The Perks of Being a Magic Endowed Wallflower

Disclaimer: I do not own anything

Chapter Two

Lights Out

Reviewer's Hotaru420 and XXDarkest AngelXX; thanks for your reviews, this is for you

Hermione sat between her two friends during the sorting. If it were a normal day, she would be very attentive. But it wasn't normal, and it

was way beyond Dorothy and the land of OZ. Hermione felt as if her mind was going to detonate—she looked down, no ruby slippers

on her feet.

Would anyone notice? She thought. Looking around, everyone was pretending to be interested in the new students. Everyone was

pretending to be happy. Everyone was pretending.

How the hell am I supposed to figure out who I sent my letters to? Even if she was the smartest witch of her age, she couldn't perform

miracles. What if this person had identified her.

That was stupid, she told herself. How do you think they sent them back? Of course they know who you are. Genius. Her new year, the

one she had planned to be the best of them all—was ruined by her past. As had her whole life.

The sorting finished, Hermione oblivious to the food now piled before her and the conversations between the other Gryffindors. She felt

alone—alone and scared.

Did I ever write anything really bad down? She thought. If this person knew who she was, they could do…

Hermione shuddered.

"Hey, Hermione, you okay?" Lavender leaned across the table. "Harry, feel her forehead."

Hermione batted Harry's hand away. "I'm okay."

Lavender raised a very well shaped eyebrow. "Hermione." She said almost testily. "You paled about six shades a moment ago. And I am

not stupid. Okay?"

Hermione nodded, but all she could think about was how much time Lavender must spend on her eyebrows.

They were perfect.

Why did people do that?

Huh? Was there a reason to it?

What was the point? Why didn't she do it?

Why am I not like Lavender? Hermione thought back to her first letter. She had thought her life would take a turn…for the better. Had it?

Ron on her left.

Harry on her right.

A family up and down the table.

Was her life better?

Or was she still the same?—the same blight on humanity.

She wasn't called a freak anymore. She wasn't called a nerd, not at all.

With her new life had come new words. Now she was a bookworm. Now she was a mudblood. Now she was nothing at all.

Hermione hadn't gotten rid of her old tormenter Harry before another had found her. Draco Malfoy, Hermione thought icily, and Harriet

Stoe, were one and the same. They made her nothing.

Lavender was waving a hand in front of her face. "Hermione?" Hermione thought she heard genuine concern in Lavender's voice. I must

be hallucinating.

"Hey, Harry, lets take Hermione upstairs. Hermione. We're going to take you to your room, okay?"

Hermione stared blankly. "Uh huh."

They peered at her.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Uh huh."

"Are you hungry?"

"Uh huh."

They looked at her empty plate. "You going to eat, 'Mione?"

"Uh huh."

They looked at each other. "We'll bring you up some food after we get you to your room." Harry said kindly though his eyes were filled

with concern.

Hermione wanted to tell him not to worry; it was all right—normal. She was a freak, a mudblood, a bookworm, and a geek. She was

supposed to be messed up. She wasn't normal. Hermione wanted to assure him.

But then, Harry would worry. Hermione couldn't do that to her friend.

"I'm fine, Harry." She said. But then she began to think, what if it was Harry? What if she had sent the letters to Harry? What if it was

Harry who knew everything?

Hermione couldn't help it, she couldn't breathe, everything was getting too bright, and she just couldn't…couldn't breathe.

Dumbledore had stood; he was announcing the Head boy and Head girl. Hermione couldn't hear him; she couldn't see him…she couldn't breathe.

"It is my pleasure to announce…"

"Hermione!" Lavender grabbed Hermione's shoulder.

Ron's eyes grew wide as Hermione began hyperventilating.

"…that this year's head girl…"

"What's wrong with her?" Harry cried. "Hermione. Hermione." But her eyes were glassy.

A second later

Her body fell.

"…Is Hermione Granger."

And that was when the students of Hogwarts turned to applaud the smartest witch of their age, only to find her—not beaming and

smiling—but snow white and cold, her friends doing their best to revive her.

It's a heartache

Nothing but a heartache

Hits you when it's too late

Hits you when you're down

It's a fool's game

Nothing but a fool's game

Standing in the cold rain

Feeling like a clown.

It's a heartache

Hermione woke only to find the peace and quiet she had found in a drug-aided sleep did not exist in the conscious world. Four pair of

eyes were the first thing she saw—and it was very up close and personal. She shook her head and closed her eyes. When she reopened

them. The four sets of eyes had receded into four faces.

Hermione managed a smile. "Hey guys. Professor."

What would they think of her? She was a freak, just like Harry had always said, just like Malfoy said.

Ron grinned. "Didn't know you'd be knocked off your feet when you found out you were Head Girl." He plopped down beside her and

tossed her a chocolate frog. "You're supposed to be eating these." He blushed. "I hope you don't mind, but that's the only one left."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Are you telling me Ronald Weasley that you ate all of my Chocolate Frogs?" Ron gave her the sorriest

'I'm sorry' look she had ever seen. And Harry nodded.

"He saved you one, 'Mione, that's got to count for something."

Hermione laughed, and any tension in the room was gone.

"How long have I been here? Please tell me I haven't missed classes."

"No, Ms. Granger, you've been out for only seven hours. But, what myself and Madam Pomfrey would like to know, is why you

collapsed."

Hermione bit her lower lip—the truth, a burden, or a lie. "It's pretty much like Ron said." Oh this is horrible. She thought, blushing. "I

was just overwhelmed with being made Head Girl, Headmaster."

He gave her a kind smile. "Would that be the only reason, Ms. Granger?"

Hermione nodded. "All that I can think of, Headmaster. I'm sorry, I really am."

"She'll be sorrier later." She heard Ron mutter.

"What's that?"

Ron and Harry both jumped.

"Uh…" Ron's ears were the color of his hair.

"It's just, well…uh, Headmaster, don't you think she should know?"

Dumbledore observed them. "What is it she needs to know?"

"Head boy…possibly." Harry quipped, loosing his patience.

"Well, Harry, if you believe it is something Ms. Granger, here needs to know, then you may tell her."

"Tell me what?" Hermione sat up. "Oh, come on, just tell me!"

"Ferret is head boy." Ron said simply, swiping the chocolate frog that she had yet to eat.

"WHAT!"

It's a heartache

Nothing but a heartache.

Love him till your arms break

Then he lets you down.

It ain't right with love to share

When you find he doesn't care for you.

It ain't wise to need someone

As much as I depended on you.

It's a heartache

Nothing but a heartache

Hits you when it's too late

Her room was gold and green. The entire head's dorm was gold and green. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin. A mouse and a lion. I'm

supposed to be the lion, Hermione thought.

Her stuff was laid put away, her friends had left only minutes ago, but Hermione could still feel their presence. They were good friends.

Such good friends.

Hermione heard a tapping; a tapping coming from the window. Her heart raced as she opened it and a rather familiar owl landed on her

shoulder.

"Hello there."

It gave her an almost affectionate head rub. She untangled the letter and turned it over. This time, it wasn't her handwriting. The letter

inside had taken a beating, over what she could only assume, the years of indecision, before it had finally been sent.

Dear Friend,

You aren't crazy. Though, I wish you were. That's nice of me, huh? I received your letter several days ago, and I must say I have never received a letter, quite like yours before. Actually, it is the first letter, I've ever been sent. I know all about this world. And like you, have received a letter from Hogwarts. I guess, you won't ever know who I am, so it is safe to just talk. You are quite right, this is so wrong, it is like a diary, but if you send it away…you don't ever have to look at it again.

I don't believe in change, chances, or anything really. Life is just life, right?

How am I supposed to live if I stay in line, order, I'm overshadowed by so many, I'm hated, I'm…alone.

I'm alone.

There was no signature. It ended there. "I'm alone." Hermione folded the letter and looked at the owl. "Who are you?" She said it to the owl, to herself, to the world, to the universe. "Who are you?"

It's a heartache

Nothing but a heartache

Hits you when it's too late

Hits you when you're down

It's a fool's game

Nothing but a fool's game

Standing in the cold rain

Feeling like a clown.

It's a heartache

Nothing but a heartache.

Please tell me what you think. It really means something to me. Next chapter, will be another of Hermione's old letters.