Hermione Granger slid her second floor window open and pointed her school telescope out the frame. The cool summer night filled her lungs as she breathed in deeply and slowly let out a sigh. It was midnight in her quiet London suburb. All around, the muggle neighbors were asleep, including her own parents.
Careful not to lean too far, Hermione stretched out the window and unscrewed the cap over the end. She tilted the instrument toward a random star system and looked into the eyepiece. This telescope was no ordinary muggle tool, for it, like many of Hermione's belongings, was enhanced… magically enhanced.
So when Hermione put her eye to the piece, star systems unimaginable to the muggle eye came into focus. A cluster of stars, lined in purple dust was the first to catch her attention in the upper left corner. Hermione readjusted the instrument and focused straight into the purple cloud. It was a breath taking phenomena.
Sometimes, late at night, Hermione would entrance herself with her beloved telescope. Few people knew of her love of astronomy. They merely thought that Hermione topped the Hogwarts subject to be a know-it all and a perfectionist. The truth was that she used the stars to escape the problems and worries of growing up and fears of another magical reign of terror.
Hermione worried less for herself than for Harry Potter. He and Ron Weasley were her best friends. Hermione could not imagine how she would get along without either of them. This especially applied to Harry, not because she loved him more than Ron, but he had faced Lord Voldemort four times; three of these times in the last four years. How many more encounters could he escape from?
Despite what the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge liked to believe, and what the bulk of the magical community thought true, the dark lord had risen again. Hermione had only heard of the awful doings of Voldemort and his death eaters. The fact remained that her best friend became an orphan because of them, and this made Hermione hate them as much as those who had actually experienced the darkness more than a dozen years ago.
A chill ran through Hermione's body as she thought about Voldemort. He was the reason why she could never sleep and often had trouble concentrating on her studies during the summer. If only students were aloud to do magic during the holidays. Hermione knew very well that the law had been set up to stop those irresponsible, underage witches and wizards who had tendencies to curse their friends and enemies.
A few weeks before the third task in the Triwizarding Tournament, Hermione had approached Professor McGonagall about the subject. The short conversation often ran through her mind.
"Professor, I understand that this is a law, not a school rule but you wrote to the ministry about the time turner…"
"Ms. Granger, that was a very different situation."
"How so, Professor?"
McGonagall paused, possibly considering how to answer. "Ms. Granger, you are years ahead of your grade in all your subjects, take a holiday and do make sure not to use your wand until next term."
How could Hermione take a break when the most evil wizard of their time was on the rise? How could she sit back and pretend to be a muggle while he wanted her best friend's blood? Although many of her peers and even teachers would love to disagree, Hermione no longer cared about making top grades. She wanted to train herself to fight Voldemort.
Realizing that her mind had wondered back toward earth, Hermione folded up the telescope and gingerly placed it back into its case. Careful not to topple them, Hermione moved a pile of books on her nightstand to read her alarm clock. It was nearly 1:00 in the morning. Without making a sound, Hermione quickly brushed her teeth in her adjacent bathroom and got ready for bed.
Settling into the fluffy covers, she realized that she wasn't very tired. Crookshanks, who spent most of his time in her bedroom, jumped up onto Hermione's bed, right beside her. She stroked his back until the ginger cat purred and closed his eyes.
Having nothing better to do, Hermione removed her copy of Advanced Charm Work from the nightstand. Over the last month, Hermione had already memorized every spell in the entire book. She had no way of practicing them; her wand being locked in the bottom of her school trunk, along with her Hogwarts robes. They were of no use to her in the muggle world.
After reviewing a few useful spells, Hermione closed the book and neatly placed it back on the pile it had originated from. She leaned over and rummaged through the top drawer of the wooden nightstand. Inside, she found the latest copy of Teen Witch Magazine. Hermione had recently gotten a subscription two months ago.
Teen Witch was the reading preference of Hermione's roommates Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Both girls were long term subscribers and firm believers in whatever the magazine said. Their favorite section by far was the horoscopes. Even Hermione, a Divination drop out, had to admit that the publication's general predictions were far more accurate than those found in a normal muggle magazine. Just the previous month, Hermione's horoscope for the seventh of July was that she would hear word from a very trusted friend. In the evening, Hermione had received a letter from Harry.
A young witch, perhaps a few years older than Hermione, was featured on the new cover. She wore elegant teal dress robes, her hair was a long sheet of sheer blondness which cascaded over her shoulders and ended in little ringlets a few inches below. The witch was smiling and waving from the magazine cover. Her brilliant white teeth shimmered in a way even Hermione's dentist parents had probably never seen. Of course, Hermione knew a quick spell that could make her own teeth look the same.
A large caption on the bottom of the cover captured Hermione's attention.
It read: 'How to know when the perfect Wizard is right under your nose…
page 34'. What did they mean the perfect wizard? Hermione asked
herself, already flipping to the page.
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Hermione felt her mouth open in surprise as she finished reading the article. Could this mean that she was passing by the perfect guy because of friendship… did this mean that either Harry or Ron were her perfect match?
"Rubbish!" Hermione whispered enthusiastically. Boys, wizards… whatever! None of it made sense to her. Besides, Hermione thought, she could not choose between her two best friends. After re-reading the article, Hermione shoved the whole magazine back into the drawer. "Based on the fine art of Divination," she muttered. "Go figure!"
Crookshanks stirred next to her and raised his head. After a quick yawn and stretch, the large cat hopped off Hermione's bed and settled himself on a comfy armchair across the room. Glancing down sideways at the large empty space in her queen-sized bed, a new thought crossed Hermione's mind. What if I pass up the perfect guy because he liked sleeping on the right side of the bed as much as I do?
Hermione settled into bed, still not very tired but not wanting to oversleep the next morning. She shut her lamp, but could not shake the crazy idea that something so trivial could ruin a perfect relationship. What relationship? She asked herself. You don't even have one yet, and you're already worried about the bed…
Desperate as it seemed, Hermione continued to argue with the little suppressed voices in her head for a good half-hour, before finally giving in. Full of doubt, she slid to the other side of the bed. Despite being a mere meter from the normal sleeping area, Hermione felt as though she were in a whole different place. The mattress was not worn where she lay and it felt foreign. She was far from the comfort of her lamp and nightstand, where piles of her favorite advanced magic books always blocked her digital alarm clock from sight. Hermione could not feel the breeze of her noisy, six-inch clip-on-fan. All and all, she did not sleep well.
The next morning, Hermione woke with her head smothered in a pillow. Her mouth had a bad taste in it and her eyes had little flecks of crust in the corners. Still half asleep, Hermione pushed the books out of the way to read the clock. The neon green letters read 9:37 AM. Quickly, Hermione jumped out of bed. She never slept past 8 during the summer!
While running the hot water for the bath, Hermione began to recall the Teen Witch article. Something seemed out of place, and it wasn't until Hermione was half way through washing her bushy brown hair, when she remembered going to sleep on the left side of the bed. That seemed odd, because Hermione had woken up back on the right side.
Mrs. Granger was in the kitchen making toast when her daughter came down the stairs in a bathrobe and slippers. Crookshanks, her ginger cat followed closely at Hermione's heels. He absolutely hated muggle cat food or using kitty litter. He would only eat the food when Hermione coaxed him into it. She looked pre-occupied though, and didn't seem to notice the cat following her.
"Good morning, dear," Mrs. Granger called, trying to oversee how tired her daughter looked.
"Morning mum," Hermione said, plopping into a stool at the kitchen counter. With a pop, two pieces of whole-grain toast shot out of the toaster. Mrs. Granger put each on a dish and rummaged through the refrigerator for some jam.
"Strawberry, dear?" Hermione nodded and got up to find a spreading knife from the utensil drawer. Looking as though she was sleep walking, Hermione took a glass from the neat cabinet and poured orange juice from the fridge into it.
As Hermione took her first bites of the strawberry jammed toast, Mr. Granger entered the kitchen from a sliding door out to the garden. He wore shabby jeans and a t-shirt and looked as though he had spent the morning weeding.
"Good morning dear," he said, leaning over to kiss his daughter's forehead. Hermione frowned, her brown eyes completely glazed. "What's wrong, Hermione?" She shook her head.
"Let her be…" Mrs. Granger started. But Mr. Granger had to make a joke; it wasn't like him not to.
"Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"
"YES!" Hermione shouted. It was very unlike her to get mad at her parents, knowing that they had very little to do with the magical community which Hermione had been forced to enter when she had been accepted to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry four years ago. Their greatest problem was scheduling two patients in the same timeslot.
Hermione ran up to her room, the bottom of her wet bathrobe dragging behind her. She threw herself onto the bed and began to cry. A knock on the door told Hermione that her mother was there to talk to her.
"Mum?" Hermione whaled.
"Dear, may I come in," her mother's calm and soothing voice said.
Not sure what else to do, Hermione sat up and wiped her tears away. "Come in, I guess," mumbled.
Mrs. Granger entered her daughter's bedroom and sat down on the edge of her bed. Looking around, she saw shelves full of all types of magic books. She quickly prayed that her daughter's problem was not out of her hands.
"Hermione, what's wrong?"
Hermione thought for a few moments, then realized that she was confused about love; something her mother would understand just as much as a witch. "This article…"
"Is this from that new magazine, Hermione?" Mrs. Granger asked harshly. She crossed her arms over her chest and said, "I knew that thing was going to corrupt your mind."
Hermione yanked Teen Witch out of her top drawer. She pointed at the cover, feeling hot tears filling her eyes again. Gently, Mrs. Granger read the cover and understood; she had to give Hermione the talk.
"Hermione, when a, er, a boy and girl like each other…"
"Mum!" Hermione exclaimed. "I know that stuff!" Mrs. Granger raised her eyebrows, as if to ask are you sure? "Mother," Hermione said, placing her hands over Mrs. Granger's. She sighed, then continued, "I'm just a little bit confused about… well, which guy, that's all."
"What does your heart say?" Mrs. Granger asked. Her words came straight from the television programs she watched. They sounded somewhat fake, but Hermione hardly noticed. She needed time to figure out whom she loved.
"I worry about Harry night and day," began Hermione. "But I don't know if I love him…"
"Then perhaps Harry is not who you love," purposed Mrs. Granger.
"Perhaps…"
"What about that Bulgarian boy who keeps sending you letters?"
"Victor Krum?" Hermione asked, shaking her head. "He's famous and way too old for me! Besides, Ron was so jealous… RON!"
"Maybe," smiled Mrs. Granger. She kissed her daughter lightly on the cheek and left, quietly closing the door behind her.
Hermione pulled her favorite armchair over to the window and sat down. Ten meters below, Hermione could see her father weeding the front yard. A swing set from Hermione's childhood stood dormant off to the right. Hermione felt a wave of nostalgia for the simple pleasures of a worry-free life pass through her mind. She hastily reminded herself that those pleasures came with ignorance; all the same, she missed it.
Then Hermione spent a long time thinking about Ronald Weasley. Ron, the ignorant, poor, friendly, goofy famous boy's best friend. Ron, the boy she'd loved to hate, even when she would have done anything to save his life and him, likewise. The boy who Hermione always bickered with whenever possible.
But Ron had thought of Hermione as a last resort for the Yule Ball. He could not have any real feelings for her… could he? Ron was a bad liar; his ears turned pink when he saw a girl he liked. This never happened around Hermione; in fact, he barely thought of her as a girl.
So when the horizon began to redden and Hermione was still curled up in the armchair, she decided to make an agreement with herself. She was no good at Divination and could not predict the future. There was no way to force something, whether meant to be or not.
As the sun began to really sink and the sky turned shades of blue and purple, Hermione kept sorting out her thoughts. There was nothing else to be done. If Harry was destined to face Voldemort again, she would support him all the way. Hermione realized that the article in Teen Witch had forgotten to mention that friendship was the basis of love and we do love our friends with all our hearts. This was something that Voldemort could never have. He lacked a heart in which to love with.
Later, after dinner, Hermione decided to write a letter to Ron.
She had no owl to send word with, but hoped that Pig would come by soon.
He and Hedwig, Harry's owl seemed to turn up right when they were needed,
as if they knew that Hermione wanted to send out letters to their owners.
Clicking on her desk lamp, Hermione wrote:
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Hermione hesitated and worked up the nerve to write Much Love instead of Your Friend. Convincing herself that friends write Much Love, she carefully folded the parchment into thirds and put it into an envelope.
After sitting by the window for any sign of Pig, Hermione opened the
evelope and added a P.S. to the letter:
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There, she thought, re-closing the envelope. It was already 11:30 PM, so Hermione decided to stay up to stargaze at midnight. She settled into the armchair by the window with her copy of From Teapots to Tadpoles (an advanced transfiguration book).
When her neon digital alarm clock flashed 12:00 AM, Hermione Granger
was fast asleep by her bedroom window overlooking the front yard and street
of her muggle home. A large ginger cat and a fat textbook rested
in her lap. The fourteen-year-old girl did not wake until a small
bird came zooming through the window during early dawn, several hours later.
Until then, the brown haired girl dreamt of swing sets and monkey bars
from her childhood.
A/N2: How was that for a short story?? NO GOOD! LOL, well I really tried! I simply cannot write short! Well, if you actually read all the way till here, I hope you enjoyed this not-so-short story and will review below. An afterthought: NO PART II!!!! Don't bother asking, I'm simply too busy with the hogwarts four and the Weasleys and the devil's child (both great, check them out!) Thank, Juliette