Gray into Brown
A Dramione FanFic by me, Lauren
A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile. Listen, I know my first piece of writing, There's No Way I Could Make It Without You, an Austin and Ally FanFic, was pretty horrible. And I kinda gave up on the Hinny FanFic. So, yeah! Here's a Dramione FanFic. It takes place sixth year, and a few things from JK Rowling will be the same here, but not everything. Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Universe: all of them belong to JK Rowling. Hope ya enjoy !
Chapter 1: Noticing Things
Hermione's POV
I sing a little song as I get up, ready to work. It's a bit depressing, but a nice tune. I made it up to get myself through the tough days of overwork, stress, and sadness. After my father contracted cancer, I sunk into a depression. He's better now, yes, sure, of—of course, but we haven't spoken in months.
Lonely, quiet, pale and wan, screaming for all this to end…
I used to wander outside after midnight and stand by the frozen lake, dressed in a parka and slippers, just thinking and staring at my reflection. Eventually I'd start sobbing, my tears almost freezing on my cheeks, and then stop abruptly, my insides crumbling.
…Thin and small, used to be pretty, now all she's got is a shred of dignity…
I thought, a lot, about my grades, my only refuge. I poured myself into my schoolwork. I couldn't tell anyone of my father's condition, otherwise I knew I'd break down and lose my flimsy hold on reality.
…The fire that was inside her, it's lost all its fuel, and she's nervous in front of her friends, trying hard to keep her cool…
Ron, Harry, Neville, and Luna never noticed anything, except I was quieter. I blamed it on Malfoy. Now, Harry and Ron glare at him all the time and Neville actually yelled at him once. Luna would slip her arms around me and try to make me laugh, with tales of hunting for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks or whatever their names are. They were all so sweet, I wanted to tell them, but I never brought myself to. Even wizards have no cure for cancer. He's not even a wizard, so they weren't sure if they'd work on him anyway.
…The sun is gone, the clouds moving in; the monster in where her heart was is just about to win…
My heart was in a million pieces by the time I was just about to lose it, just about to raise my wand and avada kedavra, just go, just leave it all behind.
…Fighting back, the monster defeated, but still pieces are missing where her heart and feelings meted…
I fought back, ever so weakly, but still fought. I actually fought it for three years after my dad…before he got "it" and…and is okay now. But for awhile, it showed strikingly in my bony wrists, thin frame, and blue shadows under my tear-soaked eyes.
…You couldn't tell it now, she's holding fast, but the damage is done, the destruction will last.
I eventually came to my senses and was able to hide it, but every night I'm haunted by nightmares of when I had to leave him and my tear-sodden mother, I left them at home, which really wasn't home anymore, but a prison.
I sing this song as I ready myself, apply a bit of hair gel to keep my hair down, and gather my books. A picture of me and Harry and Ron and Neville and Luna, sitting by the lake, catches my eye. I flip it over.
To 'Mione, from Harry, Ron, Luna and Neville, too—
Hey 'Mione. We thought you seemed down lately. Is old dung bag—which is to say Malfoy—acting up like last time? Neville took this picture last week.
Love from your friends
Tears threaten to spill out from in between my eyelashes, and I close them. Oh gosh, oh gosh, don't cry; don't cry…They're so dang sweet! Ah, ah, ah…It catches me every single time! I smile, trying to weaken the tear flow, but they're coming hard. They care, thank God, they care! It makes me so happy. Which is strange, since it seems like that's never truly the case anymore.
I hate this. I hate this depression I've sunk into. I try and claw my way out of it but only end up more scarred. I can't distract myself as well by my schoolwork. I've been shutting out my friends. I need to—have to—be with them more. Harry, Ron, Neville and Luna: the best, honestly the best, friends I could hope for.
I clutch the picture with my bony hands and stick it onto my wall next to my bed. Ron winks at me. Harry adjusts his glasses with a chuckle. Neville waves fiercely. Luna fixes her wide eyes on me with a shy smile. I see myself truly happy. Truly joyous.
"Thank you," I whisper to the rising sun. "For them." I would probably ashes now if it weren't for them. It's funny how just a Diffindo in the right spot could make me a mere memory. Funny, but frightening. I press my forehead to the window. A drop rolls down the misty glass. Is it a happy tear or a sad tear? Maybe a bit of both.
Lavender and Parvati enter the dormitory, laughing. They spot me and stop, suddenly.
"Good morning, Hermione," Lavender says warily.
"Hello" is all I say.
"Is everything okay?" Parvati asks softly.
I bite my lip. "Um…yes. I'm fine. Thank you."
"Okay," they say in unison, very gently.
This makes me wonder: are Parvati and Lavender my friends? Maybe they have been. Third year was rocky—the Binky incident and all—and over the last few years, we haven't talked much. Strange, as we're in the same dormitory and all. I stroke a lock of hair, my eyes unfocused. They've never been particularly nice, but never extremely mean for long periods of time, either. I haven't exactly been friendly to them. It's been neutral, I guess, but I never thought they viewed me as one of their "girlfriends". I've never really studied them, either. Lavender's very nice-looking, with light, golden-brown hair that's curly but straight, and big, bright cinnamon-colored eyes. Parvati has straight, dark hair that's in a plait today, dark eyes, and coffee-colored skin. Her posture is straight and strong, like she's important and a leader. They're both gorgeous girls, but giggly and unintelligent. Still, I heard Lavender squeal about her E in Transfiguration yesterday. I just smile halfheartedly, turn, and hoist my bag over my shoulder.
"Oh, crap, I forgot my Charms book!" Lavender shrieks, slapping her forehead with her palm. "I left it in Flitwick's room!"
"Want me to go with you to get it?" Parvati asks. Her eyes rest on me.
"No, no, it's okay. I'll run and get it."
"Why was it in Flitwick's room?"
"I was studying there with Ron last night, and I forgot it!"
I freeze, my eyes fixed on Lavender.
My insides contract. Maybe it was someone else. I think there's a Ron in fifth year. Or I misheard it. There's a Dom in Hufflepuff.
But I feel like my stomach is full of lead. I know it's Ron, my Ron, a Weasley. Why do I care? Why? It's Lavender. Maybe—maybe she was helping him? But then, why wouldn't she ask me? I'm smarter, a million times smarter than all of the sixth year combined. My cheeks warm. No. No, no, no. NO. This isn't happening. Nope. Not. Not. Ron—it's always been him and me. Me and him. Study-buddies. More like I-read-he-doesn't-pay-attention. More like we both end up laughing so hard we cry, slumped against each other, breathless with each other. He's mine. Mine. Hermione's. 'Mione's.
"Oooh, Ronnie and Lavender, sittin' in a tree, love potions made by me, me, me!" Parvati teases. I feel my heart freeze. Crap, no. Stop, stop, stop…
"Oh, shut up, you!" Lavender giggles, poking Parvati's shoulder. They both laugh. Hee-hee, tee-hee, ha-hee, ee-ee! That's what it sounds like. Hyper squirrels. Radioactive—I don't know—acorns! They're so annoying. How could I consider them friends, even for a moment?
"Okay—so—so, here's the deal—hold on," Lavender chokes, laughing. "Okay. I'll go get it. You stay here. I'll come down to breakfast, 'kay? Save me a chocolate-chip muffin."
"'Kay!" Parvati grins toothily. She twirls a strand of dark hair around her finger. I have the nerve to raise an eyebrow through the ice coursing through my veins. Jealousy.
Crap. Again. This is so, so bad. Lavender doesn't know about me and Ron. Our special relationship. Our friendship, which, maybe to me, is a bit more than a friendship. Maybe. I'm not sure. This depression—the Snake—is slowly, quietly, poisoning me. Cutting off my air. Hiding me. Gone is the energetic, smart, important Hermione who loved being called on. Now, a new Hermione has taken her place. She's a bit bony, quiet, and dark. She doesn't get called on, since her teachers have gotten the point. She doesn't care. She doesn't talk. She doesn't feel much anymore. She's numb. Still getting good grades, but even they've dipped, due to the fact that she doesn't listen or pay attention. The only songs she sings are depressing ones. She lurks around, hoping, praying, not to be noticed. Even the ones she cares most for, she doesn't want to see. Doesn't, doesn't, doesn't: she doesn't want anything. Just—just a moment to collect her in this storm. But every time she tries, the gale blows that one important connecting piece away, so she's barely holding herself together.
Lavender departs, leaving me, Parvati, and the Snake. The Snake hisses for an attack, to snap what's going on with Ron. The other part of me, the Dove, whispers of polite small talk. I decide, numbly, on the Dove, just this once.
"That Potions test was brutal," I say brightly, surprising myself. I didn't know I had that in me.
"Oh yeah," Parvati says, almost relieved. "Yeah! I got a P on it." She makes a face. "Professor Drape never liked me anyway."
The old Hermione resurfaces for half a second, wanting to mention that "drape" means to spread across an object, but I only say "I got an O, but he doesn't like me either". Then she's gone. The flame sputters out. The rain presses against me abruptly. The room almost dims. Parvati says something I don't hear.
"Sorry, I didn't catch that," I say, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain helps me focus. I steady myself.
"Oh, I just said, 'did you know about Lavender's—um—grades in Potions? They're better than mine, but, um, not as good as yours'."
"Did you now?" I ask innocently. I'm a great actress.
"Yep!" Her eyes search the room, and then settle on the lake. "Brr. It's probably freezing out there. Remember Viktor Krum? He actually swam in there, and it was midwinter, I think!" She frowns, thinking, and then continues: "Didn't you date him, and go to the Yule Ball with him? Did you ever actually go to his castle?"
The memory bubbles to life, popping inside of my chest. The good old days. It's almost painful, but not quite: like a bit of the sun peeking out of the storm clouds. Then the Snake strikes and I'm brought back to reality.
"Um—yes, yes, and no. We kind of lost touch last year. I wish we hadn't. He was really nice, but not really my type. I still write to him occasionally."
"Oh, cool! Do you know, does he still play Quidditch?" Parvati asks eagerly. "I don't watch it much."
"I think he still does. I don't watch it either!" We laugh together. Wow. How does the Snake content for this long? It must be getting restless. I can't contain it for much longer.
"So—what's your opinion of Ron Weasley? You're always hanging out together," Parvati giggles with a cock of her eyebrow.
That's the first bite. I feel my stomach sink. Crap. She's brought it up.
"Well—we're best friends, you know," I stammer slightly, fighting to keep the Snake from constricting me. "We love each other like siblings."
"Oh. Cause you know, Lavender likes him, and I wouldn't get too attached!" Parvati says lightly.
CRAP. I knew she liked him! And now I have to keep them away from each other. Make him notice me.
"Well, we should get down to breakfast. We'll meet Lav on the way."
"Okay," I say with a smile, the Snake writhing and hissing. But I have control over it. I've mastered it now. Though sometimes I cave. But I still control it.
"So—um—do you have a crush on Draco Malfoy?" Parvati blurts. She covers her mouth with her hand, her cheeks red. "Sorry. But do you?"
I jerk back, appalled. "Draco. Draco Malfoy. How could I possibly like him that way? He's always been horrible to me. Ugh!" I give a little lighthearted giggle. Wow. I really am a great actress. The Snake goes to sleep. Hmm. Why? I actually feel—sort of happy. Weird! But amazing! I'm defeating this thing!
"Well, haven't you noticed?" Parvati says, surprised. "He's always looking at you! And yesterday, he actually tried to show off in front of you! Remember? When he accidentally set his robes on fire?"
"I thought he was just terrible at the Fire-Shooting Spell!" I say, equally shocked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously!" Parvati says with a laugh. I give her a shudder, and she laughs harder. Then her face hardens. "Hey—I know you went through a rough time—your dad and all. But—we're going to try and cheer you up. Me and Lavender, I mean. You're not alone anymore."
"You noticed?" I ask sadly.
"Yeah, it was obvious. I know Harry and Ron were especially concerned about you. Harry came up to us the other day and asked if we did something. He and Ron really care about you. Neville too. He was badgering Malfoy. Luna asked around Ravenclaw. I think you should tell them about your dad."
"How did you know? About him?"
"You talk in your sleep," she says softly. And that's when I realize that Lavender and Parvati have been my friends all along. Because they care. They're not dumb. They're not all giggly and girly and annoying—they're concerned, funny, and sweet.
Parvati takes my hand and pulls me into the Great Hall. And that's when the full meaning of her words sink in.
You're not alone anymore.
No, I'm not.