Hell hath no fury…It's Been Two Weeks
Summary: Hermione decides to just write out her feelings one night after Ron left her and Harry. She needs to vent and she can't vent to Harry. Almost a free-write style of a diary entry.
It's been about two weeks since you left. Two weeks since that awful night. I go over it in my mind again and again. All I come up with at the end of it is emptiness which fills my days. I am stuck out here all alone with Harry. At times I want to scream, other times I want to cry. Most of the time I do neither; I just stare blankly and go about my boring day like I'm in a vacuum of some sort. I hide it, I bury my feelings now. I don't want to be so cowardly as to cry constantly in front of Harry which is what I want to do all the time in some ways. Am I contradicting myself? Yes, of course I am. I just don't know what I am supposed to feel for someone who has been such an important part of my life, and yet hasn't been in the way that I've wanted for so long. Was I seeing things the way I wanted? Was any of it real?
This is so damn frustrating I can't even begin to write about it and yet here I am trying to do so. I have to work through this. I am a walking contradiction, a sitting at the door of the tent contradiction, a nose in a book contradiction. Right now I have no idea who I am. It's absolutely maddening. Who am I? Hermione Granger. What does that mean normally? I am the daughter of Del and Monika Granger, dentists, student at Hogwarts, best friend of Ron and Harry. But none of that seems to exist anymore. My parents don't exist because of me. They are other people now, so far away and here I am, out here in a tent, isolated from the world. That's it, isn't it? Isolation. It plays funny tricks on people's minds. Is that why he left me? Is that why he said those things as he walked away, slicing his hand through the air as if to stop my words from coming at him? Cutting me off one more time? What? Am I making excuses for him now? The locket. He was wearing it, but once it was off, he could have come back. He chose not to come back.
For heaven's sake, look how I started this entry! I was writing to you, you prat, and I'm doing it again. What the hell kind of hold on me do you have? You don't have a right to it. It's my life. I will live it for me. I've spent the last three years wishing you would look at me differently, see me, truly see me. I thought we had something, I thought there had been a breakthrough for us. Apparently , I was wrong. If I were right, you would have seen me. Seen me running after you. I certainly didn't hide how I felt about you going after you in the rain, trying to get you to stop, to stay. How could you have said what you did? I find myself with my head in my hands a lot these days—trying to hide, trying to understand you. "I get it. You choose him." How the hell can you say those words to me and then take off when you can see that I am following you, crying hysterically. But, you did say them. Does that mean you were waiting for me to choose you? What? Out loud? Damn it! Didn't my staying away from you all that time last year while you were with her give you any clue at all that I had already chosen you? But you had chosen to go away from me, toward her. It was your choice to be with her, your choice to hurt me, your choice, damn it! I asked you to the party, damn it! I made the first real move, damn it! I opened myself up to be attacked as you would say in chess. Attacked, yes, I certainly felt that.
Here I am crying again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I am the fool to believe that you were choosing me. You've actually chosen every path away from me and I have been too blind to see it until now. Too stuck in my dreams of you, of us together to see the reality in front of me. You made of fool of me then and I feel like one now. I will not be fooled again, Ronald Weasley. There! I actually wrote your stupid name. I will not let myself go to that place where I thought happiness was with you. You are gone. You can no longer be part of how I define myself as happy. I am determined that your presence, or lack thereof, will not affect me anymore. You left, you chose your path, and I am not in it. I will likely not see you again. I have to move on. My reality is with Harry.
Look at him, sitting there, his nose in the map, looking for Ginny. Aren't we a pathetic pair, both of our noses over parchment regarding the ones we can't have? Where does that leave us? Lonely as hell, out in the middle of nowhere, and we don't even know what day it is anymore. Drifting from place to place with no particular destination. We might as well be in the Forbidden Forest, our outlook is so murky. We don't even talk much now-a-days. It didn't seem so bleak before when you were here. I never realized how much of the glue of our friendship was in you.
Oh, what am I doing? This emptiness is all encompassing. It keeps coming back in waves, just when I think I can stay angry and strong. Why do thoughts of you pervade everything I do? Why do you turn up in my mind even when I am brushing my hair? When I am reading a book? When I am eating? Why does my mind keep imagining what it would be like to kiss you, to really kiss you and have you kiss me back? What would it be like to feel that you wouldn't turn away in the middle of it, but only sink deeper into a kiss that touches to the very tips of my toes? What would it feel like to have your arms around me, holding me, making me feel loved, wanted, desired and safe all at the same time? What would it feel like to let all my feelings for you out in the open and that they would be returned instead of turned away?
My eyes keep scanning this parchment for your name above, just to look at it. This shows how weak I am and I don't like it. I don't like myself like this. I miss you Ron. I hate you Ron. You make me laugh; you make me so mad. What I wouldn't give to see you open the tent flap and walk in and end our friendship with a kiss. But, that is never going to happen. I am totally in love with you. It breaks my heart to admit it. Love is supposed to be a good feeling, isn't it? Why is it that with you, it has been almost all heartbreak? This is not healthy. I don't know why, but I love you. But, you make me cry more than you make me smile. You make me feel regret more than I feel optimistic. I have to stay focused on that if I am to get over you. I will get over you, even if I have to hate you to do it. Right now, that doesn't feel very hard to do. Feeling stone cold like a rock looks more appealing than this.
There's your bunk, across the tent from me. It is empty and that is all there is to it. That is all. That is all there will ever be. Deal with it Hermione Jean Granger! Get over it and move on. He left you. He walked away from you. You are not his priority, you never have been. Fantasy world is over, here is your reality. I hate reality!
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