Title: Untitled Hermione POV fic
Author: --Starbuck--
Rating: PG13
Summary: PG13 for language in later chapters. I'll tell you which ones. Hermione thinks about Harry...Possibly a prequel for an A/A/R fic. Hermione/Harry. Takes place sometime in between their 4th and 6th year.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, they all belong to JKR
A/N: This isn't my first HP fic...I've been a fan since like a week after HPATSS came out, and I'm trying to stay in character.
I remember the first time I met him. Perfectly. I walked by his compartment and saw Ron performing a spell. It didn't work. I probably would have come off better if I didn't give Ron a lecture...
I was instantly drawn to Harry. Not because he was famous. Or maybe that was why I wanted to get to know him. To learn about his scar. It was history, so why not? I was--and still am--to the outsider, a nerd. A frizzy-haired, book obsessed, over achieving nerd.
But I don't think Harry cared. Sure, maybe during the first few days we knew each other. After that I don't think it mattered. I can look at him and tell.
Now that you think about it, he looked the nerd. He looked the nerd and I looked the freak. Well, almost the freak. The glasses and the hair.
He told me that the scar was the only thing he liked about his appearence. I have to admit that it is interesting. Maybe he doesn't like it so much after that day in the dungeon. When it hurt him so much. Or maybe he liked it more, because he could tell it weakened Voldemort.
Yes, I said it. To myself, anyway. Saying it out loud is another matter. I'm still not used to it.
I'm sitting in the common room, doing guess what? Reading. And there's no way I would let Harry see it...it's a book about him. Well, not only. It's about the whole thing that happened to his parents. I'm not being obsessive. Am I?
I hear the door open, and I slide the book under a chair and pick up another one. Hogwarts: A History. I know I've already read it, but there's some things I want to go over...
It's a good thing I did that, he just walked in. Harry. Of course I'm not staring, my eyes are glued to the book, but I can tell who it is.
"Hi Hermione," he says as he starts over to sit beside me.
"Hi Harry," I reply, looking up and smiling. No, I shouldn't have done that...I look like a fool...and he's walking over here...
We just sit there, he's staring into the fire and I'm pretending to read, turning a page every now and then. I can't look into his eyes. There's always pain there, something so deep. I wish I could do something about it. It makes me sad, too, to always see him hurting. Even after we won the House Cup in our first year there was pain. It was hidden, but I could see it.
"We have a Quidditch game tomorrow," he says, trying to make conversation, "against Slytherin."
"Good luck." I know they'll win. He's the best Seeker any Hogwarts team has seen in years. Many years. And they hardly ever lose.
"Yeah. I better go to sleep. Have to get up early tomorrow and practice. 'Night." He gets up and starts walking to the boys' dormitory. He still walks the same way. And he looks the same, too, almost exactly the same as that fateful day when I heard a spell...it didn't work for Ron's rat, but it worked for me...He's still thin and lanky, his hair is the same jet black, and his eyes are vibrant emerald. He still wears the same kind of glasses.
I watch his retreating back until he's gone, and then I pick up my books-- including the one I slid under the chair--and go to sleep.
Author: --Starbuck--
Rating: PG13
Summary: PG13 for language in later chapters. I'll tell you which ones. Hermione thinks about Harry...Possibly a prequel for an A/A/R fic. Hermione/Harry. Takes place sometime in between their 4th and 6th year.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, they all belong to JKR
A/N: This isn't my first HP fic...I've been a fan since like a week after HPATSS came out, and I'm trying to stay in character.
I remember the first time I met him. Perfectly. I walked by his compartment and saw Ron performing a spell. It didn't work. I probably would have come off better if I didn't give Ron a lecture...
I was instantly drawn to Harry. Not because he was famous. Or maybe that was why I wanted to get to know him. To learn about his scar. It was history, so why not? I was--and still am--to the outsider, a nerd. A frizzy-haired, book obsessed, over achieving nerd.
But I don't think Harry cared. Sure, maybe during the first few days we knew each other. After that I don't think it mattered. I can look at him and tell.
Now that you think about it, he looked the nerd. He looked the nerd and I looked the freak. Well, almost the freak. The glasses and the hair.
He told me that the scar was the only thing he liked about his appearence. I have to admit that it is interesting. Maybe he doesn't like it so much after that day in the dungeon. When it hurt him so much. Or maybe he liked it more, because he could tell it weakened Voldemort.
Yes, I said it. To myself, anyway. Saying it out loud is another matter. I'm still not used to it.
I'm sitting in the common room, doing guess what? Reading. And there's no way I would let Harry see it...it's a book about him. Well, not only. It's about the whole thing that happened to his parents. I'm not being obsessive. Am I?
I hear the door open, and I slide the book under a chair and pick up another one. Hogwarts: A History. I know I've already read it, but there's some things I want to go over...
It's a good thing I did that, he just walked in. Harry. Of course I'm not staring, my eyes are glued to the book, but I can tell who it is.
"Hi Hermione," he says as he starts over to sit beside me.
"Hi Harry," I reply, looking up and smiling. No, I shouldn't have done that...I look like a fool...and he's walking over here...
We just sit there, he's staring into the fire and I'm pretending to read, turning a page every now and then. I can't look into his eyes. There's always pain there, something so deep. I wish I could do something about it. It makes me sad, too, to always see him hurting. Even after we won the House Cup in our first year there was pain. It was hidden, but I could see it.
"We have a Quidditch game tomorrow," he says, trying to make conversation, "against Slytherin."
"Good luck." I know they'll win. He's the best Seeker any Hogwarts team has seen in years. Many years. And they hardly ever lose.
"Yeah. I better go to sleep. Have to get up early tomorrow and practice. 'Night." He gets up and starts walking to the boys' dormitory. He still walks the same way. And he looks the same, too, almost exactly the same as that fateful day when I heard a spell...it didn't work for Ron's rat, but it worked for me...He's still thin and lanky, his hair is the same jet black, and his eyes are vibrant emerald. He still wears the same kind of glasses.
I watch his retreating back until he's gone, and then I pick up my books-- including the one I slid under the chair--and go to sleep.
