Putting the Damage On

Putting the Damage On

Hermione stumbled softly in the corridors as she walked silently alongside Harry and Ron on the way to Transfiguration. Her heart was heavy, her soul restless and she would not admit to herself why; but somewhere deep inside, she knew.

But now I'm wishing

For my best impression

Of my best Angie Dickinson

Ron was in high spirits, telling Harry some perverted dirty joke he had heard from Seamus Finnigan. He and Harry were both laughing.

"Please, Ron," said Hermione, briefly coming out of herself, "I don't want to hear about things like that."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a swot, Hermione. You're so sheltered."

Hermione hated Ron when he made fun of her. Was there something wrong with being nice? Was there?

She continued looking at the floor.

Hermione half-heartedly poked at a lizard on her desk. Harry was talking loudly to Ron behind her, about how wonderful Cho was. Hermione felt something twist in her heart, and she shivered. She muttered a semblance of the proper spell as she poked the lizard absent-mindedly, and its tail turned into a teacup handle. But the rest remained a lizard.

But now I've got to worry

'cause boy you still look pretty

when you're putting the damage on

Harry looked right at Hermione; she quickly turned around, having just realized she had been staring.

"Miss Granger, really now. What is wrong today?" asked Professor McGonagall, gesturing towards the half-transfigured lizard.

"Oh," answered Hermione vaguely. "Sorry, Professor."

"Wow, could it be? Hermione did something wrong for once?" Ron's voice intruded on Hermione's thoughts.

"Ron...," Harry began.

Something in Hermione's brain snapped. "Yes, Ron, I, the ever-present, all-knowing swot got something wrong. I know this surprises you, seeing as how you obviously didn't figure on me being human and having feelings like everyone else!" Hermione said, her face growing red as she trembled with anger and suppressed sadness. Professor McGonagall stared open-mouthed as Hermione gathered up all her things and stalked out of the classroom.

Hermione skipped dinner that evening, and sat in front of the fire in the common room, thinking, trying to make herself believe the truth.

When she really thought about it, Ron's comments hurt. She hated how no one wanted her to be who she was, and at the same time hated who she was. Try as she might, she could not change it. She thought back to first year and before...she used to have herself. She used to have her own thoughts, her own opinions. A tear rolled obtrusively down her face. But she had changed herself for everyone, and now she couldn't stand herself or anyone else...except for one person.

But now I've got to worry

'cause boy you still look pretty

when you're putting the damage on

"Hermione?"

Hermione glanced up, quickly wiping the tears from her face.

"Go away, Harry." But she didn't mean that, she thought, watching his green eyes full of concern, and studying his face and hands without even thinking.

He sat down on the sofa next to her. "No."

"I know I'm a goody-two shoes, Ron already told me. You can go now." She blinked back another tear, but could not look away. But that wasn't really what was bothering her, and she knew it.

He looked at her again, sadly, and stood up and walked away. Checking to make sure he wasn't watching, she let the tears fall again. They splashed onto her hands, and onto the sofa with a soft pat.

He probably really had nothing to say.

Hermione retreated back into her thoughts, looking at her hands.

I'm trying not to move

It's just your ghost passing through

I said I'm trying not to move it's just your ghost passing through

It's just your ghost passing through

And now I'm quite sure

Hermione sat in the library, flipping through her History of Magic book, though not really absorbing anything. She heard whispers around her, sarcastic, scathing...and when she looked up, they were all around her.

Students from every house, pointing at her and taunting her. "Teacher's pet...prefect..." Hermione gazed around nervously.

"She's such a loser."

"Who again?"

"Hermione!"

"Hermione...Hermione..."

"Hermione!" Someone was poking her awake...it was a dream...

Hermione squinted through the dark, and suddenly realized she had fallen asleep on the common room couch. It was difficult to see, but she knew who it was.

"It's three in the morning, Harry. I thought I told you to go away."

'cause now I'm worrying

'cause even still you sure are pretty

when you're putting the damage on

"I couldn't sleep. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Harry. Why don't you go find your beloved Cho or your idiot best friend?"

Instead of listening, he wiped the unseen tears away from her face with a gentle hand.

"Stop it, Harry."

"This doesn't have everything to do with what Ron said, does it?" Hermione knew as well as he did; she didn't want to hear what it really was, but Ron's comment had stung an already bruised soul.

"Shut up, you don't know." She sniffed and looked away.

And he kissed her.

Hermione pulled away with a small sob. "I hate it when you're always right! Don't try to make it worse."

You're just so pretty

When you're putting the damage on

"And I know about you and Cho."

"There's nothing about me and Cho."

"Then what was all that in Transfiguration?"

"I was being stupid and trying not to look like I..."

"Like you...?"

"Like I love you."

"How...?"

"You wear your emotions on your sleeve, Hermione."

Hermione felt the weight lifting from her heart. It was her feelings for Harry she had been hiding, and it had never been plainer than it was at that moment; inexplicably, one last tear traveled down her cheek, and as she hugged him tight, she felt that life had taken a definite turn for the better.