Chapter 35
"Inner Struggle"
Hermione woke up, the smell of fresh coffee and blueberry muffins tickling her nose. Her mother was preparing breakfast while her father indulged in the Daily Prophet, starring fixedly at the moving pictures on the front page.
Hermione got up and clambered into the bathroom, taking her robes with her. It was small, yet had a nice-sized tub, a reasonable shower, and a sink and toilet. The floor was blue tiled as well as the walls. She turned on the water in the shower, slipped of her clothes, and climbing into the shower. The jet of hot water trickled down her smooth, tanned skin. She felt the weight of her wet hair on her shoulders and back. Hermione began running soap over her body, scrubbing here and there. She stopped when she felt the diamond on the ring of her finger touch her skin. She began to cry, sinking down to the floor below. She buried her head in her hands and cried softly.
What was she doing? Could she kid herself to believe that someone so evil and poisonous ever actually love? Was Tom just playing with her heart and mind to win her over, to use her to his advantage to destroy the world? Why did she have to endure with the truth that she was the Dark lord's old lover? She didn't want to have to go through with any of this, that is, pretending that Voldemort cared about her and that she would save everyone from him. She knew that if she failed to change him, then either Harry or Voldemort would die due to the other, that the world would end, that she would end as well.
She lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face. She stumbled out of the shower, drying herself off with a towel, wrapping it around her body. She starred at herself in the mirror, taking in her wet, dark hair and red eyes. Her face was pale and sad. Hermione suddenly felt sick, suddenly felt hurt, suddenly felt angry. She slammed her left hand against the mirror, the glass shattering. Blood began to poor from her poor, hurt hand.
Hermione cried in frustration, in hurt, in anger, in disbelief. She cradled her hurt hand, a pounding sounding at the bathroom door.
"Hermione dear, are you alright?" came her mother's worried voice.
"Yes." Hermione said weekly.
She took her wand out of her robe pocket, repairing the shattered mirror and healing her hurt hand. She starred at the ring on her finger, tears forming behind her eyes. She reached for the ring, trying desperately to get it off. It finally came off, and Hermione aimed to fling it down the sink drain, but she stopped. She looked at herself, ready to throw the ring, in the mirror. She gazed at the marvelous beauty of the ring.
She placed the ring carefully back on her slender finger, modeling it in the light.
"Hermione Granger, long ago you made the happiest man in the world, were stolen from me, and I thought I'd never see you again. Please say that this time, we will be together, that not even death itself will tear us apart. Please say you will marry me."
She heard his voice ring through her head like the faint, haunting chime of a church bell. She could smell him, a faint smell of a dark power, so forbidden, so luring. She quickly dried her hair and put on a pair of bell- bottom jeans and a blue tank top. She used a spell to put on her make-up, her pale face returning a healthy glow. Her cheeks were rosy-pink, her eyelids kissed with a faint dusting of gold powder. Her lips were a crimson red. She pocketed her wand in her back pocket, despite what Moody had said, and pranced out of the bathroom. She stopped to fish her necklace out of her robe pockets and put it on, feeling its cool, familiar touch on her skin.
Hermione kissed her mother and father on the cheek, grabbing a muffin and hoping onto the couch.
"My, my, someone's in a good mood." chimed her mother.
Hermione's dad carefully folded the Daily Prophet and placed it on the small coffee table in front of him.
"Oh, Professor Dumbledore had told us that you have been gone on a special assignment, though at this time, he won't say what it is. We missed you at Christmas." he said.
Hermione's mother placed several presents by Hermione.
"All for you dear." beamed her mother.
Hermione smiled and opened several of the presents. All contained several handsome sweaters and jeans. Hermione opened a box last. It was a lovely, spaghetti strapped dress that zipped up in the back. Hermione stood up, and pressed it against her body, admiring the dress's beauty.. It was a deep, red wine color made from a fine, expensive silk. It swayed graciously on the floor.
"Your father and I saw it in Paris a month or so back. We just knew when we saw it that you would look lovely in it." said Hermione's mother.
Hermione carefully placed the dress back in the box.
"Thank you so much! I hope that you got my presents." said Hermione.
"Yes, we did. Your father was quite tickled by the enchanted mirror and I simply love the self-washing dishes." said her mother, looking down at a shiny item on Hermione's finger.
Hermione noticed her mom starring at her ring. Her father was too, his brow furrowed in wrinkles.
"Hermione dear, do you have something to tell us?" she asked.
Hermione, quickly ducked her hand behind her, but hesitantly brought it out and up into the light.
"O this old thing, I bought it a while back in Diagon Alley at that new jeweler's shop. Hadn't had much chance to wear it."
Her father's wrinkles disappeared. Her mother looked reassured. Hermione smiled to herself. She didn't want to bring her parents into the mess she was in. She loved her parents to much to do so.
"It would look lovely with your dress for the Winter Ball." said her mother.
"Winter ball? But I'm not a student." Hermione said.
"Oh, just go for old times. Harry's been anxious to see if you'd go with him. He came by early this morning, but you were still asleep." beamed her mother.
Hermione blushed. Harry, acting like a schoolboy, asking her to the ball.
"Well, what do you say?" said her father. "He's probably eating breakfast in the Great Hall.
"Sure." said Hermione. "I'll go tell him."
Harry was finishing up his glass of orange juice, laughing at Ron's nephews as they chunked spoonfuls of porridge at the Slytherins. He stopped laughing and starred in awe as he saw her, beautiful as a goddess, delicate as a rose, walk into the Great Hall. He watched the fine, silky curls of her dark hair bounce with every step she took. Her body was magnificent, and Harry had to think of Umbridge to keep himself from being caught in "awkward" situation. Harry stood up really fast, ruffling his hair. All the Weasley boys stopped their porridge chunking to stare at the two.
"Hermione.:" said Harry.
Hermione stopped in front of Harry.
'God , she smells good.' thought Harry as he smelt a faint aroma of dark vanilla come off Hermione.
"Harry, I was just returning an answer to your question." she said.
Harry gulped. He forgot about that.
"And?" Harry said.
"Yes." said Hermione.
Harry blushed furiously. The Weasley boys made gagging noises. Hermione stood there, graceful and beautiful.
"Great. Well, um, well, erm, the ball is in two days, and, um, I will be staying for a bit. Ron and Dumbledore are dealing with Fudge about work." said Harry.
Hermione could sense his uneasiness. She knew Harry was trying hard to stay calm and appear cool. He was after all, an adult. She couldn't help but feel something new, something exciting. Could it be possible she was falling for Harry?
'No, don't do it. You'll only hurt him. You know you love someone else.' voice said in her head.
Hermione bit her lower lip. She knew she did love someone else, but what if the love he confessed to her was a lie, a sham to hurt those around him. Hermione didn't know what to do, or where to turn.
"Mione, you okay?" Harry asked, seeing the faraway look on Hermione's face.
"Oh, yeah, fine. I just need to, to clear my head." she said.
"Well, we could walk around the grounds." said Harry.
"Yes, that would be great." said Hermione.
"Well, your father and I will be returning home for a bit to check on things. We'll bring Crookshanks back with us."
Hermione watched her parents smile, getting back to what they were doing. She sat there, finger her necklace. She had the strangest feeling something wasn't right.
"Inner Struggle"
Hermione woke up, the smell of fresh coffee and blueberry muffins tickling her nose. Her mother was preparing breakfast while her father indulged in the Daily Prophet, starring fixedly at the moving pictures on the front page.
Hermione got up and clambered into the bathroom, taking her robes with her. It was small, yet had a nice-sized tub, a reasonable shower, and a sink and toilet. The floor was blue tiled as well as the walls. She turned on the water in the shower, slipped of her clothes, and climbing into the shower. The jet of hot water trickled down her smooth, tanned skin. She felt the weight of her wet hair on her shoulders and back. Hermione began running soap over her body, scrubbing here and there. She stopped when she felt the diamond on the ring of her finger touch her skin. She began to cry, sinking down to the floor below. She buried her head in her hands and cried softly.
What was she doing? Could she kid herself to believe that someone so evil and poisonous ever actually love? Was Tom just playing with her heart and mind to win her over, to use her to his advantage to destroy the world? Why did she have to endure with the truth that she was the Dark lord's old lover? She didn't want to have to go through with any of this, that is, pretending that Voldemort cared about her and that she would save everyone from him. She knew that if she failed to change him, then either Harry or Voldemort would die due to the other, that the world would end, that she would end as well.
She lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face. She stumbled out of the shower, drying herself off with a towel, wrapping it around her body. She starred at herself in the mirror, taking in her wet, dark hair and red eyes. Her face was pale and sad. Hermione suddenly felt sick, suddenly felt hurt, suddenly felt angry. She slammed her left hand against the mirror, the glass shattering. Blood began to poor from her poor, hurt hand.
Hermione cried in frustration, in hurt, in anger, in disbelief. She cradled her hurt hand, a pounding sounding at the bathroom door.
"Hermione dear, are you alright?" came her mother's worried voice.
"Yes." Hermione said weekly.
She took her wand out of her robe pocket, repairing the shattered mirror and healing her hurt hand. She starred at the ring on her finger, tears forming behind her eyes. She reached for the ring, trying desperately to get it off. It finally came off, and Hermione aimed to fling it down the sink drain, but she stopped. She looked at herself, ready to throw the ring, in the mirror. She gazed at the marvelous beauty of the ring.
She placed the ring carefully back on her slender finger, modeling it in the light.
"Hermione Granger, long ago you made the happiest man in the world, were stolen from me, and I thought I'd never see you again. Please say that this time, we will be together, that not even death itself will tear us apart. Please say you will marry me."
She heard his voice ring through her head like the faint, haunting chime of a church bell. She could smell him, a faint smell of a dark power, so forbidden, so luring. She quickly dried her hair and put on a pair of bell- bottom jeans and a blue tank top. She used a spell to put on her make-up, her pale face returning a healthy glow. Her cheeks were rosy-pink, her eyelids kissed with a faint dusting of gold powder. Her lips were a crimson red. She pocketed her wand in her back pocket, despite what Moody had said, and pranced out of the bathroom. She stopped to fish her necklace out of her robe pockets and put it on, feeling its cool, familiar touch on her skin.
Hermione kissed her mother and father on the cheek, grabbing a muffin and hoping onto the couch.
"My, my, someone's in a good mood." chimed her mother.
Hermione's dad carefully folded the Daily Prophet and placed it on the small coffee table in front of him.
"Oh, Professor Dumbledore had told us that you have been gone on a special assignment, though at this time, he won't say what it is. We missed you at Christmas." he said.
Hermione's mother placed several presents by Hermione.
"All for you dear." beamed her mother.
Hermione smiled and opened several of the presents. All contained several handsome sweaters and jeans. Hermione opened a box last. It was a lovely, spaghetti strapped dress that zipped up in the back. Hermione stood up, and pressed it against her body, admiring the dress's beauty.. It was a deep, red wine color made from a fine, expensive silk. It swayed graciously on the floor.
"Your father and I saw it in Paris a month or so back. We just knew when we saw it that you would look lovely in it." said Hermione's mother.
Hermione carefully placed the dress back in the box.
"Thank you so much! I hope that you got my presents." said Hermione.
"Yes, we did. Your father was quite tickled by the enchanted mirror and I simply love the self-washing dishes." said her mother, looking down at a shiny item on Hermione's finger.
Hermione noticed her mom starring at her ring. Her father was too, his brow furrowed in wrinkles.
"Hermione dear, do you have something to tell us?" she asked.
Hermione, quickly ducked her hand behind her, but hesitantly brought it out and up into the light.
"O this old thing, I bought it a while back in Diagon Alley at that new jeweler's shop. Hadn't had much chance to wear it."
Her father's wrinkles disappeared. Her mother looked reassured. Hermione smiled to herself. She didn't want to bring her parents into the mess she was in. She loved her parents to much to do so.
"It would look lovely with your dress for the Winter Ball." said her mother.
"Winter ball? But I'm not a student." Hermione said.
"Oh, just go for old times. Harry's been anxious to see if you'd go with him. He came by early this morning, but you were still asleep." beamed her mother.
Hermione blushed. Harry, acting like a schoolboy, asking her to the ball.
"Well, what do you say?" said her father. "He's probably eating breakfast in the Great Hall.
"Sure." said Hermione. "I'll go tell him."
Harry was finishing up his glass of orange juice, laughing at Ron's nephews as they chunked spoonfuls of porridge at the Slytherins. He stopped laughing and starred in awe as he saw her, beautiful as a goddess, delicate as a rose, walk into the Great Hall. He watched the fine, silky curls of her dark hair bounce with every step she took. Her body was magnificent, and Harry had to think of Umbridge to keep himself from being caught in "awkward" situation. Harry stood up really fast, ruffling his hair. All the Weasley boys stopped their porridge chunking to stare at the two.
"Hermione.:" said Harry.
Hermione stopped in front of Harry.
'God , she smells good.' thought Harry as he smelt a faint aroma of dark vanilla come off Hermione.
"Harry, I was just returning an answer to your question." she said.
Harry gulped. He forgot about that.
"And?" Harry said.
"Yes." said Hermione.
Harry blushed furiously. The Weasley boys made gagging noises. Hermione stood there, graceful and beautiful.
"Great. Well, um, well, erm, the ball is in two days, and, um, I will be staying for a bit. Ron and Dumbledore are dealing with Fudge about work." said Harry.
Hermione could sense his uneasiness. She knew Harry was trying hard to stay calm and appear cool. He was after all, an adult. She couldn't help but feel something new, something exciting. Could it be possible she was falling for Harry?
'No, don't do it. You'll only hurt him. You know you love someone else.' voice said in her head.
Hermione bit her lower lip. She knew she did love someone else, but what if the love he confessed to her was a lie, a sham to hurt those around him. Hermione didn't know what to do, or where to turn.
"Mione, you okay?" Harry asked, seeing the faraway look on Hermione's face.
"Oh, yeah, fine. I just need to, to clear my head." she said.
"Well, we could walk around the grounds." said Harry.
"Yes, that would be great." said Hermione.
"Well, your father and I will be returning home for a bit to check on things. We'll bring Crookshanks back with us."
Hermione watched her parents smile, getting back to what they were doing. She sat there, finger her necklace. She had the strangest feeling something wasn't right.