Of Old Moms and Stupid Boys
The sound of a clock ticking interrupted the still silence that was the Potter's kitchen at 5 am on this particular Saturday morning in the summer. Hermione Granger sat at the counter trying to read a book, but she found it impossible for a few reasons. The first being that she could not, for the life of her, shake that dream out of her head. It shook up her entire being. It ripped the world as she knew it away from her. Second, she did not want to turn on a light, for fear that it might wake someone, and she did not wish to be a rude guest. The third reason that Hermione Granger could not read her book at 5 am on a Saturday morning in the summer in the Potter's kitchen was because every time she tried to look down at the words, she found that her vision was blurry from unshed tears.
Now, Hermione Granger was the type of girl who despised crying. It made her feel weak and simple-minded. She hated the way she looked while crying, too. It made her face all blotchy and red, her eyes puffy, and her nose runny. Plus, she ended up sniffling like crazy and she hated the snot.
The thing that Hermione hated the most at this particular moment, at 5 am on a Saturday morning in the summer in the Potter's kitchen, was that she had no one to turn to with this problem. She certainly couldn't go to Ron-he would think she's a freak for having a dream about him. She certainly couldn't go to Harry-he would feel uncomfortable with her girly issue about his best friend. She didn't have any girls to turn to either. Ginny was his sister, for crying out loud, and her acquaintances were terrible gossips. She didn't need all of the school knowing that she may or may not have feelings for Ronald Bilius Weasley.
Footsteps broke the girl from her reverie and she quickly wiped her eyes on her rough sweatshirt sleeve and sniffled one last, big sniffle. She hoped it wasn't Ron. Or maybe she half-hoped it was.
"Honey, are you okay?" Mrs. Potter approached her quickly and laid a light hand on her back. Hermione nodded, avoiding the bright green eyes that she shared with her son.
Hermione knew Lily Potter well enough, sure, but she had never really had one-on-one interaction with her, aside from simple things like food and sleeping arrangements. (The Potters were extremely wealthy, so Hermione and Ron each got their own guest room when they came to visit.)
"Were you crying?" Mrs. Potter asked again, sitting down in the stool next to Hermione. Hermione looked at her and was jealous of the fact that Mrs. Potter's hair could look so flawless when she first wakes up. Her red hair tumbled gracefully down her back, unlike Hermione's unruly black hair.
"I know I'm just Harry's old mom, but I can help with things. I've been a girl your age before, you know," Mrs. Potter said with a smile and a twinkle in her eyes.
"It's nothing, just stupid boy stuff," Hermione mumbled. She closed her book and started fiddling around with her bushy hair.
"I can help with that. I once had stupid boy problems. Mr. Potter is still a stupid boy," she said with a laugh.
"Well, I had a dream last night that I was married to one of my best friends. When I woke up, I laughed it off at first, but found that I couldn't fall back asleep. I couldn't shake this dream. Then I started thinking about what it would be like to be with him, and oh, God, I think I'm in love with him." The words tumbled easily off of her tongue as she talked, and Mrs. Potter nodded in understanding.
"Is it Ron, sweetie?" she asked after a few moments of silence.
"Ron," Hermione said weakly and nodded. Mrs. Potter's smile brightened considerably at this.
"You and Ron remind me so much of myself and James. You fight a lot, but always forgive each other because you care. You care so much it hurts. I've seen the way he looks at you, dear, it's like he's always in awe of you or just completely depressed that he's not yours, and you aren't his. You look at him the same way."
"Oh… Is that like you and Mr. Potter?" Hermione asked. She just couldn't help herself.
"Sort of. James says we have a love that defies the impossible," she chuckled. "Go on, tell him how you feel."
"That's… Oh, God! So scary!"
"Or just do my personal favorite, corner him and kiss him until his brains fall out from shock," her eyes twinkled and smirked. It was obvious she had been talking about herself.
"Thank you." Hermione hugged Mrs. Potter.
"No problem, sweetie. Now, what would you like for breakfast?"
Thanks for reading! Let me know how you liked it.