Hagrid and Hermione
Two people sit at a table. One of massive size, and one with bushy hair. The former one, Hagrid, blots his teary eyes with a napkin while the latter look up at him sympathetically.
"She—she was my best friend. Always so nice to me and all. Never would have guessed she were a Slytherin, you wouldn't. When she was gone...when she was gone, everything in the school changed. Then that girl died, and—and I was expelled."
"But, Hagrid,"
Hermione starts,
"Surely you don't mean that your friend's death made Voldemort do all those things."
She states quizzically.
"If you mean was he evil before that, of course he was, but when she died—he was pushed over the edge. I'm not saying that is an excuse for his crimes, but it explains him a bit more."
Hermione looks down at the small stack of moving photos containing a young girl goofing off with a much younger Hagrid accompanied with a very handsome, but sulken looking boy, hovering in the background.
"I can't believe he could ever love someone."
Hagrid laughs.
"I can hardly believe it, but I saw it with my own eyes. I saw his face when he saw her dead body. I saw him during her funeral, and I saw him looking out to her grave when I was captured by him and his Death Eaters during the war. He never forgot her...and neither did I."
"Hagrid...did you...did you love her too?"
"Love her? Nah, never got the chance, really."
A/N: Man, I'm just in a writing mood. Hagrid telling Hermione about Iris. Yes'm.
Pastry~