Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter serier nor the song "The Tower".
She Is Extraordinary
The one who
survive by making the lives
Of others
worthwhile
Despite the futility of S.P.E.W, she continued. The numerous knitted hats scattered across the common room.
I didn't have the heart to tell her that they would never reach the hands of the house elves.
Her cheeks flushed as her finger move with alacrity.
She's coming apartRight before my eyes
I had never seen her cry like this, like something had crushed her spirit beneath some filthy boots. I had seen her cry for anguish of others. I had seen her cry for the simple injustice of the world. I had seen her cry out of sheer frustration and anger.
But I had never seen her like this.
She was crying for herself, curled into a fetal position; her head tucked in the cradle of her arms.
She was driving me nuts.
She was hurt but I don't understand.
I couldn't help.
The one who depends on the services she renders
To those who come knocking
I always admired the way she was willing to help. It was part of her. I had seen her face glowing with pleasure when someone finally understood the concept behind transfiguration or potion or some other obscure baffling topic.
"I'm writing an transfiguration essay about changing inanimate objects into animals, can you help me?" I remembered asking once.
She rushed over; exhaustion written clearly in her eyes and posture. Yet, she still flipped open a book and started explaining, making exaggerated movement with her hands and drawing diagrams with her run-down quill.
While the whole common room was filled with people playing Exploding Snap, mulling over a game of chess, and catching up on gossips, she was in the corner with her beloved books and answering questions about a cheering charm when some first years failed dismally.
I was sure that if she opened a booth and charge a sickle for each question she answered, she'd be rich.
But that won't be Hermione. The one who needed to help everything and everyone and every in between.
I smiled at her excited face, "Thanks,
Hermione."
She's seeing too clearly what she can't be
What understanding defies
Sometimes, I needed to remind her that she could step out of her books.
It took time. But she was making progress.
She was still the same Hermione Granger. She relied on hard facts. She relied on logic.
She understood her limitations.
"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things--friendship and bravery and--oh Harry--be careful!"
But she never understood that she was extraordinary because of her heart, not her brain.
She never understood what I understood from the
beginning.
She says I need not to need
Or else a love with intuition
Someone who reach out to my weakness and won't
let go
"Why can't Ron understand?" she cried. She moaned like a wounded animal.
I was paralyzed.
"What can't Ron understand that not everything
is a joke?" she whimpered. "I am sorry for being not good enough.
But why can't he accept that? Why does he always turn away when I
need help?"
I need not to need
I've always been the tower
But now I feel like I'm the flower trying
bloom in snow
My mouth was dry. I couldn't speak even if I
knew what to say.
"I'm never good enough," she whispered.
I watched her deteriorated before my eyes.
"I am trying to be good enough," she wailed,
"I am trying. But it is so hard."
She turns out the light anticipating night
falling
Tenderly around her
And watches the dusk
The words won't come
I found her in the garden, by the pond. She looked so small surrounded by gnarled trees and overgrown weeds.
She tilted her head toward the sky. The orange was fading into blue; blue fading into purple; purple fading into darkness.
She opened her mouth.
She was trying to explain. She was trying to wrap her logic mind around her emotions and failed miserably.
She let the cold air rushed into her the small "o" that her lips formed.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
She carries the act so convincingly the fact is
She sometimes she believes it
That she can be happy the way things are
Be happy with the things she's done
She sat there happily eating or at least she seemed to be happy.
She chattered with Mr. Weasley, explaining physics behind an airplane.
But I saw the sadness in her eyes when Ron glared at his dinner.
She was giving up.
She didn't understand what I understood.
She says I need not to need
Or else a love with intuition
Someone who reaches out to my weakness and
won't let go
"You should be expelled for that. I'd never have believed it of you, Harry!"
She had never really understood what a serious business Quidditch was.
"I never said you couldn't—Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!"
I noticed how she bit her bottom lips. I noticed how her eyes were glistening. I noticed that Hermione was hurting when Ron strode past her.
I felt like kicking myself right then.
She won't go to the party; she lips wavered.
"You go!" she said, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done…"
She was crumbling.
I need not to need
I've always been the tower
But not I feel like I'm the flower trying to
bloom in snow
Hermione was always in the process of crumbling and rebuilding.
I realized and I was shocked.
I didn't understand.
The secrets she held close to her heart. The sadness she kept locked away. The doubts that haunted her dreams.
But she didn't understand what I saw.
It's her heart.
Reach out
But hold back
Where is safety
They made up.
They argued.
Hermione cried.
"Why am I never good enough?" She turned her tear-stained face toward me.
I was mute.
"I am always trying, always failing," she
stared at her hands, damp with her salty tears. "I am so sick of
this."
Reach out
and hold back
Where is safety
They laughed.
They shouted.
Hermione crumbled.
"I don't understand." She rocked back and forth at the edge of the pond. Her shadow shinning on top of the water.
I was immobilized.
"I thought this was right," she whispered into
the night. "I thought that things would finally fit into place. I
thought that this was right."
Reach out
and hold back
Where is the one who can change me
The keystone shattered. The bridge surrendered.
"Friends," he said.
"Friends," she said with a sad smile.
She turned and walked away.
She said to me, "It wasn't meant to be. It wasn't right."
"You are extraordinary, Hermione," I told her.
She threw her head back and laughed a cheerless laugh. "Me? Filled with facts. A walking book. No, I am not extraordinary."
She didn't understand.
Where is the one
The one
The one
She walked away with her head held high.
She didn't understand.
Yet.
She says I need not to need
Or else a love with intuition
Someone who reaches out to my weakness and
won't let go
I need not to need
I've always been the tower
But now I feel like I'm flower trying to
bloom in snow
But I hope that one day she will understand.
I hope that she will find someone that will treasure her weakness.
I hope that she will find someone that will shield her from the blizzard.
I hope that she will find someone that will helps
her understand.
I feel like I'm flower trying to bloom in
snow
The danger and the power
The friend and the foe
That she is extraordinary.
Author Notes: The song is called "The Tower" words and music by Vienna Teng. She is amazingly talented.
I hope you enjoyed this because I sure enjoyed writing it.
Please, leave me comments about your thoughts about Hermione, about Ron, about fic!
Icy