Blood hell!
Hermione Granger stared at the girls in front of her, thin, tall and somewhat beautiful. All sported low cut robes and lots of long leg tanned skin.
How? How were they all tanned?
Hermione knew, from the small area showing by her sock, that her legs were ghastly, ghostly, gigantically white and little pricks of dark hair, like spiders legs, decorated the white milk bottles. Hermione hadn't shaved them in quite some time.
It was so easy in a routine such as hers. She got up early, looked over her notes to be ready for class, threw on her robes, had breakfast, attended classes, had an hours break, started homework and then did some extra study. She hadn't time to shave her rays of pure sunlight or paint her stubby toenails. She was busy. And somewhat lazy.
Hermione Granger was pretty but she was not bothered. She could make her hair nice, but it seemed mostly pointless to her. She could cast spells on her skin but she just didn't have the time.
But she looked upon those girls in front of her. All with boyfriends. All surrounded by friends. Beautiful. Sleek hair. Perfect nails. Long lashes. Clear skin. They stood around her, surrounding her, like a world of shiny hourglasses, tall and shapely. Perfect in every way.
Hermione stood in the middle of them. Tall and lanky but with an alarming backside and a disappointing chest. Hair thick on her head, like a factory of thrown out wigs. Books around her. Face purple and flushed. Completely covered in dark plain robes. Gawky. Awkward. Ugly.
She was the girl whose forehead shined, whose knickers showed through her robe, who had pieces of parchment stuck on to her shoe. She was the girl who dried her wet armpits with hand dryers in the bathroom when nobody was watching her or looked desperately for a spell to stop her nose running.
Hermione wished that all the boys would notice her. She wished she were hot. She wished she were slender. She wished she were perfect.
She may have been clever but she was still a girl. She would always find faults in herself. She would never be truly happy with herself. She wished Harry and Ron and Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini and Seamus Finnigan and Justin Finch Fletchly and Michael Corner cared about her, but they didn't. She was always overlooked. She wasn't sexy. She wasn't a shiny hourglass. She was a fat clock, ticking loudly for attention, ticking so much that she was going to explode.
Maybe she was shallow. Maybe she wasn't as smart as everyone thought she was. She didn't know, but that was how she felt. That was what her diary revealed, a diary full of died plans and exercise goals. Tomorrow I'll start the diet. Next week I'll get Ginny to give me a makeover.
But she never would. It wasn't what people expected of her.
Her heart would just have to keep on ticking, and she hoped somebody would hear it and one day make her feel beautiful.
'''''''''''
One shot by me again. I just think there's more to Hermione than meets the eye. I've been thinking about the characters a lot lately and this was just something that hit me about Hermione.
Please show me the odd review. It does make one feel nice.
