Stupid Little Love Story

One by one, little flickers of light appeared, tiny miniscule stars that seemed to pop into existence before her very eyes. Hermione smiled; it felt rather strange, she hadn't smiled for a long time. She studied the night sky, and from countless Astronomy lessons could pick out forming constellations and vaguely see what might be Mars, hovering over the horizon.

A sigh escaped her no longer smiling lips. She was sitting outside, and a wind rustled around her cloak, making her shiver and pull her legs in closer to her body. It was night, and everyone was asleep. But not Hermione- she didn't sleep much these days. Her mind wandered to Harry, and she wondered if he could sleep either. After all, many more things rested on his shoulders then hers.

Nobody was outside at this time of night, just Hermione, and she found it peaceful. It wasn't for her, the forced cheerfulness of people who were waiting for something to happen. She couldn't stand the stifled atmosphere; the worried looks on everyone's faces as they whispered and pretended everything was normal. Yes, she missed the days when all they had to worry about was Potions homework; but that was then, and this was now, and it irritated her that nobody else seemed to feel the way she did.

She let her mind make its way back to Harry. She thought about him so often it felt like he was almost consuming her from the inside. Hermione hated the look that was so often on his face; it was a tired and despairing look, and she longed to-

But no, that wasn't proper, and besides, he was with Ginny. She was the one who got to smooth out the worry on his face, kiss his hair into place and tell him that he was going to be okay. Hermione wasn't jealous- oh, fine, she was. But being jealous was useless, Hermione scolded herself.

She sighed again and shook her head, still looking without seeing at the night sky. Her mind did this a lot; went around in circles, driving her crazy. Nobody really knew what was happening- not even her, as close as she was to Harry. All anybody knew was that the war was close, so close, and something was happening, just nobody knew what.

Hermione wrapped her cloak around her tighter and shifted slightly. It wasn't a good night to go outside and contemplate the stars, it was too cold. The chilly wind seemed to her almost an omen of what was to come- not that she believed in that Divination rubbish.

Maybe it was almost romantic, she mused to herself, though that was a bit of a far stretch. In an attempt to cheer herself up, Hermione had immersed herself in the world of fairytales. The present scenario almost seemed to be coming out of one of her books- everyone waiting with bated breath to watch the hero fight the dragon.

Once upon a time there was a boy, a prince of a boy.

Yes, that would be a good start to a story. Hermione smiled one of her rare smiles again, and started to weave a tale inside of her lonely head.

He was special, this boy.

So special that nobody except for her seemed to comprehend how special he was.

His name was Harry.

Harry. She whispered it out loud to herself, and his name felt sweet on her lips.

Once upon a time, there was a girl.

Her name was Hermione.

Hermione bit her lip, thinking hard.

The prince-boy, Harry, had a deadly enemy.

But he was brave.

So brave, that the girl-

She told herself that this was a fairytale. Not real life. Never real life.

-fell in love with him.

But she'd never tell.

Hermione blew out a breath into the still, chilly air, and let the words arrange themselves in her head. She spoke quietly in the silence, letting her words drift away from her, feeling a bit silly but strangely comforted. It was only a story she was telling herself; only a story.

The prince-boy had to face his enemy.

The girl cried, because she loved him so, and she didn't want him to be hurt. But nobody dried her tears, because she let nobody see them.

Hermione felt something wet on her cheek, and with a start realized her eyes were becoming wet. She let the tears fall, dripping down her skin and landing on her twisted hands as she stared sightlessly into the sky, listening to the story she was creating.

The girl tried to help her prince, but he wouldn't let anybody help him. He told everyone he had to do it alone. She wept bitter tears for his courage, for she so wanted to be by his side.

Hermione buried her face into her knees, letting the tears flowed unchecked. She choked slightly as she whispered his name into her cloak, letting nobody hear.

"Harry...Harry..."

The girl was so afraid.

"Harry..."

Hermione tried to pull herself together.

But the girl could do nothing, was nothing, would never be anything but nothing to her shining prince.

The sobs came again, and Hermione did her best to stifle them, stuffing some cloth into her mouth and biting down hard, her shoulders shaking. She cried steadily, venting some of her fear and anxiety and pain. Hermione finally lifted her head, her eyes red and swollen, and she stared out at the black sky. She didn't notice the cold now- it seemed to have faded. Why should she? She was always cold inside anyways.

Always so cold.

And soon, the prince would face the dragon, and the girl-

Hermione choked on the words.

-could only watch and hope.

Hermione wouldn't let the tears come. She would be brave, brave like Harry.

And when the good prince met his evil enemy-

The good, dear, wonderful prince-

There would be a battle-

She shook her head to clear her eyes.

A great battle-

Hermione paused, her emotions almost getting the better of her.

And the best the girl could do was to be ready to catch her prince if he fell.

She got up roughly, almost violently in her haste to escape the words she had spoken, still lingering in the air. Hermione had no idea why she had started making up a stupid story in the first place. She headed back to her dorm, her eyes performing the familiar flick to the boys' dorm before she went up to her bed.

After all, she thought as she lay in her bed and listened to her dorm-mates' breathing; she had just been telling herself a stupid little love story. It was a bad idea, and now she regretted it. Because not all love stories had happy endings.