to worry?
Have you gotten so settled, so dependant on order and stability that
this is all you see ahead of you?
That's how it seems to me anymore.
All you want is stability and order, maybe to play Quidditch or do
something else fun and not in the least practical, and have Hermione, dear
loyal Hermione there to hold your hand and clean everything up when you
can't. I don't want to clean up your
messes, Ron. I don't want to endure
Quidditch matches and lie to the world as I pretend to be your devoted little
wife.
Wife…husband…marriage…
Do
you know how much those words scare me, Ron?
I'm waiting for you to ask, and I knew you and the whole of Gryffindor,
if not the whole of Hogwarts, expects me to say yes. I feel like the entire world is pressing on my shoulders,
expecting me to accept you and be your devoted little pet for the rest of my
life. I can't bear the thought of
it. I don't know how to make my mouth
say yes. I don't know how to say no,
either. I resent you and your
assumptions so completely, it eats at me every moment I'm with you, and
sometimes when I'm not.
If I didn't consider you one of my best friends, Ron
Weasley, I'd hate you…
Hermione trudged up the stairs to the Gryffindor
Common Room, and she was thankful that Ron was nowhere to be seen. She wasn't sure if she could deal with him
any longer today without snapping at him, without biting his head off for
irritations and failings real and imagined.
It was like too many other days, Hermione reflected as she automatically
gave the password to the Fat Lady and the portrait opened, allowing her to
climb through, he books in tow.
Surprisingly, Ginny was right there, and she smiled upon seeing the
younger girl.
"On
your way out?" Hermione asked, trying her best to sound chipper. She'd settle for moderately interested at
this point as she sat down her books.
"No,
actually, I was on my way out to find you," Ginny replied, reaching down to pick
up the tomes. "Advanced Potions? Lord, no wonder you look so miserable this
early in the year."
Hermione
laughed a little, dismissing the notion with a shake of her head. "No it isn't so bad…" She reconsidered, and then nodded. "Well, yes, it is." Another chuckle, and she looked to Ginny
curiously. "So what do you need?"
Ginny
looked a little put out for a second, her brow furrowing. "Look…this is a personal question and
all. I don't expect you to answer or
anything, really I don't."
Hermione
headed towards the girl's dormitory, picking her way up the stairs as she
looked behind her occasionally at Ginny.
"You make it sound desperate, Gin."
Upon reaching the top, Hermione made a beeline for her own bed and began
to tuck books away in an orderly fashion, one of her unrelenting habits. Ginny smiled a little, watching her, then
shook her head.
"Not
desperate, not really."
Hermione
straightened, pushing her hair out of her face. "Well, then, ask me."
Ginny
paused, dithering mentally, wondering now that she was confronted with her
decision if this was such a fantastic idea after all, the direct approach. "Mione…are…you and Ron. Are you happy?"
Hermione
paused for a long moment, running her hand over the coverlet of the bed,
smoothing the wrinkles out of the soft fabric.
Ginny had struck a nerve, and Hermione was desperate to just come out
and tell her the truth. But she didn't
know if she could do that. Though she
loved Ginny and counted her as a dear friend, she didn't know if this was something
she could honestly discuss with Ron's sister.
"Why do you ask that, Gin?" Hermione replied softly.
"You
seem miserable. That's all…and….I know
my brother. He can be as oblivious
as…as Harry at times. I just…I don't
know, I worry, I guess. Looks like I
take after my mother after all." Ginny
pulled a face, making Hermione laugh a little once more.
"You
worry too much."
Ginny
shook her head a little. "No, not
really."
"Why
wouldn't Ron and I be happy?" Yes,
Hermione begged mentally, tell me the reasons I have been thinking all
along. Validate this for me; make it
seem clearer than it is right now, please.
"He's
oblivious, that's the truth. And I
don't think he pays enough real attention to you. And you always have this look in your eyes whenever you're with
him, whenever he touches you, like you're drowning or something and you have no
idea what to do anymore."
Hermione
was surprised that she didn't wince at the accuracy of some of Ginny's
observations. For a long moment, she
was silent, unwilling to give Ginny confirmation though she was more than
correct on a great many issues. But she
had to save face, didn't she? After
all, Ron needed her so much. Hermione
knew that. And to pull away from him
now with his sister, to confess it all and let her know, that would be pulling
away when he needed her. He always
needed her. "I don't know, Gin."
"He
needs you, I know that. You're his
world, all he talks about at home sometimes.
Mum practically is waiting for the wedding announcements to be sent in
the post. But…oh, I don't know. Am I completely wrong?"
"About
Ron? I know he needs me," Hermione told
her, dodging the question as posed artfully, her fingers still smoothing the
soft coverlet, though all the wrinkles had long ago yielded to her fingertips.
"But
are you happy? Please Mione. Tell me if I need to stop worrying about
this, or else I'll have to go pester him."
Hermione
sighed. No, she wanted to confess, I'm
miserable. But as she opened her mouth
to say as much, she found herself replying, "No, Gin, I'm really happy with
everything. No worries."
And inside, Hermione began to
scream.
**********
Ahead in Chapter II:
So how unhappy is Hermione?
Miserable now? Oh, just you
wait. It gets worse. More angst, and plans for a masquerade at
Halloween ahead. Ask yourself a
question: What kind of jewelry does a girl expect from a Weasley?
