A Not So Dreadful Middle

It was a dark and stormy night - and a horribly clichéd beginning to a story, Hermione Granger thought to herself. In addition to the dreadful beginning, the book had a dreadful ending. Hermione knew this because she made a point of reading the end of a book first - why waste precious reading time on a bad book? A conclusion already formed in her mind, Hermione set the book, face down, on the common room table in disgust.

The book in question was a gift from her Mother, – one of those trashy romance novels that pretend to have a plot but are just an excuse to have copious declarations of love and sickeningly happy endings. Hermione suspected her Mother was trying to restore her little girl's belief in knights in shining armour and happily ever afters. All this was in vain, whilst 7-year-old Hermione may have believed in all that, 17-year-old Hermione most certainly didn't. It was hard to believe anything was going to end happily with the threat of Voldemort looming over them.

With the trios many close calls with death, Hermione had very little hope of surviving the war against Voldemort and his followers. The Boy who Lived and his infamous sidekicks may have been lucky, but they were not immortal. From the moment she stood beside Harry and Ron, she vowed she would protect them with her life. It was not a question of 'if', but 'when' she was going to lay down her life for her friends. It was hardly happy, but the end was always clear to Hermione.

The beginning was not so great for her either. At primary school Hermione had always felt different, as if she were destined for something better than what was on offer. Her parents always told her she was special, that she should be proud to be different. However, her peers did not value her difference in their blinkered existence. Thus she spent her young childhood being proudly unhappy.

That all changed when she received her Hogwarts letter and suddenly, her difference made sense. It was ironic how her presence at Hogwarts was to be her saviour and downfall all in one. She had learned of friendship, loyalty, bravery and love, and she found that the lines between these were irrevocably blurred.

With a sigh, Hermione adjusted her position to look around the cosy surroundings of the common room. It was rare that she allowed herself time to reflect without studying or feeling guilty about not studying. She watched Harry and Ron considering their next moves against each other on the wizards' chess table. Her insides flipped when she thought of the fight ahead for Harry -he looked so carefree that she wished she could freeze the moment in time. Ron turned his head and flashed a lopsided grin at her. Hermione felt her insides flutter in a totally different way and returned a weak smile. She briefly wondered when she started to differentiate the boys in her mind and stomach activity.

"Oi Hermione!" Ron's shout broke her reverie. "Come over here and help Harry out will you? It's getting bloody boring winning so easily all the time".

"Thanks mate!" Muttered Harry, trying to look offended, but his eyes were really conveying the same 'Help me Hermione' message.

"Oh all right then" Sighed Hermione, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably. Anyone observing her closely at that moment would have noticed a small smile on her face and a once dimmed fire return to her eyes.

"Just for a while though, I want to finish reading my book tonight". She informed them, patting her trashy novel affectionately before walking over to the boys.

After all, a book with a dreadful beginning and a dreadful ending might, -- just might --, have a bloody brilliant middle.