Dreams

"Granger?"

"Yes, Zabini?" the curly-haired girl replied, completely engrossed in the parchment before her.

"May I borrow your notes for last Tuesday's Ancient Runes class?"

Absentmindedly, Hermione rifled through some parchments in her bag. She flipped her hair back from her face and handed the requested notes to the dark-haired boy standing before her. "Here you are," she said without looking up at him.

"Thanks," Blaise replied as he took the parchments, and plopped down on the couch next to her with a sigh of relief. He had had a long day, filled with classes and Head Boy duties. He glanced at the brunette seated next to him with a thoughtful look. Even though they were sharing a common room this year, he had yet to figure out the enigma that was Hermione Granger.

Blaise grinned as he watched as she chewed on the end of her quill with a thoughtful expression on her face. He let his thoughts drift as he recalled the past six years of his Hogwarts' education. He had been intrigued by Granger since his first year. Everyone in the school knew that she was the brains behind Potter's schemes, and he respected her vast knowledge. When Blaise discovered that she was Head Girl, he was even more interested in her. Although he was a Slytherin, he was first and foremost a student; thus, her intelligence was of much more significance to him than her heritage. During their first month as Head Boy and Head Girl, he had been cautious when dealing with her, because he was not sure how she would react to him.

Granger had initially been aloof; however, once she had realized that he did not think of her as a mudblood, she gradually became more cordial. Blaise had been surprised when he gradually realized that she had a sense of humor, and didn't try to show off her intelligence; she just couldn't help her love of learning and sharing knowledge. As they had many classes together, they eventually became study partners.

Blaise was not sure when he first noticed, but he soon discovered that he admired Granger... quite a bit. He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes roaming her body with satisfaction and longing. The years had been kind to Granger; she had grown from a bushy-haired buck-toothed girl into a curly-haired, pensive young woman. A sudden growth spurt at the end of her sixth year had blessed her with soft curves and creamy, glowing skin. But who is she, underneath all that beauty? Blaise wondered. He was dying to find out more about her, but was unsure of how to go about it.

There's no point, old chap, he told himself. She'll never look at you twice, considering that you're in Slytherin. Blaise had always been proud of his House, but at that moment, he was disgusted with it. If it weren't for prats like Malfoy... his thoughts trailed off. He sighed, reluctantly turning his attention to the notes sitting on his lap.

He picked up the first piece of parchment and glanced at it. To his great surprise, the first words on the page were not notes; in fact, they had nothing to do with Ancient Runes at all. His curiosity got the best of him; once he had checked that Hermione wasn't paying attention to him, he began reading in earnest.

What do people see when they look at me? Am I nothing more than a bushy-haired know-it-all, Head Girl and best friend of Harry Potter? No one has ever tried to see me as more than those things. I love reading and studying, and I have a thirst for knowledge, everyone knows that. But did they ever know that I enjoy writing as well? No one knows that I've always wanted to be a writer. Harry is too busy staying alive and fighting Voldemort, while Ron is preoccupied with Quidditch. Ginny still obsesses over Harry and can't drag herself from him. I can't talk to Lavender or Parvati. If I tried talking to any of the other boys in my year, they would dismiss me as unimportant. After all, I'm Hermione Granger, which means that I'm two-dimensional and barely even a girl.

Since I arrived at Hogwarts, I've had no time to write. In between keeping Harry and Ron out of trouble and my studies, I've barely had time to sleep! Furthermore, the pace of the war is picking up, and the fear of what could happen drains all of the energy in me. I don't think I have a creative bone left in my body. I love being here, but at this rate, I'll never get to see my childhood dream come true-

The words ended abruptly, so Blaise was startled when he began reading equations and Rune symbols. He slowly lowered the parchment to his lap and stared off into space. So there is more to her than meets the eye, he thought triumphantly. He glanced at her again, noticing that she was still oblivious to him. How do I show her that I see her as more than a know-it all? he wondered. He rose from the sofa and whispered, "Granger?"

When she looked up from her writing, Blaise was saddened by what he saw. Her hazel eyes, which usually danced with humor and interest, were deadened and tired. Her bottom lip was raw where she had bitten it in concentration. Her cheekbones were hollow, and the skin under her eyes was smudged with shadows. I really have to do something, Blaise thought with pity. Instead, he continued in a louder voice, "I'm going to take these notes with me to my room. Would you mind if I give them back to you tomorrow?"

She shrugged and murmured, "It's fine," before returning to her work.

He gave her a long look, then picked up his bag and went to his room.

~*~

Hermione awoke and sat up in bed, stretching her arms out as far as she could while yawning sleepily. Crookshanks jumped onto the bed and settled on her lap, purring contentedly. She smiled fondly at her familiar while scratching him behind his ears. He's getting so big, she marveled, I wonder what he's been eating... She glanced at the clock, and was startled when she realized that breakfast was currently underway. Oh no! she thought as she sprang from her bed. She paid no attention to the petulant yowl from Crookshanks, and started flinging clothes on. After she had hurriedly cleaned her teeth and arranged her uniform into some semblance of neatness, she grabbed her book bag and flung her door open.

Hermione was in such a rush that she tripped and fell on her knees as she walked out of the door. With a frown, she looked down and noticed that she was kneeling on her Ancient Runes notes. Zabini must have left them here last night, she thought as she gathered up the pieces of parchment. Despite her lateness, she ordered the sheets into a pile and walked back into her room to deposit them on her bed. Before she put them down, she glanced down at the first page momentarily.

She was shocked when she read, What do people see when they look at me? Her eyes widened with horror as she continued to read the blurb. She had been in a foul mood that day in Ancient Runes because Harry and Ron had been discussing the upcoming Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match all day. Dying for a way to release her tension without yelling, Hermione wished that she had a diary to write her thoughts down. She had been keeping one since she was able to write, but she stopped after what had happened to Ginny with Tom Riddle's diary. Although she had stopped for a good reason, she still missed using words to express her feelings on paper; so, Hermione had decided to write on parchment, and eventually bind them together into a book. When class had started, she had forgotten to start taking notes on another piece of parchment. She had made a mental note to transcribe her words later, but she had been swamped with work after class was over and completely forgot about her "diary."

Thus, when Zabini had asked for her notes, she had given them to him without thinking. He must have read this! her mind screamed at her. Hermione's shoulders slumped as she sighed resignedly. Great, another thing I have to worry about. After all, no Slytherin worth his salt would give up on such a prime opportunity to torment a mudblood. With a huff of indignation, Hermione remembered the time and rushed out of her room again.

She slammed shut the portrait door to her and Zabini's common room, and set off for the Great Hall in a run. As she raced through the dank, stone hallways, her mind was teeming with thoughts. She had been wary of the Slytherin Head Boy when she first met him. But, she was surprised to discover that he was as studious as she was. As time went on, she also learned that he was quiet and intelligent, and didn't seem to mind that she was Muggleborn. Hermione had decided at that point to accept him as a study partner, but she was still cautious around him because he was in Slytherin. Now that he's got ample material, she groaned inwardly, he's going to make my life a living hell.

Hermione pulled herself to a stop when she reached the doorway of the Great Hall. She stood there for a moment, trying to catch her breath, before she pushed the doors open and walked in. The Hall was filled with students, and no one paid her any mind as she made her way to the Gryffindor table.

"Oi! Hermione!" called Ron over the din. She smiled at him when she saw him, and slipped into the seat that he had saved for her. "Overslept?"

She nodded back mutely, her mouth already stuffed with toast. Harry smiled at her and pushed a plate of eggs towards her. She was surprised when she realized that she was ravenous; must be all that studying and worrying about Zabini, she reasoned as she spooned eggs onto her plate.

As she ate, she listened to Harry and Ron discussing Quidditch; this time, they were heatedly debating the legality of using Cushioning Charms on broomsticks. She sighed inwardly when she realized that they had completely forgotten about her. I don't care how embarrassing it was that Zabini read that, she thought bitterly. Every word of it was true.

She looked up when she heard a multitude of owl hoots, indicating that the post had arrived. She was not expecting any owls, so she was understandably surprised when one landed before her with a package. She fed the owl a bit of her toast and removed the package from its foot.

Hermione stared at it for a moment, wondering who had sent it. It was not her birthday, and Christmas was still a few weeks away. She knew of no relatives who would send her a gift this early...

"Are you going to open that?" Harry asked, cutting into her thoughts. Hermione shook herself out of her reverie and carefully removed the wrapping. Her mouth fell open in surprise when she saw a beautiful, red leather book and an expensive looking quill. She picked up the quill and gasped when she realized that it was a phoenix feather. They're so expensive! Who would have sent this to me?

"What a surprise," Ron said wryly, "it's a book." Hermione gave him a glare, but Harry just grinned.

"Who's it from?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Hermione replied absentmindedly as she picked up the book reverently. She ran her fingers over the leather appreciatively. Whoever they are, they have money, she decided. She opened the book and realized that its pages were blank; it was a diary. But who sent it? she mused. Just as she was about to close the book, her eyes fell on the inside front cover.

She nearly fell out of her seat in surprise. For there, in beautiful script, were inscribed three simple words.

Follow your dreams.