Disclaimer: I own nothing. Simple as that.
Hermione sat in front of a paper, which up to this time was blank.
Very unusual.
Somehow, blank papers had always troubled her. They needed to be filled out with something. Something intelligent for that matter.
But nothing worth writing down crossed her mind.
A troubling fact.
Especially when sitting in class, which at that precise time was performing a test.
Hermione Granger never ever failed a test – but she was about to.
She forced herself to look up, away from the alarmingly blank paper. She saw her classmates who were all eagerly writing down something imaginative.
Imagination. Her knew most hated word.
The world did not work for imagination. Facts ruled the world.
The world was what it was, not what you imagined it to be.
But that was actually what she was supposed to do. Imagine her own world, what she would like the world to be.
Unfortunately, Hermione could not look past the facts. Voldemort was on the loose, killing innocent people every minute, attacking houses and planning to take over the world.
Instead of learning how to fight, hell, even being prepared to what was going on outside of Hogwarts – they were forced to flee into a dream world.
Her eyes fell on Harry. He wasn't writing as well.
Hermione knew it was not her fault. They had seen too much. Imagination is for kids – and Harry, Ron and she had to grow up too quickly to have any left.
Harry suddenly smiled dreamily and started to write. A quick glance to the right proved her suspicion right. Ron, too, was eagerly writing.
What was wrong with her? Had she alone nothing left to dream about? To hope for?
Of course she wished the war was over and that Ron would finally get his guts together and ask her out. Preferably the former first (Hermione liked to take things step after step). But she knew that this would not happen so easily.
People would suffer. Her friends would suffer and possibly even die. She might die; Ron might die. And Harry? She wouldn't even get started on that one.
"You have ten minutes left," the teacher informed them.
Hermione felt empty inside.
She realised she was dead. She had killed her inner kid.
But she was prepared. Prepared to take on everything that might come along. She would be able to stay rational at any emotional dilemma they may be facing.
And what had it cost her?
Only her imagination.
And nobody needed that, anyway, she thought as she handed in her empty paper.
*
She was walking towards the common room with Harry and Ron after the test. They were discussing the essay and Hermione zoned out, ignoring her friends.
"What did you write about?" Ron asked Harry, after he told Harry and of course Hermione (which wasn't listening, though).
"Well, Voldemort vanished with a 'pop' into a pink cloud and everything was perfect. I had my family and Sirius was there and – "
"You realise this won't happen?" Hermione cut in.
"So what?" Harry asked her, a bit hurt. He liked his dream world very much.
"So what? Are you serious? We should hide ourselves behind shallow dreams?"
"Something's wrong?" Ron asked dumbfounded. Never had he seen Hermione that angry after a test. Usually, she enjoyed that way too much.
"It helps. We all have to flee from reality time after time," Harry said calmly.
"Reality will only hurt much more once you return from your cloud nine."
"Imagination allows us to picture the world how it should be. It helps us fight for something better. Reality makes us bitter."
"Imagination. What is that even supposed to be?"
Hermione was terrified her best friends were that delusional.
"It's the essence of everything."
And Harry's meaningful words named Hermione's cost.
A/N: This is my first try at an English story. So if there are big mistakes, please let me know. Please review!