Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me – but to J.K Rowling.
I got the idea for this when I was listening to 'Tied Together With a Smile' by Taylor Swift. Enjoy, I hope!
Oh, and this TOTALLY disregards anything from, say, Goblet of Fire onwards?
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Plain, plain, plain. That's all she'd ever see when she looked in the mirror.
Grimacing, she dissected and analyzed all her faults one by one. What exactly did she find? Nothing too exceptional. No real beauty, just Plain Jane Hermione Granger – yep, it was her title now.
Plain, bushy, dull brown hair that gets in her eyes, no matter how many times she tucked loose strands behind her ears; the same dull brown eyes that hold no youthful sparkle what-so-ever, no remnants of the lustre they used to have when she was younger; and pale, alabaster skin that she thought did nothing for her, didn't make her eyes pop like the other girl's skin did.
And the worst part? She couldn't do anything to change it.
Sighing in disapproval of her below-average looks, she trudged her way out of her bathroom – one she was forced to share – into her bedroom. Looking around, she scrutinized every tiny detail.
"I seem to be looking at things in detail a lot lately…" she thought, emphasizing her point with a slight humourless laugh.
"And what would you be laughing at, Miss Mione?" came a voice from behind me.
"Well, nothing really. Just thought of something funny." she replied, a smiling gracing her face as she turned to face a boy with shaggy raven hair sitting haphazardly on his head, covering a lightning-shaped scar.
"Care to indulge those thoughts in, say, a best friend?" laughed Harry Potter, striding into her room and embracing her in a bone-crushing hug.
"Oh, I just realize I scrutinize things way too much." she said, finding it hard to breathe – but not because he was still squeezing the breath out of her, but the fact that he was in such close proximity to her.
To tell the truth, Hermione Granger had fallen hopelessly in love with her best friend, one Harry Potter.
But, everyone was certain it was Ron that she would end up falling for. How they could be so wrong, she didn't know.
She knew herself quite well she thought, and while she was told by Viktor and Ron, her only boyfriends to date, that she was pretty and things like that, but she never believed them. It was simply them saying the things that good boyfriend's said to their beloved, right?
"Of course it was, how could you think otherwise?" reprimanded a voice inside her mind.
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All the while, Harry had been reveling in the smell of mango and coconut that wafted from her hair. Pulling away, he saw tear tracks running down her gorgeous cream cheeks.
Instinct took over and, grabbing her shoulders, he steered her towards the bed and sat her down.
She had no idea how much it hurt him to see her, the woman he loved, crying. And it broke his heart to know that she wouldn't love him back.
Without much success, he tried for five whole minutes to try and coax her out of her day-dreaming state.
He ran a calloused hand through his ruffled locks and sat beside her, holding her hand.
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Snapping out of her reverie, she found herself staring into the face of an extremely worried Harry.
"Harry! What's wrong?" she asked, sincerely worried about her best friend.
"Nothing's wrong with me. I'm worried about you. Are you okay?" he rambled.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she retorted, confused by his revelation.
"Uh, cause you are crying!"
She reached up her hand to her cheek and, like Harry had said, it was dampened with tears.
"Oh, God. What the hell?" she stammered, rushing around aimlessly.
"Mione… Seriously, tell me what's wrong."
"Harry…. I can't."
"Mione. Don't pull that with me because you know-" he said, as he dragged her down to sit next to him on the bed. She put her head in her hands and her words came out muffled, "Harry, I really wish I could but I can't. You wouldn't understand."
Now, Harry's anxiety over the welfare of the girl that sat next to him got the better of him and he erupted in a shower of platonic affection and comforting words that sounded a lot like, "Well, I can help you. No matter what." and "Just tell me and we will sort it all out."
Laughing internally, Hermione stood up and left the room, saying, "If only you knew."
With a single tear running down her cheek, she smiled sadly at the boy and left without another word.
She ran to the owlery, scribbled a short note and sent it off with Hedwig.
If he didn't know how she felt by now, he was about to be told quite bluntly and, for the first time since she had met him, Hermione didn't mind how he reacted or what he was going to say. ______________________________________________________________________
Harry, confused, walked to the door and opened it. She had disappeared into thin air, and he couldn't think of one place she would go to…
The hoot of an owl broke his train of thought. Swivelling around to reface her room, he saw the owl fly through the window and land in the centre of the bed.
Not just any owl, but Hedwig. His very own owl.
Untying the small piece of parchment attached to the owl's leg, he conjured up two owl treats and gave them to a very appreciative Hedwig. Staring out the window, following her flight back to the Owlery, he scanned the parchment in his hands.
He instantly recognized her handwriting, and read what she had written.
Harry.
Disappointed that she had not written anything else, he dropped the parchment as his heart shattered into a million pieces. Was that all she could say to him now? What happened to them being best friends?
Glaring at the parchment, whilst wishing that it would burst into flame, he watched it flip over with a large gust of wind to reveal a whole paragraph in blotchy tear-stained ink.
Rushing over to the parchment, now in the corner of the room, he read – yet again – what she had written.
You are my best friend. I really hope you know that.
You and Ron mean the world to me, but I've come to realize that some of the things that have kept me around for so long are things that I could never have.
Unrealistic dreams, Harry.
So, I'm letting go. I hope you get this before I have 'Obliviated' myself.
I honestly hoped that it wouldn't have to come to this, that you would realize, but you didn't – so it has.
Tell Ron that I said sorry.
And tell Ginny that I tried, I really did.
I love you more than anything or anyone.
Hermione.
And with that, she had gone.