Sorry it took me so long to get this up! I just finished the state-wide testing thing and we have three weeks of school left and the teachers are going all out insane by loading us down with ALL THIS WORK! I just finished my science project so I decided to reward myself by working on the last chapter! Hope y'all like it!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter equals NOT MINE!

How She Came To Be…

Chapter VIII:

Open Wounds and Apologies (1997)

Hermione Granger, present day Hermione Granger with her long locks of curly brown hair, scowled at the fireplace. It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year and here she was, sitting on the overstuffed scarlet couch closest to the window she shattered the previous night with a quill in one hand and a white first aid kit in the other. The window had been repaired by someone and the thick crimson curtains were drawn apart to reveal a clear blue sky with an occasional solitary fluffy cloud. She sighed as she looked at the perfect weather. She had only been able to come down from the girls' dormitory with her bag of assignments because he injured foot wouldn't allow her to make more than twenty paces before bleeding through its bandage.

She groaned as she adjusted her right foot for the fourth time in the past half-hour. It was raised a pile of ruby cushions with gold tassels on the loveseat. The position caused the blood flow to reduce significantly, however, it made rewriting the potions essay that a certain young man with red hair incinerated the night before extremely difficult.

"Stupid Ron," she grumbled as she balanced the sheet of parchment on her stomach with a worn black book. "If he didn't decide to throw my essay into the fire, then I would be at Hogsmeade. And I wouldn't be bleeding to death, either."

"I didn't throw it into the fire," a said familiar baritone voice in a defensive tone from the portrait hole. She jerked in surprise, the bottle of ink that was tucked next to her elbow slipped and fell forward. Black ink stained her clothes and the scarlet loveseat.

"Ron!" she said in an exasperated tone as she pulled out her wand to remove the blotches. "What are you doing here?"

Ron Weasley, the tallest Gryffindor with the same large hands and feet approached her as she used the cleaning charm to remove the blots of ink. He held a rectangular box in one hand. "Look," he said as he came to a stop next to her foot, "I'm sorry about yesterday, okay?"

"Sure you are," she growled as she returned to her work.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Will you please look at me?" he asked in a quiet tone.

She lifted her brown orbs with great reluctance.

"I'm sorry I took your homework without your permission. I'm sorry I don't try hard enough. But someone needs to remember how to have fun. It's not you because you're the responsible one. Harry can't because he's the one that has to save the world again. I'm the one who grew up with Fred and George as brothers, so I took on the burden of being the one that breaks the tension of hard times. You have no idea how hard it is to be me."

Hermione couldn't help it; she burst out laughing as Ron came to the end of speech.

"I'm serious!" he said as his downcast expression turned into one of hurt.

"Let's see," she said after her giggles subsided. "Trying to keep idiots like you from accidentally killing yourself," she raised on hand in front of her, palm side up, "or making dumb jokes about Crookshanks," she raised her other hand in the same fashion and pumped the two up and down though she was weighing something. "Which one seems harder to you?"

Ron blinked at her. "Anyway," he said, ignoring her question and continuing on, "I wanted you to know that I'll try to do my work on my own for a while."

"For a while," she repeated under her breath. She them raised her voice and said, "You're impossible," with a slight smile playing on her lips.

"Oh, yeah," he thrust his hand into the pocket of his robe. "Here, I copied this before yours fell into the fire."

She waved the wrinkled parchment away. "It's all right, I already wrote a new one. I also added a few more things to make it more accurate."

"So the essay falling into the fire wasn't a total loss after all," said Ron in a bright tone. She glared at him. "But it's still a great loss," he added quickly in a grave tone.

"What exactly happened to my original copy anyway?" she asked as she pulled her legs to her chest so he could take a seat.

"It was stupid," he said as he took the seat, but pulled her leg back so that it was still elevated. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, c'mon, you really expect me to see your bleed to death?" he asked as he positioned a cushion on his lap and placed her injured foot on it.

"You'll never cease to amaze me," she said before waving for his to continue with the story.

"Anyway, I was copying your essay with Harry—"

"Where is he?" she asked.

"Hogsmeade?" he answered uncertainly. "And I was about to put it back when this second year accidentally stepped on Crookshanks' tail."

Hermione winced. Her ginger cat went berserk when her father accidentally dropped a book on its tail a few years ago.

"And I went to help, but Crookshanks chased the kid to the table we were at and then he hopped on top of it and, naturally, Crookshanks got up too. Next thing I know, the kid jumped off, tipping the table and everything on it over. All my quills and parchment went straight into the fire. We had the shut Crookshanks up in our dormitory. Dean wasn't happen about his nicely torn sheets, by the way.

"I'm sorry," she said after a pause.

Ron waved the apology away. "It's all right. I had that little telling off coming at me all summer.

She smiled as she turned away. The rectangular box was sitting on the floor next to his worn sneakers. "What's that?" she asked, motioning at the box.

"Oh," he leaned over to retrieve it before handing it to her. She looked at him curiously as she unwrapped the flowered paper and took the cardboard top off. She giggled slightly.

The shoe that she kicked out the window the previous night was perched on top of a thick blanket of tissue paper.

"I went down to get it last night," he explained as she took it out. "Right after I fixed the window, that is. It took a while, though. Finding the shoe, I mean. It was about halfway down the walkway to the greenhouses by the time I caught up to it," his face twisted into a pained expression. "Shoe hunting in the middle of a thunderstorm is not fun."

"You could have used the Summoning Charm," she pointed out.

Ron blinked. "Huh," he said. It was more of a comment than a question. "Yeah, that would've been easier…"

"Well, thanks for the shoe," she said, waving the black shoe around as she handed the box back to him.

"Wait, there's something else," he gently pushed the cardboard container back into her hands. She raised an eyebrow as she removed the thick blanket of delicate yellow tissue paper.

"It's not much," he said hurriedly as the crinkling thin paper fell to the floor. "Consider it a late birthday present."

She gasped and lifted a worn stuffed squirrel out. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no sound came out.

Ron winced slightly. "I saw this at an old Muggle toy store a few weeks ago," he said defensively. "I know it's not in the best condition. I went to get it repaired today, but the people down at Hogsmeade said it couldn't be fixed."

"Ron, it's okay," she croaked out. "It's…it's…."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, reaching out to take the toy back. "I thought you might like it…"

"No, Ron!" she quickly cleared her throat. "I'm not disappointed! This…I can't believe it! How did you…?" She shook her head at his averted eyes and his purpling ears. "This is my stuffed otter! The one that I told you about!"

He looked up, a surprised expression on his flushed face. "The one that your dad gave away in our first year?"

"Yes!" Hermione gently ran a finger across a small tear between the ears. She looked at him curiously, "How did you know?"

"I didn't," he admitted. "I just saw it in some grubby muggle store when I was in London and it reminded me of you," he looked from the toy to the happy young woman and back. "Are you sure it's Olive?"

"Yes," Hermione smiled, pointing at the worn right front paw. "I used to chew on this when I was little."

"Eh…" Ron faked a disgusted look. "I washed it seven time, you know, just in case you want to chew it again."

She reached forward and whacked him with her trusty squirrel. He ducked and she gave him an embrace. "What would I do without you?" she asked his rumpled red hair.

"Have less than perfect essays?" he returned as she sat back.

She sat there, only able to shake her head at his response. He studied her carefully, causing her cheeks to flush red under the awkward pause.

"What's that?" he asked, motion at the worn black book on her stomach.

"Oh, um," she looked at it, quickly collecting her wits. "It's a book that my grandmother gave me after my grandfather died."

"What, is it his old Bible or something?" asked Ron, tilting his head to one side in order to read the title.

"Yeah, 'coz all Bibles are titled Greek Mythology," Hermione said in a tone drenched with sarcasm.

"That's what it says?"

She looked down and was surprised to find the fine gold letters peeling and fading. It did appear indistinct, she admitted to herself. "Sorry," she said aloud. "I forgot it got that way."

"Let's hear one, then," he said.

"Um, okay," she nodded, slowly lifted the covers and flipped the pages until she came to a section lined with blue highlights. "How about the Trojan War?" she asked.

"Sure," he leaned back, placing his hands behind his head in a casual manner.

She gulped. Okay, Hermione, you're a Gryffindor. You're suppose to be brave. C'mon, you can do it, she coached herself as she looked at the opening sentence. Helen was the most beautiful woman in all of Greece. Okay, one down, a couple hundred thousand to go. She inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself.

"Hermione?"

She looked up, registering the worried expression on his freckled face.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah," she answered in a high pitched tone. "Great."

"You're crying," he said in a matter of fact tone.

Her hand flew up to one cheek and was met by a narrow stream of moisture. "It's…it's nothing," she mumbled. "I was just…thinking."

"I'm telling you, thinking's going to be your downfall," he said, but his face was still etched with concern. "Are you sure you're okay? What's the matter?"

"I was thinking exactly," she corrected her previous statement. "I was…remembering…" She paused, looking down at the untouched pages. "I've never finished this book."

Ron's expression twisted from concern to disbelief. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced to the empty common room, "Hermione didn't finish a book. The world's gonna come to an end now."

She grabbed a throw pillow by its god tassels and hit the young man with red hair upside the head. "Shut up!" she ordered as he dodged her second blow. He smiled charmingly and her stomach jolted upwards.

"Here," he offered his hand. She looked at it, confused. Not knowing what to do, she shook it. He roared with laughter. "No, I'll read it to you, okay?"

"Oh, yeah," her face blushed an attractive shade of dark scarlet as she passed the worn black book to him. She listened as he recited the prophet of Paris the son of the King of Troy and how Paris would be the downfall of the great city. One of the maids was suppose to drown him, but she sent him down the stream in a woven basket instead. An elderly shepherd found the boy and raised him with his wife…

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmmm?" she directed her attention from the window to Ron.

"What's this?" he held up a wrinkled sheet of paper wedged between two pages of the book.

"I don't know," she accepted the sheet of paper. There were little dried splotches across it. Confused, she unfolded it and read the first line. Realization dawned. "Oh."

"Oh, what?" asked curious Ron, leaning over her foot to look at it.

"It's a stupid poem I wrote after I got back from the only sleepover I was ever invited to when I was eleven." Her eyes darkened, "Or, rather, after I set a diary on fire and ran home because the girls were little bit…er…evil idiots that accused me of being a witch."

"What?"

She sighed. "It was right before I found out that I was—I am—a witch and this girl invited me over because he mum made her and…it's just complicated."

"Oh."

She looked at the neat handwriting smudged by old tears.

I remember when life was simple and free
I remember reading books and talking to Grandpa
I remember floating toy and plants growing at the speed of light
I remember turning Cousin Jeffrey's hair green when he put a frog in my juice
I remember rolling off the bed and hanging in midair
I remember the stuffing coming out of Olive
I remember seeds blooming overnight
I remember when life was normal without cliques and the popular people getting thing their way and making false accusations

Hermione shook her head. She had grown so much in the past seven years. Gone were the days when she doubted her sanity. She knew who she was. She was comfortable with herself. She squeezed Olive's worn paw. But she was still the same person in many ways. She was Hermione Granger, over achiever, cautious, responsible Hermione. Learning as much as she possibly could, listening, giving advice, having great friends…all these things made her who she was…

She balled the sheet of paper up and threw it into a trash bin.

"Okay, I'll read it," she said, taking the book. Ron resumed his favorite position with his hands behind his head and she started. Now she knew she could handle anything. As long as she remembered who she was, she could take on the world. This was the person she was born to be.

Okay. Yeah. It took me…er…three weeks to finish that. I'm soooooooooo sorry! It's just that there were all these things and I found out I had to play at a piano recital and then exams and lessons and pool parties and a surprise baby shower for my orchestra teacher and…this month has been HECTIC.

…

Oh, all right. I should've found SOME time to get this up sooner…

Anyway.

Last day of school's tomorrow. Scaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaary. And I finished. I FINISHED! This is the first fic that's NOT a one shot that I've ever finished….

I think I'm finally growing up.

Okay. Here are some paper plate awards:

The "Person That Noted My Pathetic Attempts At Humor and Really Got Into The Fic That Loved Olive As Much As Me Who Stuck With Me Award" goes to Prin69. Reading your reviews was great and I hope you enjoyed the last chapter! Here's a bag of M&Ms and pen.

The "Most Creative Penname And Got Bogged Down With The Most Homework/Projects That Loves and Hates Jason Who Read What I Wrote Award" goes to PatronSaintofEveryhingWeird. Thanks loads for reading this! And take it easy this summer! Here's a folder divider and a bag of gummy worms

The "Person Who Pointed Out My Mistakes With Class and Studied Romeo and Juliet At The Same Time As Me Who Mourned Over Grandpa's Death And Didn't Give Up On Me Award" goes to Padfootlive101. Thankies! Pointing out my mistakes kept me focused and you're an awesome reviewer! Here's a box of Cookie & Twix and a paintbrush.

I have no idea what I'm gonna do next. Hopefully something more original than this one. But I loved writing it!

Okay. Gotta go study for my last two exams. I'm almost a soph-more-ie!

Thanks.