Dereliction of Duty
Chapter 4 – Hermione Granger

Sometimes, I truly hate myself.

They taught me so much, Harry and Ron did… so much about life and happiness and friendship. I thought I'd learned form them after the troll incident in our first year.

I suppose that I really haven't learned much at all.

It's odd how a person changes over the years. I remember when I was eight years old, my fondest wish was to get that new copy of the latest mystery novel at the library, and my greatest fear – which frequently came true – was that no one would pick me for their team in grammar school.

Then I was twelve years old, wondering what on earth the Sorcerer's Stone was doing in Hogwarts, who was after it, and how to make Harry and Ron do their work.

Then I was thirteen years old, wondering who had unleashed the basilisk and absolutely terrified that something would happen to my boys.

Then I was fourteen years old, and a raving murderer was after Harry, and I was so afraid that he would try to sneak out of school and get revenge…

Then I was fifteen years old, wondering who had entered Harry into the most dangerous magical tournament in existence against his will, how I was ever going to get him through the tournament, and what in the world was wrong with Ron…

I was sixteen, and Voldemort was back, and everything was all wrong. People were dying and disappearing, Harry was having horrible nightmares, that absolute hag was making him cut his own hand open night after night…

I was seventeen, and Sirius was dead. Harry was so calm. He was getting history lessons from Dumbledore – history lessons! Now, I understand that knowledge is power, but really! How is knowing Voldemort's background going to arm Harry against Voldemort's Death Eaters!

…I was seventeen, and I was failing Harry Potter. I was spending my time doing class work and wondering how I was ever going to get Ron's attention. And Harry warned me again and again that Malfoy was up to something, turning to me as he always used to do, and I just brushed his warnings aside.

Oh, I… I love Ron dearly, I do. But Harry… Harrry's like my younger brother… and maybe I even see him as my son a bit, too… he certainly says that I nag him enough. I love Ron. He completes me. But Harry is the sibling I always wanted, and never had.

And after - if I do say so myself - an amazing speech in first year about the value of friendship and bravery, I managed to forsake both. I ignored Harry in favor of a romantic entanglement… with our best friend, no less. I ignored his warnings in favor of jealously, pettiness and spite.

And now Dumbledore's dead, and Harry really thinks he is finally alone.

I've already failed my brother. And I will not fail him again.

Review if you have something to say.

Cheers,
LIZ