Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter or the characters therein. The Potterverse belongs to Ms. J. K. Rowling.
Just Under a Year
By Firesblood
"Too much wormwood. I think that's a zero for the day." I watched as my potion, which was only slightly off color, disappeared from my cauldron and Professor Snape sneered as he walked on to his next victim. I had been stirred from my many thoughts by this, the phial that held the over-measured wormwood still tipping out of my hand and emptying slowly into the bottom.
I blinked expressionlessly at the place where my work had been, before setting the phial down on the table. I gathered my books silently and tipped them into the cauldron. Without a word, I left the room. I could hear another snide remark thrown at my back as I left, but I paid it no heed. Hell, I don't even remember what he said, which is funny because I remember just about everything that has to do with him. I've had a damn crush on him since my fifth year. I would never tell a living soul, of course.
It was his hands. Beautiful, graceful, swift but precise, calloused from years of potion work. Perfect. I had dreamt of those hands on me almost every night for three years.
All I know is that I found myself next in my dormitory, putting everything that I owned in my trunk.
I know why I did it, hell, I had been thinking about it since I walked through the doors at the first of the year. I left before Harry and Ron got out of class, and before anybody could stop me. I left because there were important things I had to do. I had important things to see, and was wasting precious time ruining potions and botching homework.
It's a funny thing, death. You go day by day without a care in the world, and then it sneaks up on you. You could be doing something as simple as watering your garden, and there it is hiding in the flowers. When you're young with your life ahead of you, you don't think about it. Death is simply one of those under-the-bed bogey men that your parents tell you don't exist.
And then, when you find out over the summer that you have some sort of extremely rare brain disease that has no cure, you start to think. Under a year to live, the doctor says, and the wheels start to turn even more. What about my life? What about the people I love and the people who love me? What about the things that I haven't done yet and the things I want to do? It just simply isn't possible that someone with so much to do yet will die so soon.
You seek a second opinion, then a third, then a forth. You go to the magical hospital to see if anything can be done about it there, and find out that they've never seen anything like it and have no idea in the slightest what to do about it. It's simply something that never occurs in the wizarding world, I'm sorry.
You try to make sense of it. You debate about whether to tell your friends or not what's going on, but you know you won't because you don't want to see pity on their faces when they look at you. You don't want them to treat you like some fragile china doll and do everything for you, and you know they would, because they love you.
Your parents are already grieving, it's like you're already dead. No amount of research can tell you what you need to know. No nights of staying up all night and employing every technique you have for figuring out the most difficult of puzzles can offer anything that the doctors haven't already told you.
They tried to convince me to stay home. I told them that I wasn't dead yet, and I was going to live my life as if nothing had ever happened. I know that they didn't want me to go, but I think it would be easier for them if I wasn't there. They could get used to it, you know?
Under a year, they said. It all depends on whether your cells start to degenerate quicker. If they continue on the rate they are going now, just under a year. But if they speed up, which could very well be the case, you may have less.
What is an 18 year old supposed to say to that? What is a teenager, who has faced the horror of the world with her two friends, and killed it without fear supposed to say? I fought for my life and for the lives of the wizarding world and made it out alive, and now I'm going to be done in by some low-lying disease that nobody else has?
I wanted to go to University. I wanted to become a Potions Mistress. I wanted to lose my damn virginity, for Merlin's sake! I wanted to get married and live a nice, peaceful life! But, I can only do one of those things, and who wants to screw a bushy-haired know-it-all whose going to die? I'm sure there are quite a few, I mean, no attachment right? But then again, there's that thing about me saying I'm dying soon. Pity. China doll crap. No thank you.
Then again, if I were to keep it to myself, which in all actuality I would, would I be able to have sex with a complete stranger? I know my fantasies contain the bat of the dungeons and his perfect hands, and I have entertained the idea of trying to speak to him after the end of the year, but now I can't wait that long. When it all boils down to it, would I be able to open my legs and give myself to someone I just barely met? Women do it all the time, I suppose, but not for their first time. Bugger it.
I exited the gates and went into Hogsmeade. I bought chocolate and some butter caramels from Honeydukes, and then caught the knight bus. I needed to get out of here. Away from the smiling faces of my friends, the insults of those who were not my friends, and the pressure of schoolwork.
Imagine that! Hermione Granger walking away from school because there's too much thinking! I would have laughed myself senseless if you'd have told me I'd be doing that a year ago.
I know that they will come looking for me eventually. Dumbledore and McGonnagal know that I'm sick and what I have, but they haven't told anyone else to my knowledge. I had already stopped going to transfiguration because I discovered that she wasn't grading me fairly. It was like she penned an O on my papers when she saw my name. I purposely got everything wrong and still got an O for it. If there's anything I hate more than the fact that I'm dying soon, it's the fact that someone would insult me in such a fashion, and to me, not grading my papers fairly was an insult.
As I sat on the dizzying, nauseating bus ride, I decided that I would start a new life. Though it may be considerably shorter than my former life, at least I would do something with my new life. I would see the things I've always wanted to see, like the Incan pyramids in South America. I decided to travel to Egypt, America, and all the other places that I've wanted to go but haven't yet.
Starting the next day, the old life of Hermione Granger would end, and I wouldn't look back.
A/N: Hey, I hope you liked this. I'm debating on whether or not to actually make this a full length story, but it depends entirely on the response I get. If you like it or love it, let me know. Thanks for reading! Please R/R!