"The long and winding road to love"
Chapter one: The library incident.
Life had never been easy for Hermione Granger. And this particular night was not one of the jolliest in her life. Not only did she feel sad and gloomy but empty as well. And that, if I daresay, is one of the darkest of feelings.
I hope you don't mind me asking but… have you ever felt the excruciating pains that only emptiness provokes? Have you felt a black hole in your soul without knowing the exact cause of it? Have you ever walked without accurately knowing where your feet will lead you?
For Hermione Granger, at least, those thoughts and sensations had become as regular as breathing. And she did not like it. She did not like it at all.
Growing up is difficult. Adolescence was difficult for Plato, back in Greece thousands of years ago, and it is still one of the most painful periods in human life. Hermione was not used to crying, but lately she felt like sobbing during Potion's classes, at lunch, or late at night when no one but herself could see the mess that she had transformed into.
The uncertainty was eating Hermione from the inside, and she couldn't make it stop. She tried, oh gods! How much she tried, but so far, nothing had worked.
You see, for scholars such as Hermione, there is a solution for every problem, and said answer always resides in books. And so she had sneaked under Harry's invisibility cloak for weeks trying to find an incantation, a potion, anything that could help her. But it didn't really matter how long she looked; she would find nothing but a headache.
This particular night, the night of the incident, she was feeling rather dizzy and her eyes were playing tricks on her mind; she kept imagining dark shadows spying from behind bookshelves, but no one could be there, or could they? No.
"Probably a house elf," she thought to herself, while rubbing her eyes with her right hand. They were red and puffy, and somehow she knew that despite her current weakness she wouldn't be able to sleep that night. Like every night, she would spend countless hours staring at the ceiling while she cried a river of tears over her lost youth.
Exactly, Hermione was afraid of the future. Hermione feared something that did not exist; something that depended entirely on her strength, something that no one but herself could manage to carve. Because William Shakespeare had the right idea when he said that it was not in the stars to hold destiny but within us. Yes, he had the right idea.
Anyhow it was very late and just as she was placing "Most Potente Potions" back onto the right shelf, a voice - a very profound, manly voice, that could belong to no one but "him" interrupted her every move. It was Severus Snape, Hogwarts most feared, most powerful Potion's Master, and Hermione's least favourite person in the world.
"Miss Granger," He said silkily from the shadows, his face was not entirely visible, but somehow she knew that her pale complexion would look even paler under the moonlight coming from the library window. "May I asked what on earth are you doing in the library at this time of night?" he asked, not raising his tone of voice in the least.
Hermione was speechless; she knew she would have to come up with an excuse and quickly, because she was in trouble. She was in deep, deep trouble. And she wondered why she had allowed the invisibility cloak to slip from her shoulders; if she wouldn't have been so reckless, maybe, just maybe, she would be heading back to the Gryffindor Common Room by now.
But it hardly seemed the moment to regret her past actions.
"Well, Miss Granger…," he said, once again from a safe distance. But he was closer; she could feel his presence in the air. She wondered why her sixth sense hadn't alerted her to Professor Snape's presence in the room.
"The shadows," she said out loud, answering her own thoughts, and not the question presented to her. But Professor Snape was not the least bit interested in Hermione's thoughts.
"The shadows, Miss Granger, how interesting…. May I inquire as to which shadows those are? But above all things, are they talking to you, Miss Granger?" he said sarcastically, a smirk on his face. But, of course, Hermione was not able to see his expressions. He was still in the dark, but the moonlight was slowly revealing his black hair. Soon enough, she would be face to face with her Potions professor.
And she did not like the idea; she did not like the idea at all.
"No, Professor… I was on Head Girl's duty. I was searching for students out in the corridors and I came across some shadows; the shadows I was talking to you about," she said swallowing. Snape's forehead was visible now and his skin, somehow, reminded her of vampires. She had never believed the rumours of Snape actually being a vampire, but he sure looked like one now, "and I felt the necessity, as Head Girl, to investigate," she lied.
"I see. And, please Miss Granger, enlighten me as to why you were wearing an invisibility cloak while watching the library's corridors and furthermore, why you were reading a book from the Restricted Section?" he shouted, his face now completely visible and only inches away from Hermione. She swallowed, trying not to look so scared. She didn't like to give him that satisfaction.
"I always hold an invisibility cloak while watching the corridors in the middle of the night, sir… for…er… security measures, that's it!" she said grinning.
"And the book, Miss Granger? Why were you reading a potions book? Are you planning on poisoning someone? Confess, Miss Granger!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to intimidate her. He did not believe she was trying to poison anyone, but maybe a forced confession would grant him the ability to deduct points from Gryffindor, his favourite job in the world.
"No, Professor, I was intending to poison myself," she confessed, a tear running down her cheek.
"Miss Granger, what are you…" he tried to ask, but she did not give him the time to do so. Knowing perfectly well that she would regret doing it in the morning, she started running towards Gryffindor Tower, where, at least, she could cry without being interrogated about it.