Ad Astra Per Aspera

The Moment I Saw You Cry

In places no one will find

All your feelings so deep inside (deep inside)

It was now that I realized

That forever was in your eyes

The moment I saw you cry

It's no wonder no one can stand her," Ron said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor, "she's a nightmare, honestly!"

Someone knocked into Harry as they hurried past him. It was Hermione. Harry caught a glimpse of her face--- and was very startled to see she was in tears.

*

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and she wasn't seen all afternoon.

*

Hermione, hidden in the library by a stack of books, sobbed quietly to herself. How could one person be so mean? She did have friends! The girls in her dormitory were her friends, and so was Harry, at least she thought he was. She had also met a variety of people from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw who liked her. Who was Ronald Weasley to say people couldn't stand her? The pathetic cretin!

"Bloody Wood, thinking he knows a lot about Quidditch," a voice muttered, somewhere from behind Hermione's books. "The little bugger. 'No, sir, I haven't seen Marcus' homework, I'm sure he didn't do it.' When I get my hands on him, I'll--- I'll---" The person, though Hermione could tell it was a boy, proceeded to curse, using an extent vocabulary.

Hermione couldn't help but giggle. Oops! She covered her mouth, though she couldn't stop her laughter. She was sure she had given out her hiding place.

"Who's there?" the boy asked, sounding angry. "If that's you Weasley, I'm going to---" Peering over Hermione's books, he stopped. "Who are you?" he asked, looking disapprovingly at her Gryffindor robes.

"H--- Hermione. Hermione Granger," squeaked Hermione. The boy was a Slytherin, she could tell by his robes.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" the Slytherin demanded. He was older than her, probably a fifth or sixth year.

Hermione pouted; she didn't even want to see Ron right now. "You've skipped class as well," she pointed out.

The Slytherin grinned. "Not really. The Professor sent me to get some books," he said. "I'm Marcus Flint."

"Oh," Hermione said noncommittally. She had heard rumours that Slytherins were all mean and cruel. By the looks of the Malfoy idiot in their year, she wasn't so sure that the stereotype was wrong.

Marcus raised an eyebrow curiously. Normally he didn't get along with Gryffindors, bunch of dunderheads they were. But this Granger girl didn't seem too bad. She was awfully upset about something, though. He felt a surge of pity in his heart. He quickly dismissed it.

"Why were you cursing Wood?" Hermione asked, looking for conversation. "As a matter of fact, who's Wood? I think I heard his name before."

Unfortunately at the same time, Marcus had asked, "Why were you crying?"

"If I tell you, will you tell me?" Hermione asked. Marcus nodded, and sat next to her. His eyes passed on one of her books (Hogwarts, A History), and he looked back at her.

"One of the boys in my year said nobody could stand me, and I didn't have any friends," Hermione explained, feeling a bit silly at acting like such a baby.

Flint laughed. "Is that why you were crying?" he asked, looking at her stunned. "It was just one boy."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. Stupid Slytherin, she mentally cursed, no feeling at all.

"What's wrong with Wood, then?" she asked, trying to change the conversation. "You said you'd tell."

"Oh, all right. Wood is the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, surely you've heard of him?"

"I think someone named him once," Hermione admitted, "I don't know much about Quidditch."

"Oh, I'll have to show you sometime. Slytherin's got the best team," Marcus said proudly, "Anyway, I happened to have missed a homework, and I was telling Flitwick I couldn't find it---"

"You lied to a teacher?" Hermione asked; looking appalled at such an idea. "How could you lie to a teacher?"

"Oh, don't start," Marcus complained, "Are you interested in the story, or not? I do remind you, I'm expected back in Charms."

"Oh, sorry. So, Wood said you hadn't done your homework, and---?" Seeing Marcus's confused face, Hermione blushed. "I overheard you when you came into the library."

"Cheeky thing, aren't you? Well, Wood told Flitwick, so I didn't get marks for it," Flint continued. "I would have been able to have handed it in tomorrow, if bloody Wood would have kept his bloody mouth shut."

"Serves you right for lying to a teacher," Hermione said.

"Wood just did it hoping I would get a detention and miss Quidditch practice," Marcus grumbled. "He knows Gryffindor won't win this year!"

"My friend Harry Potter is on the team," Hermione said. Quickly, she covered her mouth with her hand. "I don't think I was supposed to say that," she groaned. "Look what you've made me done!"

"Harry Potter is playing for Gryffindor?" Marcus demanded. "The Harry Potter? But that's not possible. First years aren't allowed on the team!"

Hermione let out a squeak, and quickly gathered her things. "I didn't mean to say anything," she wailed. "Now Harry's going to hate me as well, and so will this Wood fellow."

Within a second, Marcus had pulled her into a hug. "Brilliant!" he muttered, "Harry Potter is on the team. I'm going to have to warn the boys... make practice a bit harder. What position is he playing? Seeker, I bet."

"I don't know," Hermione said, angrily. "I shouldn't have told you anything!"

"Must be Seeker," Marcus continued, not listening to her. "Right, we'll have to change a few things."

"Oi," Hermione complained, pulling on his sleeve.

"Yes?" Marcus asked, a glazed look in his eye.

"Please don't tell anyone!" Hermione pleaded. "Not even your team. I wasn't supposed to say anything. Please!"

"Why not? We need to prepare ourselves. This is Quidditch, it means war!"

"Oh, please! Harry will have my head, it was suppose to be a secret," Hermione cried, tears threatened to spill.

Marcus took one look at the girl, and felt immense pity. The poor thing had already had a terrible day, and now some very important information had slipped.

"All right," he said, "I won't tell my friends Potter is playing, but I will increase the practices."

"Only by a bit," Hermione stated.

"Only by a bit," agreed Marcus.

Hermione squealed, and gave him a hug. "You're the best Slytherin in all of Hogwarts," she said. Perhaps the only good Slytherin.

Marcus felt himself blush. "Right, then, I better get back to class," he muttered, "Don't want Slytherin to lose any points." He gathered the books he had come to look for, and gave Hermione a quick wink.

Hermione watched as he left. Suddenly she felt lonely, and the tears forgotten wished to return. Gathering her own things, she ran off to the bathroom.

*

Marcus sat at his usual place at the Slytherin table during the Halloween feast. He couldn't help but notice that Hermione wasn't at the Gryffindor table. He felt a bit guilty for not seeking her out after class and making sure she was all right. Oh well, she would eventually appear. No one would want to miss the Halloween feast!

*

Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll--- in the dungeons--- thought you ought to know."

*

As Marcus followed the Slytherins out of the Great Hall, he stole glances at where the Gryffindor first years were being led out. Hermione wasn't there. He started to feel worried, and wondered if he ought to tell the Weasley prefect.

"Oi, Marcus, walk!" Adrian Pucey complained. "You're holding up the line!"

Marcus stole one quick glance at the first years. He could see Potter and one of the Weasleys sneak away. Were they going to find Hermione? He could only hope so.