Disclaimer: Hermione belongs to J.K. Rowling.
A/N: Well, I was inspired by a certain ficlet over on FA, and also by MYSELF…yes, I'm VERY Hermione-ish…and this just seems likely to happen. Erm, sort of. The ending can be multi-shippy. I'm aiming for Ron/Hermione, but, hey.
"Is it wrong to actually enjoy being top of the class, being a Prefect, being "a know-it-all"? Is it wrong to hate being all that? That's what I do, that's who I am. It all comes down, I suppose, to my inner-self, my secret fears.
Since I was a very young child, I strived to do well. This, I supposed, was why I never had many friends. I was more interested in school work than playing with dolls, or, as I got older, make-up and movie stars. I was never sent to boarding schools, like so many other children (two dentists' incomes isn't as much as you would expect) and I was always trying hard, but I wasn't quite at the top of my class. You see, art and sports…neither are my strong points, and they brought me down. So, when I got my Hogwarts letter (and figured out it wasn't a fake) I decided that I had to be top of the class.
I memorized all my first-year schoolbooks, I tried many simple spells, and I read Hogwarts, A History because I as afraid the people who came from all-wizarding families would know so much more than I. Actually, this wasn't the case, and so I came off as, once again, a bossy know-it-all, as I hid behind my books.
In classes, my hand had to be up first, and I always had to be right. And I always was too, every time I was called on. I had no friends, because the girls in my dormitory were blibbering idiots who only cared about stupid things. And they giggled.
Finally, Ron Weasley pushed me over the edge, and I spent Halloween in the girls' bathroom crying. An escaped troll managed to get in, and Ron and Harry Potter (foolishly) attacked it. But they did save me, and so I lied for them. We were friends after that.
But I was still focused on doing well and getting top marks. So focused, in fact, that in third year, I took every single course offered, and had to deal with time-travel in addition to everything else. I'm probably actually closer to seventeen years old than sixteen because of it. But I digress.
I finally dropped Divination, because the teacher was a fraud, and besides, McGonagall said it was an imprecise branch of magic anyway. I nearly lost my friends, because of a stupid rat. I should have been smarter about that whole issue, but I was too proud. I worked harder than ever after that. I guess I didn't work hard enough, though, because for the first time, Harry beat me in a Defense Against the Dark Arts exam.
In fourth year, I finally began to pay attention to boys, and the internationally famous Quidditch player, Krum, asked me--ME!--to the Yule Ball. I was flattered, but quite surprised that he would like a girl like me. I sort of…broke the relationship off, because over the years I had started to fancy…someone else. I'm still too stupid to actually tell him though.
In fifth year, I was distracted by everything happening, and when the O.W.L. results came back this summer--Harry beat me in Defense Against the Dark Arts again. He got an O, and I only got an E. I did beat him or tie him in everything else, but still. I managed ten O.W.L.s, which is impressive, but when I had learned that twelve was the maximum, I had hoped for twelve.
But always trying to be perfect can be so hard. It's embarrassing when I'm wrong, or when I don't know an answer. And when teachers hold me up for examples, it's quite pleasing, but then I feel I have to keep being an example.
Do you see why it's hard?"
He looked at me after I finished my long speech. "Wow. I never knew that."
I looked at my feet, blushing, "Well, now you do," I snapped.
"One question. Who is it you fancy?" He was genuinely curious.
"Promise not to tell?"
He hesitated. "Er, sure."
"You, you idiot!"
He looked at me, and grinned. "Well, then. That's good. I fancy you too."
And he kissed me, full on the lips, then left. "Maybe it's not so hard after all…"