"The difference between truth and fiction is that fiction has to make sense "
The acrid smell of singed red hair filled the room as Harry loudly congratulated himself for his second victory in a row. "That's it!" Ron huffed angrily, "I've got Arithmacy problems to solve. I can't sit here and play exploding snap all night just because you've got no homework…"
Harry Potter burst out in laughter and pointed a shaking finger at his best friend, "Ron, that look works for you mate, you'll have absolutely no trouble rounding up a couple girls for the Yule Ball!" Ron grimaced and hoisted himself from the soft carpet, leaving Harry to clean up. He looked about the room for a few moments until he found what he'd been looking for; sure enough, a tuft of bushy brown hair was sticking distinctly out from behind a maroon and gold armchair in front of the fireplace. The fire crackled in amusement as Ron snuck up behind the girl, scaring her out of her wits and subsequently spilling ink all over the potions essay that was due the following morning.
"RONALD WEASLY!" the angry witch shrieked furiously as she jumped to her feet and turned towards the offending wizard. "Do you know what you've done? This is due tomorrow! Professor Snape is going to kill me! This is the biggest essay of the unit! I'll never get these points back!"
Ron had now retreated to about half the length of the room and was currently somewhere between cowering behind Harry and answering back. "Calm down Hermione!" Harry interjected calmly, "I'm sure it was just an accident –and Merlin knows you don't need those points anyway…" Hermione turned her glare towards Harry, but Ron chose that moment to add to his statement.
"Yeah, calm down Hermione, we all know it won't take you more than five minutes to write another one." Several chuckles followed his comment, as though to say, yeah, typical Hermione'. Ron took her silence as forgiveness and took a step further. "And I'd really love it if you'd look at my Arithmacy sheet for me, I'm dead tired and there's just no way I could go over it myself." As if to prove his point, Ron stretched luxuriously and yawned loudly. Hermione did not budge in inch as Ron walked towards her with his homework in his hand, outstretched towards her. "Hermione?" he asked curiously, when she still hadn't moved from her original position.
"I can't believe any of you…"She said finally and with that she stormed up to bed, casting a silence charm on the curtains and shutting her eyes forcefully.
Her eyes remained shut for quite a while, but her mind refused to stop tormenting her. Ghostly gales of laughter echoed through her head and Ron's ignorance pierced her heart worse than any of Malfoy's cruel words had. When her eyes opened again, the room was dark and blurry. Hastily, she scraped the tears from her bloodshot eyes and got out of bed, taking care to avoid the loose floorboards. Feeling her way around in the moonlight, she reached her trunk. She hastily threw on her warmest clothes, slipped a heavy cloak over her shoulders and climbed out of the portrait-hole with trembling legs.
Ever since she could remember, people had always judged her by her intellect and study habits –rarely did anyone come along who saw the young woman beneath the books. When Harry and Ron had saved her life that Halloween, she'd discovered that at least two people saw her true character, but at times like these, she was always harshly reminded of the facts. The fact that she would always be the 'bookworm', she would always be the bushy haired freak, and that she would always be the one left standing in the corner…
Hermione tried desperately to push her thoughts aside as she had always done when they threatened to overwhelm her, and focused solely on getting to Hagrid's hut. The half-giant was attending a summit meeting of sorts with several big-shots in the giant world, and wasn't due back for quite a while. Therefore, Hermione felt completely justified in sneaking into his house in the middle of the night for a little repose and space to clear her head, which was by now very crowded indeed. She was jolted out of her thoughts as she suddenly happened upon a rock. The ground was hard with frost and the ice bit her skin like dozens of angry ants. She cursed quietly and tried to pick herself up, but to no avail –her legs seemed to loose function along with her mind which had gone blank save for Ron's words, and torrents of crescendo-ing laughter.
Hermione bit her lip in frustration, but did not try to move for another few moments. This time, she used all of the self-control she could muster and blocked out the harsh sounds –now was not the time to break down. She looked down upon herself and realized that she was quite wet. The ice had melted beneath her and in the silvery moonlight she imagined that the front of her clothes looked as though they had been stained with blood. She let out a short humourless laugh as she realized how ironic it all was –she was going to an empty hut to cry so that no one would know how upset she was, but the reason she was upset was because no one seemed to realize how their words upset her …
Hermione had known she was special ever since she was a child. Strange things kept happening around her –especially when she was extremely angry or unusually happy –things that neither she nor her parents had ever been able to explain. It had always been; "How did Mrs. Cholly's sweater turn red Hermione?" and "How did Alice's ball go flat Hermione?" and "How on earth are my roses blooming in October?" Unfortunately for Hermione, these things that seemed weird to her and her parents seemed downright scary to the neighbourhood kids, and being an only child, Hermione was soon faced with a lonely childhood. Everywhere she turned, all she saw were turned backs, furtive looks, and whispered words –of which the all time favourite was undoubtedly; 'freak'. She had hoped and dreamed of one day finding friends who would understand her and look past her oddities. She threw herself into fairytales, plays, novels, scientific documents, mathematics theory books and text books far beyond her peers' abilities. So when Hermione received her letter from Hogwarts all of those years ago, she'd been hysterical with joy –her hopes had soared like she'd never before allowed them to. She'd spent the rest of the summer learning everything about her new home –her new life. She'd never even imagined that her utopia, her safe haven, her dream, would be so tainted; barely a month passed before she realized that it was no different from the muggle world –the only difference being that rather than being ostracized for being a witch, she was ostracized for being born to people who hadn't a drop of magical blood in their veins. Her dreams had been shattered and her hopes dashed to ground and trodden upon by so many apathetic faces in pointy hats. As a matter of fact, she'd nearly gotten herself killed when one of Ron's insensitive comments had finally pushed her over the edge…
Angrily, she blinked back the salt-water which was threatening to inundate her eyes. Why should she cry when they were the ones who would suffer the most from their actions? They could just 'correct' their own homework from now on…She rubbed her freezing hands together and trudged up an icy knoll, this time with her eyes trained firmly on the ground… The ground was slippery, but Hermione had always believed in dressing sensibly –unlike other witches who felt the need to wear horrifically high heels or uncomfortably tight robes. She let out a small squeal as she nearly did slip on an icy patch and awkwardly flailed her arms about like a baby bird learning to fly. As she struggled to regain balance, she saw something in the distance, by edge of the Forbidden Forest –and it was moving…
The object, which she now clearly recognized as a person, seemed not to have noticed her. Hermione found that her legs were once again malfunctioning, because despite the fact that the mysterious figure was probably not someone you would want to run into near the Forbidden Forest, she could not shake the feeling that the person was… crying. She watched, transfixed, as the figure's shoulders heaved up and down and yet, not a single sound escaped its' lips… She wondered faintly if it was a student, and if her Head Girl position obligated her to comfort them. Suddenly, the figure stopped moving altogether and before she knew it, a stream of red light hit her square in the chest and she saw no more.