The Secret and the Poem

The Secret and the Poem

Hermione Granger, fifth year prefect, was staring out of the window of the girl's dorm, completely and totally miserable. She couldn't quite place a finger on why, though she knew it had something to do with...him. Oh, yes, it was him again. The one who made her feel so happy and hopeful sometimes and dejected and anguished others. How did she get herself into this? What made her feel this way?

Could it be the fact that she loved playing with that wonderful, fluffy, and disheveled black hair so much? Or maybe those bright eyes, always shining. Or maybe it was his loyalty to almost everyone, Hagrid especially. Could it be how brave he was when he ventured into the forest those many times? Or perhaps it was just how happy he looked every time he saw her?

Of course, it wasn't just her that made him that happy. She knew. It was everyone. Though still, he did seem exceptionally happy when he saw her. But no, she knew, he couldn't feel the same way she did. He never would, no matter what. It was impossible, and she knew it was just wishful thinking. But it was this wishful thinking that was driving her insane.

But what if he DID?!? There was a possibility...No there wasn't. She knew that she couldn't go on like this. She had to do SOMETHING about it; otherwise she might just explode. But what could she do?

She wondered if she should tell someone about it. But then, who could she tell? They would just think she was strange. Really, no one would appreciate how much she loved him...

That's when she came up with the idea. She would write a poem to him, and send it to him! Oh, but she knew he would never read it. She could always write it, and then NOT send it if it was no good...

She pulled out a piece of parchment and her inkpot -full of red ink, of course- and quill, and sat down and began to think.

***

Ten minutes later...

***

Hermione was still staring at a piece of blank parchment. She glanced out of the window and saw...him. Oh him! Yes, it was him, standing outside of Hagrid's hut, doing absolutely nothing but spending time with his half-giant friend, those beautiful black tresses blowing softly in the wind...

Inspiration struck, and she soon found her quill scratching merrily on the parchment, spilling out her heart's contents into a sweet poem...

***

One Poem later...

***

Hermione straightened in her chair, raised her work to eye level, and began to read...

I watch you from afar

Because I know your heart so well

You're my bright and shining star,

In my heart you'll always dwell

But will you ever know,

Just how much you mean to me?

O will you never show,

That you really truly see?

I just wanted to say this:

When I first saw you the angels sang,

In case you may have missed,

I'll love you always...

Fang

Love always, Hermione.

Hermione read, reread, and rereread this poem and after staring at it for about fifteen minutes, crumpled it up, and threw it into the fireplace.