Between Genius and Insanity

Between Genius and Insanity

Hermione sighed. She sat alone in the common room, knees tucked up to her chest in front of the fire. With the roaring flame before her, she struggled to keep warm as the snow fell gently outside the window.

It was a sigh of content. Her dark brown eyes seemed to glaze over as she recalled the events of the past few days. Nothing much had happened, other than a few essays (one, a three-footer on the myths and realities of Muggle herbal remedies for Professor Sprout, that she was particularly proud of) and Quidditch match. Harry had taken a nasty fall, but wrist fractures are easily healed. Although, she thought, Harry should have had more sense and read up about that tricky manoeuvre before trying it for the first time on the pitch.

She fidgeted with her hair for a moment, twirling it round a finger.

Holidays were coming up shortly, something for the whole school to look forward to- of course, Hermione had already planned her revision timetable for the week off. She sat and thought a while about what the Christmas decorations in the Great Hall might be like this year. Or in the Library, where they were always festive and brightly coloured, with the greens, reds and golds putting whoever was working there in a lighter mood.

Another sigh; life was good.

Yet there was something missing. Her tone was flat, lacking the usual enthusiasm and energy that was so characteristic of the Hermione Granger everybody knew and loved. As she reached for the glass of water on the table by an abandoned chess set, she realised just exactly what it was. She was alone.

Not just because the room she was sitting in was empty, but also because it had been for most of the past week she had been in there. After so many disturbances, she had told her friends rather sharply to leave her on her own to work. And, for the main part, that was exactly what they had done. Silence and solitude, where she thrived.

Or was it? She was feeling distinctly lonely now, and more so with every minute. The realisation that there was no one here to sit beside, talk to, joke with, had dawned. Her glass halted, part way to her lips, as this sudden recognition of the facts jerked her uncomfortably to reality. How had she been so stupid? She was a natural introvert, she knew that. But ignoring her friends completely? She had become so wrapped up in her studies she had completely isolated herself from the world. All by herself in this vacant room.

"Ah, well," she thought. "Studies matter, they're important. Regular work to focus on. They're what keep me going. Besides, the exams are soon. They'll understand."

She tried to back this up, reason it through, having lived this lie for so long. A battle raged in her head, arguments about her thoughts flying through her imagination as she struggled to come to terms with what she believed. What did she think?

Work was what she was good at. She had spent most of her life doing it, engrossed in learning. It helped to prepare for the future. Never mind about now, you'll need to know that vital piece of information someday. Study could solve anything, in her mind. It always had done before. But then, that was her way. Got a problem? Read a book. That'll tell you how to fix it. Still a problem? Read a book, it'll help take your mind off it. No wonder she spent day after day doing nothing but sitting in the library pouring over page after page of text, diagrams, references.

She had a problem.

She finally lost her grip.

Ginny put her head round the door. Hermione had turned deathly pale.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, gently. No reply. She walked over to her, wondering why the girl was up so late. Hermione usually worked late hours, but never past one in the morning. "Want to talk about it?"

She shook her head, showing Ginny her sore, red eyes. Ginny put her arms around her, trying to comfort her friend. As she sat there, wracked with quiet sobbing and shaking, she mumbled, "Work. Keeps me going," completely oblivious to the glass now lying smashed on the floor as the tears ran down her face.

"No," whispered Ginny, gripping more tightly as Hermione rocked back and forth, feeling nothing but sadness and pity for the girl. "It's what keeps you alone."