Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters don't belong to me; if it did, I
wouldn't be writing this. Instead, I'd be rolling around in my piles and
piles of money, gloating about how rich I was, and how stupid all you
freaks were. So ha.
A/N: I haven't read HP5 yet, unfortunately, so I don't know anything, basically. R&R?
Hermione:
I set down my quill with a sigh. On my parchment, the scratches and blotches made my essay look juvenile, stupid.
No. No, no, no. This wasn't what my life was supposed to be like! I was supposed to have friends, people to confide in, people to trust. Everything was wrong, especially the answers to my Charms test.
"Did you even study?" Professor Flitwick had asked incredulously. "Miss Granger, I really expected better of you!"
Yeah, right.
He didn't know your mother was diagnosed with cancer, Hermione, I told myself for the eighteen-billionth time. He didn't know that, just that you haven't been yourself lately.
Just like Harry didn't know he wouldn't be coming back to Hogwarts. I brushed a single tear off my cheek angrily. It wasn't Harry's fault, anyway. It was his stupid cousin, and his stupid uncle, and their stupid ideas about driving lessons. It was an accident. At least, that's what they told the court. Of course, how could the kid have "accidentally" driven off the road and straight into his cousin? Didn't that seem the slightest bit odd to anyone? Apparently not.
Just then, Ron walked into the library.
"Oh," he said. With that word, I burst into tears.
"Hermione-" he said. "I- If you need to talk or anything, I'm here. You know that, right?"
I nodded, brushing past him as I fled the room in search off the dormitories.
"Bad day?" the fat lady asked as I gave her the password (honeydew melon).
I nodded again, as I climbed through the portrait hole. In the common room, Fred and George were playing chess. I ducked up the staircase to the dormitories-and realized it led to the boys' section. Blushing, I corrected my mistake.
"Forgot you couldn't visit Potter?" someone asked rather bitterly, before his companion shushed him.
I heard, "She's still not over it, moron! Don't bug her," and silently thanked the speaker. People really needed to sharpen their observation skills around here.
I spread the mostly-ruined parchment on my desk, unrolled a new one, and began to copy the essay. In the end, it looked fairly nice.
Ron:
Hermione's been avoiding me, I can tell. I guess she still hasn't gotten over what happened to Harry. Neither has Ginny, for that matter. I suppose that's what happens when someone you love (like a brother!) dies. But then, why aren't I at all upset about it? I guess Harry and I weren't as close as he and Hermione were. I don't see why; we were only friends with her because we saved her from that troll in first year, right? Nothing more than that.
Or, so I've told myself. What if they were something more, something I could never understand?
I'm such a clod.
I sit down at a table in the library to write.
To Harry, I wrote.
You can never answer this question, but. What went on between you and Hermione? Why didn't you tell me? Weren't we friends? I don't understand.
It was after that fight we had last term, wasn't it, when we stopped being real friends.?
I-Jeez, now I'm stuttering again, like I do when I run into Hermione.
I feel like I should say something to her, to let her know I care. But what that is, I guess I'll probably never know.
I dunno how to end this, so I'll just say goodbye.
Goodbye, Harry.
Ron
When I was done, I had an odd impulse to burn the letter and scatter the ashes to the winds. I ignored it, as I didn't think that would be appreciated by people like.oh, maybe all the teachers.?
Instead, I crumple it into a ball and stuff it into my pocket before heading for the Common room.
Harry:
I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'M DEAD!
Actually, I'm taking death surprisingly well, for someone my age. I get to see my parents every once in a while, and I don't have to go to classes, or be tortured by Dudley. If you see anyone, ask if they have a spare body I could inhabit. I can't live like this! Or, rather, be dead like this.
You see, souls must live either in a human body in the regular world, or just in the regular world all by themselves. Some of them are lucky enough to be visible! Unfortunately, I am not so lucky. I don't see why I'm not; I was the luckiest boy alive when I went to Hogwarts! And I'm sill at Hogwarts, just not alive.
No fair.
Y'know, people will always tell you that life isn't fair. You may wish for death, so as to end the unfairness. Let me tell you something: Death isn't fair, either.
A/N: I haven't read HP5 yet, unfortunately, so I don't know anything, basically. R&R?
Hermione:
I set down my quill with a sigh. On my parchment, the scratches and blotches made my essay look juvenile, stupid.
No. No, no, no. This wasn't what my life was supposed to be like! I was supposed to have friends, people to confide in, people to trust. Everything was wrong, especially the answers to my Charms test.
"Did you even study?" Professor Flitwick had asked incredulously. "Miss Granger, I really expected better of you!"
Yeah, right.
He didn't know your mother was diagnosed with cancer, Hermione, I told myself for the eighteen-billionth time. He didn't know that, just that you haven't been yourself lately.
Just like Harry didn't know he wouldn't be coming back to Hogwarts. I brushed a single tear off my cheek angrily. It wasn't Harry's fault, anyway. It was his stupid cousin, and his stupid uncle, and their stupid ideas about driving lessons. It was an accident. At least, that's what they told the court. Of course, how could the kid have "accidentally" driven off the road and straight into his cousin? Didn't that seem the slightest bit odd to anyone? Apparently not.
Just then, Ron walked into the library.
"Oh," he said. With that word, I burst into tears.
"Hermione-" he said. "I- If you need to talk or anything, I'm here. You know that, right?"
I nodded, brushing past him as I fled the room in search off the dormitories.
"Bad day?" the fat lady asked as I gave her the password (honeydew melon).
I nodded again, as I climbed through the portrait hole. In the common room, Fred and George were playing chess. I ducked up the staircase to the dormitories-and realized it led to the boys' section. Blushing, I corrected my mistake.
"Forgot you couldn't visit Potter?" someone asked rather bitterly, before his companion shushed him.
I heard, "She's still not over it, moron! Don't bug her," and silently thanked the speaker. People really needed to sharpen their observation skills around here.
I spread the mostly-ruined parchment on my desk, unrolled a new one, and began to copy the essay. In the end, it looked fairly nice.
Ron:
Hermione's been avoiding me, I can tell. I guess she still hasn't gotten over what happened to Harry. Neither has Ginny, for that matter. I suppose that's what happens when someone you love (like a brother!) dies. But then, why aren't I at all upset about it? I guess Harry and I weren't as close as he and Hermione were. I don't see why; we were only friends with her because we saved her from that troll in first year, right? Nothing more than that.
Or, so I've told myself. What if they were something more, something I could never understand?
I'm such a clod.
I sit down at a table in the library to write.
To Harry, I wrote.
You can never answer this question, but. What went on between you and Hermione? Why didn't you tell me? Weren't we friends? I don't understand.
It was after that fight we had last term, wasn't it, when we stopped being real friends.?
I-Jeez, now I'm stuttering again, like I do when I run into Hermione.
I feel like I should say something to her, to let her know I care. But what that is, I guess I'll probably never know.
I dunno how to end this, so I'll just say goodbye.
Goodbye, Harry.
Ron
When I was done, I had an odd impulse to burn the letter and scatter the ashes to the winds. I ignored it, as I didn't think that would be appreciated by people like.oh, maybe all the teachers.?
Instead, I crumple it into a ball and stuff it into my pocket before heading for the Common room.
Harry:
I'm dead. I'm dead. I'm dead. I'M DEAD!
Actually, I'm taking death surprisingly well, for someone my age. I get to see my parents every once in a while, and I don't have to go to classes, or be tortured by Dudley. If you see anyone, ask if they have a spare body I could inhabit. I can't live like this! Or, rather, be dead like this.
You see, souls must live either in a human body in the regular world, or just in the regular world all by themselves. Some of them are lucky enough to be visible! Unfortunately, I am not so lucky. I don't see why I'm not; I was the luckiest boy alive when I went to Hogwarts! And I'm sill at Hogwarts, just not alive.
No fair.
Y'know, people will always tell you that life isn't fair. You may wish for death, so as to end the unfairness. Let me tell you something: Death isn't fair, either.