At Halloween, all of Hermione's doubts and fears come back to her in one crushing bout of loneliness. For once, only one person can really help calm her fears. One-Shot.
From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/1593/
Beautiful
The girl was not beautiful, and she knew it. While all her friends had got taller, grown up and all the other associated things to do with adolescence, she seemed to have remained the same. Her muddy brown hair was the same as it always had been- unruly and annoying, she had grown a few inches, but seemed destined to remain now at five feet five. Whilst every other girl she knew had grown curves, she seemed to be the same. She was now seventeen years old, not old to be sure, but compared to her friends, she was sure that she looked like she was still eleven, just the same as she’d been when she first arrived at Hogwarts. She was now Head Girl, but no matter what, she was still Hermione Granger: bookworm.
She was still the same Hermione. People went to her with homework, but she’d only ever really help her friends Harry and Ron. They still did their homework at the last minute, needing her help on some of it. They however, really had changed. She wondered if growing up was simply more pronounced in boys, but she sometime barely recognised them as the scrawny little boys she’d met on the train. At six feet two, Ron towered over every one with his red hair, while his voice had dropped at least an octave. He was now the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, playing Keeper as Oliver Wood had done. Unlike Oliver though, Ron tried not to run his team into the ground with endless practices. Harry, on the other hand, remained a respectable six feet tall, yet was as wiry as the day she’d met him. Like Ron, his voice had deepened and seemed to her to have become positively velvety sounding His black hair was as messy as always, and his emerald green eyes still sparkled mischievously behind his glasses. In fact, every time she looked into those eyes, two things happened. Firstly, her heart flipped and secondly she had an almost overwhelming urge to sing ‘We’re Off To See The Wizard’ (She found this funny on two counts).
She realised that it wasn’t entirely true, she had changed. Not physically, it seemed (except for the monthly curse of menstruation which had hit her last year, and the bra she’d finally got last summer) but certainly emotionally. She knew, as did everyone of course, that girls matured faster than boys, and so it hadn’t come as a complete surprise to Hermione when, about two years ago, she’d found herself falling in love with her best friend. At first, she wasn’t even sure if she was in love with the red head or the black-haired best friend, but soon it became apparent to her that her heart only flipped when she looked at Harry. She’d dismissed it easily with one of her scientific explanations (hormones, changing feelings, growing up, perhaps a psychological need to love, the teen crush theory) but that was before he turned into what Parvati Patil had described as ‘The Hunk Who Lived’. When he’d turned up at Kings Cross in this new and improved manner last year, it had taken most of the trip to Hogwarts for her to recover the gift of speech, and she’d had to explain it away on the flu. It wasn’t normal Hermione behaviour, to be sure. The last time she’d been even half as tongue-tied, Gilderoy Lockhart had been the new DADA teacher. And she’d been twelve and impressed by colourful robes and even more colourful stories.
She, Ron and Harry had remained as fast friends as they’d ever been. While everyone else seemed intent on finding dates for Hogsmeade trips, the trio seemed content to stay as they were. Ron had taken Lavender Brown to Hogsmeade a couple of times, but they’d always ended up hanging out with Harry and Hermione at The Three Broomsticks anyway. Hermione had got to know Lavender rather better over the last year, particularly when the pretty Lavender had confided in Hermione that she had what she described as a ‘monster crush’ on Ron. Hermione had laughed and promised not to tell. Since then, the two had become closer friends, which was good for Hermione. Try as she might to reject the idea, Hermione did need a close friend who wasn’t Ron or Harry, and Lavender seemed happy to accept the role. The other girl had tried to interest Hermione in the finer points of hair, make up and other style points, but Hermione really wasn’t interested. When she was still quite young, she had read an alternate Cinderella story, where Cinders had been vain but beautiful and the ugly sisters had in fact, not been ugly but had just not cared for their appearances. The story, with its telling of highly intelligent, intellectual young women who were confident enough not to set too much store in their looks had hit a nerve with Hermione. Since then, she’d always tried to be like that. She knew that there was someone out there that didn’t care about what she looked like, but what went on inside her head. But sometimes.... Sometimes she really wished that whomever he was he’d hurry up and find her.
Hermione was, in the deepest recesses of her heart, lonely. Oh, she knew full well (better than most girls her age) that she didn’t need a boyfriend to make her a well-rounded human being. She knew, in fact, that she’d rather not have a boyfriend than be with someone she didn’t love. But the fact was, she was sixteen years old and aside from Victor Krum in the fourth year, she’d never been asked out. Part of her told her that it was because nobody wanted to mess with Ron and Harry. They were known to be fiercely protective of Ginny Weasley, who really had turned into a beauty. It was only fair that boys would think Ron and Harry’s reactions would be the same for Hermione. But she also knew that there wasn’t anyone in school who wanted to ask her out. She wasn’t stupid, she knew what boys talked about when they weren’t around girls. And she also knew that, while Lavender, Parvati, Ginny and most of the other girls were among the subjects discussed, she was not. She didn’t need to fool herself into thinking she was a highly desired object, in fact, she’d be insulted if she was. Yet, there was that loneliness which, no matter how adept she became at pushing it down, had the annoying habit of surfacing when she least expected it.
She should have expected it at Halloween, when it came time for the Hogsmeade trip. She’d expected just to go down with Harry, Ron and Lavender, but instead, the night before, one of the sixth year Gryffindor girls asked Harry to go to Hogsmeade with her. He accepted. Only half an hour before, Ron and Lavender had broken the news that they had decided to get a picnic together from Dobby the House-Elf and would spend the day studying at the lake. Hermione was, right then, about as alone as she could possibly feel. She barely slept that night, wondering what to do. She decided, of course, to simply spend the day in the library reading, but a side of her that loved the excitement that days out with Harry and Ron brought. She didn’t want to spend the day in the library with Madam Pince; she wanted to spend it with Harry. It was during the course of that night that she realised her old crush had turned into something more. It had turned into something quite terrifying that involved needing to see those damn green eyes every day. Needing to spend as much time with Harry as she possibly could. Needing Harry. She was incredibly angry with herself. After all, hadn’t she sworn that she would never, ever, ever need another human being? Needing is something one should leave behind with childhood, she’d told herself. Now, she found herself, Head Girl Hermione Granger, feeling quite helpless.
“Hermione... Hermione...” Lavender’s voice was quite gentle but Hermione’s ears recognised the slight irritation there too.
“What?”
“It’s nearly eleven. Aren’t you going to Hogsmeade?” Lavender said. Hermione sat up in bed, and felt the tiredness in her bones that can only come from being awake most of the night.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m too tired. I slept terribly last night.”
“Are you sure? Ron and I are going off to the lake to study. Want to come?” Hermione nearly laughed. Spend the entire day ruining Ron and Lavender’s romantic lakeside picnic? Hardly her idea of amusement.
“No. I’m knackered.” Hermione flopped back down into her bed. Lavender nodded.
“All right. When we go to the kitchens, I’ll ask Winky to send you some breakfast.”
“Thanks Lavender.” said Hermione sincerely.
“You’re welcome. Try and have a good day.”
“I will.” Hermione assured her. Lavender left and Hermione heard her footsteps on the stairs.
“She’s not going.” Lavender declared on entering the common room.
“What? Why not?” Ron asked.
“She’s tired, she says. Been up most of the night. I know that, actually. When I woke up at four, she was sitting up reading, trying to get to sleep. She looked exhausted.”
“Are you sure?” Now a third voice joined the conversation. Harry was leaning against the wall, a look of worry etched into his face.
“Sure I’m sure. Why don’t you go off with your date and have a lovely day.” Lavender said in a tone rather more snappish than she’d intended. Both Harry and Ron looked a little surprised, but Harry headed out of the portrait hole, where his date was waiting.
“Want to go and get a picnic?” Ron asked. Lavender smiled and took his arm, nodding.
Hermione managed to fall asleep again, and woke again around two. Being the sort of person who deplores sleeping the day away, even when exhausted, Hermione dragged herself out of bed and after showering, hauled herself off to the library. She managed an hour of reading before finally, emotions got the better of her and she slammed the book in question (Advanced Transfiguration) shut. She let her head drop onto the table and she looked out of the window at the already-darkening sky. She could see Ron and Lavender from there. One of them had started a little bonfire and now they were snuggled together reading. That surprised her- she hadn’t imagined they actually did any studying. But even from this distance, they looked almost unbearably cute. Once more, the loneliness that bore upon her shoulders came crushing down. Every insecurity that Hermione had ever had (plausible or not) came back to her in these moments. Moments of weakness, she called them, for she hated to be weak. The thought that she was seventeen and had not had a real date (she really didn’t count the Yule Ball in the fourth year) made her consider the possibility that she was some sort of reject. The idea that one day both Ron and Harry would find someone to spend the rest of their lives with and ditch her made her think she would one day be truly alone. Just as she was now, she thought glumly. She knew she wasn’t beautiful. She knew she was nobody’s idea of perfection. She knew that she was a frightful bore who only cared about schoolwork and nagged her friends about it until they shut her up. She knew that they were only friends with her out of pity. She knew that once she was out of school, it would all be over. She knew that she was going to spend the rest of her life hopeless and alone. Not one of these things was really true, of course, as anyone who had ever met Hermione could tell you. But at that rather desolate moment in the library, she believed each of them, and a sack-full more.
Eventually, she gave up and left the library. She headed over to Gryffindor Tower, but she knew it would be rather quiet- most of the students allowed to Hogsmeade wouldn’t be back until it was time for the Feast.
“Password, dear?” The Fat Lady asked.
“Kneazles.” She said.
The portrait swung open and she went in, through the common room and up to her dorm. Ron and Lavender were not yet back, although she didn’t expect them for a long time. Harry and his date were also yet to return, and she frankly dreaded to think what they might be doing. She slumped onto her bed and picked up the nearest book. However, Hogwarts: A History didn’t seem too appealing right now and she let it slip to the floor with a heavy thud. A strange feeling of catatonia overcame her, and she didn’t move. She barely blinked. She barely even thought, which was highly unlike her. She never knew how long she’d been sitting there, but after what seemed like at least half an hour she realised that she had tears running down her cheeks. Not yet running, but enough to begin dampening her shirt. She wondered what had caused tears, because she hadn’t been really thinking. Then it hit her full on like a juggernaut.
She wasn’t scared of being alone, not really. She would get used to it. After all, she was not weak. But what she was terrified of most of all was Harry rejecting her. She was terrified of him discovering her secret and laughing. She was terrified that while she loved him, he did not return the feeling. She had been able to hide from this for a long time, but now he was out with someone else and she couldn’t deny it or ignore it anymore. She jumped up, feeling angrier than ever before. She had always been able to keep a pretty good grip on her emotions, but she felt anger filling her veins and making her blood boil. She wasn’t even entirely sure who she was angry at. She supposed she was angry with herself for ever letting herself fall in love. She was angry with herself for allowing herself to fall victim to this most girlish of emotions. She was angry with herself for not being brave enough to just tell the boy, she was angry with herself for caring so much. She was angry at herself most of all, for being so scared of what was really just a boy telling her that he didn’t like her back. She was angry with herself for letting her loneliness get to her like this and allowing it to overwhelm her so.
She began hitting her pillows quite violently, and the only clear thought she had at the moment was that she was glad she wasn’t holding her wand. She hit the pillows, she hit her bed, and she threw her stuff. Then finally, after each of her books was on the floor, after her bed was considerably messier than it had been, she couldn’t keep it up any longer. The anger drained away leaving nothing but raw sadness. The tears, which had been stalled by her rage, now flowed freely and rapidly down her cheeks. With shaking hands, she began picking up her things, the sight of her mess only making her more upset. She sobbed and sobbed, until finally, there were no tears left to shed. Her head throbbed and she wondered if she’d actually caused herself to dehydrate. She lay on her bed, quite still except for the occasional bout of shaking. She felt exhaustion once again set into her bones and she yawned loudly.
“Hermione!” A voice called out. Harry was back. He knocked quickly on her door, but didn’t wait for a reply before he bounced in eagerly.
“I bought you some Sugar Quills from Honey...” He trailed off. “What’s the matter?” He asked on finding her curled up in a ball on her bed, the redness around her eyes testament to her earlier tears.
“Nothing.” She managed to mumble after a lengthy pause. He closed the door and stared at her grimly.
“Hermione, tell me.” He commanded. He put the paper bag of sweets down on her bedside table and knelt down so that his green eyes met her brown eyes.
“Tell me.” He said softly, gently now. She looked away. He sighed sadly, always hating to see her like this.
“Please, Hermione, tell me what the matter is. You’ve been crying too, I can tell.” He sounded quite panicked now.
“It’s really nothing.” She heard her own voice, but it sounded far away, devoid of emotion.
“Fine.” He said. “I’ll go. If you can’t tell me...” He trailed off and went to open the door.
“Harry,” She started. He froze. “Why...” She trailed off, but now he stayed.
“Why what?”
“Why doesn’t anybody like me?” She asked, now sitting up. Her head swam a little from sitting up suddenly.
“What do you mean? You’re one of the most popular girls in school. Or did you forget that you’re Head Girl?”
“No, I mean...” She cleared her throat. She was Hermione Granger and she was going to pull herself together, she decided.
“I mean, why am I seventeen years old and have only been on one date in my entire life? Why don’t boys want to go out with me? I know I’m not pretty or anything but...” She stopped when Harry began laughing. The tears she thought were finished began rolling down her face again.
“Don’t laugh at me.” She mumbled, trying to stop crying. On seeing her tears he stopped dead.
“I’m not laughing at you.” insisted Harry. “Hermione, what do you mean you’re not pretty?”
“I’m not. I know I’m not. You don’t need to try and make me feel better. Strangely, I don’t place my esteem in my looks.” That sounded more like the old Hermione, she thought, slightly satisfied. Harry approached her.
“Hermione, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. And I’m not just saying it to make you feel better.” He said solemnly, seriously. She blinked once. Then again.
“What? Don’t be stupid Potter. I’m not falling for it.”
“Falling for what? I think you’re beautiful.” He said.
“No I’m not. Lavender is beautiful. Ginny is beautiful. Hermione is not. Hermione has horrible bushy, muddy brown hair...”
“Beautiful curls of cinnamon.” Harry corrected.
“And boring brown eyes...”
“Sparkling brown eyes with flecks of gold.” He said. She sighed.
“I’m not beautiful. The others, they all look like...” How was she to phrase this?
“Grown-ups. I just look the same as always.” She said. Harry actually snorted at that.
“Hermione, have you actually looked at yourself recently?” He asked.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re beautiful Hermione. You really don’t see it, do you?” He asked, stupefied by this.
“No.”
“I do.” He said softly, looking once again into her eyes. “I think you’re beautiful.” He repeated. He put his arm around her shoulder. She didn’t try to argue this time.
“Did you have a nice day?” She asked, trying to change the subject.
“It was all right.” He said in a non-committal voice. “And don’t change the subject.”
“Harry, I...” She started, but she was cut off by his fingers brushing against her lips.
“Hermione, you’re beautiful. And I was wondering if you’d accompany me to the Feast.” He said in a strangely formal tone. Her eyes widened to the point of goggling. Had Harry actually asked her out? She simply stared up at him, not managing to reply.
“Well, will you?”
“OK?” She said, dumbfounded.
“Great.” He looked as if a great weight had been taken from his shoulders.
“Now, tell me.” She said. “How was your day out?”
“It was all right. Would’ve preferred it if you’d come with me.” He said. Then he blushed and looked down at the carpet.
“What?” She asked curiously.
“I just didn’t have the courage to ask you out.” He admitted. Then, just as he had done minutes before, she burst out laughing. Now it was his turn to be defensive.
“What? What?”
“Nothing.” She tried to stop laughing. “I’m just thinking that, if you had had the courage, being in Gryffindor and everything, my day might have been much better.”
“Mine too.” He admitted. Then, without warning, he leaned in to kiss her. After a moment, he stopped.
“Hermione?”
“Mmm?” She asked, unable to form words at present.
“You don’t mind me... You know, kissing you?”
“Not in the least.” She smiled sweetly as she continued the kiss.
They emerged later for the Feast, Hermione’s mood considerably lightened, to the point that she couldn’t quite believe how depressed she’d been earlier. They walked down together for the Feast.
“Hermione, I have to tell you something.” Harry said. She looked concerned as he dragged her into an alcove just before entering the Great Hall.
“What?”
“Well, there’s a reason... There’s a reason that the others never asked you out.”
“What? I mean, aside from the fact that I’m not...”
“If you say not beautiful, I shall have to punish you.”
“How?” She said mischievously, eyes sparkling. He ignored that one.
“They never did because...” He blushed again. “Because they knew that I’d probably beat them up if they did. Or hex them to within an inch of their lives.”
“They knew that you liked me? And you never said anything to me?”
“They guessed. When you share a dorm with people, it’s hard to keep secrets. After that, I suppose you were considered off-limits.” He blushed again, and she decided she found a blushing Harry almost irresistibly cute.
“Is that why during all your boy talk, I never come up?” Harry looked horrified.
“What? How do you know what we all talk about?”
“I hear things.” She said mysteriously.
“Tell me.”
“Well, it’s nothing really. You were all congregated in the common room late one night at the start of the year and were talking. Lavender had the door to our room open so she could eavesdrop.”
“Lavender did, did she?”
“Yes, and you won’t say anything, because then Ron will know how she suddenly decided to get up the courage to ask him out.” Hermione paused. “Anyway, we heard you all talking about nearly every girl in this school. Above fourth year, anyway.
Except I didn’t come up. Not once. It was like... It was like I didn’t even count as a girl or something.” Hermione felt sadness pierce her heart.
“Hermione, look at me.” She did so. “Didn’t you find it strange that I barely said a word that night? That all I said was to...”
“Stop talking about Ginny because it was making Ron freak out.” She said, remembering.
“Yeah. There’s a reason I barely participated.”
“Why?”
“Because I was sitting there daydreaming about you. And the reason they didn’t bring you up is because before the conversation started I threatened them all with bodily harm if they so much as breathed your name. They were rather into taking the Mickey out of me about you at the time you see.”
“Oh.” She said, feeling somewhat better about herself. “You do realise that you, in effect, caused me to feel absolutely terrible, don’t you?” His face visibly fell.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right now.”
“I hope so.”
“Want to grab some food, perhaps?”
“I’d rather stay here in this deserted corridor with you.” He said with a cheeky wink.
“Well, what we want and what we get are two different things.” She said, pulling him out of the alcove and down the corridor to the Great Hall.
“Hermione?” He said softly just as they were about to enter.
“What?”
“You are beautiful.” He said. “And I’ll tell you every single day until you believe it. And after that too.” She smiled at that, a heartbreakingly sweet smile that brought tears to Harry Potter’s eyes. He blinked furiously as she leaned over to kiss him very gently.
“Thank you.” She whispered.
After that, the loneliness hit her much less often. She would be lying if she said it had disappeared. But now, she realised that at least one person loved her and that, if nothing else, there was hope. Little by little, the fears and insecurities began to disappear from her mind. Having a handsome young wizard telling her everyday without fail that she was indeed beautiful helped, but the thing that helped most was the knowledge that beautiful or not, Harry Potter loved Hermione Granger and she loved him back.
I would be lying, dear reader, if I were to tell you that they lived Perfectly Happily Ever After. No indeed, there was still the matter of Lord Voldemort, of leaving school and entering the real world of adults. They had their arguments and falling-outs that everyone has. But perhaps you’ll believe me when I tell you that they lived Truly Happily Ever After.