Note:
Hello, people! :D Been a while since I wrote anything! However, I was inspired in Calculus class today. I swear that class is so boring most of my inspiration comes out from daydreaming in it. Anyway, I am half-asleep right now, so I hope there isn't any very serious mistake. I hope you like this little one-shot!
Enjoy! :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
-.-
Her World
-.-
"Her sanctuary gave her a reason to escape. To dream."
-.-
It was no secret that she loved books.
The first place they searched if they needed her, but couldn't find her, was the library. She would be there, sitting on the table, farthest away from the entrance, bent over a thick tome. If not in the library, they would find her under the willow tree, which stood proudly before the Black Lake or on the couch in front of the roaring fire in the Common Room; in both places, she would be curled around herself with a book in her lap—either educational or entertainment.
And that was exactly how she was sitting right now.
A red blanket wrapped around her pajama clad shoulders as her legs were tucked neatly underneath her. Her slightly, bushy hair cascaded around her face in soft waves, framing it prettily. Her neck was bent; her eyes moved with amazement and familiar ease over the lines of her novel. She sighed every now and then very softly.
He watched her, mesmerized. She looked so content just sitting there. She blended with the soft scene perfectly. It was way past midnight and he was up finishing his Potions essay while she simply sat waiting for him to finish, reading her novel. The fire crackled gently in the fireplace, sending numerous shadows dancing along the Common Room's walls. The light caught on her hair, displaying the multiple shades of brown it presented.
"Are you done, Harry?"
He blinked, shaking his head slowly.
Hermione Granger frowned. "No?" then her voice changed, stern, firm. "Have you been daydreaming again?"
Harry Potter smiled sheepishly. "Sorry…?"
She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and looked back at her book, muttering under her breath about boys and daydreams and lack of concentration.
He chuckled.
Fifteen minutes later, he was done and Hermione was beside her, her eyes tracing the slightly scrawny handwriting with ease, scratching a few words every now and then, or making some necessary additions.
Harry watched, yet again, realizing that Hermione was in her element. It was what made her Hermione. He looked down at the novel she was reading earlier, expecting it to be something educational, and was surprised when he saw it was a Muggle fiction novel.
"Pride and Prejudice?" he inquired, raising an eyebrow.
She glanced up, absentminded. "Yeah. What's wrong?"
"I never expected you to read such books in here. I mean, you usually devour the school books more than anything else."
Hermione shrugged. "I don't see the harm in sneaking in a couple of non-school related books every now and then. It helps refresh my mind."
He smiled. "That's just like you." He glanced down at the book.
"You have never read it before?" Hermione guessed, watching as he eyed the book with an unreadable look.
He shot her a disbelieving book. "Me? Reading?" she laughed softly. "Yeah. I have never read it, but I did see the movie. Well, at least, Aunt Petunia saw the movie. We were forced to watch it with her."
Hermione smiled, amused. "Did you like it?"
"It would have been interesting," Harry began, sighing, "if Aunt Petunia did not fawn over this Mr. Darcy guy every five seconds. Merlin, it was unbearable. He wasn't even that great! He—"
But before he could finish, Hermione reached out and swatted his arm, playfully. "Not another word on my knight in shining armor, Mr. Potter."
Harry stared at her, before stating dryly, "I take it you fancy the bloke as well, eh?"
"Of course." Hermione exclaimed, smiling hugely. "He's so cold, and yet, you can see he has genuine feelings for Elizabeth Bennett. And he might be proud and arrogant, but that's his charm!"
She sighed, dreamily.
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Hermione! I never knew you fancied cold blokes! This is unexpected!"
"He might be cold from the inside, but he's so warm and safe on the inside," Hermione stated, looking at him witheringly, daring him to say something to contradict her.
Valuing his life, Harry agreed with her quietly, and was lost in his thoughts as she finished revising his essay.
Later that evening, when it was already two in the morning, Hermione made her way towards her warm bed, slipping under the covers and placing her novel on her nightstand. She stared at it for a long moment, before closing her eyes slowly.
Why can't you be my Mr. Darcy…? She thought to herself, knowing that it was simply a rhetorical question.
-.-
"Hmm, this is nice," Luna Lovegood sighed, lying back against the cool, green grass under the willow tree.
Hermione, sitting with her back against the bark, smiled at the blonde Ravenclaw. "It sure is." She looked at the Black Lake, watching it shimmer beautifully under the golden rays of the sun. at the other end, she could identify Harry's messy black hair and Ron's neat red hair running around. It seemed the boys had found a new pastime.
From the corner of her eyes, Hermione saw Ginny Weasley sitting at the edge of the Lake, eyeing the black haired wizard. Harry, however, was completely oblivious as he laughed happily with Ron.
Hermione smiled, and bent her head down to continue reading her novel. It was the part where Mr. Darcy was had confessed to Elizabeth Bennett for the first time.
"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
Hermione sighed, smiling lightly. What wouldn't she give to have the person she loved tell her those exact same lines with such heartfelt feelings? She shook her head, blinking at the words.
"Why do you love to read so much, Hermione?"
The brunette Gryffindor looked the blonde Ravenclaw with confusion. Luna simply stared at her, her eyes wide and honest. Curious.
Hermione answered slowly, "Because I love it…?"
Luna shook her head. "I know you love it, Hermione. But why? What is so special about reading a book?"
Hermione blinked. "You read books as well, Luna. What's so special about reading to you?"
"Well, I simply read to gain knowledge, or for the heck of it. But you—when you read, it's like you are in your own world. You don't read for knowledge or for the heck of it, do you?"
Hermione shifted, glancing away uncomfortably.
This was the Luna that Hermione could not deal with—that straightforward honesty of voicing her thoughts without caring about what the receiving party would think. But her question made Hermione think.
Why did she love reading?
Contrary to what Luna just stated, she loved reading because it did give her knowledge. It opened up a wide door of new theories and possibilities that she had never known existed, and she was thirsty for this knowledge and wanted to devour it. And yet, when she looked deep down, she knew it was simply an excuse.
She did not read for knowledge.
She read to escape. She read to dream. Books were her sanctuary. They were the only constant things in her life that never judged her, never made fun of her for reading them over and over again, never gave her pain. She read to hide. Because it was easier…
It was easier, less painful, to lose yourself within the pages of a story instead of facing the cold, harsh reality. With her books, her own world existed. Nothing beyond the boundaries of her world mattered.
Hermione turned to Luna, opening her mouth to answer, when the petite blonde beat her to it.
"Bookworms are best in running away, aren't they?"
Hermione closed her mouth.
-.-
She was not running away.
No! No way! She had never run away from anything, let alone something as trivial as dealing with her confused, mixed-up feelings. Hermione clutched the book tighter into her chest as she climbed the portrait hole.
She stopped when she heard Ginny asking, "Why don't we go on a walk around the lake, Harry? It's really nice out there."
"You know we are not allowed around the grounds after hours, Ginny."
"But you're Head Boy. They won't tell you anything." Ginny whined, patting her eyelashes.
Harry raised an eyebrow that the young redhead. "Even if I am Head Boy, rules are rules. Besides, I don't have time. I need to finish my essay for McGonagall."
Hermione marched up the girl's dormitory, hearing Ginny's whines and pleading as she moved up the stairs. Reaching her bed, she flung herself into the mattress and drew her red curtains around her bed, granting herself some privacy.
She stared at the dark ceiling of her bed, eyes wide. She turned her head to the right and caught sight of her novel sitting innocently at the white pillow beside her.
Almost involuntarily, her fingers reached for it, her brain eager to read, to escape. Hermione froze, her fingers hovering just a few inches away from the cover. Tears prickled in her eyes as she allowed her fingertips to lie on the book and pull it towards her. She opened it where she last stopped, and began reading, tears clouding her vision.
She was running away.
-.-
It was a few nights later that Hermione found herself curled in front of the Gryffindor fire, reading the last few chapters of Pride and Prejudice. Harry sat beside her, looking at the dancing flames. He had been so quiet, Hermione wondered briefly he was having nightmares again (he had been having them since they defeated Voldemort six months ago). However, when Harry turned to her and blurted out his question, the thought, and every other thought for that matter, blew out of her mind.
"Will you read to me?" he asked, looking at her softly.
She blinked. "I am already done, Harry. I don't think you'll under—"
"It doesn't matter," he cut her off. "Will you?"
Hermione stared into his eyes for a long moment, before taking a deep breath and turning back to her novel, reading from where she stopped when he interrupted her.
"Elizabeth's spirits soon rising to playfulness again, she wanted Mr. Darcy to account for his having ever fallen in love with her. 'How could you begin?' said she. 'I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?'
'I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun.'"
Hermione paused in her reading, staring at the words. Yes, she had been in the middle before she knew it even began. And she was terrified when she finally realized. What was wrong with her?
It was a novel. A simple, romantic, comedy that she adored so much. That she had allowed entering her head for all the wrong reasons. Because it was wrong to live in her own world, with her own Mr. Darcy. Because, in the end, reality was just around the corner, ready to deliver the cold slap to wake her up.
"That's beautiful." Harry whispered, getting her out of her trance.
"Yes. It is." She agreed.
She turned her head to look at him, only to find him already staring at her intensely, studying her as if she was the most fascinating creature in the world.
Harry reached out a hand, allowing his fingertips to trace her cheek lightly. "Can I be your Mr. Darcy, Hermione?"
She blinked.
As Hermione leaned towards him, the book fluttered out of her grasp, landing with a soft thud on the carpeted floor, its pages flicking quietly. They opened on the page that held her favorite confession; the words seemed to sparkle in the soft glow of the fire.
"You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
She needn't run away to her own world anymore.
The End!
Note: So, what do you think? Your opinion matters the most!
Till next time!
Take care!