Three Years, Six Months, One Night
Hermione recollects her past relationships during her years in Hogwarts. A story of how she learned to love, to let go and move on, and to love again. Three years with Ron, 6 months with Viktor and 1 night with Draco. Find out who she ends up with.
Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the fanart. The plot of this story is my own. Constructive criticisms are welcome.
Chapter 1: A Clear Mind
I met him on the verge of an emotional breakdown.
I was in a perpetual mess those days. During those days, I couldn't really even tell if it was day or night anymore unless I stare outside my window & see the sunlight peer through the curtains. Although my roommates tell me I often stare outside, most of the time I just stare at nothing. I even forgot what I was thinking about. All I remember was what I felt. My mind was empty. As a woman of facts and no-nonsense, I didn't believe in heartaches or heartbreaks. But at that time, I was experiencing what people might have experienced when they have an episode of angina. And mine was constant. Mine was severe. Night and day.
I cringe at the thought of experiencing that new kind of feeling. I've seen death, I've lost people close to my heart, I've feared for my life. But nothing compares to the pain of the end of a first true love. The pain became a phobia that made me build my walls. The pain became a strong cause for an unconscious defense mechanism of blocking everything that had a chance to get through.
I never want to feel that kind of pain again.
My mind wandered. I don't know where. What I do know is the knowledge of the anatomy and physiology of the human body (as was necessary for a seventh year student), and I thought to myself, "This clearly wasn't the heart is for".
At first, I thought I was going crazy. With the disturbance going through my whole being (I couldn't really pinpoint where exactly I was troubled because it just felt like my whole body was breaking), I never really thought that I could survive this.
But somehow, I still managed to stay on top of the class.
If I used to fill my schedule up with studying and locking myself inside the library until the wee hours of the morning for an exam before (with special permission of course), during those times of turmoil, I still studied hard even without exams, and I buried myself with not just academics but I participated in sports, volunteered in various school activities, did some writing and shot neat photographs for the school paper, tutored a group of freshmen, joined a poetry reading club and even sang in the batch choir. I ventured out to other things which I used to think of as irrelevant.
So with that, you can actually say that it wasn't a mental breakdown.
It was all emotional.
I just thought that all of those things would rid me of my unnecessary thoughts and my unwanted feelings which kept me up at night. All I really got out after all the initial excitement and flurry of doing new things was the acceptance of the fact that I was still in denial.
Maybe what they said about intelligent girls having a big score on IQ but would be a total moron when it comes to emotional quotient (EQ) was true. Or maybe it's just me. I should have probably also accepted that I sucked when it comes to relationships.
And I was already four months in denial.
In those four months, it was a miracle that I didn't get multiple stomach ulcers. Appetite left me immediately after the night of the ordeal. I somehow managed to eat once in my waking hours because I know that I should. But a cup of coffee twice or thrice and vitamin pill was enough to keep me going for the rest of the day. And there's my secret stash of alcohol to make me sleep. I felt like a zombie. An alcoholic caffeinated insomniac zombie.
After four months, I got thinner, paler and I got these dark circles under my eyes which made me look appalling. Girls ask me for tips on how I lost all the fat I accumulated during adolescence which everyone thinks is a good thing but I would rather have the chubby cheeks and the thick thighs than the sadness I was afraid I was going to be stuck in forever. I used to knock myself out with one bottle of spirits alone in the corner of my room during Friday nights when everyone else was out with their friends. I also used to drink on random weekdays while I study because my insomnia is getting out of hand. Other times, I drink (while I'm studying) just to feel numb. Sometimes, I just felt like it. (Don't ask me where I got my supply.)
What used to be joyous for me already felt so foreign. I retreated to my room during long vacant hours in between classes. I didn't feel like talking to anyone at all. As I was never in the mood for social gatherings such as eating during noon time at the hall or talking to the girls at the common room, I holed myself up in the library or in my corner, hidden in between the tapestries and my bed where my roommates couldn't even see me. Food was vital but it no longer tasted the same. Since I committed myself to other activities, people just see me scurry from one meeting to the other, go from one room to the other, doing one errand to the other. Now it makes me wonder where I got all my energy from. It was long before I felt contentment over my accomplishments which used to feed enthusiasm.
I felt nothing.
It was all for nothing.
In gaining new knowledge, new hobbies and new acquaintances, I was actually losing myself in the process. I didn't even realize it at that time. It felt like it was the most natural thing to do… Losing myself.
I didn't know I was losing them too.
Harry. My best friend.
And Ron.
I already lost Ron.
Everything else was mechanical. Every single day, I was on autopilot mode. I didn't care anymore. As long as I was maintaining my As in my academics and doing all my responsibilities, nothing else really mattered. Not even what others think about me. I don't care at all.
Just when I thought that I was growing because I opened doors that allowed myself to other capabilities I never knew I had the potential to begin with, looking back at it, all I really did was run from the truth.
Facing the truth was just too much. Facing them was just too much. I couldn't bear smiling back when he smiled at me as I entered the classroom and look for another seat that was vacant. I couldn't bear looking at the back of his head. I couldn't bear being in the same room with him for a whole hour. Everything was just too much.
I don't want to see him with any other girl.
This hurt that I'm feeling is just too damn much.
How can he smile while I can't even stop crying at night, noiselessly, alone and distraught?
And I was too proud to ask for help. All I really needed was a shoulder to cry on.
The shoulder came unexpectedly.
It was a gloomy day and I could tell it was cold outside only because when my roommates went out, they wore multiple layers of clothes, had on scarves and cute little hats. They still haven't given up on trying to get me out of my corner after 6 months. I do appreciate their concern but I'm also running out of excuses. At first it must be from Harry's instructions to not leave me alone, but now, I believe it's all out of pity.
I never really talk to anyone about my problems. It only felt like I was diagnosed with a malignancy. Everyone asked me if I was alright, everyone asked me what happened. They all wanted to know and they all assured me they would always be there for me. I was hesitant. I didn't need their empty words or sympathy. For all I know, these people never really cared about how I feel or what I think anyway. I've seen this before and it disgusts me. I was just a part of this hot gossip. I kept it all to myself.
That's because the people I trusted enough to share my feelings and my thoughts to are the ones who caused the pain in the first place.
If I kept quiet enough and if I waited enough until another scandal broke out, they would stop bothering me and they would stop talking about it.
I masqueraded this tough facade soon after. I got through the day, passed all my exams, and carried out all the things I needed to do for all of my school activities but at the end of the day, when I go back inside the room, I knew my roommates could hear me cry, I knew they can hear the clink of the bottle when it meets the glass, and I knew they talked about me. At least after 6 months, they were the only ones who talk about it.
I just finished a small bottle of vodka while writing some lines for my poetry reading club meeting next Tuesday. I was writing about the ocean. I was all alone in my corner while everyone else was out and about at Hogsmeade. I looked at the time and there's still four more hours until everyone will come back. It was getting colder and the vodka kept me warm. I replaced the empty bottle and I thought I needed one more. A little change of scene wouldn't hurt. I wasn't even sure if it's snowing but for the first time, I headed out.
I changed into my favorite pink dress (since my jeans no longer fit me), put on a thick blue jacket and headed out to Hogsmeade in an unconventional but scenic route. It was snowing lightly and I embraced myself, holding onto my fluffy scarf which kept me warm and comfortable despite the penetrating chill. I looked around, breathed in, sighed and realized that I liked how I was at that moment. It just occurred to me that I felt comfortable being alone. I smiled. It was one of those tiny victories inside my head I couldn't quite forget because it signified another step in the healing process.
One of those moments was when I woke up one morning and the first thought I had in mind was not him. I got stretched out like my cat, greeted my cat a good morning and carried on. Another was when it didn't hurt quite as much when I spoke his name in class. I was asked who my old partner was, and I got used to just pointing at his direction instead of saying his name but at that moment, he was out of sight. Saying his name actually wasn't that bad. I also remember not crying when I remembered what I was eating was his favorite snack. I was at the hall, I smiled instead and I thought to myself, "I'm going to associate this pie with a new memory". There was also this rare free time I had when I was able to organize my closet. I set aside the sweaters that belonged to him and some other items I borrowed. I put everything in a box and gave it back to him without fighting back the tears. Because I was able to talk to him without being sad. I listened to a song we used to sing and it didn't hurt as much as the first time I heard it after we broke up. Everything was new to me, it was unusual, but it was all part of moving on.
Our memories together came like the waves. Coming back, crashing, retreating, harsh, creeping, soft like a caress, gentle like the breeze, coming back again, thunderous. Sometimes the memories were too sad for words that I let it take over me. Sometimes the memories were too happy that I end up crying again. It was confusing.
From then, everything seemed to flow.
I finally understood that everything I went through was necessary for me to arrive to where I am now and where I will be soon enough. I was finally able to accept the pitfalls and losses, the sadness and sorrow, and all the times I felt lost and hurt. I learned that the misery I experienced was nothing compared to the joy that was coming. It was all difficult and it is still difficult but I am grateful to have experienced this lowest moment in my existence for I would be able to appreciate the happiest moment to come.
I still feel lost most of the time, but there's this glimmer of hope that keeps me going.
I smiled to myself and continued make my way towards the Hog's Head. I looked around me again. I looked at the snow as it slowly fell to the ground and as it slowly fell on top of my head. I realized that there was no need to rush. Just like everything else in nature, just like a snowflake, I would be soft, gentle and patient. Everything will happen in due course.
What I learned in the phase when I was struggling with self hate, guilt and confusion was something I would never learn out of a million pages from a textbook.
I may be still broken but looking back, I'm a long way from where I was before. Now, I am stronger.
It was a good idea to go out today. It was a beautiful snowy day. The beautiful lights that hung overhead will fill the village soon to indicate nightfall.
I knew that endings don't mean that I failed as a person. It's not my fault after all. Endings happen all the time. Endings are necessary. It makes room for people to grow and is naturally a part of life. Endings are painful goodbyes that make way to better hellos. Endings aren't also as terrifying as I initially thought it was going to be.
Even the end of a first true love.
What happened to me felt like a blessing in disguise.
"Hermy-own-ninny."
I looked up.
I couldn't believe my eyes. I had to make sure I wasn't drunk and I remembered I only consumed a single small bottle. But there he was. A tall, dark, grumpy looking man was looking at me with a smile on his lips. I couldn't talk for a second.
"Do you still remember me?"
I had to take in all of his masculine glory. All I could think about was how handsome he's become. He still had the same haircut and dark eyebrows. I could still remember the story of how he got his curved nose. His dark eyes had that sparkle of maturity. His one-sided grin surely was still enough to make the girls swoon. His shoulders have become broader, his, his arm muscles looked bigger. He looked sharp as ever in his red and black jacket.
"Um. Yes, yes of course. Hello, Viktor."
His face lit up and he smiled a little wider this time. "Hermy-own-ninny. It is nice to see you again." He held out his hand.
I laughed. And I haven't laughed like that after a very long time.
In that moment, I was glad he came back into my life.
End of Chapter 1
Author's Note: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the fanart. The plot of this story is my own. Constructive criticisms are welcome.