The Perfect Pear
This story is a bit different from my others. It just has a different flair. I hope all of you would get a deep meaning out of this. I know I did.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
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Hermione Granger had found the most delightfully thrilling piece of information in her life, just by walking to Hagrid's one sunny afternoon.
There was a pear tree on the grounds.
Now, Hermione absolutely cherished pears. She was intoxicated by their heavenly scent, their ripe, juicy flesh. The firmness of a perfect pear, the lopsided- but perfect- shape of the perfect pear.
It was a mission, to get the perfect pear.
When the sun was directly above her head, Hermione ventured towards the tree, almost afraid. Her teeth glittered into a satisfied smirk as she reached up, through the soft leaves, to grasp the plump fruit from the branches. The smoothness felt cool under sensitive fingertips, and Hermione gazed in wonder at her luck.
A perfect pear? On the first try? It was almost too easy.
Her fingernails dipped into the soft inside, and she watched the juice run down her forefinger. Something was wrong with it.
Now, the pear seemed ugly. A lot less perfect than it was just seconds ago. A pear who looked nice and perfect on the outside, but inside, was a mass of writhing maggots and rotting fruit. A stench would arise as soon as she took a bite, trusting that damn pear. And unexpectedly, when Hermione would eat that pear she judged from the outside, she would get sick. All because she trusted that pear, because it looked perfect on the outside. A pear she had thought to have known.
Hermione swallowed, wondering if she was still thinking about pears.
Lithe fingers unclasped, and the 'perfect' pear fell to the ground, as well as a pearly tear.
A flash of black caught the brunette's eye, and she glanced towards the lake.
Draco Malfoy.
He stood there, basking in the sunlight, looking stunningly attractive and knowing it.
Hermione, almost against her will, trained her eyes on him until they began to water. She blinked, the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes, and for the first time, wondered what was so bad about the infamous Draco Malfoy.
From peripheral vision, Hermione saw that her pear had broken apart on impact.
Just as predicted, it was a decaying mess.
Rotten.
Hermione sank to her knees, avoiding her tainted pear's jeering stare. A lumpy, discolored ball was just to her right, and on impulse, Hermione plucked it up and bit it.
The sweet taste of pear gushed in, the syrupy stickiness coating her mouth like sugar.
It was her perfect pear.
The outside was ugly, harsh. It was nowhere near perfect. Dents, punctures, scratches. Cold, calculating, glaring, smirking. The other pears probably stayed away, thought it was a bad influence.
But it was her perfect pear. The inside was ripe and succulent, impeccably delicious.
Almost absentmindedly, Hermione glanced at the figure by the lake. He was looking back.
And this time, Hermione knew she wasn't thinking about pears anymore.
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When I first wrote this story, I was worried people might think the 'perfect' pear at the beginning was Draco. I had to change it up a bit before publishing, because it seemed like it. In case anyone didn't figure who the rotting pear was, I intended it to be Ron.
No Ron-bashing or anything, I love Ron, I just needed him to be like this for the story purposes. :)
I hope you liked it!