Illusions, chapter four. No title yet.

Lots of love to tamar-shaki, Raine Is Crazy, JustChillinDude and nikka for their awesome reviews, and of course my eternal gratitude to ChibiAlania, who betaed this chapter.

If you notice any mistakes, blame her:)

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O. My. God. How had she been able to do such a stupid thing? She had obviously done this completely wrong. Of course he ran away, she'd scared him. How incredibly stupid of her. He was frightened, of course, also for their friendship, or what was left of it. Next time she'd do it completely different.

Whatever. She was just fooling herself. There would be no next time, never again. What is more cruel than hearing that the words you didn't say to him for years because you didn't want to hurt him hurt him because you never said them? This reasoning made her head ache. And it didn't matter anymore.

My heart is broken. She smiled bitterly. Beautiful clichés.

Somebody tapped on her shoulder. For one second she held her breath and then she let it go, when she noticed it was just a girl. Not someone she knew. 'Yes?' she said, and the word came out sharper than she'd meant it to. The girl seemed to be taken aback by her blunt reaction.

'Well, is something wrong? Your just sitting on the grass, looking sad and crying, and we have to be inside in a minute.' She looked genuinely worried, but Hermione ignored that. Who did the stupid kid think she was, being nosy and not minding her own business? The last thing she needed right now was somebody who pitied her. People already pitied her so often.

'No!' she shouted, answering the first question. She jumped up and slapped the kid. The girl startled and ran away in the direction of the castle. A few times she saw her looking back, frightened. Good. That felt fantastic. She should have hit Harry just like that. Then her thoughts started their, already familiar, circle. No, it wasn't Harry's fault. He couldn't help it. These are my feelings, so it's my problem, right?

The good of it was that she wasn't able to feel her "heartache" to throw in another cliché, that good. Perhaps pain has to be less painful to allow you to fully feel it, just like you can't see a hand closely held before the eye. Or she was just the insufferable bitch he said she was.

She was on her feet again and walking slowly towards the castle.

For one time in her life, she actually had some luck. Nobody in the common room she knew, nobody she would have to talk to and who would ask annoying questions.

Well, she didn't know that many people.

And, be honest with yourself, you're glad that Harry isn't here. Yes, don't look so innocent, admit it. You're too sad to talk to him, and you're too proud to show him you cried because of him. My god, Hermione, pride, what do you have to be proud of? Friends. You have just lost half of them. Intelligence. Things you've read in books. Beauty. Hardly any. A boyfriend. Let's not talk about that. No, you're right. Of course honey. I'm always right. Was she talking to herself now?

(…..)

A few hours later and she sat on a bed in the Girls' Dormitory, at least that was what she thought. In fact it was so dark she couldn't see anything at all. She was sitting on her own bed, or was it Belinda's? From the other beds she heard the even breathing of the other girls, and occasionally some snoring. (and they all said they didn't snore, ha!)

Hermione herself couldn't sleep. Not that she was worried about something or so, no, not at all, she just couldn't sleep. And that meant she tossed and rolled in her bed, or ran frustrated circles in the dormitory. It was a miracle she hadn't woken up anyone yet.

Not that she wanted to sleep, by the way. She once read somewhere that if you stay up long enough and are tired enough you'd sleep dreamlessly.

A nice theory, worth testing.

(…..)

And it worked. The only negative part was that falling asleep took so much time she now slept during class. Not that that mattered, now Harry was no longer there to copy her notes.

Dear diary,

How are you? I'm fine. I only thought of him fifteen times today, plus the times I saw him of course. He no longersits next to me, but he keeps looking at me. Why would he do that? You don't know of course. Why would I tell you then? I should study instead of talking to you. But I don't have my notes, cos he sat in front of me. Shall I ask for his notes? We were friends once. But you don't know that either. Shall I tell you something?

I HATE DIARIES!

Frustrated she closed it. Stupid thing. It was Ginny who had suggested it to her. And she was the only one who understood her. At first she had just laughed at her. The idea! Dear diary, disgusting. But Ginny had persuaded her, by saying it was delicious, telling the paper all your secrets, and that sometimes it even seemed like the paper talked back. Well it had been so in her case. But it remains a piece of paper, right?

And she should be studying. She was a prefect, she was supposed to be an example to the rest. She still thought notes important. More important then, em, other things. And persons. But she still didn't have her notes. She looked around her, in the common room where she had been sitting with her 'diary'. Harry and Ron weren't there. She had no idea where they were. Harry avoided her, that's for sure, and Ron followed him like a puppy.

She could ask one of the girls, but they would certainly tell everybody that she, the Great Hermione, slept during class. She couldn't cope with that. She'd have to use a sneaky solution.

So she looked carefully around her, and when she noticed everybody ignored her, as usual, she went up the stairs to the Boys' Dormitory. Harry's notes, though neither detailed nor much, were easily to find. She got them and put the rest of the parchment papers back. A few things fell out of her hands, and when she grabbed them she noticed one of them was a letter. She was about to put it back when she saw what was written on top of it: Dear Hermione,. Her heart stopped beating. The letter was dated two months ago. Before he had said all those terrible things. Her eyes wandered over the letter. At first they grew big with happiness, but as she read the end of the letter she felt lonely again.

Dear Hermione,

I'm sorry for this letter. I only wanted to say some things to you, but whenever I see you I'm never able to find the right words. I wanted to thank you for letting me copy your notes. Next time I'll try to stay awake, I promise.

I always wanted to say so much to you, but I never did and apparently it's so worse now I even dream of you. So I decided to write.

I wanted to thank you for, well, supporting me, also with Cho etc. But, I don't know, one way or another you are more special to me, than Cho I mean. Perhaps because I've known you for so long and you're such a great friend.

So thank you.

Harry.

He had wanted to give her a letter? It didn't matter how clumsy it all was, the thought made her happier than she had been for the last – what - year? Suddenly she heard something move behind her. She turned and saw that somebody was slowly opening the door.

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Thank you for reading, I hope you like it. At the moment I'm very stuck with chapter five, so ideas and comments are very welcome. (as are title suggestions)