Hermione now took to pacing up and down her bedroom in the stylish London house. She bit her lip and cried a bit before she made her decision about her choice.
Knowing it would change her life forever; she was very worried in informing the one she knew she loved. She had to write a letter, it was the only way of saying, or she may break down and look like a most idiotic object.
Walking over to her desk.
About to go on a writing fest,
Thinking thoughts that won't matter,
Making up words in a flutter…
Dear she wrote with red ink, pausing at whose name she was going to write, she knew, but she couldn't get it down, but after a flurry of debating in her intelligent mind, she knew he was the one for her.
Continuous debating,
Her brain half melting,
The clock strikes twelve,
Should she delve?
Now wondering if she should write her feelings down in a delicate matter, she went downstairs to get some lunch.
Hermione chewed slowly on her chicken sandwich, thinking too much to taste it at all.
"Hermione?" Ron asked coming into the Breakfast Room, pulling up a stool. "You look down."
"Oh!" She gasped, spraying Ron with bits of chicken and chewed up white bread. "Oh, I'm fine, I'm just really hungry."
"Well, you were eating your food really slowly."
"Oh, was I? I wanted to devour the taste." She forced a grin, Ron smiled back, but it faltered, and transformed into a depressing frown.
"Something is wrong, I know there is."
"Ron, I'll be fine. Excuse me." Hermione jumped of the stool promptly and walked slowly back to her bedroom.
The sun was shining in her room as she opened her bedroom door. Scrambling over to her desk, and pulling out her Flamingo Quill once more.
The time is near,
Time to throw away fear,
Get into the plot,
Or she'll end up feelin' like rot.
Forgetting about who it was actually too, she forgot about acting polite, and made sure she got the point across.
"YES!" She exclaimed finishing the letter, and folding it up, and sliding it into a letter…
Now the deed is done,
She doesn't really feel like a Pun.
A string of words, red,
For the love of Fred.
The letter now read:
Dear Fred,
I have
had my psyche boggling over you since you left. I cannot keep this under lock
for any longer.
Fred, I think that I'm in love with you. Your constant
sweetness, bravery and strength is just overwhelming for me.
I know you're going through a terrible time, and it's
just showing a better side to you, sometimes the worst of times let out the
worst of people, but it's the opposite with you. You're strong and brave,
making sure you don't get to depressed and down.
I found a different Fred Weasley, I found you.
Yours Sincerely,
Hermione Granger.
Happy with her final letter, she hoped that it was good enough for Fred, and wished he were here with her, ready to hug and kiss her, welcome her into her life…
Hermione waited two weeks before a reply from Fred had come via-owl. She saw her new owl Imogene sitting on the ledge of her window, and rushed over to read the letter.
Dear Hermione,
I'm very flattered to hear this, and
I don' really know what to say.
Well,
I'm sure you'd be glad to know that I actually love you too, but because of
Ron, an open relationship is almost impossible, and I'm sure you have thought
this, secret relationships are very difficult, and if a word gets out, then Ron
would go slightly mad!
I might
visit you before we go back to Hogwarts in two weeks, but the whole school will
be jabbering away about George's death, and who did it, how he was killed, ect.
I'll be
at George's funeral tomorrow anyway, Mum might have gone insane. I hope you
haven't forgotten about it on the 18th?
See you
around Hermione.
Lots of Love,
Fred Arthur Weasley.
Drenched Hermione's face as she read the letter, but then jumped, remembering she had forgotten to go to the funeral tomorrow.
Wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her blue hoodie, she slumped into her parent's surgery.
Lucy Granger was arguing with the dim Receptionist, who looked strangely familiar; blonde curly hair bouncing on her shoulders, revolting jewelled glasses, and she looked terribly gazed. "Rita, I can't accept that you're writing a report on Mrs Kline's new husband-"
"But Dr Granger, say he turns out just like her!" Rita the Receptionist moaned, but looking at Hermione with her mouth open. "I SHOULD OF KNOWN!" She shrieked, and Hermione knew for sure it was Rita Skeeter.
"Rita?"
"Is that your daughter?"
"Yes, but what?"
"Can't get a job at the Ministry?" Hermione whispered, eying Rita Skeeter with disgust.
"No thanks to you!" Rita wailed, pointing her long scarlet nails at Hermione.
"I don't want to waste my time talking to dim ex-journalist who can't find a better job then working in my parent's Muggle dentistry!" Rita looked at Hermione, and then to her mother, who was radiating the strangest of looks.
"Hermione, I don't know what's going on, but you better tell me this instant!" Lucy shouted, but giving her Receptionist a filthy look.
"I'll explain later, there is something I need to tell you, urgently!"
"Fine." Hermione and her mother walked into the empty staff room at the surgery.
Hermione sat down at the clean white desk, and her mother eyed her with curiosity. "So, what is it? Ron or Fred?"
"Mummy, this is serious, it's George's funeral tomorrow." Hermione said, carefully.
"Ah." Lucy paused, "And I'm guessing you want me to bring you there?"
"Yeah, he lives in Ottery, St Catchpole in the Cotswolds."
"Hermione, that's quite far away." Lucy gave her a stern look. "And I suppose I have to bring Ron too."
"Yeah."
"Well, you better get your stuff."
Hermione sat in the front seat of the car, watching the summer rain run down the windows. She watched blurry cars stream past her, spraying filthy water everywhere.
Ron was snoring in the back, it was 3am, on the M25 coming out of London, and so Ron was bound to sleep. Hermione was bubbling with a certain enigma, she was excited about seeing Fred, and hoped he wanted a relationship, yet she was still struck with shock and grief over what Percy had done to George…
After ten minutes Hermione had fallen asleep, and a dream was stirring in her unconscious mind…
She was sitting in a big room, with several witches either side of her looking quite grim, she could see Harry sobbing quietly in a corner, and Ron looking shaking beside him, and Fred was thunderstruck with emotion, he looked crazed and ill, not funny or charming, but ill…
Hermione walked further down the room, and saw Professor McGonagall biting her lip, and wiping a tear from her wrinkling eyes. Naturally Hermione was curious and wondered what was wrong with everybody, why they were crying, and weeping.
Stepping forward she saw a coffin shaped box, she had an eerie feeling about the box, but looking around to check if anyone was looking. She pushed open the lid and peered inside.
She screamed as she looked at what was inside, and woke up straight away. Hermione looked around and saw she was in the car, stuck in a traffic jam, and her mother Lucy was looking at her somewhat startled.
"Hermione, are you ok?" She asked, her eyes full of concern.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." Hermione had seen her own tangled body in that coffin, it was cut, bruised and burned, her arm had been cut off, and was sewn back on in a grotesque manner, even her legs looked horrific.
"Hermione?" Ron yawned form the back of the car. "You alright?"
"Yes, I think so." She looked down at her dress, black and dull. "Ron, George wouldn't want us to wear black, would he?"
"No, that's why I'm wearing red."
"Ok, I'll wear blue then."
"Hermione?" Fred called from a window above her. "Come up here, please." She looked above at the Burrow and saw Fred dangling from it, smiling serenely.
"Why?" She looked at Fred strangely, he just shrugged and Hermione saw no point in arguing.
She dashed up the stairs and tried to remember where his room was, pushing every door open slightly, she found Fred lying on his bed, smiling calmly again. "My oh my, Miss Granger!"
"Fred, what the?" Fred sat up, took Hermione's hand, and bid her to sit down with him.
"Now, don't speak, close your eyes." She closed her eyes slowly, and wondered what Fred was up to.
Soft classical music had started, and something was drawing nearer to her, a solid object. The next thing she knew she was in a fantasy world, everything was spinning, but it was good. Fred has kissed her.
Author's note.
I made the poem myself in a maths lesson when I should have been revising, oh well…
I'm not really sure about it, and I can't tell whether I've finished or not.
R/R as usual.
Thanks.