A/N- Well, yeah I know. I promised a romance fic. But I couldn't resist on writing this story. I love writing character point of views, especially Hermione's. I'm also still working out details for my next story. It's going to be pretty long, longer then Hermione's Diary, I think. Well, here's Hermione's autobiograpghy. Please review! And be kind. Oh, and I know Emy did a fic like this too, but mine's a bit different (by the way, Emy, if you're reading this, I loved it!).
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling ((duh)).
Hermione Granger. When you hear this name, definitions float into your mind. Is it know-it-all? Is it smart aleck? Most likely. I am so stereotyped. I might as well tell my past…
I was born into a world of many problems. I can tell you the first thing I can remember was when I was three. I was in the park with my mother. It was a relatively warm summer day with no clouds in the sky. My mother had initially taken me to the park to go to the playground. Oh, and how I wanted to go! I liked the bars, slides, and tunnels. All the twists and turns there were. I liked crawling to the tallest tower and sitting there, watching the cloud formations in the sky. Watching the birds fly carefree overhead.
This was what I wanted.
My mother, however, had different ideas. She sat me down on a bench and as I watched my friends laughing and climbing, she started to talk. She said it was time for me to learn addition.
You can imagine how foreign this all seemed to a three year old. But, I started learning 1+1, 2+2…By the end of the year, I knew not only addition but subtraction as well.
That's how it all got started.
My parents were keen on having an intelligent offspring. It's what they wanted most. And believe me, they made sure I knew it.
I was homeschooled until first grade. I'd be in my room, staring out the window at kids playing at recess. How I wished I was with them! Instead, I was stuck in my room, learning long division. And about nouns, verbs, cells, and King James and the revolutionary war. Quite a lot of a kid that age, I know. But I stuck with it. I wanted to please my parents, and if this was the way to do it, so be it.
I went to a private elementary school. In first grade, I was the only kid in the class with knowledge of addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division facts. It was then when my life started to crumble.
Names. Teasing. All of it. I was very sensitive, and I still am. I cry at almost anything, and at that age, name calling was a hobby. And it didn't get any better.
Second grade was not much better. My heart and feelings were much destroyed in first grade, and I've never gotten them back. While other kids learned subtraction, I learned American History. When we got our first report to write, mine was ten pages typed. My parents were pleased, and if they were happy, I was happy. But I truly wasn't. I had no childhood. My life was a continuous test. A test to make my parents pleased. And I never fully satisfied them. But, they were demanding as well. If I brought home a report card with a B plus they would ground me. Even from places I loved, such as the library. I mean, how am I supposed to learn without books, for crying out loud? Books were my friend. I trusted them.
The years that followed only became worse and worse. I was becoming smarter, which was to my disadvantage at the time. I wasn't very well liked, and not at all popular. This is what damaged my entire self. Every day, I came home in tears of what people said about me. What people said when I gave an unneeded report about an international trip. It wasn't even my choice! My parents told me to, and didn't dare disagree with them. Once, when I was in first grade I told them I didn't want to write a report for them because I wanted to play outside and they sent me to my room and was grounded for a week.
But, back to my social life. That was what made me feel horrible. I was teased because I wasn't popular, I was fortunate enough to do things other kids could not, and for my intelligence. When they did this I cried. I could cry for hours and not feel better. I decided that I had to be good at something. And the only something I had was my book smarts. So I decided to keep to them. Perfect them. Make myself smarter then the class. This was, and still is, important to me. It makes me feel good about myself, and it helps me know that when people tease me, I am smarter then them. I will go places. I will get a well paying job, and I will succeed in life. Because I never stopped trying. I never did not care about my grades. I cared about my grades almost more then I cared about my family and friends. So, I stopped trying to be popular. I shut myself away in my room when others went out to play. All I wanted was to leave this life, and go to a better one. I was a miserable mess.
It was then I received my letter from Hogwarts, which is where I am now. I decided I wanted to be smart in the wizarding world as well, so I studied my textbooks day and night and bought other books for background studies. I was determined to be the best. I was prepared for the backlash of teasing, but now I could preform spells on the bullies. I was prepared and ready. I had my self-esteem. And I had my confidence.
I arrived there, and as I had hoped, I did well in my studies. The girls in my year were not too pleasant to me, however. Too wrapped up in boys, especially Harry Potter. But, he had an impact on me, as well. I introduced myself to him and Ron, hoping that they might like me for who I am. Girls never understood me. I think it was because I focused more on geometry then on the Gap. But, to my surprise, as much as I wanted to protect them and make them my friend, they brushed me away. They said I was annoying and bossy, and that I should leave them alone. I really never had friends before. I was usually quiet and ignored. But, thinking on that one Holloween night I could stop the troll, we became friends. We didn't always get along, though. Goodness, I look back on some of the fights I've had with them in the past three years and laugh. But, I needed them and they needed me. We're still good friends, despite they are boys and I'm a girl. I'm not a normal girl, which is why they like me. Because I'm not whispering about them every second!
But, I did develop feelings. Hehe…I still find Ron attractive, in more ways then just looks. But, hopefully he'll never read my autobiography.
My parents are still ever so demanding, but I stand up to them. They are the cause of me being who I am. Sometimes Harry and Ron complain that I'm no fun. Technically, they are correct. My parents just never taught me fun. I never knew how to have fun, and I still don't know. My parents shaped my life, for the worst. Most people would say I was so fortunate, to be of high intelligence, but for once I wish I was someone I'm not. Someone who is carefree and liked by many. Someone who is creative and enjoys life. Someone who is happy, and will be happy forever. All I can say is, that isn't me. And will never be.
Hermione Granger put down the quill she was writing with and sighed. She was so unhappy. Unhappy with herself, but mostly she was just mad at her parents. She looked out the window again and saw the quidditch stands packed. Full of students attending the quidditch championship. She saw the many happy faces and she wanted to cry. She felt so alone.
"Hermione? Are you in here?"
Ron opened the door to her dormitory. She knew he wasn't supposed to be in here, but, he wasn't afraid to get caught. And she wouldn't tell. Not with all the feelings she had for him.
"Yes, Ron. Here I am."
"Well, you don't want to be late for the quidditch game, now do you? I had saved you a seat!"
Hermione felt her cheeks go red.
"Well, of course I'll come."
She got up and walked over to him and they started to leave. But Ron could not resist the temptation to see what she was writing. He looked over at the parchment and saw the words: Hermione Granger. When you hear this name… . He sighed and only wondered what it could be about. He waited till she was downstairs and he quickly read it. He smiled and caught up with her downstairs.
"What were you doing up there?" She asked.
"Oh, um, nothing." He replied.
He slipped an arm around her shoulders and together they walked to the quidditch field. This was unexpected to her, so she simply smiled and blushed, but didn't move the arm away. He finally knew her true feelings, and he was happy. And, he now suspected, so was she.