When I woke up Hermione's legs were still entwined in mine. I could feel her breath on my neck. Such a wonderful feeling. I didn't want to move, for fear she would wake up and the moment would be over. So I merely relaxed even more into her grip and thought over all I knew of love and death, and the way the world worked. I knew that, if I really had a brain tumor, it was due to the scar. It made sense. My mother may have dyed for me, but no one said how long she could protect me. I had shut her out of my mind and life and fully accepted God after killing Voldemort. (A/N: I don't mean the judeo-christian god here...we're talking greater being.) I know she's an angel. And that, when I did die, I would see her again. I would see Ron, and Cho. I would talk to Dumbledore about "the next great adventure." I stroked Hermione's hand. My only regret was that she wouldn't be in heaven with me. I loved her. She held all that was left of my soul, the only thing connecting me to this world. She stole the peice long ago, and was never going to give it up. Eventually, I knew, she would drop it, or someone would pry herclenched fingers open.
"Harry?" Her voice was soft, sounding like a faerie I had met once. I rolled onto my side. Her eyes were barely opened. "I love you."
I kissed her forehead. "I'm gonna go make myself some tea. Would you like some?" She nodded, barely, before closing her eys again. I gently kissed her lips, causing her to smile gently and roll over.
"Tired..." She mumbled, as if this was an excuse. I suppose it was, and I rather good one. Now I had two choices. I could wear one of Malfoy's silk robes, or i could loop a nice, clean, white cotton towel around my waist. Decisions, decisions. Obviously, I went for the towel.
By the time I had made tea and french toast Hermione had joined me in her kitchen.
"I over-reacted last night, I'm sorry Harry. The solution is quite evident. I'll find a spell to cast. It'll work Harry, why do you think everyone in the wizard world is rid of terminal illness?"
The question was rhetorical. Answering would only show my ignorance. But I didn't WANT a spell. I wanted to be normal, a normal human. I wasn't a god, I was simply a mortal man, trying to live my life the best way I could before I died.
"No, Hermione. Would you like cream with your tea?" I didn't feel like dwelling. I hadn't done anything in awhile, I could use a good adventure.
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Ok guys, whaddya think? It's ok. I suppose. I can't deal with killing Harry. I love him so much, he's such a great charector. I also suppose I should get used to it. If I want to write, bad things will happen. It's inevitable. So why do I feel so awful?? On Monday, the 25th, I leave for debate camp in Iowa City. Don't laugh, I'm quite serious. My birthday is July 4th, and I'll be 15, yea! But, I don't get back from debate camp until July 14th...eeps! (That sound/word REALLY annoys me, but my friend uses it, and so it has stuck itself into my mind. And, as an aspiring author, I feel a need to write exactly the way I think! Especially since I don't know any of you! Hehe!) I think I'll have it done when I get back. Hopefully a new one, too! Maybe not a Harry Potter one...We'll see! Signing off!
P.S. Umm, I just re-read this. The dialogue is AWFUL. But, I don't think I can do much better. It's much easier to do a drunk Hermione than a know-it-all one. ::smacks her forehead:: I forgot the hangover!!!! Agh! Well, imagine for yourself what this SHOULD have been. Just make sure to get to the same conclusion!
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"Harry?" Her voice was soft, sounding like a faerie I had met once. I rolled onto my side. Her eyes were barely opened. "I love you."
I kissed her forehead. "I'm gonna go make myself some tea. Would you like some?" She nodded, barely, before closing her eys again. I gently kissed her lips, causing her to smile gently and roll over.
"Tired..." She mumbled, as if this was an excuse. I suppose it was, and I rather good one. Now I had two choices. I could wear one of Malfoy's silk robes, or i could loop a nice, clean, white cotton towel around my waist. Decisions, decisions. Obviously, I went for the towel.
By the time I had made tea and french toast Hermione had joined me in her kitchen.
"I over-reacted last night, I'm sorry Harry. The solution is quite evident. I'll find a spell to cast. It'll work Harry, why do you think everyone in the wizard world is rid of terminal illness?"
The question was rhetorical. Answering would only show my ignorance. But I didn't WANT a spell. I wanted to be normal, a normal human. I wasn't a god, I was simply a mortal man, trying to live my life the best way I could before I died.
"No, Hermione. Would you like cream with your tea?" I didn't feel like dwelling. I hadn't done anything in awhile, I could use a good adventure.
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Ok guys, whaddya think? It's ok. I suppose. I can't deal with killing Harry. I love him so much, he's such a great charector. I also suppose I should get used to it. If I want to write, bad things will happen. It's inevitable. So why do I feel so awful?? On Monday, the 25th, I leave for debate camp in Iowa City. Don't laugh, I'm quite serious. My birthday is July 4th, and I'll be 15, yea! But, I don't get back from debate camp until July 14th...eeps! (That sound/word REALLY annoys me, but my friend uses it, and so it has stuck itself into my mind. And, as an aspiring author, I feel a need to write exactly the way I think! Especially since I don't know any of you! Hehe!) I think I'll have it done when I get back. Hopefully a new one, too! Maybe not a Harry Potter one...We'll see! Signing off!
P.S. Umm, I just re-read this. The dialogue is AWFUL. But, I don't think I can do much better. It's much easier to do a drunk Hermione than a know-it-all one. ::smacks her forehead:: I forgot the hangover!!!! Agh! Well, imagine for yourself what this SHOULD have been. Just make sure to get to the same conclusion!
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