Author's Note: Hallo all, This is my first HP fanfiction that I've written in years, and the first on this site. So enjoy, review. Be honest, but not stupid in your reviews…ta!
Have you ever been alienated in your own world? Completely isolated and forgotten, where you used to feel accepted?
I did. It happened during the summer before our 6th year at Hogwarts. The holidays had started off innocently enough, until I got lonely and bored, and wrote to my "best friends" for solace and happiness.
The few replies I got were hurried and empty of any trace of sensitivity and seriousness.
At first, I told myself that it didn't bother me, that my studies needed more attention anyway.
The problem was, however, that it did bother me. I didn't feel important at all. I felt more like an afterthought; a bothersome one at that.
Of course, I had grown up with plenty of support and love. Two parents- still together- who accepted me in whatever I tried.
Sometimes that just isn't enough.
I went the rest of the summer determined not to start any conversations. I was sick of always trying to talk to them, and being brushed off like a fleeting thought. If they cared about me, then they would talk to me, ask me if I was okay; if I'd ever be okay.
But they never did.
I stuck to my word, and never made the first move. And they stuck to their standards, and didn't ask about me.
The lonliness I'd begun to feel at all moments haunted me. Like a bad deed yet to be made right. I was always there.
I spent nights crying- and screaming- myself to sleep and mornings dreading waking up and days walking through a thick fog. By the time summer ended, I absolutely despised myself. If there was nothing wrong with me, then they would talk with me. That was all there was to it.
Three days before the summer holidays ended, I sent an owl containing a morbid message to the house they were staying at.
The reply was joking, rushed, busy. There simply wasn't time for me.
One the idea of suicide entered my mind, it was the golden answer, and it refused to answer.
It was the only way.
I spent the last day of vacation writing serious, resolved good-bye letters to both of them, saying I was sorry, but it was the only way.
Then I lined up my saviours, little white morsels of liberation. The suffering would be over soon.
Confidently, and slowly, I took each, on-by-one; controlled.
And after what seemed like an eternity, I began to lose focus of the room, of the pain, but not of those two familiar voices…
"Come on, Hermione! Let's go have some fun…"