Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I own the story idea. I don't think I copied off of anyone, but if I did, I'm really sorry!
The Earring
By meowcat
They never believed she'd actually do it, it was sort of a dare, really. Hermione had been hanging out with Harry and Ron, and Ron was asking why Hermione's ears weren't pierced.
"I don't want them pierced. I'm not big on pain," she answered.
"I bet you're scared," Ron teased good-naturedly.
"Oh really…" Hermione smiled mischievously. She left the Gryffindor common room through the portrait-hole.
"She didn't seem angry," a bewildered Ron said.
"She wasn't. She's going to prove that she isn't scared." Harry answered, looking up from his Potions essay.
"She wouldn't." Ron said, sure of himself. "She isn't one to do things just because other people do them. Fads, you know?"
"You never know with Hermione…" Harry said.
So that's how it worked. I became a part of Hermione Granger. I'm nothing dangly, heavens no, she'd never wear anything like that. I'm a stud, silver with a green stone.
The cool thing about being an earring is that you get to hear a lot of secrets. And compliments on you. For example, I heard Ron whisper in Hermione's ear that I matched her eyes. I know that it was meant as a compliment for her, but I couldn't help but feel it's a compliment on myself as well.
***
"Hermione Granger, you're finally getting a sense of style!" Parvati Patil cries jubilantly. "We'll make you trendy yet!"
"We can do it!" Lavender Brown said, pumping her arm in the air.
"Who, me? No thanks, all I'll ever be is the bushy haired bookworm," Hermione says, laying down her large book and going out the door of the dormitory room.
"It's really more fluffy than bushy!" Parvati calls as she shuts the door behind her, as a strange effort to make Hermione feel better.
It works a little. Hermione smiles slightly. She brushes a tear off her cheek and walks toward her armchair retreat in the common room. Her step bounces lightly as she descends the stairs. She curls up in the armchair, setting the book in her lap. She buries her face in the warm, soft upholstery. She is the only one who sits in this chair, everyone knows it's hers. They know that she does her homework there, seeks refuge there, and that basically her whole life circulates around her chair. I'm jealous of the chair. It's Hermione's favorite thing in the whole world, except maybe her best friends. The armchairs next to hers have been pulled around to form a circle around a table to do their homework on. They don't spend as much time in their chairs, though. One observes a lot when one is an earring.
I realize that Hermione has fallen asleep crying into the chair. Her face is rosy from the heat of the small corner of the seat she's curled up in, and from the tears. A lone tear rolls gently down her slender cheek. I sigh and settle down for a long wait. Crying is tiring, and she'll be asleep for a long while.
Please read and review! Let me know what happens next. If you liked this one, read my story "Hyper Piggy". It's also HP. Please review, and try to keep your flames mild, but if it's really that horrible, let me have the full brunt.