Our Last Dance






It was seventh year and there I was, all by myself. Only one friend that I could really talk to. Only one friend that was a girl. I had hung onto Harry and Ron as long as I could, but things had changed in our sixth year. Only one year ago, I still had two of the best friends that anyone could ask for. Now, all I had was two boys fighting for my love.

It was true that I did love them. The fact is, I loved them to death. At the time, I did not know what kind of feelings I had for them, but I knew it was some kind of love. A love that binds. A love deeper that one can truely say in words.

My name is Hermione Granger and I am twenty years old. I have seen more trouble and pain than anyone knows. I have lost everyone dear to me and could tell you more than you want to know about love. It all started in my sixth year...

I was on the train, right in the back compartment, waiting for Harry and Ron, my two best friends. I couldn't think of any two better people in the world at the tima and I was strong for them, because of them. They were my life. They were my all.

Harry came first, a smile on his perfect lips. It was his lips that intreagued me. I wanted to know what his lips would feel like when pressed against mine in a tender kiss. He was what I wanted. Or was he?

"Hello, Hermione. How was your summer?" he said to me. It was a friendly tone. Why? Why was he so friendly to me? It left me wanting so much more. I answered in what seemed like my normal tone, "It was fine. I missed you so much. "I missed you too," he replied. Was it me, or did I detect some kind of lust in his tone? I couldn't rightly tell. All I knew was that I wanted him...

And then Ron walked in. "Hello, Harry, Hermione," he boomed, beaming at us. The way I was attracted to Ron was somewhat diffrent. He could always make me laugh. He was always there to make me feel good. He was stable. I liked that. "Hello, Ron," was my reply, which was chorused with Harry's.

We chatted about our summers and the upcoming schoolyear until the candy-woman came up. I bought a few Chocolate Frogs and some Cauldron Cakes. The woman said, "That'll be a Sickle and fourteen Knuts, dearie." Harry lept up. "I-I-I'll g-get it," he sputtered out, being uncharictaristically stuttered.

"What's wrong Harry? You sound like Professor Quirrel..." Ron said, sounding downcast. "Uhh, Harry, I need to talk to you out in the hall." That is how it al began. my year of hell.