Addicted To You

Hermione never took the time to notice the beauty of the gray skies.

Every good king knows when to step down, every good hero knows when he is fighting a pointless battle, every preformer knows when the show is over, every athlete when the game has ended, but does a person in love know when it is time to stop?

I look down at my plate``I know you're avoiding me``You just can’t stand to look me in the eye``Hell, you can’t even look at me``Not after what happened``Not after what I did. --Sequel to It (reading of It recommended)

Maybe you found out that you preferred the males on the team - And not me - Maybe you fell in love with another girl - One with prettier, longer hair - ``Maybe it’s just me - Maybe you just don’t love me.

You listlessly walked to the door of your flat. When you opened the door, you regretted taking so long. Standing in the hallway was Hermione, soaked from the rain, her eyes red— obviously crying— and her hair a mess. . . . . .

Everything seems to be in ones. One man. One tear. One time. One him. One her. One mistake. One lie. One goodbye. One chance for true love.

I analyzed myself again today. It’s a process I have become quite accustomed to. It seems as though every week I come up with another idea, or several as it may be, explaining everything about myself. This week’s topic: love, what else? It seems as though Spring Fever has hit students of Hogwarts all around, except, of course, me.

A post-hogwarts fic (or fic-lit) Harry has always sung Hermione Happy Birthday. He hasn't missed a day in 15 years, but now he is gone. What is she going to do?

Have you ever thought that you had no reason to live? Have you ever thought that every piece of your heart had been taken out of your body, shredded up, and fed to a blast-ended skrewt? That’s how Hermione felt on the fateful evening of October 31st. This was a second occurrence for Hermione.