AN: Okay, so I tried out a one-shot, I hope you do read and finish this. You may think it's all dramatic and full of angst or whatever, but really, it's hard to portray everything in one shot, and things get better in the end anyway. I just hope you wouldn't judge first and give this one-shot the benefit of the doubt.
I hope you leave reviews, tell me what you think. ;) Oh yeah, my other story Mayhem at the Burrow is waiting to be read by you too. Haha. Enjoy. ;)
She rounded the corner. Her heart was in her head, thumping angrily, thumping madly, everything seemed as a blur. She passed by the hallways avoiding the stares and whispers of many, as they saw her in tears, the way they never thought they'd see her.
What happened really? She couldn't think now, all she needed to do was be alone. What she needed was to have space and time to settle down and to cry so hard until her tears ran out, so she could finally try to fix everything out.
She could try, but she didn't think she could.
She rounded the corner. She needed to go to a room where no one would see her. The Gyrffindor common room would never be it, there would be too many questions raised. She was walking briskly, walking fast, like she was running away from her problems, if she could just walk fast enough… maybe she could leave it all behind.
She finally saw an empty and deserted classroom, she unlocked the door and stumbled in, fell to the floor, and she just broke down.
She knew she was being stupid. She knew this was not the answer, but there was nothing else she thought possible and more natural to do except to just take it all, all, all out. Take it all out, cry and scream, until nothing was left to cry.
She failed. She failed herself.
Suddenly, someone went inside the classroom she isolated herself in. She looked up at the towering figure.
He looked familiar but her tears blurred him. He sat down beside her and she saw that he had silver blond hair and piercing gray eyes. She wiped away her tears.
"What are you doing?" She asked him coldly, he was the least person she wanted to see, who would want to see their mortal enemy at a moment like this?
He had sadness in his eyes. He looked at the floor for a while, searching for words he could tell her.
Searching for the words he could tell to help her, to make her feel better, to save her.
He finally looked at her, at those chocolate brown eyes full of tears, anger and sadness at the same time. He began to speak.
"You don't need to let it destroy you." He said in a whisper.
She made a frustrated noise. She looked away.
"Now why would you care whether it would destroy me or not? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be off to someplace insulting my best friends or something?" Anger in her voice, she didn't want to deal with him, not now, not at the moment.
He looked at her hands, her hands holding the Daily Prophet.
He already knew what was in the Daily Prophet, he went pale when he read it. Apparently, Rita Skeeter was too violent and merciless this time. He felt sorry for her.
She memorized every word that was printed in the hideous paper. Every lie that every wizard believed true. She looked at it one more time.
He was reading with her too.
Hermione Granger, probably the best student at Hogwarts, is nothing but a failure. She is actually a disgrace to her family, which is why she tries ever so hard to excel in school to make up for her numerous disgraces. Just recently, she went to the Daily Prophet, with a book in hand, seeking if maybe she could get it published. She's been going to other publishers too, with this book in hand which she wrote herself, hoping and seeking for someone to publish it and introduce to the Wizarding World.
It is a book about how there is prejudice in the Wizarding World today and how the discrimination between Purebloods and Muggle-borns refuse to cease fire. This rather bushy haired girl has been known to have the weirdest of interests, including friendships with part-giants, rather frivolous attempts to free house-elves, her nosiness, her ridiculous know-it-all personality, not an ounce of humility in her.
The ministry claims she's gone mad, and says she 'shouldn't go running around with her interests like that.' Many believe she's lost her mind and just simply has gone over board, and there is a possibility that she needs psychological help.
Hermione Granger, not so know-it-all now, is she?
-Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet.
She shook as she finished reading it one more time. The boy beside her slightly shook too, and she looked at him.
He saw her, and he felt her pity, her sadness, without words being spoken he already understood.
"You don't need to let it destroy you." He simply said.
She barely nodded, she decided she'd just have to listen since her tears seemed to have dried up already.
"I worked so hard on that book, all my efforts, everything I believed in… and I get shut out just like that." She said grudgingly, yet sadness was evident in her voice.
"Half of the things there aren't even true." She said quietly in desperation. "She's an awful woman, she is. Now people around me will believe what's not true and it's really hard to keep up you now." She looked at the window, at the sky so black that had stars shining peacefully in its bed of blackness.
He took out his hand and made her face her, his hands holding her chin gently.
"Life's really like that, Hermione." He said quietly, looking at her eyes.
"You'll come across people who are mean to you, who'll destroy you, but that doesn't mean you allow them to destroy you. It should be something that gives you even more drive and motive, prove them wrong and hold your head high. If it's something you love and believe in so much, then go after it." He started softly.
"It doesn't matter if no one thinks you're good enough, as long as you believe that you can do it, then you'll be able to do it. We fail so we can have success. You can't stand up without falling." He looked intently at her eyes.
"Why are you telling me this?" She softly replied.
He ignored the question and continued to gaze in her eyes. "Believe that you are destined for greatness, not because you will not fail, but because you will make failure very much a part of you that you become so familiar with its every feature, that you can finally manipulate it, and then comes success." He smiled at her.
She gave him a watery smile back.
"They are not important." He began. "They are not important. They're merely people, just extras, it's you who is the focus of the story, not them. If they don't believe in you then that won't do anything, but if you don't believe in yourself then that's when things change." He said gently.
"You ever felt like you were good for nothing?" She asked quietly.
He held her hand. "We are all placed here for a reason. A reason we should believe in, a reason we should stand for. If not, then our stay here is a waste. Life would be a waste. Your life is not worth being wasted by mere beliefs that aren't even true!" He pointed out.
She looked at the hand that was in hers. It felt warm and comforting, but it was the hand of the enemy. She couldn't comprehend anything. She couldn't understand.
"It was my dream..." She trailed off sadly.
"Dream and dream even harder. Believe and believe harder. Life without dreams and aspirations is like a person without a heart. No heart for what he or she believes in, no heart nor passion for what they do. You just need to dream, to believe, to love and have extreme passion for what you do, and believe me, suddenly those little people? They won't even matter one bit anymore." He smiled at her.
She smiled back. "I don't understand." She suddenly told him, her eyes full of confusion. "Why are you here? You would be the least person who would lecture me." She said teasingly.
He chuckled slightly. He gazed into her eyes, but this time the sadness was lessened and he could see they were hopeful, if a picture was worth a thousand words, her eyes were worth a million.
He held her hand tighter, leaned over gently, until they were inches away, he could feel her nervousness, her uncertainty, and he broke that.
He broke it with a kiss. If you could tell a story in a second, he was doing it now. Everything he wanted her to know, everything he wanted to tell her, everything he felt, everything he longed to let her see, he portrayed and messaged to her through a kiss.
A kiss that was gentle, yet passionate.
At first she was taken aback, but she wasn't doubtful anymore. She kissed him back. All her questions she was prepared to fire were melted away, and she was filled with comprehension and connection.
She knew, at last, she had finally understood.