Dear Diary,

I‛m getting sick of everyone asking me if I‛m okay and all of this nonsense. On our first day back, in Charms, our first class, Flitwick asked me if I was feeling alright because I had only answered one question. God, does everyone expect me to be some sort of super genius? I mean, yeah I‛m smart. That doesn‛t mean I know everything, despite what some people think.

However, my day was brightened a little by a conversation that Ron and I had in the common room just a few minutes ago, before I came up to my dormitory to write in this.

‟Hey Hermione," Ron said, sitting down on the couch beside me. ‟Whatcha workin‛ on?"

I looked up from my Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. ‟Essay. Remember? For Professor Terry?" Terry was the newest DADA professor. He was quite good. I had come to the conclusion he was the second best we‛ve had, aside from Lupin, of course.

‟Oh yeah. That. I‛ll just copy off of yours."

‟Sure, Ron. I don‛t care a bit." My words were dripping with my newfound sarcasm.

‟But, I came down here to ask you something. Well, actually, Phlem- Fleur wanted me to ask you. Because they had to post-pone the wedding so she could finish planning, she wanted me to ask you if you would be her maid of honor. I told her- ‛Well, I‛ll ask.‛"

I made a face. ‟Ugh, I hate her. But tell her I guess I will though. It would be fun. Ginny and I could bewitch her dress to turn green or something horrid like that."

Ron laughed. ‟She‛s really not so bad, Hermione." he tried to convince me. I noticed his ears were turning pink.

‟You only say that because you‛re infatuated with her," I retorted, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes, giving him the look.

‟And so what if I am?" Ron told me, standing up. ‟I‛m going to bed. G‛night."

He turned away before I got to answer him. For some reason I found that whole conversation very warm and cutesy, like a Hallmark card. I guess it‛s hard for Ron, though, his not-so-secret crush marrying his brother. It sounds like something out of a soap opera. I guess that all of life is a soap opera, though.

I suppose I better go now, I‛ve got a couple bottles of firewhiskey in my trunk, and I feel the need to drink away the numbness. It‛s still quite early, so perhaps I‛ll go try and find Harry or Ginny when I‛m through. Maybe getting a little pissed will help tell someone about my feelings...

Or maybe I just need to talk to someone . Misery loves company.

I‛ve started planning. I‛ve got my whole tactic set out. All I‛m going to do is get a belt and wrap it around my neck. Climb up on a chair and attach it to the ceiling (need a low ceiling. Maybe empty classroom on third floor). Then I kick the chair out of the way, and Hermione Granger is no more.

Simple as that.

- Hermione Jane Granger