A/N: First fanfiction ever! So this little idea just popped into my head a while ago and I thought I'd try to do something on this site other than read until 3 am ;)

Reviews & opinions are appreciated! I really enjoyed writing this and already have another story in the works.

I realize that this story doesn't really fit into the HP universe. We all know that Harry and Ron never would have survived without Hermione, and even if they did, Hermione probably would have fled Britain because of the muggleborn registration. Its part of the reason this story was delayed for so long (5 months to be exact), but in the end I just decided to go with it. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its characters. All rights go to Queen Rowling.

Hermione Granger has never had anyone. Now her solitude is finally catching up with her.

She felt extremely lightheaded. Her vision was clouded with tears, there was a horrible pit in her stomach, and she had a headache that no amount of magic or muggle pain medication could clear. Of course, she'd stopped trying to feel better a long time ago. It was her fault she was like this, so, logically, she should be the one to suffer the consequences.

"Screw logic," she muttered grimly, "I'm just so tired of logic."

If she hadn't been so single-minded, so bloody convinced that she was on the right path, her life could have been so much better. She probably could have had friends, laughter, maybe even adventure. But now it was too late. In fact, it had been too late for a long time.

Early in her life, she'd made the decision that it would be unacceptable to be anything less than perfect. And being perfect meant that there would be no time for silly, unnecessary friendships. She'd concluded that she wouldn't let herself become distracted by her feelings. She would never make the same mistakes that her parents had made. Years of comforting her crying mother after her father left them had taught her that true love and compassion didn't exist.

So she'd chosen to close herself off to the rest of the world, building walls all around until they were so strong that no one could possibly break through.

She realized now that those early decisions would be the end of her.

She'd tried once. She remembered learning about magic and Hogwarts, and how she'd wondered what else this new world could bring. Maybe here, where you could fly on a broomstick and make potions that conjured love, she would find someone who could break down the walls that she'd started to build around her.

So she tried to make friends. But she soon discovered she wasn't very good at friendship. She knew it the moment she heard what those two little boys had to say about her. She'd tried to be friendly on the train, and she'd thought things had been going fairly well ever since. But when she saw the one with ginger hair turned to his scar-headed friend, she knew she had been wrong.

"It's no wonder no one can stand her," he'd said. "She's a nightmare, honestly."

Hermione Granger despised being wrong.

That afternoon, alone in the girls' bathroom, she decided that the only way to never be wrong again, to never feel the pain of rejection again, was to stop trying completely. To simply go back to shutting everyone out. So that's exactly what she did. And on her way to the Great Hall that Halloween night for dinner, she told herself that she would never need a friend to hold onto. She would never need anyone but herself.

All lies, of course. And yet another terrible decision.

Which was how she'd ended up like this. Drowning in the sea of loneliness that she had created for herself, desperately wishing that someone, anyone, would come and save her. Someone who could be her anchor in this psychotic, stressful world. But there was no one coming; she had no one.

"Loneliness can be smothering. It'll make you feel like the walls around you are slowly shrinking"

That was exactly how she felt now. The solitude was crushing her; the world seemed to be caving in, suffocating her. And she had only herself to blame.

Because Hermione knew now that it was impossible to be perfect. It was just a simple fact of life. Hermione was usually very good with facts. But it was far too late now.

As the walls of the beloved wizarding school she'd attended for the past seven years crumbled, she felt herself going down with it.

She'd wanted to stay, wanted to fight. She read so many books about fighting, about the rush of passion, strength, and power that supposedly came with it. Her whole life, she'd never felt anything close to that. So, for the first time, Hermione knowingly did something illogical. Instead of seeking safety along with nearly every other muggle-born, she chose to hide in the Room of Requirement for the majority of her seventh year, waiting for the battle to begin. And she was confident that she could win. Surely the "brightest witch of her age" could handle whatever they threw at her.

But she'd been wrong, so wrong, once again.

There were simply too many of them. The sea of black cloaks and masked faces never seemed to end.

And now here she was, crumbling and drowning and falling apart. Everyone had called this "The Final Battle". She was now certain that the name would ring true, at least for her.

She wondered how dying would feel. Would it be quick and painless, or slow and agonizing. She couldn't help but laugh internally at herself. Here she was, probably minutes from death, still over-analyzing like her life depended on it.

But she was just so sick of analyzing, of always thinking. So she didn't anymore. She closed her eyes, accepted her fate, and waited for it all to be over.

That was when she started to hear the voice.

She groaned. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?

The hallucinations had started in her fourth year, right after the Yule Ball. She'd been the only girl in her year without a date. It was one the few times she could remember truly regretting her solitude. Whether they were created from stress, insanity, or something else entirely she didn't know, but she'd always hated them. And now they were back, during her final hours. She just wished they would disappear.

Then a hand touched her shoulder. It was strange. Her hallucinations had never been tangible before. She listened more intently and realized the voice was male. That was also odd. Lately, the figments came as different, better versions of herself, mocking and showing her what her life could have been.

No, this was different. This couldn't be a hallucination. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

She didn't believe it at first. She had to be hallucinating. There was no way that the red-headed boy from the train was here now, yelling and shaking her. After all, they hadn't spoken in nearly six years, and he'd skipped their last year of school. Quite irresponsible, if you asked her. She would never do something like that, no matter what the circumstances.

"Are you alright?", he asked,"Can you stand?"

Could she? She wasn't sure. She'd never had the chance to fully assess her injuries, but there was an immense of pain in her right leg and around her ribs. And keeping her eyes open was also starting to hurt. Already the world was beginning to fade to black.

She managed to mumble, "I'm fine.", before succumbing to the darkness.

"Where did you find her?"

"Right by the Whomping Willow. There had to have been at least fifty dead Death Eaters around her. Probably lured them there and let the tree do the rest. Smart idea, but it looks like she got hit, too."

"Well there was never any denying that she was smart."

Hermione could hear the voices talking about her. One of them was Ron's, and the other she recognized from the Great Hall earlier.

Harry Potter.

She opened her eyes and assessed her surroundings. She was in the Great Hall. It had been turned into a sort of hospital during the battle. There was less tension in the air than before; the fight must have been over. And considering the Chosen One was standing not ten feet away from her, she had assume they had won.

She tried to sit up, but was greeted with hot flash of pain in her ribs. She lied back down with a groan.

At that moment, the two boys noticed she was awake and came over to her.

"Hey", Ron said,"how're you doing?"

Harry just stared at her with...admiration? But why would "The Boy Who Lived" be looking at her like that?

Why either were taking such an interest in her was confusing in itself. It wasn't like they were friends, and there had to other people here that they wanted to see.

"I'm alright," she muttered cautiously,"What happened?"

Once again, it was Ron who answered her. "We won. It's all over."

So she'd been right.

Harry was still staring at her. It was quite irritating.

"What?", she asked him.

He blinked. "Sorry," he looked down and blushed,"It's just...well...I saw you out there, in battle, and you were really amazing. I mean, I knew you were good...I just didn't know you were that good."

Was Harry Potter complimenting her? She had spent a lot of time practicing her fighting skills while waiting in the Room of Requirement, but prehaps she'd gotten better than she'd realized. "Um..thanks," she mumbled, unsure of how to handle this new situation.

She was saved from any more awkward conversation when Madame Pomfrey noticed she was awake and made her way over them. She began to fuss over Hermione's injuries, promising her she'd be good as new in just a few minutes, and the two boys started to leave, but not before inviting her to celebrate with them in the Gryffindor common room. Their offer caught her so off guard, she was barely able to nod in acceptance.

Watching them leave, she began to feel something she hadn't in a long time.

Hope.

A/N: The end! Hope you all liked it :)