Behind Emerald Eyes

Enough

"To walk within the lines would make my life so boring. I want to know, if I have been, to be extreme. So knock me off my feet. Come on know give it too me. Anything to make me feel alive. Is it enough to love...is it enough to breathe...somebody rip my heart out and leave me here to bleed...is it enough to die...somebody save my life...I'd rather be anything but ordinary please..." - Enough by Avril Lavigne

France was quite cold this time of year. An icy frost lay over the roads and the windows were caked in a thick ice. Tires squealed when they braked too suddenly, the cars sliding a few dangerous feet. Passers-by were cloaked and wrapped in warm clothes, cheeks rosy from the chilly winds.

A wide stream was frozen over. A few small children were ice-skating over the frozen surface. Their screams of joy carried on the breeze. A young woman passed them and smiled despite the cold. Her thick brown her was pulled back in a messy pony-tail and cascaded down her back in waves. A long trench-coat was soaked on the outside but kept her inner clothing clean and warm. A book was clutched in one arm and the other was holding a leather case. Her walk was quick and determined, her step only stopping when a pair of brown eyes scanned the titles of a shelf of second hand books. Continuing on her way, Hermione Granger made it all the way to her apartment block.

Her room was on the second floor, Hermione being not too fond of heights. When she reached number thirteen, she entered after unlocking the door with an old brass key. Even though she shared the apartment with another, the room managed to be spotlessly clean and perfectly arranged. Everything was placed according to Hermione's liking, that meaning a strict order had to be managed. Nothing was to be left on the ground or re-arranged.

Hermione placed her bag on the table beside the door and took off her coat and hung it on the hook. She shook the tiny flakes of snow from the chestnut locks upon her head and yawned, strolling into the small Living Room. When she entered the kitchen, a crackling fire was left in the grate behind her.

After fixing herself a nice bowl of chicken soup, Hermione sank down in one of the plush armchairs in the Living Room and pulled out her book. Life had been pretty ordinary for Hermione Granger these last few years. After graduating from Hogwarts and spending a year or two browsing around for a good job to settle down in, she was offered the position of Transfiguration professor at Beauxbatons. So she moved to Lyon in France and journeyed to Beauxbatons every August thirty-first to prepare lessons. It was only a quick apparation trip to the Pyrenees mountain range where she landed in the small Wizarding village of Beauxhill just outside the town of Montrejeau. There she caught one of the flying carriages to the great palace's front doors. The palace was just as beautiful as Fleur Delacour had said. With brilliant marble staircases and ice sculptures at Christmas. It was almost as lovely as Hogwarts.

Almost.

The door creaking open drew Hermione's attention from her book about a man and woman who fell in love then discovered that the girl had leukaemia and had only a year to live. She cast her dark eyes to the girl entering her apartment and smiled. It was her room mate, Pru Davies. Pru was an American, so there was no need to speak French between them. She had long golden brown hair and stunningly bright blue eyes. She had attended the Salem Academy for magical people in America. They were the same age and enjoyed most of the same things.

"Hey, Hermione," said the witch brushing snow flakes from her long hair. Placing her book down Hermione greeted her. "Hi, Pru. How was your day at the shop?' Pru Davies worked at the local Wizarding radio station. It was called: Pru's True Hour. It was basically a light psychic radio station for the magical. Pru had a small talent in Divination and could occasionally prophesize about the future. But only sometimes. She would mostly only joke about making predictions, like the next one.

"I predict a dark stranger will make his appearance when the hour strikes eight this evening. He will not be alone but will bring a form from your past and with him memories of old!" Hermione chuckled and threw a cushion at her. The two girls laughed heartily. When the two had first met, they immediately bonded and got along. Both quite clever and following the same beliefs about the 'improper' imprisonment of house-elves. But Pru enjoyed partying as well as reading. And her job went against Hermione's view of magic.

"You do know that Divination isn't really magic. It's just a condition of the brain that makes you capable of seeing a fraction into the future, which is highly inappropriate. Seeing what's coming before it happens is just scary. What if you see yourself die then try and prevent it? It will throw the whole balance of life awry!" Hermione said. Pru rolled her eyes sitting opposite her friend and pulling out an extremely thick novel.

"I've lost count of how many times of heard that from you, Hermi!" the girl laughed at the truly horrified expression on Hermione's face. "And I can't remember how many times I've told you NOT to call me 'Hermi'!" Pru snorted and that was the last noise from the two witches as they both lost themselves in the books.

An hour passed by without much excitement. Pru was still wrapped up in her two-thousand page novel when Hermione finished hers. Over the passed few years, the clever witch had read more books than she thought possible. All her old school books had been re-read many times. The book-case in her room was completely covered with muggle stories, encyclopaedias, reference books, magic text books on Transfiguration, the Dark Arts, Potions, Charms, Astronomy. Any book you could name, Hermione had it. Since her leave from Britain, all she did was read and go to work. Her free time was spent in the pages of a love novel or reading up on a new theory with Transfiguration. Reading was the only way for her to stop thinking about the passed. It was her own way of forgetting. But even books run out.

"I'm just going to have a look at that second hand book store again, okay?" Hermione said. A small groan from her room-mate was the only answer. A small smile flickered over Hermione's lips before she grabbed her bag and exited the apartment. The cold wind was the first thing that met her. She immediately pulled her cloak tighter to her body and wrapped her scarf more securely around her neck. 'Pages' was the name of the second hand muggle book store a block from Hermione's apartment. It was in this store that Hermione bought most of her time-passing items. The bookshop owner was an overly know-it-all old woman who was obsessed with the lives of her customers. Her name was Mrs. Ghats and her late husband had owned the convenience store at the corner. When he passed on, Mrs Ghats had became even more possessive of her books and only let the most trusted people take them from her.

When Hermione entered the small, cramped store, the familiar smell of musty old books met her senses. It seemed as if there was no room at all to move inside. But if you looked closely you could find a thin track leading around certain shelves. Hermione followed an incredibly small trail between two looming walls of encyclopaedias. Up two steps and along another wall of animal books, brought her to the section about romance and suspenseful drama. She was only browsing for a few minutes when Mrs Ghats appeared suddenly beside her.

Hermione jumped when she spoke in her wispy, soft voice.

"Back again, dear?" Hermione dropped a book by Linda Newcast in a start. The old woman glared at her briefly at her carelessness before placing a sickening smile on her cracked lips. Hermione strained a smile.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Ghats. Yes, I finished that book by Claudia Finch. It was a really sad ending. How that girl dies in her boyfriends arms just before his birthday. I was wondering if you had anymore like them?" The old wench looked at the shelf a few seconds, fingering the spines of an assortment of books before she pulled at a small skinny tomb.

"This one is about two best friends who grow up together before something happens to one of them and they split up..."

"I've read it!" Hermione immediately answered. The plot of that book sounded a bit too familiar for her liking. The face of a black haired boy flashed in her mind. She shook her head, trying to rid the picture of one lost old friend...

The main reason Hermione lost herself in the books was to not think. To forget her old life. And the people that came with it. Her books allowed her that. With the stories of other lives and other people doing things she only dreamt of. In the books, she could forget. Forget Harry Potter. Forget Ron Weasley. Just forget everything. When she read, she even forgot her own name. It was a freedom that only could be found in the pages of a book. And she treasured that feeling like no other. In her school days, her two best friends did not understand why she read all the time. Why she endlessly studied. It was because she was able to escape in the pages of a novel. Or be free while reading up on some new Potion or spell. But back then, she only wanted to be free of school work and the horrors of Voldemort and the war. She never wanted to forget the friendship she loved so much. Every minute she read or studied, she thought of Harry. She thought of Ron. They used to be her boys. Her brothers. Ron as the comical clown of the trio. Always smiling and joking. He could be an idiot all his life but he could also be a hero when the time came. Harry was the saviour. Her knight in shining armour. Whenever danger found them, he was the one to save her.

But now when she read, she read to forget about them. Not about school, because that was over. But about her funny clown and brilliant hero. They made her remember what it was like when Voldemort reigned. It made her remember that dreadful day when the headmaster informed her of her mothers death. It had been the cause of Death Eaters. They attacked their house when she had been in school. Her father was out at the time and when he returned to the family home, he found it in flames and the body of her mother sprawled on the front lawn. Naturally, he called the muggle police. But it wasn't until an Auror got wind of the disaster that the true nature of the attack was shown. When the wizards arrived at the scene, they found a great green skull floating in the sky above the home. Hermione had been told that day. It had been the worst of her life. Because she lost her mother and because she lost Harry.

When Harry heard the news, he withdrew from everyone. It had been in Seventh year, at the beginning. Of course, Harry blamed himself. If Hermione had not been friends with him, then her mother would be still alive. As the weeks passed, he slowly became a bit more like himself. But you could see it in his eyes that it still affected him greatly. In every action he made and speech he made. You could hear the pain surfacing. From that point on he took more care in class. His grades shot up, not that he cared. He only wanted to become stronger. Hermione knew he had to defeat Voldemort and only he was capable of taking down the monster. He had not shared the secret of the lost prophecy but Hermione had figured it had said something of that nature. By the end of seventh year, Harry was much more smarter, stronger and powerful a person than she could ever be.

And when that day came when Voldemort struck the school with his dark forces, Harry was ready. But so was she and Ron. Hermione wanted to fight by Harry's side. To help him overcome his destiny. To reach it and destroy Voldemort. But when she discovered Harry's Barrier Spell she did everything in her power to break it. But it was too strong. It made her feel useless and defenceless. If she couldn't even break through a simple Force-Field Charm, than how could she stand up against hundreds of death eaters? How could she face Voldemort and stare into hose merciless red eyes? And how many times had Harry done it? He had defeated him more five times and lived to tell the tale.

When she watched her best friend, brother and guardian walk into the battle of Hell, she lost her will to live. It seemed all hope was lost. He made her feel small and useless. Ron was the only thing keeping her alive. Inside the castle and through the walls, you could hear every spell fired. You could hear every scream. And you didn't know whether it was from someone you knew or a death eater. It was terrible. She tried everything to escape and help fight. She tried blasting a whole in the wall or breaking through a window, but Harry's spell was meant to keep people from entering or exiting the castle. And that's what it did. Occasionally, a death eater would try to break in. You could here their futile attempts go wasted.

And when the battle was over, she thought it had been Harry who died. Her body went cold when she looked out upon the massacre on the grounds of Hogwarts. There were bodies everywhere. Of students, teachers, Aurors and magical creatures. Her and Ron walked out together the first years in their shadows. All were crying. Their cheeks red and raw from the many tears spilt over ones who fought and died. Brothers who lay dead at their feet. Sisters missing under the thousands of lost souls. Hermione and Ron walked out together, she crying and Ron holding back the tears threatening to spill. They searched for their brave friend. And they found him. Harry looked so powerful and frightening standing over the body of Dumbledore, and the form of Tom Riddle lying dead behind him. When Hermione saw the lifeless face of the worlds idle, she broke down.

Every angry thought she had been thinking of while being stuck in the castle, erupted forth. Every sad thought, every angry, scared and furious word spilt out as she yelled them at Harry. And he just stood there. That's what had torn her the most afterwards. How he just stood there, staring at her with his brilliant green eyes. And how they were so sad. It was as if he just heard Sirius was dead again. He looked so broken and that tore her to pieces. But still she screamed at him while he stood there, listening and not saying anything. Then Ron had his go and Harry's eyes grew dull and face still blank. She watched him, her own heart pounding and tears streaming. He was covered in blood. His own and others just covered him. His robes were ripped and skin scratched and scorched. His arm looked broken but still he clamped his wand. And when Ron had finished yelling his anger out, Harry bowed his head and looked at the form of his headmaster of seven years and hero of old.

And when he looked up, her heart dropped. He was so weak and broken, torn in more places in one. Hermione watched one single tear escape and run down his filthy cheek. It left a single streak of clean through the dirt and blood. And with his heartbroken, Hermione heard two words that haunted her soul.

"I'm sorry..." Then he was gone. Just the memory of a boy who saved the word and the wreckage of one of the most prestige schools in all Britain. Life had been lost. Souls missing. Hearts broken. They all went their own ways after that. And it still broke Hermione down to this day just thinking about the friendship she ruined and the brother she lost.

A hand on her shoulder brought her from her stupor.

"Ms. Granger?" Hermione shook her head and wiped the tear away that had been running down her cheek. "Are you alright, dear?" Hermione strained a smile.

"Yes, I'm fine just not feeling too well. I might go home," the old book keeper looked at her through a pair of overly-large spectacles and creased her forehead.

"Yes, you do look a little under the weather. Did you still want another book?" Hermione thought for a moment before grabbing the small skinny tomb from Mrs. Ghats' hand. "When I think about it, I haven't read this book!"

.........................

It was seven thirty that evening and Hermione and her room-mate were about to start their dinner. Hermione had been wrapped up in her book named: Once in a Lifetime, all afternoon. She found it very heart wrenching. The characters were nothing like herself or Ron and Harry, but their friendship matched. Just reading it brought back memories she'd rather forget. It made tears spill more than once that day.

"I can't believe you finished that book about that couple already," said Pru chewing on a lemon chicken strip. Hermione looked up from her own salad and smiled. "I'm still reading that mystery book and I started before you began the other book!"

"Well it was a great read. Very romantic but sad. I like those kinds of books, it just makes me feel...alive!" Pru snorted uncharacteristically.

"No, its just because your own love life is non-existent!" laughed Pru, ducking a carrot Hermione flung across at her.

"I do so have a love life, just not at the moment!"

"Sure! Then name the last person you dated?" Pru declared looking triumphant. Hermione scrunched up her face in thought before answering.

"Viktor," she said eyes shining. Pru laughed again. "Hermione, that was two years ago!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "It was not that long ago...was it?" Pru chuckled, throwing the carrot back and hitting Hermione on the nose. She scoffed while Pru laughed harder. Hermione wiped the remains of the vegetable from her face and stood just as the doorbell rang. Pru stopped laughing and grinned.

"Ooh...there's your dark stranger now!" Hermione waved her away, laughing none-the-less. But when she opened the door and saw the figure standing there, she lost all thought. The man before her was the face she dreamt of every night. He was so familiar yet so different.

"Harry...?"

......................................

Hey all this is the first POV of another chapter. This time it was in Hermione's. I hope I got her personality right. I figured she was one never to give and to hold her head high and move on. But even people like that break down sometimes. So, please review and there will be another couple of chapters before another's POV. Until next time faithful readers!!! Thank you! And that was a longer chapter!!!

DW