A/n; I am back, though I do not know why you like this. Lol. Maybe you just love my inspiring poetry! As if. (Voices scoff in background). Anyways, another random chapter, courtesy of the one and only... Math class!
A/n2; I just realized! Its summer! That means... No more math class! And while that is great, because I am no longer bored on a regular bases, it also means no dramatic flashes of inspiration. Oh well... I guess I'll just have to resort to thinking now. Damn it.
One week later, Hermione sat on the stone ledge of the Astronomy Tower window, flicking through the little black book that she carried with her everywhere. It was a book where she tried to write down all of her poetry, and often song lyrics, or quotes that were amusing and meaningful to her. Occasionally, when it struck her, she would make also write letters to people that told them the truth about what she really thought. But she never sent them. On the other hand, she never threw them away, despite the fact that she looked back most of what she wrote with a bitter mirth. You never know, right?
She had been wondering a lot lately about the poem she had thrown out after that potions class. In retrospect, she probably should have kept it, and copied it into the book later, but it was too late for that now. It was gone with the trash. She had been watching Snape at the dining hall a lot lately (well, no more then usual) and he seemed to be staring at her. But it was just her imagination.
She poised her quill above the paper, and tried to recall the poem. It was useless. She could only remember the beginning and the end, and that was because she would never use the term "gunna" when she was speaking. She laughed at the thought of what people would do if she started using slang. It really was rather comical.
She looked out onto the grounds, her laughter dying quickly. She hardly ever laughed anymore, and though she didn't know it, her friends were worried. No one knew what had happened to her, during the summer before her seventh year. Even Dumbledore didn't know everything, since he was so busy with the war. She liked it better that way.
However, her friends were worried. She had come back that year looking rather bad, and was the first to admit it. She was thin, and had dark circles under her eyes. Her wardrobe colors rivaled Snape's... Snape.... She shook her head before she was caught up in fantasies about his ebony hair.
With sleep and a small amount of make-up, the dark circles around her eyes faded, and she quickly gained back most of the weight. And the cuts and bruises... The ones that a dozen or so students saw on the train when Malfoy had seen when he had pushed her and her robe flew back? They disappeared so fast, most thought they were imagining things.
They only thing that stayed the same was her clothing. Most thought it was a fashion choice. Some thought she was imitating Snape. Harry and Ron did not ask, and considering it involved clothes, no one was surprised. No one seemed to notice that Hermione had stopped raising her hand in class, and while she still got top marks, she now did not force her study habits on others. In fact, she barely talked to anyone at all. She was even distancing herself from Ron and Harry. It seemed to her that Harry and Ron were just happy not to have color-coded notes forced on them any more.
Honestly, Hermione did not care if they were worried. It was her problem, and they could shove their "worries" up their bloody asses. With a sigh, she focused on the book she was still aimlessly flipping through. She passed a letter she had written to Ron, telling him what an idiot he was, and stopped on a poem she had written on that very window ledge. She read over it quickly. It was one of her favorites. Then again, the ones that ended in death usually were.
Falling
The feeling of icy wind tearing at your clothes
Useless Adrenalin,
Pumping electricity through your veins
Terror
A silent scream echoing on your lips
Sound, carried away by the rushing wind
Grasping at nothing
Summersaults through the air
Desperations complex cross of fear,
Hope and Denial
Your very thoughts, torn away
As the ground rushes up to meet you
Still far,
But closer with each second that passes
Trying to breath through the panic
You calm your gasps
Acceptance
Blessed Acceptance
Just before you hit the ground
Acceptance that it is your time
That your guardian angel has left you
And there is no escape form eventuality
You hit
And feel nothing,
your nerves too broken to register the undoubted pain,
Lying there,
Your world falls into darkness,
And as your soul flies free,
The last sound you hear is the whistle of the wind...
As she finished reading the poem, Mrs. Norris walked into the astronomy tower. With a start, Hermione pulled her wand.
"Stupidify!" She said, clearly.
The cat fell down unconscious, and she headed back to her dorm. She never noticed in her rush that she left the little black book behind.
(A/n woohoo! Second chapter done! Snape's POV next folks, so ya'll hurry back now)
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