Her Poems

Hermione sat in history class looking out of the window. Mr. Binns droned on and on about the medieval times. Why bother listening? What happened in the past is in the past and should stay there. At least that was her theory. She was glad Mr. Binns never seemed to care what his students did while he lectured. Hermione looked around the classroom. Half of it was asleep. The other half was doodling. No one ever paid attention in this class. Whatever Mr. Binns told us wasn't going to be on the test; you had to read the book he assigned each month to understand what really went on. Hermione still had yet to read it and the month was almost up.

Looking down at her paper she decided to write a poem. She noticed that whenever she did write a poem and read it allowed what ever the poem's true meaning was would happen. Well, unless it had to do with free will. She soon found out free will wasn't something to be tampered with.

Picking up her pen, Hermione put the tip to her paper. So excited about what she was going to write, it had simply slipped her mind that she didn't want anything to happen except for this class to be over, but she had to read it allowed for it to happen and Mr. Binns would never let her talk loud enough for him to hear.

She heaved a great sigh and started listening, for once, to what Mr. Binns was saying. What she heard was something about this Prince Malting with no heart. Was this history class or story time? Let me guess, she thought, some beautiful Princess came along and made him have feelings and they lived happily ever after? She rolled her eyes at her own thought. Those stories were always pointless nonsense. Guys had no hearts. She had concluded this last year when a certain Draco Malfoy had been an ass to her when he found out she liked him.

Looking around the class she happened to spot him. The jerk, with his perfect blond hair hanging in his thunderstorm gray eyes. She mentally smacked herself. She hated him with deep and utter loathing.

Draco must have felt someone watching him and turned her way making Hermione look quickly down at her paper. Shit! she mentally swore, now he's going to think I still like him. That conceited git. Now he's probably going to go tell all his little friends that I still like him and then give me hell for it!

She rubbed her eyes with the heals of her hands and looked about the room again. There in the back row she found her two best friends. Harry and Ron, goofing off, as always. Good thing Mr. Binns didn't notice. He was probably too concerned about what he was saying and making people really hate this prince with no heart.

Hermione looked at her paper again and started listening. Wow! Two times in one day. Must have been a record for her.

Mr. Binns got up for a moment grabbing everyone's attention. Even the kids who were sleeping sat up and pretended like they had been listening the whole time. He got some pictures out of his desk and started passing them around. They were pictures of medieval clothes. When Hermione saw them her heart almost leapt out of her chest. They were gorgeous. How she longed for one of those medieval dresses. Then it came to her. Her poems! She could get one from her poems. But why stop there? The medieval times seemed like a beautiful and action filled time period. It certainly seemed more fun than this age.

Mr. Binns went back to talking about the 'Dragon' Prince as he was so often called, and Hermione started writing.

The Wars were fought.

The cuts were mended.

Take me back to the time now ended.

Medieval shall reign again,

For I am the new Princess,

That was lost back when.

Give me the strength of five soldiers combined.

And a dress that would suit the most divine.

Let me be remembered,

By good things yet few.

Then let me be forgotten,

Like the morning dew.

Class ended just as she wrote her last line. It was good enough.

Hermione met up with Harry and Ron just outside the classroom as they headed for Study Hall where she planned to read it to them.

Once in class Ms. McGonagall took roll call then let them do their homework and talk amongst themselves.

"Hey, guess what?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"What?" Harry answered.

"I wrote another poem," she answered beaming.

"Another?" Ron asked shocked.

"Wow, 'Mione, you just crank these things out one after the other. Let's hear it." Harry smiled back. Hermione read her poem. She got compliments, but she knew they didn't want to criticize her work. She waited the rest of the period working on her math homework. This was odd. Usually at most three minutes would pass and then her poem would be answered. It had been 45 minutes and still nothing. They went to lunch, Hermione a little disappointed. Harry and Ron couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. They figured it was girl stuff.

When asked what was wrong, Hermione just shrugged it off with a short and sweet, "Oh, nothing." They didn't ask after that. Hermione figured she wasn't allowed to skip time either. It made sense, no changing the past and no tampering with free will. Oh well, she had tried.

Half way through Latin class Hermione got a strange feeling. Her head started spinning and she put her hand up to her head.

"You alright, Hermione?" Harry asked worriedly.

"I don't know. I...I think so," Hermione answered, her head now aching.

Harry looked at Draco worriedly. Draco just shrugged, not really seeming to care that Hermione was in pain. Harry glared at him and Draco sighed.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Draco drawled.

"What do you care?" Hermione asked knowing he really couldn't care less.

"I don't," he answered coldly and shrugged at Harry saying without words that he had tried.

"Do you want to go to the nurse?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head. "You sure?" Hermione nodded.

Then it happened. Hermione had just closed her eyes once and she saw it. It started from the clock, 1:28 it read. Some one with bright red hair came out of the bathroom and walked down the hall. A fat kid with blond hair followed him. He had something black in his back pocket. A gun. The fiery red head turned.

"You keep away from her! She's mine!" yelled the fat blond. The vision went into slow motion as Hermione heard a defining explosion. She saw white light coming out of the gun. She could see the bullet heading towards the auburn haired teen. He just stood there, paralyzed for the moment. His senses kicked in as he took a step backwards when the bullet went straight through his side. He fell to the ground as the blond slipped away. She saw the blood seeping out of the red haired boy. Realization sprung upon her as she awoke to find her self sprawled out onto the floor, students surrounding her and the teacher hovering above her.

"Ron!" she exclaimed jumping up and checking the clock. 1:28. Hermione ran outside the classroom just in time to see Ron coming out of the bathroom.

The blond boy came. Dudley Dursley. She should have known.

"Hermione!" Dudley called, Ron turned. "What does this kid mean to you?" he called to her still hiding the gun that was in his back pocket.

Hermione started breathing fast. Ron was one of her best friends. One of the only two people who had ever paid attention to her. He and Harry meant the world to her.

"Everything!" she called back hoping that Dudley would for once have a heart. He only glared at Ron and pulled up the gun. "NO!" Hermione screamed running forward.

The slow motion came again. The explosion, the white light.

"Ron! Move!" she pleaded, but he stayed. He stepped back and the bullet went straight through him. Teachers and students ran out of their classrooms as Dudley slipped away. She ran over to Ron crying hard.