Author: ~*Demeter*~
Summary: An insight to Hermione Granger, resident bushy haired bookworm.
Genre: General/Angst
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
You weren't like the gorgeous other girls that you went to school with. No, they were talented, pretty, the cheerleading type, had they been muggles. You were just brainy, know-it-all Hermione Granger with the bushy hair and the beaver teeth and the slump in the shoulders.
And you knew the truth. You weren't very smart in actuality. Had you once had friends, you might have grown up talentless. You drowned in books because nothing else would comfort you. You learned a lot but the books grew on you like drugs. So you almost shut everyone out, just endlessly reading. Curling your knotting hair around your finger as you read for hours. Ignoring everyone except the teachers. Loving the homework because of the distraction they provided. And it was fine that way.
But then, once in a while, you would lift your bushy head and gaze around. And see people that are happy. They aren't silently reading, sucking up every word on a page. They're laughing, talking, having fun. They have friends. And every time you lift your bushy head, it hurts. It hurts because you know you're a loner and your only comfort was books and you were an addict. Addicts were not good. You were an addict. You were not good.
You read. You were ugly. You were a teacher's pet. You had no friends.
These thoughts swam around your head when you were not reading or doing homework. You sunk deeper and deeper into depression. You were lonelier than ever, turning to books for comfort. Gaining more knowledge from them, digging deeper into an artificial world. Cause in a real world, you have friends. Everyone has friends.
And then the famous Harry Potter and his sidekick, Ronald Weasley came along. You had read about Harry Potter of course. You just weren't that impressed. Because then, you were eleven and you hadn't understood the extent Avada Kedavra. Before you met him, you thought he would be stuck up and full of it. But when you met him, his eyes darted away nervously, he was small and pale. He wasn't at all like you had imagined. And then you saw Ron Weasley. He was trying to do a spell on his rat, Scabbers. It hadn't turned out to well.
For a moment, it had seemed like you were almost-almost!- friends. But then you weren't.
And you were drowning into books, spiraling into bookishness faster than ever.
And then you became friends.
It was better after that, much better. But you were still lonely, still turning to books. You still weren't pretty even though you may be smart (but only because of the books you've read). And that made you lonely. Barriers still separated you from your two friends, Harry and Ron. They were boys. They weren't into books. They liked Quidditch. They thought you were a brainy know-it-all just like the rest. Oh, you were still friends but the barriers were strong.
You still turn to books for comfort. You still think of what might have been had you been prettier, naturally smarter. But it's better now.
You've got Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
You've got friends.