Life.
Life was the one thing in this world Hermione Granger would never understand.
That and herself. She didn't understand who she was or why she did the things she did? She didn't understand the sneaky urges she had, the lustful thoughts about Severus Snape's pale skin against her small pink tongue or about Draco Malfoy's silky hair being gripped harshly by her hand as she kissed him.
She didn't understand what was happening to her.
She was only sixteen. She lay in bed every night and wondered what was wrong with her. Why everything, that had seemed important to her once upon a time, was gone? She couldn't get satisfaction out of books anymore. She was craving for something, something more than House Elves' rights or good test results. But she didn't understand what these things were.
She had no one to talk to this about. Even if her pride and stubbornness let her, who would she confide in? Ron and Harry? The thought was laughable. They could never understand her. She was too complex for their one-tracked minds. They would never understand. If she didn't, what change did they have. Ginny? She was still a naïve little child, flirting with the boys but the minute they got close she'd dump them. She wasn't ready for life. Luna? Luna didn't even know her own life, her own feelings, let alone Hermione's.
Hermione wanted perfection but she didn't feel perfect. She felt dirty, tainted and confused. She wanted things she shouldn't want. She wanted things her parents had never asked her to achieve. And the funny thing was, was that she didn't want love or life-long happiness – she didn't want her fairy tale.
No, she wanted something sharp, real, cutting. Something that could draw blood. Something like danger, but not danger. Something like life-threatening, but yet her life not being threatened. She didn't want bliss or heaven, she just wanted to be satisfied.
But there was something in her way, and that something was herself and her life – the two things she didn't understand. The limitations of her body and of her mind stopped her from achieving. Instead she would widdle away years, wanting it, begging silently for it, but never having it.
