'…' – thoughts "…."-talking


Sometimes you just don't know what you're doing. The world is spinning and you're stuck, trying to decipher the directions fate has given you lately to begin on. Life is slipping past, and what are you doing? You're SLEEPING. How disappointing…

Hermione sat up in bed, wriggling under her covers. She felt so…uncomfortable. She looked around her room, taking in the nice, muggle qualities of her parent's house and the many school books she had on the ground. No school yet. Nothing to do. She'd already read through the books she'd be using at school in a week or so. She shook her head. She could always go through them again; one could never be too prepared.

It was uncomfortably hot in her room, so she got out of bed, glaring at the window that was letting in sunlight. She went to her dresser and found the letter she'd gotten from Harry yesterday evening. It'd come at a bad time though; for it was that day that Hermione found she's not good for flings.

Well, she wasn't sure she'd call it a fling; there was a hug or two, and some affectionate nudging of knees as they sat on a park bench. The boy was from somewhere close to her parents' house, and quite cute. She'd met him at the park one day, and probably wouldn't have talked to him at all if he hadn't started the conversation. They spent hours sitting, talking about everything- or at least, Hermione made up a load of crap to exchange for her life, including a distant European school where she spent the year save Christmas holidays.

They talked of Crookshanks, and how he had a snake and cat himself. "It's great," he said, "Feeding Laser (his snake) live mice everyday and watching the furry things run for life before being swallowed." He'd laughed. Hermione was slightly appalled, but she believed that was how she fell for him.

They met at the park a few more times, and Hermione decided to be daring and have a fling with this boy. She already had it all planned out: They'd go for spontaneous walks until late at night, after he came to tap on her window. She wouldn't tell her mother or father about it. It's not that they would have disapproved of her having a 'cute boy around'. She just…wanted to make things interesting.

The week or so was great. She slowly grew more comfortable with him, and never again thought of their relationship as a fling. That is, she never thought of it as a fling until she found that he'd thought of it as just that. One day, he just smiled, kissed her, waved, and said he was going off on some stupid camping trip in the middle of some stupid place where she wasn't going to be, but another girl was.

Damn him. She'd stormed home, and didn't feel like reading the letter Hedwig left from Harry. She'd had enough with boys, whether they were friends or STUPID, STUPID boyfriends.

The next morning, though, where our story started, Hermione felt considerably better. She'd read once that sleeping helped rid oneself of negative feelings. Very true. However, it seems that sleep also brought about the idea that you were letting life slip through your fingers. "There's nothing to do, though," Hermione whined to her room.

'Then THINK of something to do. Whining isn't going to solve anything, you know.' Hermione shrugged and got dressed. She looked in the mirror, holding her hair in two fists. She had to do something… Hermione walked out of the house, not paying attention to the warm smiles her parents gave her from over their sugar-free breakfasts.

'Sugar-free. That's the perfect way to describe your life, Hermy darling. Your life is just a poor substitute for something better.'

Hermione took this with a frown. "Well at least I won't get cavities from living," she muttered under her breath. She walked to the park, and sat in a shady area on a big red bench. Looking down at her fist, Hermione realized that she'd brought Harry's letter.

'What better place to hear from our dear friend than in a shady area of this beautiful park on this beautiful red bench?'

Hermione opened the letter. It was full of stupid stuff teenagers find funny. Hermione laughed. "Beautiful," she whispered, setting the letter in her lap and looking around at the park. She nodded. She was in love with Harry Potter. "How have I gone so many years without realizing this," Hermione shouted at the park around her, earning curious glances from innocent park-goers.

'Are you sure? Maybe you just want to fall in love with him? Maybe you just need something to happen?'

Hermione shrugged that off. "Everybody wants something to happen." She ran home, overjoyed by teendom, and the fact that she could run home in her overjoyed-ness of teendom, not caring about how much of a dork she looked like running home.

By the time she got home, Hermione already had three and a half different daydreams formed in her head of how Harry would come over to her on the first day of school, full of the charm that had somehow gone unnoticed by Hermione all these years. He'd walk over to her, push his glasses up on his nose, and say in his wonderful voice, "Hi, Hermione."

Oh, she was already swooning in delight. 'It's still not enough though, Hermy. Harry's no better at living life than you are. Why do you think you two are friends?'

Hermione's response was a scoff upon closing the front door.

Her two parents looked up. "Hermione, where have you been? You startled us with your running out of the house like that."

"How long was I gone," Hermione asked.

"About half an hour. Care to explain yourself?"

'I need to learn how to live, darlings.'

"That's it! I need to learn how to live, darlings," Hermione repeated, nodding and beaming at her parents while strolling to her room. Her parents exchanged confused glances as Hermione closed the door to her room.

Upon closing the door, Hermione sat on her bed, leaning her head against the wall. "How do I go about getting rid of the sugar substitute that is my life, then," she demanded of her room. "Should I, should I go out and take up smoking, or drinking, or some other stupid thing adolescents do?"

'Jesus, Hermione. That adolescence is what got you started in the first place. Or, rather, your attitude towards adolescence and what you've learned. Don't swallow every piece of bull that others feed you. They're keeping you stuck.'

My, there was anger. "Stuck? How?"

'That's for you to find out, Hermy darling.'

Hermione pulled a piece of parchment out of one of the many books she had spread on her floor. She found a quill, and scribbled furiously on the parchment for a moment before letting it flutter to the ground.

I

AM

STUCK.