Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess, locked away in the
highest tower of the biggest castle, behind thick stonewalls and sturdy
wooden doors, guarded by a fierce dragon.
No knight could slay the dragon, no fire could burn down the wood or slash the prisoner's chains, for none of this at all existed. It was merely an illusion, a powerful one wrought by fear.
She was afraid, so afraid of love and of falling, tumbling down the ivory tower. She wouldn't let love in, she hated love, hated that thing that made so many of her friends smile and instantly change into someone new, someone she didn't know.
She buried herself in books, the kind with numbers and charts, not knights and dragons. It was foolishness, she thought. Foolishness to say your heart could stop, break, skip or any other thing love could supposedly do. Things just aren't that way.
She never wore makeup or all the pretty clothes; she didn't want to lure it. She never looked in the mirror, either; she would've realized she was beautiful all along.
She never talked to royalty; never passed notes in class, never let any prince past.
What she didn't realize was that she had a prince all along, locked up in the tower beside her, and he was the one falling for her, tripping on his own plate armor and into her arms, where she held him close.
Hermione never did let Neville go.
No knight could slay the dragon, no fire could burn down the wood or slash the prisoner's chains, for none of this at all existed. It was merely an illusion, a powerful one wrought by fear.
She was afraid, so afraid of love and of falling, tumbling down the ivory tower. She wouldn't let love in, she hated love, hated that thing that made so many of her friends smile and instantly change into someone new, someone she didn't know.
She buried herself in books, the kind with numbers and charts, not knights and dragons. It was foolishness, she thought. Foolishness to say your heart could stop, break, skip or any other thing love could supposedly do. Things just aren't that way.
She never wore makeup or all the pretty clothes; she didn't want to lure it. She never looked in the mirror, either; she would've realized she was beautiful all along.
She never talked to royalty; never passed notes in class, never let any prince past.
What she didn't realize was that she had a prince all along, locked up in the tower beside her, and he was the one falling for her, tripping on his own plate armor and into her arms, where she held him close.
Hermione never did let Neville go.
