Butterflies - Chapter 1 - Epiphanies.
Day 1.
Harry crossed it off on the usual chart he had drawn himself upom arriving home from his fifth, and in his opinion, his most eventful year of Hogwarts. He had no idea why he had decided to make a new chart this summer; he wasn't entirely fussed where he was. 'Either way,' he thought. 'I know i'll be miserable.'
He crossed his bedroom, walking past his school trunk, his Firebolt and Hedwig's Cage, which he had just dumped, unceremoniously in the middle of the floor. He threw himself onto his bed, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling. he felt nub, he could not get the events of last term out of his head.
'It was his fault', He told himself, still staring at the dull, dirty white ceiling. 'Everything always came down to him. First his Mother and Father, now Sirius. who had been the closet thing to a parent he had ever known.'
He twisted his undernourished body onto it's side, while his thoguhts turned to his faithful friends, who he had, unknowingly, led into a trap devised by Lord Voldemort himself, to play on Harry's own weakness, his 'love of playing-the-hero' As hermione had called it.
Hermione.
His thought s backtracked to that moment in the Department of Mysteries, that split second that seemed like an
eternity. He remembered, with a slightly choking lump in his throat, how Antonin Dolohov, one of Voldemorts Death
Eaters ha brutally slashed her across the chest, her small, almost calmly surprised gasp as she fell backwards onto the
floor, lying, motionless.
'It was all my fault... my fault. She could have died and it would have been my fault.'
He found himself trying to imagine a life without Hermione, but found he could not do it. Maybe it was that unbearable that his mind simply refused to think about it, he did not know. For some reason, he could do it for Ron, however much he hated to, however cold and miserable it would be. But he couldnot do it for Hermione. He wondered vaguely why this was, and remembered the solidarity and Loyalty she had shown him throughout the years. That was it. She had shown him more loyalty over the years than even Ron.
When the school (including Ron), would not believe him for not putting his name in the Goblet of Fire, she alone had believed him and stood by him. Despite her apparant fear of Flying, she had joined him in his rescue of his newly found godfather, riding on the back of a flying Buckbeak the Hippogriff, clinging tightly to him. Last year, however much she had said it was a bad idea, she came with him to break into Professor Umbridges office, to check if Sirius was in danger, and came up with the brilliant cover story when they were caught. He could still remember, with a fond smile, when they went into the forest twice last year, once to meet Hagrid's 'little' brother, Grawp, they stayed instinctively close to each other all the time, her clinging to him behind a tree, sobbing and whimpering, him hugging her back, protecting her, keeping her safe from harm. At teh time, he wouldn't have thougth about it,there was too much going on, but now he looked back on it, it felt like it was nice, like it shouldn't have been anyone holding her and protecting her.
She even gave him girl advice, he thought fondly, as he recalled his date fiasco with Cho, and Hermione's advice on the matter. She suggested, in furture, not to tell his date that he was meeting with Hermione straight afterwards, and even made a suggestion to call her ugly.
Harry could not imagine why he would ever call Hermione ugly. Despite pug-faced Pansy Parkinson's frequent jealous attempts to make everyone believe otherwise, Hermione was actually nothing short of the word Beautiful. Her once bushy brown hair, was now a mass of fantastic, smooth chestnut curls, framing her youthful, yet womanly face perfectly. Her big Caramel-cup chocolate eyes seemed to compliment her face beautifully, and her body had filled out in all the right places and had all the right curves. Hary found himself checking her out once or twice, watchign her from behind revision books, spotting her biting her frosty red lips as she worked tirelessly...
Harry mentally slapped himself to get thesse thoughts of Hermione out of his head. She was, after all, Harry's best friend of nearly 5 years. He didn't want to ruin that just by his raging hormones. His friends were everything to him, He had no proper friends until he met them.
'But why am I think of her like this?' he demanded of himself, his palms pressing onto his eyelids. Removing them and causing blinking blue stars to shott in front of his eyes, he was strongly reminded of another twinkly blue-eyed person, who for the whole of last year, Harry had come close to hating. He stood up and walked over to his mirror. He surveyed his reflection half-heartedly, not really caring what he looked like. He could easily spot that he was pale, his Jet-black Hair, Lightning bolt scar, and brilliant bottle-green eyes positively screamed that fact out at him. He could also see that even though he was very thin, his minimal Quidditch practice , and his efforts for the DA that year had finally done him some justice. He was no longer skinny and lanky, he had a nice build to him, muscly, but not overly big. He sat down on the floor, his hands around his knees.
'Why do these thoughts of Hermione keep coming up now?' He shook his head, as if giving it a little shake around would shock it into working. 'Ron was hurt too, but i don't see me reminiscing about good times with him.'
'You don't feel the way you do about Hermione with Ron, that's why.'
The nasty little voice in his head was back.
Harry sighed. he knew having inside debates with little voices in his head were not a good sign. he had been warned
about that in second year when he kept hearing snakes, by, none other, than Hermione.
'What exactly do I feel for Hermione then?'
'Oh, I don't know,' the nasty little voice was now dripping with sarcasm Harry was strongly reminded of the Potions master, Professor Snape. 'The constant thoughts of her, not being able to imagine life without her, staring at her when you think she isn't looking, watching her work... If I didn't know better, Harry Potter, I'd say you were in lo-'
'BOY!'
Harry groaned and stood up slowly, his back aching slightly. He felt extremely angry with his Uncle for interrupting
this crucial stage of his epiphany, just to call him for some rotten job he didn't want to do himself. Dragging
himself toward the door, he looked back at his school trunk. Maybe it was his mind thinking of her that made him
remember, but as he glanced at his trunk, he realised, he still had one of Hermiones books: Advancing in
Charms.As he turned to walk out of the doorway, he smiled to himself. Hermione would be missing her book, he told
himself, and it would only be good grace to return it to her.