"And now, ladies and gentlemen, to finish our ceremony, a special performance from our very own Hermione Granger." A polite applause greeted Hermione as she went out onto the stage. She saw Professor McGonagall give her a reassuring nod and a smile, then blinding lights as she walked onto the stage that had been specifically modified in the great hall. As the music started, she saw her life flash by in mere seconds.
She saw her childhood self sitting a white baby grand piano, diligently practicing her scales as her mother smilingly looked on. Finishing, she gathered up her papers and stood from the baby grand.
"Hermione, it's dinner time," she heard her mother's soft voice call to the child Hermione. Looking around in the living room she saw the pictures of herself and her parents, of her, of her parents. She closed her eyes and mouthed the words that her younger self replied to her mother's comment.
"Already? Oh, alright. I had hoped to get some reading done before dinner, but I can always read after." Hermione's childlike voice filled the room as her mother smiled.
"Read? All you do is read and read and read. All this information filling your head. I just hope that you will have time for your old parents when you are a wise professor at some prestigious university." Jean Granger laughed down at her daughter with her green eyes sparkling.
"Don't be silly, mama. You know that I will always have time for you and papa. Besides, I don't want to be a professor." Hermione skipped to her mother, taking her by the hand.
"Really?" Jean teased her daughter. "I thought yesterday you read so much because you said you wanted to be a professor. I must have been mistaken"
"Well, I changed my mind," the little girl started tugging her towards the kitchen as the scene faded to black.
"Mama, mama, there is a woman at the door, and she says she needs to talk to all of us," eleven-year-old Hermione shouted up the stairs.
"Hermione, what have I said about shouting," Jean Granger's voice floated down the stairs a second before she did, clad in an lemon yellow summer dress.
"But mama, she says it is important. And besides, that wasn't a shout. That was a slight raising of the voice." Her voice took on a bossy tone as she looked up at her mother.
"Alright then, let's go see what's it about. Your father will be down in a minute anyways."Jean gave her daughter a fond look. Reaching the door, she smiled at the women, although she gave her an odd look as she was dressed in very strange clothing.
"Hi, can I help you with anything?"
"Hello, my name is Professor Minerva McGonagall, and I am a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." As her voice continued talking, the scene faded to black.
"Why do they write such horrible things?" A fourteen-year-old Hermione cried into Harry Potter's shoulder. "What did I do to her? Do I deserve this? Ugly? Love potion?"
"Of course you don't deserve this, 'Mione. She is just a jealous, horrible old woman. She's just mad you don't listen to her lies, and that you confronted her about them." Harry Potter told her sternly, yet softly. If such a combination was ever possible, it was in this moment. "Whatever you do, or whatever they say, don't lose the passion or the fighter that's inside of you. Nobody should be able to take that away from you. Not Malfoy, not Ron, not Skeeter, nobody. Promise me, 'Mione. Promise me that you will never give up, never give in. Promise me."
"Promise. Thank you Harry. I… I just… I mean… It's hard. All everybody ever sees me as is a bushy haired, ugly, bossy bookworm. They don't see me for my beautiful uniqueness, or my skills at the piano, or any of my good qualities. Just my bad ones. Sometimes it feels as if you are my only friend. I just can't deal with it. "
"Hermione Jean Granger, don't you ever say that again. I swear, you are the best human being I know of. Everything will be better, I promise." Harry told her while hugging her tightly.
Looking up at her friend, not caring who might see, she stretched up and gave him a kiss on the lips. There was no deep revelation, or startling fireworks, but rather a familiar, warm feeling. She felt a slight spark, nothing much but with the potential to become bigger. She broke away, flushing a deep shade of red.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I just-" Harry interrupted her leaning down to kiss her softly a second time. The scene slowly faded to black
The scene was almost identical to the one 3 years ago, with the exception of the fact that Harry was now dating Hermione.
"They are horrible, all of them, and Ron's no better. Every single man out there is now viewing like some sort of sex object. All because of a picture. One single picture and I am infamous for it. Now they would pay a thousand galleons for my kiss, I got a letter stating that. A thousand galleons! But now my soul is worth less than a cent." She hollowly whispered while staring out into the nothing.
"I'm sorry," Harry said to her, that was all he could do. The scene faded to black
She opened her mouth and started to sing, the beginning words floated up to the ceiling and around the room.
"They thought they could dispose of me
They tried to make me small
I suffered each indignity
But now rise above it all"
Her clear voice filled the Great Hall, which was filled to the brim. Dressed in a violet chiffon dress and diamond earrings, she was alone on the stage.
"Yes, the price I paid was all I had
But at last I found release
And if something good can come from bad
The past can rest in peace"
She commanded the entire room's attention, a petite girl seeming to shine. She just stood there and sang, with no other assistance aside from the music. No microphone, or magical aid. Her voice carried simply by it's own accord.
"So if you see someone's hurt and in need of a hand
Don't forget me
Or hear a melody crying from some baby grand
Well, don't forget me
When you sing "Happy Birthday" to someone you love
Or see books you wish were all free
Please say that you won't
I pray that you don't forget me"
Her voice resonated throughout the room, not leaving a single heart untouched. They could feel as though this was some sort of goodbye. They could hear it in the music, in the words, in her tone. They could see it from her facial expressions, in her body language.
"But forget every man who I ever met
'Cause they all only lived to control
For a kiss they paid a thousand, yet
They paid fifty cents for my soul
They took their piece: the price of fame
That no one can repay
Ah, but they didn't buy me when they bought my name
And that is why I pray"
The witches, wizards, and muggles in attendance, even if they were not guilty, could not help but feel guilty. They could not take their eyes from this riveting young woman, scarred mentally from a war that she was too young to fight.
"That when you see someone's hurt and in need of a hand
You don't forget me
Or hear a melody crying from some baby grand
You don't forget me
When you sing "Happy Birthday" to someone you love
Or see books you wish were all free
Please say that you won't
I pray that you don't forget me"
As she sang the chorus a second time, she had a small smile on her face, sad yet it had a hopeful side, that confused them. It dawned on Ginevra Weasley first, and she looked down in shock before glancing up at her longtime friend. With a smile on her face she shook her head before deciding that Hermione had that right, after everything had happened.
"There are some in this world who have strength of their own
Never broken or in need of repair
But there are some born to shine who can't do it alone
So protect them and take special care
Take care
And don't forget me
Please take care
And don't forget me"
Without moving around on the stage, she still managed to captivate the audience with her hand gestures and her raw emotion. It was clear that she was singing to some people in particular. Ginny Weasley smiled through her tears for she knew that she was the one person who had strenght of her own. Harry Potter laughed a small, quiet laugh because he realised he was the one born to shine but unable to do so alone. He felt for the ring in his pocket before listening to his girlfriend sing the closing lines.
"When you look to the heavens with someone you love
And a light's shining bright from afar
Hope you see my face there
And then offer a prayer
And please, let me be
Let me be that star"
At the last note, there was a blackout, but that did not stop the thundering applause that threatened to raise the roof. When the light came on again, it was to the sight of Minerva McGonagall walking onto the stage to say the closing speech.
Harry Potter hurried through crowds as he searched after Hermione. "Have you seen Hermione?" He asked Ginny Weasley.
Smiling sadly, she turned to give him the news. "Don't you see? She's gone. What do you think she sang that for? We won't be seeing her again. I'm going to miss her so, so much." Facing away from him, she let a few tears escape.
"You're lying. Hermione! Hermione!" Turning around he started to frantically push through the crowds.
"Mr. Potter? Hermione asked me to give this to you." Smiling at him, Minerva McGonagall went past him to converse with Lavender Brown's parents.
Dear Harry,
I'm sorry about this. So, so sorry. It was, however, necessary. I know you, and you won't think so. But you don't understand many more factors were in play, than what I told you. My parents were attacked by death eaters, and with the photo, and the media. I had become a sex symbol, but not voluntarily. I know it sounds cliché, my parents being killed by the very people we were fighting against. I didn't tell you, couldn't tell you, not with the war going and you had so much on you shoulders. I needed to focus on helping you win this war. Heaven knows Ron wouldn't. There is a small part of me that still loves him, but the fame went to his head. He will never be that eleven-year-old boy we met again. Again, I am so sorry. I know, this is hard to deal with, but it is for your own good. It might not seem so, but it is. Please, go on with your life, date, marry, have children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. Be happy, and don't wish things could have gone differently, or that you could have saved me. You could not have saved me. It was beyond your power. I think Ginny likes you. Ask her, please? You would make a good couple. Also, one more thing, don't name your children after dead people. Well, except for me. Feel free to name your daughter Hermione. No, I am only joking. Your children's names are your and your wife's to choose. Although really, I know you want to honour the dead, but you don't want to give them bad luck. Have a long life and enjoy it, without me. Remember me, just once in a while.
All I ask, is that you don't forget me.
I love you, to the stars and back,
Hermione Jean Granger