Are We the Waiting

Chapter Two

This Dirty Town is Burning Down in My Dreams

"Professor Sprout, could I borrow Miss Granger for a moment?"

Hermione stared at Professor McGonagall as she stood holding the door open to greenhouse number seven. She could feel her classmate's eyes fall on her as Professor Sprout assented. With a sigh, Hermione rose out of her seat and made her way towards the waiting professor. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. An unsettling, sick feeling that tossed and turned in her belly and refused to leave her be.

In all honesty, today had already been less than optimal. She was stressed over her upcoming graduation and, essentially, her future. She constantly worried over maintaining her high marks. They were barely a quarter into the year and she was already exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. She couldn't seem to fall asleep anymore and accidentally slept it, missing almost half of her first hour class. And then, during lunch, she had gotten into a horrible row with Harry and Ron.

Hermione discreetly flashed a glance at them as she followed McGonagall out of the humid greenhouse. They were sitting clear across the room from her. With a heavy sigh, Hermione closed the door behind her.

"Miss Granger." McGonagall looked concerned and Hermione immediately felt her stomach drop in cold dread.

"Yes... Yes professor?" Hermione rasped, forcing her voice not to crack.

"Miss Granger, I'm terribly sorry... It seems that your father was in an automobile accident."

All colour immediately drained from Hermione's face, her olive skin now papery white. Her vision swam and the blood roared deafeningly in her ears.

"P-pardon me? she asked pleadingly, hoping that she had heard the headmistress incorrectly.

McGonagall appeared apologetic. "I am very sorry Miss Granger. It seems he was intoxicated and was trying to drive home from a local pub. He lost control of the vehicle and jumped the median..." her usually strict voice trailed off as she stared down at her star pupil. "He was taken immediately to a muggle hospital but upon discovering his identity, the ministry had him relocated to St. Mungo's."

"How is he?" Hermione demanded desperately, moving closer to the older witch.

There was a pause as McGonagall thought about how to break the his condition in the least harmful way possible. "He's currently in critical condition." She finally divulged hesitantly, eying the Head Girl carefully.

Hermione felt like swooning. She felt numb, as if she was watching the scene before he play out from outside her own body. McGonogall's voice seemed muffled and hazy, like it was coming from above water. Colours and shapes swirled before her eyes. Hermione could barely focus.

"The ministry contact me as soon as they could," McGonagall continued, after staring at Hermione for a moment. "According to the healers, the soonest you can visit him is tomorrow at noon; the healers don't want any visitor's while he's in such a critical condition." The old, graying witch put a comforting hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You're excused from the rest of your classes today and for the rest of the week. I understand this must be difficult for you and trust you can make up all your missed work when your father is better." She paused again, patting the young girl's arm before removing herself from any contact. "Do you need me to walk you to your dorm Miss Granger?"

Hermione swallowed thickly before shaking her head jerkily. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion and she barely registered herself replying to her headmistress. "I'll be fine. Yes... Don't worry, Professor, I'll be fine... I'm just going to- I'll just go get my books."

McGonagall stared at her worriedly but did not voice her concern. "Of course. I'm very sorry Miss Granger, I wish you and your father the best of luck."

Hermione barely noticed the headmistress' departure. She stood stone still, as if some Greek marble statue of some unknown tragedy. A few minutes passed before she numbly turned on her heel and headed back into the greenhouse. She felt people staring at her as she gathered her things silently, packing all of her supplies carefully into her worn bag. Her father had given it to her as a gift for making it into Hogwarts. Moving swiftly down the aisle back towards the door, she kept her gaze low. As she passed Harry and Ron, however, she couldn't help but sneak a look. She choked on her breath.

Hermione heard a surprised and concerned "Granger?" being voiced behind her, but she paid it no mind. Murmuring a quick excuse to Professor Sprout, she bolted, pushing open the door noisily and sprinting away from the greenhouses and the castle.

Her bag was dreadfully heavy and slammed into her side at every step she took, killing her balance and slowing her down. Her breaths came in laboured gasps and pants. She was no runner or sprinter and the thick tears that silently streamed down her face only hindered her further.

They were leaving her behind. She choked back a sob and forced her fatigued limbs to keep moving. Harry and Ron... They were leaving her behind Their happy and carefree expressions were etched in fire behind her eyes and tormented her as she ran blind. They didn't need her anymore. They didn't want her anymore. She choked back another sob. They were happy without her there; they didn't need her. They were happy while she was still broken. They didn't want her.

Hermione screwed her eyes shut tighter, as if if she didn't see the world, then it wasn't real. That if she kept her eyes shut tightly, she could close out all the hurt and pain and depression and memories that dragged her down. And that when she did open her eyes, the world would be beautiful. Harry and Ron would be by her side, chatting cheerfully with her as they made their way to Hagrid's cabin for some tea after a long day of work. They would joke and laugh and later they would retreat to the common room for a quick game of wizard's chess and cocoa before settling in for the night. There would be no more shadows, no more nightmares, no more fears. The world would be beautiful and bright.

Her eyes wrenched open as she stumbled. Running blind, her foot caught on a rock protruding from the thick grass and it sent her sprawling to the ground. Her bag went flying; her books and supplies scattering all over the place. She considered rising to her feet and running away again, but she just couldn't feel it. She just didn't have the energy anymore. She was tired. So very tired. Gathering the energy she did posses, she rocked gently and rolled herself onto her back before stilling once more.

A large, silly smile spread across her face. The clouds were pretty. With the way the sun was hitting them, they looked like giant puffs of cotton candy she used to get at the fair when she was younger. She felt the ground tremble underneath her, but she really didn't care. Slow, thick tears streamed down her face as she giggled. If you tilted your head, that one cloud looked like a duck. She loved ducks. They were fat and cute and made adorable quacking noises. Yay duck!

She had snapped. Hermione Granger had finally snapped.

"Granger? Granger!"

Hermione merely giggled in response.

This dirty town was burning down in her dreams.

Harry Potter is to J.K. Rowling

Are We the Waiting is to Green Day

A/N: Not a filler exactly, but this chapter is more of a link than anything else between chapters one and three. Pardon it's shortness. I'm glad everyone likes it as of now. :) Also, a bit of a heads up. I like to keep the characters believable, but I also enjoy twisting them and seeing how far I can push them in a certain direction while still maintaining their identity. That's the point of these 'oneshots', observing different levels of emotion and responses. So please forgie any ooc tendencies you may discover.

Also, I do not have a beta reader nor do I really want one. If you spot a mistake, feel free to correct me. It is much appreciated.