Hermione sat alone on her favourite armchair in the Gryffindor common room. It was the last week of the Christmas holidays and apart from Harry and herself, the tower's only other occupants were a group of third years who had gone out to have a snowball fight. The remaining Weasleys, Ron and Ginny, had gone home to spend some time with Fred and George who had graduated the year before. In conclusion, it was Saturday morning and Hermione Granger was lonely.
She decided to wake Harry up. It was after all 9 o'clock on a lovely, snowy morning. With that, she marched up the stairs and opened the door to the sixth year boy's dorm. What she saw was a sight she never thought possible. Harry Potter packing his trunk with tears streaming down his face.
"Harry, you haven't been expelled have you?" she asked timidly.
The startled boy dropped the shirt he was packing with a jump and looked up at her.
"Have you?" she asked again.
"Yeah," he replied.
"How come? I could try to get you out of it, you know. With my marks and all, I could probably do something," she volunteered.
"Erm.. no, that's okay Herm. It's all for the best," he replied not looking at her.
"Harry Potter!" she exclaimed. "You're a terrible liar! You haven't been expelled have you?"
"Well, erm.. No."
"Then why are you packing your trunk? And why the heck are you crying?"
"Oh, just tears of frustration, that's all. And well, I can never keep anything from you can I, Hermione? I'm gonna run away."
"But Harry! Why? Where to? How? WHY?!" she replied with a confused look on her face.
"Okay, easy questions first. How, on my broom with a bag and an invisibility cloak. Where to? My parents had a house in Scotland in the middle of a village so I'm heading for there. And finally, why. I guess, there's nothing personal here, 'Mione. I've just gotta get away from all of this," he explained with a sigh.
"Away from all of what?" she asked moving closer.
"All of this hero business, all of this 'the fate of the world rests in your hands, Harry'. All of that."
"And you really think that you'll get away from all that in Scotland? I'm not gonna lie to you, Harry, and say that no one expects you to play hero 'cause they do. But that's just the way you are. You're kind, brave, smart and level-headed. Someone's gotta be a hero here, Harry, and we chose you 'cause you had everything going for you. I mean, do you really think that if Neville turned out to be the real Harry Potter and he donned a scar it'd make him a hero? We expect you to be a hero, Harry. But that's because you can. We don't expect you to be superman," she said emotionally, and looking rather miserable.
"But that's just the thing," he objected. "They DO expect me to be superman. Everything good I do is just met with a 'What did you expect? Potter's showing off again' and every time I screw up they blow it out of proportion!"
"You really think that, Harry?" she cut in. "What about all those times that the Gryffindors chucked whole parties for you? What about the times when Dumbledore beamed down at you like you're his only son. What about the times when Ron and I pretty much cheered our brains out 'cause you're alive? Isn't that enough for you? Okay, every time you screw up something it's exaggerated, but does that really matter? Who cares what they think? Aren't we enough for you Harry?"
"Look, you're more than I deserve, Hermione and you're probably right about not being to escape it all. But at least then I can deal with it in my own way. I don't have to put on this act of being the strong minded hero who never cries. Of being the best seeker Hogwarts has seen in a century, of being this reliable person who's gonna grow up and defeat Voldemort and live happily ever after. I feel like I can stand in a room full of people screaming and no-one will hear me unless I say something about Quidditch or my plans of defeating Voldemort, which I don't have. It's like I'm trapped in my own body and I have to put on this act that I'm all happy and brave and I'm not worried about Voldemort coming in and attacking my friends when inside I'm screaming like hell and I'm so scared I could wet my pants.
'I can't lock myself in the library and read for hours on end to get away from those people like I want to because that wouldn't be very hero-like, would it? I feel like falling on my knees and crying until I can't cry anymore but I can't do that can I 'Mione? 'Cause I'm bloody Harry Potter. Isn't it strange though? How they expect an orphan to be the pillar of strength for all these people. If you're having trouble with Voldemort just call 1800-SCARFACE and he'll help you. Who care's if his life's screwed up and he has to have a false smile on his face 24/7? He can handle it, 'cause he's Harry Potter!"
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione wailed. "We don't mean for it to be like that. I don't know what the others think when it comes to this but I know what I do. Harry, I wouldn't think any less of you if you suddenly had a broom-riding disability and you couldn't rescue my younger brother from the clutches of You-Know-Who! Just going out there and facing him takes a lot of courage. And you can't be a hero if you're immortal can you? You're allowed to be scared, Harry, just not in front of those people. It's not because we expect you to be superman or anything. It's because it would absolutely freak them out if their idol panicked. I don't want you to feel trapped Harry, and I'm glad you told me. This is just the way you were born. They don't just randomly select people from a lucky draw and name them hero. And like I said before. Your name isn't what makes you hero. It's the person behind that name. The person we all know and love so well. It's what's in you, Harry. Not your name."
"But you don't get it 'Mione," Harry complained. "I'm sick of playing hero. I'm sick of being an idol. I'm 15! 15 year olds are only meant to worry about getting the attention of the girl they like and getting halfway decent grades. I've got the weight of the light side on my back and one day it's gonna break. What happens when the day comes, Hermione? What then? What's gonna happen to the hero that was meant to save the world? I'm sorry, I'm just not cut out to do it."
"You're the one who doesn't get it, Harry! You can't renounce being a hero. It's who you are. It's like me saying I'm renouncing being smart. It's part of what makes you, you. You've worked too hard to prove yourself, Harry, don't prove Malfoy right instead. You're the most capable person I know. And if the day ever comes when your back breaks from pressure, then I'm gonna be there to help pick up the pieces 'cause Harry, heroes do have the right to bleed.
'Although it has been scientifically proven that people's subconsciousness looks at the most dominant person in their surroundings and name them as 'protector'. Someone to look up to while they remain in that surrounding. The only problem for you is that you're playing 'protector' for about 400 people," she added as an afterthought.
"Trust you to come up with scientific facts at a time like this," he joked. Hermione was glad that he was finally lightening up a bit. "It's just it gets so frustrating sometimes and the scholarship to the Auror academy was just the last straw."
"What do you mean, 'the last straw'?" Hermione asked.
"Another great Harry Potter stereotype. Harry Potter shall grow up to either become a great Auror or Seeker. But either way he's gonna defeat Voldemort. I can't even live my life the way I want to," Harry sighed.
"So what DO you want to be when you grow up?" she asked, curious.
"Promise you won't laugh?"
"Promise."
"A professor. Arithmancy."
"Arithmancy? Wow! Never expected it from you, Harry," Hermione exclaimed.
"My point, exactly. Who would've? It's Harry Potter. Harry Potter likes Quidditch, not Arithmancy."
"Well then, O great Arithmancy professor to-be. You shall now take a break from being a hero."
"How?" Harry asked. This time it was his turn to be curious.
Hermione just laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling him through the dorm door, down the stairs, through the portrait hole, through the Great Hall and into the snow-covered front garden of Hogwarts.
"Er.. Hermione? What are we doing here?" Harry asked. This time he was bursting with curiosity.
"Harry James Potter," Hermione began with a grin. "You are a 15 year old and you are going to have fun this Winter whether you were planning to or not. Kapeesh?"
"Kapeesh," Harry replied, getting the mischievous glint back into his eyes. And with that, he picked up a large pile of snow and threw it straight at Hermione.
It's hard being a hero. But sometimes, with the help of a friend, it's not so hard after all.