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If I Fall, I'll Find a Way to Stand

"If I fall, I will find a way to stand" Was Hermione's mantra, her busy hair pulled back away from her eyes with a simple black scrunchy. She couldn't be bothered to try anything new with her hair. Why should I? The only time it needed to look nice was at competitions and special events, and on those occasions, her hair was firmly in two French plaits, her slim body enveloped in a skimming leotard.

"Hermione, move your fat arse now, there are other's who could benefit from a stint on the bars And thunder thighs? You're on beam next." The piercing voice of her coach intruded Hermione's thoughts. Aside from her hair, she had been thinking of her latest move to be perfected. She just couldn't do it. She tried and tried and as her frustration grew, her skills fell and she found that she had no heart for anything at all. Especially not perfecting her moves on the bar. She felt pathetic and worthless, as though all of the spirit of the sport had left her.

Hermione's mind raced back to her last competition, to her bar routine. The way that she had came off only seconds after grasping the lower bar. Tears came to her eyes at the memory. She had been able to do the routine the night before, and for weeks before that, but as soon as she touched the bar in the competition, her hand-guard twisted and she came straight off, landing on her backside on the padded floor - no mats were allowed in competitions – and burning the skin on her thunder thighs to an angry red with the friction.

She dreaded going back to Hogwarts for her 7th year; it would mean that she could no longer do gymnastics at the high level she was at. Without the proper training, she would become stiff and go down so many levels. She had started gymnastics when she was very young, and Hogwarts had already kept her back for so many years. She was almost constantly think about leaving Hogwarts, but that wouldn't be very perfect of her. If she left Hogwarts, she would be a failure in a different world, the magical one.

The need to perfect had led her to gymnastics, so that she could be forever perfect and conrolled, but now it was readying to destroy itself. She couldn't have perfect mentality and perfect physicality. Not at the rate she was going.

Hermione would never leave Hogwarts, and she knew it. It would cause her and her already wounded friends even more heartache and pain. And she wanted to be perfect.

She pulled off her hand gurads and studied the rips and callouses on her palms. She would need to sort them before returning to Hogwarts. They lowered her outward image. She needed to appear perfect to everyone. She grabbed a chalk ball and dabbed at her feet, drying the sweat of her exertion. A little more on to her hands and she ran and mounted the beam by the way of a somersault. She landed without fault and straightened up. Perfect.

Tears filled Hermione's eyes as she boarded the train.

Maybe there would be a way. She could stretch every day. Do as many routines as she could outside while the weather was still fine, near the lake where she was hidden from everyone. After that she could use her bedroom for her exercises, stretches and conditioning; being Head Girl had its high points, a private room for starters. Or maybe she was just being idiotically optimistic…

Going back to Hogwarts would mean a strict diet; she couldn't afford to gain any more weight. She had to lose it. It was bordering on dangerous when she came back at the start of summer, she was so heavy. She wasn't even back to her target weight yet either. She had to become perfect in every way of she was going to succeed this year. And succeed she would.

She was Hermione Granger. Some claimed that she was the greatest witch of her generation. And she was the greatest witch of her generation at Hogwarts. She wouldn't fail anyone. Not her parents, not her teachers, not her coach... And especially not herself. She would be strong and she would lose weight and become the best.